Ruined Map - Abe Kobo [88]
“Actually, he was killed last night.”
“Killed?”
“Moreover, barely a mile or two from the fuel supplier in F—Town.”
“Why would such a man … we all lead different kinds of lives. I wonder if I’m the only one who knows nothing.”
His suspicious, probing eyes, filled with amazement, opened wide behind his glasses; he seemed like an unsteady pot. He looked as though he would fall over with the slightest push. Apparently I could believe him. As for the brother’s blackmail, perhaps the objective was purely and simply to make money. If he had even the slightest connection with Dainen Enterprises this timid, suspicious office clerk would not have spoken, even inadvertently, of the possibility of black-market dealings.
Suddenly a rather dry, businesslike voice broke in: “Sorry to keep you waiting.” It was a girl with a bad complexion and a prominent chin. She had on a long, loose, purplish-red gown with a dark blue border. Except for her long hair, there was nothing to suggest the girl in the photos. Bits and pieces of a girl have no connection at all with a complete woman. Except for the slightly upturned nose, the thick, stubborn lips, the traces of faded pimples on both cheeks, and the puffy eyelids that looked as if one could squeeze pus from them were rather too vulgar for commercial pictures. One would have to explain away the face by saying the photographer was interested in her back. All her various parts would do if you just took the face away. And as far as the face was concerned it might have been possible to turn her into another person by adding another expression and getting her to assume that cooperative pose.
“It’s all right if you want to come back to my room.”
“Let’s have a drink. It’s on me.” I drew a stool aside, opening a space between Tashiro and myself. “Would you like a beer … or something stronger?”
“It won’t be any cheaper … time-wise. Is that all right?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Giving a derisive, nasal laugh, she climbed onto the bar stool; the front of her gown gaped open and her leg was bared to the fleshy part of her thigh. A beautiful leg, quite unexpected after the face and from the photos which had been distorted by the lens. It was a shapely, well-developed leg, which would have made one think of an athlete’s if it had not been so white. One could only say that his bias for backs, which had made him exclude even such legs, bordered on eccentricity. Doubtless a professional, she left her long naked leg uncovered, tapping in time to the music against the bar with the sandal hanging suspended from her toes.
“Well then, bartender, watch the time. I guess I’ll have a gin fizz. I’ll restrain myself.”
“You were especially recommended by a man named Nemuro.”
“Oh? Who’s that?”
“I think you know him. He showed me some pictures of you a while back. They covered you inch by inch.”
“Someone who took pictures … that must be a customer on the outside. You probably know that we don’t let customers take pictures in the studio.”
“Well, what do you do in the studio?”
“Isn’t it obvious? They like to see me naked … but they only look.”
“But the poses in those pictures were something. Terrific. They really got you.”
“I’m different from the beginners. But recently I haven’t been going out. I am going to be married soon. If I go out all sorts of things happen … it’s bad for my fiancé.”
“Congratulations. But if it’s true, there’ll be a lot of disappointed customers, won’t there?”
The bartender, his face perfectly expressionless, placed the gin fizz in front of the girl. The surface of the drink, with the bursting bubbles, seemed like a deep lake spewing forth a white mist. Tashiro’s rye was already gone and he had popped the huge ice cube into his mouth. Perhaps he was listening to our conversation, perhaps not; he stared absently at nothing. It was as if he was gazing at a crowd of unfeeling pedestrians who passed him by and ignored him. I gulped down what remained in my glass and ordered another round. Nervously bracing himself, Tashiro looked at me.
“Mr. Nemuro particularly