Ruined Map - Abe Kobo [54]
When I brought the car round from the parking lot, the girl was standing in the middle of the steps, buried in her coat collar up to her nose. I drew up to her and opened the window on my side; she shifted her briefcase and with an agitated step came directly toward me. Her nose was bloodless, as if squeezed between two glass slides. Her discontented expression had assumed a weird glow, perhaps because of the rush of blood or the cold. Only the green scarf that appeared above her coat collar was strangely gaudy and made one feel the inner pressure which propelled her. I half opened the door.
“Let me give you a lift. Which way are you going?”
“You mean where am I going?” Her voice was challenging and unexpectedly contained. “There’s no use my deciding that.”
Involuntarily I gave a forced smile, and she too contorted her features in a mirror image.
“Does that mean you’re ready for anything?”
“You’re a despicable person.”
Suddenly I slammed the door in the girl’s face. I put my foot on the gas; the tires churned up the gravel and the front end of the light car sprang up like a boat cresting a wave. The girl, abandoned, was dumbfounded, standing there as expressionless as a frozen fish.
I WAS standing around. Just standing around, outside of time, in front of the telephone at the corner of the counter in the Camellia coffee house.
“Is he dead?”
“It looks as if they tortured him slowly to death.” The strangely excited voice of the chief came ringing from the diaphragm of the receiver. “Is anything wrong? Don’t tell me you don’t have an alibi.”
“How could I?”
“Well, anyway, get in touch with the client right away. She’s already called here three times since this morning.”
“Where did you get this information?”
“The client, of course.” Suddenly his tone changed. “Oh, do we get information any place else?”
“I was just asking. All right. I’ll get in touch with her immediately.”
“May I remind you once again that every one of us has to take the responsibility for his own complications.”
“Yes, I understand. I’ll show up at the office around noon.”
I stood motionless. He was dead! I replaced the receiver and stood motionless.
By this time the police were in an uproar no doubt. I wondered if, in the investigation, my existence might possibly come to their attention. Supposing it did, then the extending ramifications of the inquiry would reach to the M Fuel Suppliers. The man in the light car. The man who claimed he came from Dainen Enterprises. The inquiry would shift to Dainen Enterprises. And there again the man in the light car would come up. So whether I liked it or not my presence would come out. But it didn’t necessarily follow that this would mean trouble for me right away. First, I had no motive. And then, if they wanted a suspect there were lots of others. But if I could, I wanted to avoid getting involved.
Perhaps I needn’t worry. There was no reason for the police to entertain the wild fancy that, behind the dramatic events, M Fuel Supplier’s was involved. At this point, I was sorry I had not been able to establish clearly what he intended to use as blackmail.
And there was something else, something that was basically changed by his death: the funds for paying the investigation expenses were cut off. Perhaps my work ran counter to the fundamental wishes of my client—which would mean that the curtain would fall all too soon, doubtless within the week.
Yet, wherever did this feeling of being balked in my expectations come from? I wondered. I returned to my seat, and as I stirred my lukewarm coffee, I began to be invaded by the gloomy and sentimental feeling that I had only myself to thank. Perhaps it was a feeling of sadness for the dead man. No, that couldn’t be. Beyond the black-mesh curtain lay, today too, the open-air parking lot, bleak