his face, as if savoring Saeko’s vitriol. Perhaps he was imagining what unpleasantness had taken place between Saeko and Seiji when she was gathering information.
In contrast, Oki’s expression was faintly sour. “But this Seiji has the key to the Fujimuras’ home, right?” He was literally referring to the front door key to the Fujimuras’ now empty home.
“That’s right. Unfortunately, Seiji is now the caretaker of the Fujimura residence.”
“In other words, nobody can enter the house without Seiji’s permission?”
“That’s right.”
“But from what you wrote, it seems like you’ve been in the house.”
“I believe I’m one of very few journalists who have been inside.”
“Did money change hands?”
“No. Money played no part. Seiji rarely allows any journalists inside. Perhaps he only lends the key to those he perceives as allies.”
This had truly been the selling point of Saeko’s story. Her coverage was unique in providing vivid descriptions of the interior of the Fujimura home. The beer bottle on the table, the-old fashioned radio on the desk in the children’s room, the hardened banana peel in the trash can, the laundry hamper full of clothes in the bathroom … Her detached portrayal of the Fujimuras’ material belongings in the absence of their owners elicited a sort of ominous mood that made her article gripping.
“The other journalists?”
“He didn’t let them in.”
“Why did he let you in, if he turned the others away?”
“I don’t know. I think … I guess … he took a shine to me.” She said the words with such distaste that Hashiba couldn’t hold back a chuckle.
“Sorry. I can certainly understand why Seiji would like you, but I can also understand why you don’t feel the same way,” he commented.
In contrast to Hashiba’s amusement, Oki’s face was a mask of seriousness. “Actually, we’re going to need footage of the inside of the house to do this program.”
Naturally. They could hardly do a thirty-minute show about a family’s disappearance with no footage from inside their home. Saeko didn’t know much about television production, but she understood that much.
“Of course,” she agreed.
Oki laid his hands, half hidden by his sleeves, on the table top and interlaced his fingers. “Ms. Kuriyama, let me ask you something. Do you think you could persuade Seiji to let our team into the house?”
Saeko could almost hear the gears snap together in her mind. She finally understood why they had selected her from among the myriad reporters who had covered the Fujimura story to collaborate on the show. The chief director and the producer needed the key to the Fujimura home.
And they need me to get it. Lucky me, Seiji’s favorite reporter
.
And here she had thought it was because her coverage had been superior. Saeko felt her ego deflate like a punctured balloon.
5 “I’ll walk you to the door,” Hashiba offered as they exited the conference room after the meeting’s conclusion. They took the elevator down to the lobby and had just emerged when Hashiba stoppedand glanced at his watch.
“Do you have a bit more time?” he asked, and proposed coffee. Saeko wasn’t in a hurry. She had planned to stop at the library on the way home, but only for personal reasons. She was under no obligation to be anywhere.
“Certainly,” she told him.
“Good. The cafeteria then?” Hashiba stood up and led the way, genuinely giving the impression that there was more he wanted to say to Saeko.
When they were seated opposite each other at a table, Hashiba bowed deeply.
“I’m so sorry,” he said contritely.
Saeko was baffled. “For what?” she asked.
“We didn’t ask you to collaborate on this project just to get the key to the Fujimuras’ home.”
Saeko’s cheeks flushed. Her face must have shown her annoyance in the meeting room. She was impressed that Hashiba had picked up on it.
Saeko’s ex-husband had driven her crazy the way
In contrast, Oki’s expression was faintly sour. “But this Seiji has the key to the Fujimuras’ home, right?” He was literally referring to the front door key to the Fujimuras’ now empty home.
“That’s right. Unfortunately, Seiji is now the caretaker of the Fujimura residence.”
“In other words, nobody can enter the house without Seiji’s permission?”
“That’s right.”
“But from what you wrote, it seems like you’ve been in the house.”
“I believe I’m one of very few journalists who have been inside.”
“Did money change hands?”
“No. Money played no part. Seiji rarely allows any journalists inside. Perhaps he only lends the key to those he perceives as allies.”
This had truly been the selling point of Saeko’s story. Her coverage was unique in providing vivid descriptions of the interior of the Fujimura home. The beer bottle on the table, the-old fashioned radio on the desk in the children’s room, the hardened banana peel in the trash can, the laundry hamper full of clothes in the bathroom … Her detached portrayal of the Fujimuras’ material belongings in the absence of their owners elicited a sort of ominous mood that made her article gripping.
“The other journalists?”
“He didn’t let them in.”
“Why did he let you in, if he turned the others away?”
“I don’t know. I think … I guess … he took a shine to me.” She said the words with such distaste that Hashiba couldn’t hold back a chuckle.
“Sorry. I can certainly understand why Seiji would like you, but I can also understand why you don’t feel the same way,” he commented.
In contrast to Hashiba’s amusement, Oki’s face was a mask of seriousness. “Actually, we’re going to need footage of the inside of the house to do this program.”
Naturally. They could hardly do a thirty-minute show about a family’s disappearance with no footage from inside their home. Saeko didn’t know much about television production, but she understood that much.
“Of course,” she agreed.
Oki laid his hands, half hidden by his sleeves, on the table top and interlaced his fingers. “Ms. Kuriyama, let me ask you something. Do you think you could persuade Seiji to let our team into the house?”
Saeko could almost hear the gears snap together in her mind. She finally understood why they had selected her from among the myriad reporters who had covered the Fujimura story to collaborate on the show. The chief director and the producer needed the key to the Fujimura home.
And they need me to get it. Lucky me, Seiji’s favorite reporter
.
And here she had thought it was because her coverage had been superior. Saeko felt her ego deflate like a punctured balloon.
5 “I’ll walk you to the door,” Hashiba offered as they exited the conference room after the meeting’s conclusion. They took the elevator down to the lobby and had just emerged when Hashiba stoppedand glanced at his watch.
“Do you have a bit more time?” he asked, and proposed coffee. Saeko wasn’t in a hurry. She had planned to stop at the library on the way home, but only for personal reasons. She was under no obligation to be anywhere.
“Certainly,” she told him.
“Good. The cafeteria then?” Hashiba stood up and led the way, genuinely giving the impression that there was more he wanted to say to Saeko.
When they were seated opposite each other at a table, Hashiba bowed deeply.
“I’m so sorry,” he said contritely.
Saeko was baffled. “For what?” she asked.
“We didn’t ask you to collaborate on this project just to get the key to the Fujimuras’ home.”
Saeko’s cheeks flushed. Her face must have shown her annoyance in the meeting room. She was impressed that Hashiba had picked up on it.
Saeko’s ex-husband had driven her crazy the way
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