Ruined Map - Abe Kobo [76]
“Now?”
“Yes, if I hadn’t lost it.”
“Did your husband know you were pregnant?”
“Of course he did.”
“What was your brother’s work before he entered the organization?”
“When he was in school, he was dismissed because he was too active in some student movement … or, let me see, maybe he left of his own free will. He couldn’t get respectable work for various reasons. For a very short time he was private secretary to some city councilman.”
At length, close to the end of the album, I came to the photo I wanted to see. It was a picture of him—the client’s brother. The scene was the same as the earlier one, in the garden. There was an old car with its hood up, facing the camera at an angle. A man resembling the husband had crawled underneath on a mat. There stood the brother with one elbow leaning on the roof, a smile on his face, his mouth wide open—apparently he was saying something to his brother-in-law. But he was looking into the camera as if embarrassed. He was wearing wooden sandals and a short-sleeved shirt. Indeed, the photo gave off very much of a homey feeling.
I was disappointed. Although I should have been relieved I was thoroughly discouraged, as if my expectations had been let down. There was clear proof, particularly in the album. The brother and sister—as they called themselves—had no other relatives. On the official record there was indeed a younger brother of the same family and personal name, but for the present, there was no way of obtaining evidence to back it up. However, from the atmosphere which the photo revealed, almost unmistakably he was the real brother. My persistent, sadistic daydream that perhaps the fellow was a fake impersonating the brother and, having a secret affair with her, had liquidated the husband, came to naught, it would seem.
“Did your husband and your brother get along well?”
“Yes, they were like puppies, romping around and quarreling together with no inhibitions.”
“At the time this picture was taken, had your brother already entered the organization?”
“Let me see … I think so, but …”
“What was your husband’s opinion about that?”
“He didn’t agree, of course … but it wasn’t his business.”
“Well then—the question’s rather impertinent—did your brother think of you and your husband as one? Or did he draw the distinction that you were a relative in fact, while your husband was always a parenthetical relation, in the final analysis, a stranger … or how did he think? In other words, if some antagonism arose between you and your husband, did your brother as a matter of course act as peacemaker or did he clearly act to protect your interests?”
“I’ve never thought about such things.”
“Well, let’s look at it in another way. Supposing, to the contrary, your husband and your brother came to a definite parting of the ways over something or other and claimed they had to duel, what would you have done? There was no possibility of making peace, and you had to choose one of them—which one would it be?”
“What an idea. It’s nonsense.”
“But you’re obliged to choose.”
“But my brother helped my husband the way no one else could.”
“So in return your husband felt he owed him something?”
“Why should I have to answer such questions?”
“In the first place, because it’s my obligation to protect my client.”
“But my brother’s dead!” she suddenly screamed in a low, rasping voice. I was startled. Ah, that was it! How could I have been so blind?
“I must be going soon after six.” The watch on my wrist showed a little after five. “I’ve got an appointment to meet Tashiro. Maybe he’s got some