Ruined Map - Abe Kobo [59]
“Even so, there’re a lot of cars parked. Almost the same ones as when I looked in yesterday. Are they all monthly?”
“The two rows over there are all by the month.”
“Strange. There doesn’t seem to be anything around here that really looks like an office, and as for the monthlies to be parking here like this during the day, well …”
Perhaps I had touched a delicate spot. The old man’s sluggish expression stiffened like weather-beaten rubber.
“Well, uh, it’s cheap … I guess … that’s why,” he stammered.
“Or else, could it be that there’re a lot of fellows whose business it is to use the cars after dark?”
“I don’t know. I’ve no reason to pay such close attention to things like that.”
“Anyway, do you recall having seen this man?”
I picked up the picture and slipped it into my note pad, which I returned to my pocket; again the old man’s face took on an expression of relief. Immediately I took him off guard.
“Say, are you that afraid of the owner of the Camellia?” The old man’s wrinkled eyelids, which exuded an oily substance, curled up and the red edges exposed to the air were brilliant. “Well, don’t worry. In any case, I’ve been observed all along talking to you here. If you’re asked just say something about being all involved with the picture of some fellow you’ve never seen before. Actually, maybe you know him despite what you say.”
“I’ve been saying I don’t know him!” He struck his knees angrily with the comic book. Seeing that he was serious, I began to feel that perhaps he was speaking the truth, though the dead brother had described the old codger as being a wily fellow. “Am I supposed to remember every single face I see?”
“There! Here’s two hundred yen more. That makes exactly a thousand—a good place to stop. Shall we wind up the conversation too?” I followed the old man’s rueful gaze as it avoided me, placing my elbow on the window sill; I tossed two hundred-yen coins onto the blanket over his knees. “I’m not going to tell a soul you’ve taken a thousand yen. You and I’ll be the only ones to know. Well, be quick about it … speak up.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“Does anyone take a thousand yen if he doesn’t have anything to say?”
“You gave it of your own free will, didn’t you?”
“The Camellia owner’s watching us. But will he believe your story about earning a thousand yen for nothing?”
“I’ll give them back. Then things’ll be okay.”
“Don’t force yourself. What kind of people keep their cars here? From what you’ve said I only know they aren’t people who live in this area, but …”
“You’re just guessing. Who said that? You left your own car here, didn’t you?”
“I’m talking about monthly customers, and you know it. It wouldn’t be especially strange for people to leave their cars during the day if they worked in some neighborhood shop and didn’t have a garage. But since you’re an honest fellow, you’re at a loss for an answer. And furthermore, you said you didn’t remember every single face you saw. That’s proof the customers—monthly or not—are not all that unchanging. When I glance around right now, it seems to me there are quite a few cars that weren’t here yesterday, aren’t there?”
“Say …,” he gasped in a voice that was hard to catch, as if he were stifling a fit of coughing, “I hope you’re not from the police.”
“Forget it. Do detectives pay for secret information on someone whose identity is unknowable? And furthermore, a thousand yen means serious business.”
“Serious business? What are you talking about? Every now and then the Camellia owner makes it possible for me to buy a racing ticket and play the pinball machines. You won’t know what it’s like to be old until you’re an old man yourself. Even my grandsons copy my daughter-in-law and grumble to my face about how dirty I am.”
“I won’t do anything to obstruct business, I promise you.”
“What do you want to know?”
“I’m on the trail of the fellow whose photo I showed you.”
“Somebody said the same thing yesterday. Oh,