Free The Kizuna Coast: A Rei Shimura Mystery (Rei Shimura Mysteries Book 11) by Sujata Massey

statue.”
    His expression “melted down” reminded me of the current state of Fukushima, but nobody else seemed to have noticed.
    “I’m very sorry we cannot take the dog,” my uncle continued. “I like the happy nature of dogs, but they make me itch and sneeze terribly. It would be ideal if Mr. Ishida’s apprentice could be found and she could make arrangements.”
    “I don’t know if I’ll find her.” Even though I’d left a phone message for Mayumi, I wasn’t sure I could trust someone who’d left Hachiko alone so long in the first place.
    “You said earlier that you had photographed some word written on Mr. Ishida’s calendar?” Aunt Norie asked.
    “Thanks for reminding me,” I said, getting my phone out of my pocket. My uncle, aunt, and cousin leaned in to look at the image that I zoomed so it was readable.
    “Sugihama.” Aunt Norie said. “Cedar tree shore. It sounds like a town name, but where is it?”
    “In Tohoku,” Tom said.
    “When the tsunami hit, Sugihama was on CNN! But was Ishida-san actually there? He phoned me from somewhere called Yamagawa.”
    “Maybe he was carried some distance by a wave,” Tom suggested. “That was the plight of many people.”
    “Or it could be that his shelter is in Sugihama, not Yamagawa, but he was confused,” I remembered. “He does have a head injury.”
    As I thought about the various possibilities, the Shimuras’ electricity returned with a cheerful snap. The pendant lamp above the table glowed warmly, and Uncle Hiroshi hurried off to rummage around his study. He returned with a deeply creased 1990 Japan Tourist Board map of the Tohoku coast.
    “Sugihama is small—just a tiny dot—a few miles north of a place where an eight-meter wave hit. And it’s below Yamagawa, where the wave was seven meters,” my uncle said, examining the map he’d spread out on the table.
    “Twenty-four feet tall,” I translated and shuddered.
    “How can you get to any of these towns?” Uncle Hiroshi shook his head. “It will take many more days or weeks before the train lines are restored.”
    “I don’t know yet,” I admitted. “I was told it’s pretty unlikely I could rent a car.”
    “Some nongovernmental organizations are finding ways to go,” Tom said. “One of our nurses is going to Sugihama on a chartered bus with the Helping Hands organization this Friday evening.”
    “You mean, tomorrow?” As Tom nodded, I exclaimed, “That’s perfect! Can you put me in touch with this nurse?”
    “Certainly. I have her number in my phone.”
    After Tom spoke, I saw he was blushing. Uncle Hiroshi didn’t seem to notice, but Aunt Norie, who’d been hoping for a daughter-in-law, pounced. “You have taken this girl’s number? Who is she?”
    “Nurse Tanaka.” Tom sounded irritable. “And it’s very normal for staff to have each other’s phone numbers, for professional reasons.”
    “Nurse Tanaka who?” Aunt Norie would not be brushed off. “How old is this nurse?”
    I had a distant memory of a pretty nurse who had chatted with Tom about things other than medication during my stay at St. Luke’s for a smashed knee. I asked, “Is Tanaka-san the one who worked on the trauma ward?”
    “Yes. She’s still there.” Turning to Aunt Norie, Tom added, “Tanaka Michiko is two years younger than I am. And to answer any other questions you probably have, she has not married yet and seems to be a responsible, respectable person.”
    “Oh, Tsutomu.” Aunt Norie beamed. “You must certainly call this nurse on Rei-chan’s behalf. And if you can’t reach her tonight, give me the number, please.”

    I could not reach Michiko Tanaka by phone, but that evening, I found an English-language website for Helping Hands. After a few exchanged e-mails with its director, Hiroshi Yano, I learned he was seeking volunteers who could commit to a minimum of three days of assistance in Sugihama. I expressed my willingness to help, but added that I hoped to also visit