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'It's not a matter of anybody saying so. It just is - any civilised person knows that.' Masako watched quietly as Yoshie ran her hands over her tangled hair, still staring at the floor. It was a habit she had when she was upset about something.

  'Fine,' Masako said at last. 'Then at least help me carry it in from the car. I can't get it all the way to the bathroom by myself.'

  'I've got to get home. My mother-in-law will be waking up soon.'

  'It won't take long,' said Masako, slipping into Yoshiki's sandals and going out the door. It was still raining, but that meant there was no one in the street. It was also fortunate that Masako's house was across the street from a vacant lot where the red clay was turned up in preparation for construction. The houses along the street were built close together, but since she was at the end, her entrance was shielded from view.

  She felt for the keys in her pocket as she glanced around. No one in sight - now was her chance. But Yoshie still hadn't come out of the house.

  'Are you going to help me or not?' she called out irritably. 'Just to carry it,' Yoshie muttered, appearing in the doorway.

  Masako picked up the blue plastic tarp that she'd left by the entrance. Yoshie still seemed to be hesitating, but Masako went around to the back of the car and opened the trunk.

  'Oh!' Yoshie blurted out as she peered over her shoulder. Kenji's face was staring up at them. His eyes were half open, and he looked utterly relaxed, with a thin line of dried saliva running across his cheek. His legs had gone rigid, with the knees slightly bent, and his arms were frozen over his head. His fingers seemed to be grasping for something. A raw red burn mark was visible around his neck, which was stretched to an unnatural length.

  Masako remembered how Yayoi had removed the belt last night and wrapped it around her own waist. Then she realised that Yoshie had been saying something.

  'What did you say?' she asked. Yoshie was standing behind her with her palms together, and as Masako turned, she raised her voice slightly so that the prayer she was chanting was now audible.

  'Namu Amida Butsu,' she was repeating over and over. 'Don't you think that's a bit of a giveaway?' Masako said, gently tapping Yoshie's hands. 'Cut that out and help me get him inside.'

  Ignoring the sour look this provoked, she wrapped the tarp around the body. Then, signalling Yoshie to take one end, she worked her hands under the armpits. Reluctantly, Yoshie grasped the ankles and they lifted Kenji out of the trunk. The fact that the body had stiffened helped a bit, but it was heavy and awkward to hold and they staggered under the weight. Still, the door was only a few steps away, and they soon had him in the house. 'Can we get him back to the bath, Skipper?' Masako panted.

  'All right,' said Yoshie, slipping out of her canvas shoes and stepping up into the house. 'Where is it?'

  'All the way at the back,' said Masako. Though they had to put him down to rest several times, they finally managed to carry him as far as the changing room. Once there, Masako removed the plastic tarp and spread it on the tiles next to the tub in the washing area. She'd realised it might cause problems if bits of flesh got stuck between the tiles. 'Help me get him in here,' she said.

  Yoshie nodded, her resistance apparently weakening, and the two of them laid out the body diagonally in the rectangular room, just as Masako had planned earlier that morning.

  'Miserable,' Yoshie murmured, '- to end up like this. I bet he never expected his own wife would do him in. I hope he goes straight to heaven.'

  'I wouldn't bet on it,' said Masako.

  'You're a cold fish,' Yoshie said. The tone was reproachful, but Masako could tell Yoshie was beginning to regain her composure, so she quickly moved on to her next request.

  'I'll get some scissors,' she said. 'Would you at least help me cut the clothes off?'

  'What are you going to do with them?' Yoshie asked. 'Cut them up and throw them away.'

  Yoshie sighed loudly, but she had clearly given in. 'Have you emptied his pockets?' she asked.

  'No, he must still have his wallet and his train pass. Will you check?' said Masako, going to get the scissors from the bedroom.

  When she got back, Yoshie had lined up the contents of Kenji's pockets in the doorway: a worn black leather wallet, a key holder, a train pass, and some change. Masako looked through the wallet and found a few credit cards and almost ¥30,000 in cash. The key in the holder was apparently to Yayoi's house. 'We've got to get rid of all this,' she said at last.

  'What will you do with the money?' Yoshie asked.

  'You can have it.'

  'But it's Yayoi's. Still,' she added as if arguing with herself, 'it does seem strange to give his money back to the wife who killed him.'

  'Exactly. Why don't you keep it for your trouble,' said Masako. She noticed a relieved look pass across Yoshie's face. There were plenty of vacant lots and fields in the area, she thought, stuffing the empty wallet into a small plastic bag along with the key holder, credit cards, and train pass. If she could manage to bury the bag somewhere, it would probably never be found.

  Yoshie tucked the money into her pants pocket with an apologetic look. 'There's something funny about a necktie on a man who's been strangled to death,' she said, beginning to work at the knot on the tie. The knot, however, was pulled tight and Masako grew frustrated as she watched her struggle with it.

  'We don't have time for that,' she told her. 'Someone might come home soon. Just cut it off and be done with it.'

  'Wait a minute,' Yoshie said angrily. 'Don't you have any respect for the dead? You ought to be ashamed of yourself!'

  'Respect for the dead,' Masako repeated as she pulled off Kenji's shoes and stuffed them into another bag. 'I'm trying to think of this as an inanimate object.'

  'An object? What are you talking about? It's a human being.'

  'It was a human being, but now it's an object. That's how I've decided to see it.'

  'Then you've decided wrong,' said Yoshie, her voice shaking with uncharacteristic indignation. 'If this is an object, then what is that old woman I'm looking after?'

  'A living human being, of course,' said Masako.

  'I don't agree. If this fellow here's an object, then so is my mother-in-law. And then we're all objects - the living and the dead. There's no difference.' She's probably right, thought Masako, struck by the force of her remarks. She remembered opening the trunk in the parking lot that morning. The dawn had come, the rain was falling, and she'd felt alive, animated. But the dead were inanimate, immobile, and she'd decided to think of Kenji as a thing rather than a person. At the time, it had seemed like a good way to cope with her fear. 'But that's not right,' Yoshie went on. 'Living people are people, but dead bodies aren't just things. It's plain arrogance to think so.'

  'I suppose you're right,' said Masako. 'But it would be easier if they were objects.'

  'Why?'

  'Because it would be less frightening. I won't be able to do it if I don't think of him that way.'

  'Do what?'

  'Cut him up,' said Masako.

  'But why do we have to do that, anyway? That's what I don't understand.' Yoshie was almost shouting. 'It'll come back to haunt us. Heaven will punish us both for this.'

  'I don't care,' said Masako.

  'Why? Why don't you care?' She didn't care, Masako realised, because she was almost anxious for whatever punishment that might come, but she knew that would be hard to explain to her. Instead of answering, she began peeling off Kenji's black socks.

  As her hands touched the bare skin for the first time, a shock ran through her. The body felt cold and foreign, and she wondered whether she would actually be able to cut it up as she'd planned. There would probably be lots of blood, and the organs would flop out. The sense of facing a challenge that she'd felt earlier in the morning faded. Her heart began racing and she felt faint. Suddenly, she felt sure that it was against all human instincts to touch, or even look at, a dead body.

  'I can't stand touching him,' Yoshie blurted out, as if reading her mind. 'D'