Page 16 of A Serving of Hope

“All right,” she said, a fresh determination coming into her voice. “We’ll get to the bottom of this. If Dad can’t, I will.”

“Thank you so much. I really do appreciate it.” Shiori stood up and gave a deep bow.

—

They returned to the restaurant to find Nagare busy prepping food.

“Did you get the whole story, then?” he asked, covering a metal tray with a lid.

“Just about,” replied Koishi. She lifted the lid and peered inside. “What are you making?”

“Semidried venison. Another couple of weeks and it’ll be perfect.” Nagare gazed at the dark red meat for a moment, then replaced the lid.

Koishi noticed Shiori staring at the tray and asked, “Something the matter?”

“That might have been what was in it…” she murmured, her eyes glazing over slightly.

“Venison? Dad, do they eat a lot of venison in Niigata?”

Nagare tilted his head thoughtfully. “Can’t say I’ve ever heard of anything like that. But who knows?”

“I’m probably just imagining things,” said Shiori. “Now, when should I come back?”

“Give us two weeks,” said Koishi. “I’ll be in touch when everything’s ready.”

“Got it. I work late, so you might have to leave a message on my voicemail.”

As Shiori stepped outside, the tabby cat came bounding over, and she crouched to stroke it. “Your cat?”

“In a manner of speaking.” Koishi eyed Nagare reproachfully. “Dad never lets him inside.”

“Of course I don’t,” he retorted, folding his arms and looking to one side. “You can’t have a cat wandering around a place that serves food.”

“What’s his name?”

“Drowsy,” said Koishi, squatting at her side. “Mainly because he spends his whole life sleeping.”

“It’s the same at my salon. The owner’s wife has a cat, but he absolutely refuses to let it inside. They’re always arguing about it.” Shiori rubbed Drowsy’s neck, eliciting a friendly purr.

“Where are you heading now, then?”

“Back to Tokyo,” replied Shiori, rising and smoothing out her dress. “I have work tomorrow.”

“Well, it looks like rain,” said Nagare, glancing up at the gray sky. “Travel safe.”

Shiori thanked them again, then set off down Shomen-dori.

—

“So,” said Nagare after they’d seen her off, “what’s the dish?”

“An onigiri.”

Nagare went back into the restaurant and sank into one of the folding chairs. “Hmm. Tough one.”

“Definitely. But at least we know who made it. If all else fails, we can always just ask him.” Koishi sat opposite him and showed him her notebook.

“Murakami, eh? Nice little town. Great sake and rice, and the fishing’s good too.”