Yamasaki Asami started after him, but suddenly came to a halt. Her lips were no longer moving, and her eyes had lost their focus. She put her hand to her head as she stood there, hunched and teetering. Now Shige was opening the bottom compartment of the drinks cabinet. He reached behind the wine bottles and emerged with the combat knife. Removing it from its hardened plastic sheath, he grasped the handle in his fist, blade down, and bounded towards her. She was still hunched over, holding her head, when he buried the blade in the nape of her neck. Her knees buckled, and she crumpled to the carpet. Shige ran to the foot of the stairs.
‘Who is she?’ he said.
‘Call police. And ambulance.’
‘Right.’ He turned to run for the phone.
‘Shige. Wait.’
‘Yeah?’
‘She kept saying something.’
‘Yeah.’
‘What was she saying?’
‘ “Liar, liar” – just that one word, over and over.’ Shige pressed the palm of his hand to his left eye and squinted up at him. ‘What was this all about?’
Aoyama shook his head weakly.
‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Nothing, really.’