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  It may have been wrong to kill him, but she still couldn't bring herself to forgive him. She repeated the formula to herself again and again: I still don't forgive you. I killed you, but I don't forgive you. I'll never forgive you. It's your fault for being unfaithful. I didn't change, you did. You killed the happy couple that picked out this ring.

  She went back into the living room and dragged open the door leading to the garden. The narrow yard, ending at a discoloured cinderblock wall, was littered with tricycles and a tiny swing set. Standing there, Yayoi tugged the ring off her finger and flung it as hard as she could toward the neighbour's yard, though it bounced off the wall and landed somewhere in the garden. The gesture left her feeling both uncomfortable at being responsible for getting rid of the thing, and glad to have made a final break with it all.

  She stared at the stark white area on her finger in the November sunlight. There was something pathetic about this band of pale skin, the mark from a ring that hadn't been removed in eight years. It was the mark of loss. But it was also the mark of liberation, a sign that everything was finally over.

  Just as this thought was flitting through her head, the buzzer on the intercom rang. Had someone seen what she'd just done? She stepped down into the garden and craned her neck to see over the fence. A tall man in a suit was standing calmly at the front door. Fortunately, he didn't seem to notice her peering at him from the garden. She hurried back into the house and picked up the receiver, ignoring the spots of dark earth clinging to her stockings.

  'Who is it?' she said.

  'My name is Sato,' said a man's voice. 'I knew your husband in Shinjuku. I was in the area and I was wondering whether I could pay my respects.'

  'I see/ she said. Though it was rather a nuisance, she couldn't turn away people who came to offer their condolences. With a housekeeper's eye, she gave the living room and the bedroom, where the family altar was, a quick inspection. Deciding they would do, she headed for the entrance hall. A well-built man with short hair made a deep bow as soon as she opened the door.

  'I'm sorry to show up suddenly like this,' he said, his voice smooth and low. 'I just wanted to tell you how sorry I was for your loss.' Yayoi returned the bow automatically, but some part of her was sceptical about such a late visit. And yet, though Kenji had died at the end of July, more than four months ago, she was still getting calls from shocked friends who said they had just heard what had happened.

  'It's kind of you to come all the way out here,' she said. Sato was standing in the doorway, taking a close look at her - her face, her eyes, her mouth. There was nothing unpleasant in his manner, but she had the uncomfortable feeling that he knew something about her beforehand and was measuring her against his expectations. She took another look at him as well, and found herself wondering what connection he could have had with Kenji. He seemed completely different from the other people in her husband's life, the other men at his office. They were all so casual and easygoing, so uncomplicated, while this man struck her as hard to get a handle on, his expression unreadable. Nevertheless, the cheap grey suit and the boring tie seemed to suggest he was another office drudge.

  'If it's not too much trouble, I'd like to pay my respects,' he said again, his voice even smoother than before, as though he sensed her reservations.

  'Come in,' she said. Feeling slightly put upon, she led him down the passage to the living room, already regretting having let a stranger into the house, and vaguely ill at ease with him following right behind her. 'It's in there,' she said, gesturing toward the altar in the bedroom. Sato knelt down and pressed his hands together in front of the picture of Kenji while Yayoi went to make tea in the kitchen. Glancing toward the bedroom from time to time, she wondered why someone would show up like this without bringing the customary condolence gift. It wasn't that she cared about the gift, but it was just common courtesy, when you were coming all this way, to bring a present or a card or something.

  'I appreciate it,' she told him when she was sure he'd finished. 'Will you have some tea?' She placed a cup on the table in the living room. Sato sat down in front of it and looked directly at her. It bothered her that there was no trace of sadness or sympathy or even curiosity in his eyes. He thanked her but left the tea untouched. She set out an ashtray, but he sat perfectly still, his hands clasped on his knees - almost as if he wanted to leave no evidence of his visit. She felt uneasy. Masako had told her to be careful, but she was just beginning to understand the urgency in her warning. 'Where did you say you met my husband?' she asked, trying to make the question sound casual.

  'In Shinjuku,' he said.

  'Where in Shinjuku?'

  'In Kabuki-cho,' he said. She looked up, startled by his answer.

  Seeing her uneasiness, he smiled reassuringly. But she realised that the smile was confined to his thick lips; his eyes remained completely expressionless.

  'Kabuki-cho?' she said.

  'Let's stop pretending, shall we?' A look of horror came over her face as she remembered Kinugasa's call telling her that the casino owner had disappeared. But part of her still refused to believe it could be him.

  'What do you mean?' she said.

  'I had a little run-in with your husband . . . that night/ Sato said, pausing as if to gauge her reaction. She held her breath. 'You know better than I do what happened after that, but you may not know how much trouble you've caused me. I've lost my clubs, my whole business. I've lost more than a woman like you could ever imagine, living out here in the middle of nowhere, fussing over your kids.'

  'What are you talking about?' Yayoi said, starting to get up. 'I think you'd better leave!'

  'Sit down!' Sato said, his voice low and menacing. Yayoi froze.

  'I'll call the police,' she said.

  'Go ahead. I think they'll be more interested in you than me.'

  'Why?' she said, dropping back on to her chair. 'What are you trying to say?' She was already numb with panic and her mind had shut down. All she wanted was to get this horrible man out of her house as soon as possible.

  'I know all about it,' Sato said. 'I know you killed your husband.'

  'That's a lie!' she cried, beginning to lose control. 'How dare you say that!'

  'They'll hear you outside,' he warned her. 'The houses here are close together. And you do sound guilty, screaming like that.'

  'But .. . I really don't know what you're talking about.' She pressed her hands to her temples, but the trembling in her arms made her whole head shake. Then, letting her arms drop back to her lap, she sat quietly, aware of the truth in what he said. She had spent the last four months worrying about the neighbours' reactions to Kenji's death. She knew it was paranoia, but she still had the feeling that everyone around was whispering about her.

  'You're probably wondering how much I know,' he laughed. This time there was real mirth in his voice. 'It's simple: I know everything.'

  'Know about what?' she said. 'I still don't understand what you're getting at.' Yayoi was now petrified. She looked across the table at him. She knew very little about the world, but she could tell this man was dangerous, that he'd probably had experiences good and bad she couldn't even imagine, and that he was free now to do whatever he wanted. She had probably never passed anyone like him on the street. Their worlds were so completely different that it seemed strange they should even speak the same language. Part of her was even slightly impressed that Kenji could have had the guts to take on a man like this.

  'Does all this come as a shock?' Sato laughed, seeing her dazed expression.

  'I still don't know what you're talking about,' she repeated. Sato ran his hand over his jaw, as if considering how to proceed. Yayoi noticed his long, sensitive fingers.

  'That night, your husband and I had a fight. He came home and you strangled him out there in the hallway. When your kids asked if he'd come back, you badgered them into keeping quiet. The older one .. . what's his name? Takashi, yes, that's it.'

  'How do you know about him?!' she burst out