Харуки Мураками - Killing Commendatore

The call from Masahiko came a little while after that.

“It seems like there are a few people with the name Menshiki in Kagawa Prefecture down in Shikoku,” Masahiko said. “Perhaps this Mr. Menshiki has roots in Kagawa. But I couldn’t find any information anywhere on a Menshiki living now around Odawara. What’s his first name?”

“He didn’t tell me. I don’t know what kind of work he does, either. Something tech related. If his lifestyle is any indication, he must be doing pretty well. That’s all I know. I don’t even know how old he is.”

“I see,” Masahiko said. “In that case, that might be the best you can do. Information is, after all, a product, and if you pay enough you can neatly cover your tracks. Even truer if the person knows a lot about technology.”

“You mean Mr. Menshiki erased his footprints?”

“Could be. I spent a lot of time online, searching through sites, and didn’t get a single hit. It’s such an eye-catching name, yet there’s not a thing online. Which is all pretty strange. I know you’re a little naive when it comes to things like this, but for someone who is fairly active in society to completely block any information about themselves and have nothing at all get out on the web—that’s no mean feat. Even information on you, and on me, is out there and available. There’s information on me I didn’t even know. If that’s true for nobodies like us, you can imagine how much harder it is for some big shot to erase their digital presence. Like it or not, that’s the world we live in. What about you? Have you checked out the information that’s out there on you?”

“No, never.”

“You should keep it that way.”

“That’s the plan,” I told him.

One aspect of my job is gathering all kinds of information. That’s the sort of business I’m in. Those were Menshiki’s own words. If he could get hold of information that easily he could probably erase it as well.

“By the way, Mr. Menshiki said he looked me up on the Internet and saw a few of my portraits there,” I said.

“And?”

“And he asked me to paint his portrait. He said he liked the portraits I’ve done.”

“But you turned him down because you’re no longer in the portrait business. Correct?”

I was silent.

“Are you telling me you didn’t?” he asked.

“Actually, I didn’t turn him down.”

“How come? Weren’t you set on not doing any more?”

“The fee is pretty hefty, that’s why. I thought it might be okay to do one more portrait.”

“For the money?”

“That’s a big reason. I’m making hardly any money anymore, and I have to think about how I’m going to make a living. My expenses right now are minimal, but still, with one thing and another the money keeps flowing out.”

“Huh. So, how much is the fee?”

I named the amount. Masahiko let out a whistle.

“Wow,” he said. “That certainly makes it worth taking on. I bet you were surprised when you heard how much he’d pay?”

“Yeah, of course I was.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t say this, but there can’t be any other odd people out there willing to pay that much for one of your paintings.”

“I know.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying you’re not a talented artist. You do solid work, and people recognize that. I think you’re about the only one of our classmates from our art school class who’s managed to make a living doing oil paintings. What level of living we’re talking about, I have no idea, but anyway it’s admirable what you’ve accomplished. But honestly? You’re no Rembrandt, or Delacroix. Or even Andy Warhol.”

“I’m well aware of that.”

“If you are, then you understand how exorbitant that fee is he’s offering, right?”

“Of course I do.”

“And just by chance he lives near you.”

“Exactly.”

“ ‘By chance’ is putting it mildly.”

I didn’t say anything.

“There might be something else to it. Didn’t that cross your mind?” he asked.

“Sure, I thought about it. But what else there could be, I have no clue.”

“So you accepted the job?”

“I did. I start the day after tomorrow.”

“Because the fee’s so good?”

“The fee’s a big part of it. But that’s not all. There are other reasons,” I said. “Honestly, I want to see how things are going to play out. See with my own eyes why he’s willing to pay so much. And if there’re really other motives at work, I want to find out what they are.”

“I see,” Masahiko said, and paused. “Well, if there are any new developments, let me know. I’m intrigued.”

Just then I recalled the horned owl.

“I forgot to mention it, but there’s a horned owl living in the attic,” I said. “A little gray horned owl that sleeps on a beam during the day. At night it goes out the vent hole and hunts. I don’t know how long it’s been here, but it seems to have roosted.”

“In the attic?”

“I heard a sound from the ceiling, so I climbed up during the day to check on it.”

“Really. I didn’t know you could access the attic.”

“There’s an opening in the closet in the guest bedroom. It’s a tight space, though. Smaller than what you might think of as an attic. But just the right size for an owl to roost in.”

“That’s a good thing, though,” Masahiko said. “With an owl there, no mice or snakes will get in. I’ve heard it’s a lucky omen to have an owl roosting in a house.”

“Maybe that lucky omen brought me that high portrait fee.”

“That would be nice if it did,” he laughed. “You know the English expression ‘a blessing in disguise’?”

“Languages aren’t my strong suit.”

“A camouflaged blessing. A blessing that’s changed appearance. At first glance it seems unfortunate, but it turns out to bring you happiness. There are things that should be the opposite, too, of course. In theory.”

In theory, I repeated to myself.

“Better keep your eyes open,” he said.

“Will do,” I said.

At one thirty the next day she came to see me, and as always we headed straight for bed. While we had sex we hardly said a word. It was raining that afternoon, an unusually heavy shower for autumn, more like a midsummer downpour. Heavy raindrops, carried on the wind, rapped against the window, and I think there were a few flashes of lightning, too. A thick bank of dark clouds passed over the valley, and when the rain let up, the mountains had taken on a darker hue. Flocks of birds that had taken shelter from the rain somewhere now twittered back and were busily hunting down insects. Right after rain was the perfect lunchtime for them. The sun shone from breaks in the clouds, making the raindrops on all the tree branches sparkle. While it had been raining we were deep into making love, and I had barely given the falling rain a second thought. And just as we were finishing, the rain abruptly stopped. Almost as if it were waiting for us.

We lay naked in bed, wrapped in a thin bedcover, talking. Mostly we talked about the grades her two daughters were getting in school. The older girl was good at school and had very good grades. She was a placid child who never caused any trouble. The younger daughter, in contrast, hated to study and would never settle down at her desk to do homework. But she was cheerful and upbeat, and quite good-looking as well. Self-assured, popular, good at sports. Maybe we should give up on having her do well at school, her mother said, and let her go into the entertainment field? I’m thinking of eventually putting her into one of those schools that train child entertainers, she said.