Read Online The Thief by Fuminori Nakamura - Free Book Online Page B

said.
    “Um.”
    Her eye closed tightly once more.
    “You live in a place like this?”
    “What?”
    I realized it was raining outside and she was carrying an umbrella. In the drizzle a foreigner in work clothes was smoking a cigarette as he crossed the dimly-lit alleyway.
    “I’m here because my boy said you gave money to him. A hundred thousand yen!”
    Suddenly I’d had enough.
    “You’ve come to give it back?”
    “No way. I’m not giving it back. But why’d you do it?”
    “No reason.”
    “It’s kind of creepy, isn’t it?”
    No doubt it did seem creepy, but I couldn’t believe that was her only reason for coming all this way.
    “It’s OK. Go home.”
    “Let me in. Or I’ll scream.”
    She twisted her lips, trying to force a smile. I went back inside and she took off her boots, grumbling to herself. The way her right eye flickered, her nervous tension, reminded me of Saeko. When she removed her white half-lengthcoat she was wearing a close-fitting white sweater that emphasized her breasts.
    I swept aside a tangle of clothes with my foot, planning to sit down, but she planted herself in the space before me. Money was scattered on the ironing board in the corner, mixed with scraps of paper. I went and sat on the bed.
    “What do you do for a living?” she asked, still inspecting my room.
    “None of your business. Now what do you want?”
    “Why did you give him that much? Was it for that?”
    “What?”
    “I mean, you must have done something to him. If I went to the cops you’d be in trouble.”
    She screwed up her face and glared at me as hard as she could. I grinned in amusement. She was too upset even to blackmail me properly.
    “I’d never do anything like that.”
    “But there must be a reason. You can’t fool me.”
    “It’s because he looks like my dead son,” I lied.
    She looked away for a second, uncertain. I continued, saying the first thing that came into my head.
    “He’s the spitting image of my dead boy. I’ve got money,but houses and stuff don’t mean anything to me so I live here. I rent a bunch of places all over Japan. For me, a hundred thousand yen is nothing. I saw this poor kid shoplifting, so I gave him some money on an impulse. Like a donation. I was drunk. Anyway, you’re the one who can’t afford to go the cops.”
    “But….”
    She seemed to be thinking about something. She looked at the money tossed carelessly on the ironing board, then at the clothes in the closet.
    “So you didn’t….”
    “I didn’t.”
    “But still…. Um, well, I wasn’t absolutely sure that’s what it was.”
    She looked down and then faced me again, as if she’d decided to take the plunge.
    “In that case, be my client. Business has fallen off lately. My boyfriend spends money like water and I’m really in the shit. I need cash by tomorrow. I know I said before that ten thousand yen would do, but I need about fifty thousand straight away. He looks like your dead son, doesn’t he?”
    “I think I’ll pass.”
    For some reason I sounded disgusted. She looked atme blankly, her right eye firmly closed. She was breathing heavily through her mouth.
    “Are you kidding?” she shouted suddenly. “Don’t you fucking make fun of me!”
    I was taken by surprise but tried not to show it. Unnatural wrinkles appeared on her face. She pounded the floor and made unintelligible gasping noises as if she couldn’t control herself. Her emotions didn’t seem to follow any predictable pattern. When I looked closely, I saw that her chin and shoulders were too thin for the rest of her body. Her neck and the backs of her hands were covered with red marks like she’d scratched herself.
    “You were laughing at me. Like you can’t have sex with a pro. It’s not like I enjoy it. I haven’t done anything wrong. You suck.”
    As I listened to her I felt something stirring inside me. My breathing quickened.
    “No, I don’t think like that. For one thing, I’m a pickpocket. Can a