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  Masako waved quickly and went into the changing room, while Yoshie, satisfied with her ruse to get rid of Kuniko, sipped at her paper cup of sugary coffee.

  Masako changed quickly and then casually picked up two plastic aprons that belonged to women who had apparently moved on to other jobs. She slipped them into her bag. She had also stuffed several pairs of latex gloves in her pocket. Going back to the lounge, she sat down next to Yoshie. The tatami mat was still warm where Kuniko had been sitting. As she was pulling out her cigarettes, Yayoi, who had also changed, came up and began to sit down with them, but Masako warned her off with a nod. 'Well, I'll be going then,' Yayoi said, obviously reluctant to do so; and she wandered off towards the door, turning several times to look back anxiously at Masako.

  As she disappeared around the corner, Yoshie whispered urgently: 'What's this all about? I won't be able to stand it if you don't tell me.'

  'Just listen and try not to act shocked,' Masako said, looking her straight in the eye. 'Yayoi's killed her husband.' Yoshie's mouth hung open for a moment, her chapped lips trembling. 'Not act shocked... ?' she whispered at last.

  'I know,' said Masako. 'But it's true, and there's no way to undo it. I've decided to try to help her, and I want to know if you'll help, too.'

  'Are you out of your mind?!' Yoshie shrieked, but then, realising there were people around, lowered her voice. 'She should go turn herself in - right now.'

  'But she's got little kids, and he was beating her. She did it in self-defence. You can see the relief on her face.'

  'But she killed him,' Yoshie gulped.

  'How many times have you thought you'd like to kill your mother-in-law?' Masako watched her face stiffen.

  'Lots,' she said, draining her coffee cup. 'But thinking about it and actually doing it are two different things.'

  'They are. But something made Yayoi cross that line. And it does happen, doesn't it, Skipper? That's why I'm going to do what I can to help.'

  'Do what!?' Yoshie's voice rang out across the room this time and nearly everyone turned to look. The group of Brazilian men, camped out in their usual spot against the wall, peered curiously at her. 'There's nothing you can do,' she continued, seeming to shrink into herself. 'Nothing.'

  'Still, I'm going to try,' said Masako.

  'But why should you? Why should I? The whole thing gives me the creeps - becoming accomplices to a murder.'

  'Not accomplices,' Masako insisted. 'We didn't kill him.'

  'But I'm sure they send people to jail too for dumping dead bodies.'

  'Yes, maybe,' said Masako. 'Dumping them .. . or dismantling them a bit, either one.'

  'What do you mean?' said Yoshie, her tongue running back and forth over her lips as she tried to cope with this new puzzle. 'What are you planning to do?'

  'I'm going to cut him up and throw away the pieces. Then Yayoi can go on just as before, as though nothing's happened. They'll register her husband as missing, and that'll be the end of it.'

  'Forget it,' said Yoshie, shaking her head stubbornly. 'I couldn't. Not that.'

  'Fine,' said Masako, reaching across the table with her hand open. 'Then pay back the money I lent you last night. Now.' Yoshie sat quietly for a time, a pained expression on her face, while Masako stubbed out her cigarette in the empty coffee cup. A repellent smell of sugar, instant coffee and ashes briefly filled their nostrils; but Masako ignored it and lit another cigarette.

  'All right then,' said Yoshie finally, having apparently made up her mind. 'I can't give you back the money, so I guess I'll have to help.'

  'Thank you. I knew I could count on you, Skipper.'

  'But there's one thing you've got to tell me,' said Yoshie, looking up at her. 'I'm doing this because you helped me out, but why would you be willing to do something like this for Yayoi?'

  'I'm not sure I know myself,' said Masako. 'But I can tell you this: if you'd been the one in this fix, I'd have done the same for you.' There seemed nothing left to say, and Yoshie fell silent.

  -

  Nearly everyone else had left the factory when Masako and Yoshie walked down the stairs at the main entrance. A gentle, earlymorning rain was falling, and Yoshie went to get the umbrella she'd left in the rack next to the door. Masako hadn't brought one and was facing a wet walk to the parking lot.

  'I'll see you at my house at nine, then,' she said.

  'I'll be there,' said Yoshie, straddling her bicycle and pedalling wearily off into the rain. Masako watched her go and then started for the parking lot at a brisk pace; but before she'd gone more than a few steps she noticed a man standing in the shadow of the sycamore trees that lined the road. It was Kazuo Miyamori, dressed now in a white T-shirt, jeans and a black cap. He was staring at his feet and holding out a clear plastic umbrella, without making any effort to keep his own head covered, which was soaking wet.

  'How do you say "Go to hell" in Brazilian?' Masako said as she walked past him. He looked up, apparently confused, and started after her.

  'Umbrella,' he said, waving it at her.

  'I don't want it,' she said, brushing it away. 'Not from you.' The umbrella fell on the cracked sidewalk and lay there. The road was deserted and the clatter it made echoed in the silence. Masako could sense that Kazuo was taken aback. She remembered the hurt look on his face two nights ago when Yayoi had ignored his greeting. He's just a baby, she thought. She realised that he was following her, and as she turned to look at him it occurred to her that his lost expression made things more complicated. But the dark eyes under the brim of the cap were the same ones she'd seen in the reddish moonlight the night before.

  'Leave me alone!' she shouted at him.

  'I'm sorry,' he said, coming quickly around in front of her and placing his hands on his solid chest. She knew this meant he was apologising 'with all his heart', but she still ignored him and turned right, down the street that led by the abandoned factory, the street where he had attacked her. She could tell that he was still following her, but she felt only a vague apprehension and the desire to drive the memories of the attack out of her head.

  'Will you come tonight?' he asked.

  'You're dreaming,' she said.

  'But... ' he murmured as she broke into a run. The delivery bay of the old factory came quickly into view. The brown metal shutters where he had pinned her showed no sign of any dents as they went on rusting in the rain. The grass she had trampled in her attempt to get away bore no trace of the struggle. Suddenly, she was filled with rage that everything could go on as before, as if nothing had happened. The humiliation and self-loathing of last night came rushing back and she stopped, waiting for him to reach her. She was so furious she didn't know what she might do; but Kazuo, unsuspecting, approached, with the umbrella now in his hand again, and stood looking at her.

  'Now get this straight,' she hissed. 'If you ever try this again I'm going to the police . . . and to management and you'll be out of a job.'

  'I understand,' he said, nodding as if in relief. Then his dark face looked up at her. She finally realised that he'd been terrified that she would tell someone.

  'Don't get all excited. I haven't forgiven you for anything.' She turned on her heel and walked away, and this time she knew he wasn't following her. She didn't turn around until she reached the entrance to the parking lot, but when she did, she could see him still standing where she'd left him.

  'Idiot!' she wanted to call out, but she suppressed the urge, unsure exactly who to take it out on. She looked around for her Corolla and found it parked in the same spot. She tried to imagine the object in the trunk, and it suddenly seemed strange beyond belief that dawn had come as usual, that it should be raining so normally, when that utterly lifeless thing was still in there. And then she realised that everything, even that pig of a young man who'd just been apologising to her so desperately, only reminded her of the body in the trunk; and it wasn't really the Miyamori boy she wanted to punish so much as the lifeless Kenji - and herself for getting caught up