Gwen Moffat lives in Cumbria. Her novels are set in remote communities ranging from the Hebrides to the American West. The crimes fit their environment, swelling that dreadful record of sin in the smiling countryside cited by Sherlock Holmes.
A man is stabbed and dies on a bridge in Tokyo. A person in the vicinity flees into the path of a truck when he is approached by the police. Taken to hospital in a coma he is found to be in possession of the victim’s wallet. He is quickly identified but dies without regaining consciousness.
Despite the evidence his good character is fiercely attested by his pregnant young partner, while the whole incident on the bridge deserves scrutiny in the opinion of one detective who, in the face of his colleagues and the media, senses that this was something more than a random mugging that went wrong.
Kyoichiro Kaga is the quiet man among a cast of cops not unlike their western counterparts: well-meaning, lazy, diligent, careless, occasionally comic like Kaga’s partner who is also his cousin. Families and close relationships monopolize this book, from the spouses and siblings of victims and suspects to their friends and teachers. A thread of delicate comedy is supplied by the woman who nursed Kaga’s late father and who, persistent as any stalker, haunts the detective, insisting he show respect and get involved in funeral arrangements and the Memorial Service.
The story unravels with suggestively familiar themes but in an aura that is alien, subtle, thought-provoking. There is increasing emphasis on the plethora of shrines in downtown Tokyo, shrines to a multitude of gods: gods for assistance in everything: for success in passing exams, for ease in childbirth, for longevity. Kaga finds a number where prayers have been supplemented with hundreds of origami cranes in different colours. (Special origami paper is advertised on the internet.) Shrines may be found in the shadow of towering office blocks, occasionally inside office blocks. But then, here and there, remnants of old Tokyo survive: bars and restaurants and little craft shops half-hidden under hideous modern flyovers: beautiful wooden relics relished and frequented by Kaga but a revelation to his cousin – and unusual clues to remind the fascinated reader that this is a crime novel, spiced with violence and violent death.
Here are two plots, inter-meshed: basic, simple, but tempered and even resolved by guilt and gallantry, and the exquisite courtesy that makes this one different, a sophisticated curiosity.
Translated by Giles Murray
