Noriko began to feel anxious. She was sure Ichiro had not called to say he would not be home. And in the forty-two years of their marriage, even after the dark period of their son's suicide, even when he had been out with his business associates very late indeed, Ichiro had always come home.

Noriko hurried downstairs. The burglar alarm was on and yesterday's pile of mail waited on the table in the hall. The living room and dining room were undisturbed, exactly as they had been when she went upstairs at ten o'clock the night before.

For thoroughness, she went down to the basement, where the kitchen, breakfast nook and utility room were located. All she found was the kettle waiting on the stove for her to make their morning tea.

Having exhausted all possibilities, Noriko went back upstairs and dialed Michiko.