Kiss of the Geisha

By Deborah Kemp

In Kiss of the Geisha, Page and Kenji Tanaka are enjoying a passionate life together following their whirlwind courtship, when they are drawn into a mysterious murder.

Page is teaching part time at Kyoto University when a fellow professor dies of poisoning from the deadly puffer fish, fugu. Several other men have died in the same way, and Page begins to suspect that the professor was murdered because of his research into Japanese war crimes involving the dead men.

Page is tutoring a young Japanese girl who is training to become a geisha. This young girl becomes involved in the killings when she overhears a conversation between her geisha mother and her geisha mothers patron.

Page and Kenji travel to Europe, but when they return, the threat of danger still hangs over them. Page realizes that having all the money she could ever need doesnt make her immune to that danger. She knows that someone wants to silence her, possibly forever, and she must rely on Kenji and her friends to save her.

Kyoto, Tokyo, Kamakura, and Osaka are the settings for Kiss of the Geisha where every day life in Japan presents some interesting challenges for Page. Some familiar characters from Kyoto Connection return in this second book in the continuing series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Oct 28, 2001
• ISBN: 9780759669901

Deborah Kemp

Deborah Kemp was born in Massachusetts. She received a B.S. degree in Psychology, and then worked as a travel agent for ten years. After traveling extensively, she returned to school, received a Master’s degree in Education, and became a teacher. She and her family hosted several Japanese students, and she began what she calls a "life-long love affair with Japan." She spent two summers visiting Kyoto where she made side trips to other areas of Japan. In writing Kyoto Connection, she combined her years of learning about Japan with her personal experiences in Japan. She continues to teach her students about life in Japan, and is working on her third book, Captive in Kyoto. This book features Page and Kenji from Kyoto Connection and Kiss of the Geisha, as they get involved in the disappearance of an American woman in Kyoto.

Book preview

Chapter 1

The pale sunlight of the October afternoon filtered into my tiny cubicle at Kyoto University. Since I taught only two courses, I shared my space with another gaijin professor whose status was slightly elevated above mine. The powers that be thought that Professor Trevor Francis would serve as a mentor to me by virtue of the fact that he spoke English. He was, in fact British, but he did prove to be a mentor and friend from the start.

I came to Kyoto over three years ago as Page Queenan, but so much had changed in my life since then, even my name, now Page Tanaka. Kenji Tanaka and I had met, fallen in love, and married in secret, with a haste that surprised our friends and families on two continents. I hadn’t known him long before I found myself caught up in a kidnapping and attempted murder that ultimately brought us so close together that marriage seemed inevitable.

I had doubts about whether his family would accept our marriage since he was the only son and heir of Hideo and Akiko Tanaka. His family owned a large and successful import-export business in Tokyo and Kyoto, and it was generally expected that Kenji would marry a Japanese woman from a good family who would produce future heirs to Tanaka and Son, Ltd. The fact that his family was planning a party this month to celebrate our wedding did little to erase my doubts that they still did not fully approve of our marriage. The party had been delayed four months due to a death in the family earlier in the year.

Kenji’s business took him out of town and out of the country several times a year, so when he wanted me to accompany him on a trip to London this past July, I was only too happy to comply. The trip was like a second honeymoon following closely on the heels of our first, and we managed to mix his business with our pleasure. I was proud to be seen with my handsome husband, and was not surprised to notice that his looks caused British women to stare at him invitingly as often as Japanese women did. I was happy to note that he seemed not to notice at all.

We scoured the flea markets on Portobello Road, had high tea in fancy tearooms, attended plays, and shopped at Harrods. Despite the fact that he had been to London many times, he wanted my first time to be special, and it was. I was still getting used to the privileged existence that my marriage afforded me, while Kenji had been born to it. While I attended Boston University on scholarship, he attended Harvard University, and while I was working my way through graduate school studying Japanese Language and Asian Studies, he was nearly through his graduate degree in Asian Art at Tokyo University.

The fact that I spoke Japanese fluently and could write and translate it, allowed me the opportunity to find work in Japan. I could not explain my love for Kyoto. I had felt a connection to it long before I came here, long before I met

Kenji. My American friends Beth and John often teased me about my obsession with all things Japanese.

When I first came to Kyoto, I taught English, and then worked as a translator. When I married Kenji, I gave up that job and decided to try teaching in a university. I thought it would be nice to use my degree in Asian Studies. Ironically, I was ultimately hired to teach a course in Western Studies and a course in English Language. Normally schools in Japan begin in April, but I was hired to replace a visiting professor that went back to America to start school in September. I knew if I didn’t accept that offer, there would be no more forthcoming, and although I no longer needed to work, I wanted to, so I took the job.

Page, could you look at this for me? I was roused from my thoughts by Trevor’s voice. He was forever asking me to translate things for him since his knowledge of Japanese was rudimentary at best. He taught his classes in English as I did, because the university offered exchange students from English speaking countries the option of taking some classes in English. Japanese students who were fairly fluent in English were allowed to take the classes, too, although the English course I taught was obviously not for Americans. My fluency in Japanese proved invaluable on a regular basis, since Japanese students who are considered fluent in English usually aren’t by American standards. I found myself really enjoying my new job and the freedom it gave me.

It was Thursday afternoon and I was done teaching for the week. I was just finishing up some lesson plans for next week, I told Trevor. Let me see what you need to translate. Trevor was extremely interested in American history, especially World War II, not always a popular subject here in Japan. My tastes ran more to Japanese history, culture, textiles, and art, prompting Kenji to declare that I was more Japanese than many Japanese. Trevor showed me the paper, and I quickly translated it for him. Thanks Page. What are you up to this weekend? Trevor was divorced from a woman in England, and I knew little about his social life in Japan. He often teased me that if it didn’t work out with Kenji, he would be happy to step in for him. I laughed at his good-natured teasing, and offered to fix him up with my single girlfriends.

We are going to my husband’s family house in Kamakura, I told him. Isn’t that near Tokyo? Trevor asked. Yes, about twenty-five miles southwest. We’re going to drive instead of taking the Shinkansen, I added, referring to the high speed ‘bullet train’ that took less than three hours to Tokyo. Kenji likes to drive, and we have to bring some formal clothes that aren’t easy to pack, so it’s easier to drive. We hadn’t been in Kamakura since May, and though we had gone to Tokyo in June, we didn’t make it to Kamakura that trip.

What are you doing this weekend? I asked Trevor. I’m really into some research right now, he said mysteriously. He didn’t elaborate, so I didn’t pursue a discussion. Then again I may go out carousing with Nakamura, he added referring to his friend Professor Nakamura. He usually knows where to find the ladies! It was this mix of scholarly and silly that I found appealing about Trevor Francis.

The ringing of my cell phone interrupted us. The cell phone was a new acquisition that Kenji had insisted on. I might possibly have been the only person in Kyoto that didn’t have one until recently. Moshi, moshi. Hearing Kenji’s voice or seeing him walk into a room, still left me breathless and unable to conceive how I got so lucky in love. Page-san, I will pick you up outside the university. Normally I would meet him at a restaurant downtown, or take a bus or taxi home. I had finally gone through the process of getting my license, but I was still getting used to driving in Kyoto, and I was not yet totally comfortable negotiating traffic alone. Since we lived in Higashiyama, a good distance from downtown, Kenji usually picked me up. His office was downtown, and it was not a long drive to the university. Before I met Kenji, I never took taxis since they were too expensive for me. I didn’t mind the bus or subway, and I still had a hard time getting used to taking a taxi without a second thought.

I thought we could get some take-out and go home. He went on to describe what he had planned for after dinner, and I am sure I must have been blushing in front of Trevor. Kenji and I could never seem to get enough of each other, and that was fine with me. I lowered my voice to tell him what I thought of his plans, but I realized that even though we were speaking Japanese, Trevor knew just enough to catch the drift of our conversation. Kenji-san, I am not alone here, I said, trying not to think about the pleasures awaiting me. We can discuss this later. He agreed and hung up, leaving me to deal with Trevor’s smirks. You know, Page, if my wife had ever talked to me the way you talk to Kenji, I’d probably still be married to her. Your husband is a lucky man. "Thank you Trevor.

Have a good weekend. You, too, Page. Even though it’s not the weekend yet."

It is for me, I said with a big grin, and I left.

Chapter 2

I waited outside the gate for Kenji and wondered how the upcoming wedding celebration would be. I didn’t think it would be anything like the party my parents had held for us in July. On our way home from London, we stopped in Boston to spend some time with my family. They were looking forward to meeting Kenji, and to seeing me again after two years. I never doubted that Kenji would charm them, and he did not disappoint. By the time we left, my parents, my older sister, and my brother-in-law approved of my husband wholeheartedly. My sister jokingly asked if she could trade places with me for a while. My young niece and nephew kept her busy all the time. I was touched to see how Kenji played with them and made them laugh. It made me realize what a good father he would be some day, though we were not in a hurry for children yet.

While in Boston, we had taken the time to go to Cambridge and walk around Harvard Square. Kenji made me laugh at stories of his days at Harvard University. Our trip was a success, and Kenji was able to convince my parents to come to Kyoto sometime in the future. That was more of a commitment than I had ever received, since my father hated to fly, and my mother wouldn’t go without him.

My thoughts returned to the celebration set for Saturday night. The Tanaka’s home was old and beautiful, and while I looked forward to spending time there again, I was nervous about the party. Akiko had insisted that I wear a kimono as I had last May for her spring party. She had taken me shopping for my first kimono at her favorite shop in Tokyo, but this time I had bought my own in Kyoto. I had been Kenji’s ‘friend’ in May, but I would be returning to Kamakura as his wife. Kyoto was my home and I wanted a kimono that was made in Kyoto. I had a passionate interest in the Nishijin textiles that had a long history in Kyoto, and I often went to the Nishijin Orimono to tour the factory and watch them weave the beautiful silks, never dreaming that I would one day be able to afford a Nishijin kimono and obi.

My best friend Beth Handlin went shopping with me to pick out the kimono. She and her boyfriend John Evans would be attending the party, but they would not arrive until Saturday morning. Kenji’s parents had insisted on sending them tickets for the Shinkansen and had invited them to stay at the house with us. Beth was as excited about the party as I was nervous. I offered to buy her a kimono to wear, but she refused, saying she wouldn’t be comfortable in it. The kimono I chose was a beautiful red silk with deep orange flowers and maple leaves. The seasons play a huge part in both food and dress in Kyoto, and I wanted my kimono to reflect the autumn season. The contrasting obi, the sash wound around the middle, was a pale orange with gold threads and red flowers. I chose red not only because it was a traditional color of celebration, but also because it complemented my fair complexion, blonde hair, and green eyes. I was not tall, but the traditional wooden clogs, geta, that I bought to wear with my kimono, made me appear taller and even willowy in my mind. I was past worrying about what people would think of the gaijin in traditional Japanese attire. At the advanced age of twenty-nine, I had found some balance in my life and I was enjoying it fully.

Kenji pulled up beside me and I jumped in beside him. I couldn’t resist leaning over to kiss him before he started driving again. Page-san, if you keep kissing me I will be unable to drive. He tried to sound stern, but failed. I could smell some delicious food and I asked him what it was. I picked up some tempura chicken and rice. I hope that’s o.k. I loved tempura, and the smell made me realize how hungry I was. That’s great. I skipped lunch so I hope you got lots of food! You mean you want to eat as soon as we get home? Kenji sounded like his other plans for the evening should take precedence over my hunger, but I told him, I need food to sustain me through the night you have planned. He laughed and we talked about his work and my classes as we drove home.

When we arrived home, I was struck as always by how beautiful it was. I still thought of it as Kenji’s house though I had moved in with him in June. I gladly gave up my tiny apartment in downtown Kyoto to live in this house with its gardens and traditional Japanese architecture. Kenji had a gardener and a housekeeper that came a few times a week, so the house and grounds were immaculate. His collection of rare and beautiful netsuke was displayed in the living room. I had learned all about the little netsuke that were used years ago to secure money and tobacco pouches to men’s kimono. They were intricately carved animals, people, and gods, and today were highly sought after by collectors.

We took the food out to the garden room/solarium to eat. The gardens outside could be seen through the glass enclosure, and there were many plants inside as well. It was a serene dining area. I loved to come out early in the morning and have tea there. After more than two years in cramped city apartments, this was heaven in the Higashiyama hills.

We cleaned up the remains of dinner, and walked back to the bedroom where Kenji suggested a nice soak in the tub. The bathroom had a traditional ofuro, a deep tub for soaking, and it overlooked the gardens. In Japan, it is the custom to wash outside the tub, rinse well, and then enter the tub. Kenji went to turn on the water to fill the deep tub while I changed out of my clothes and went in to scrub. He joined me, and as was our custom, we scrubbed each other. In the past this had led to some heated lovemaking before we ever got to the tub, but tonight we both seemed content to relax and enjoy the tub first. The water was very hot, and I could feel myself relax almost instantly. I thought nothing could be better than sharing a tub with my gorgeous husband, staring into his beautiful eyes and seeing the love I felt for him reflected back to me. I pushed away thoughts of less happy times we had experienced, and looked forward to our future, knowing that happiness was a precious but sometimes fleeting emotion.

It was my suggestion to leave the warmth of the tub for the warmth of our futon, and Kenji did not resist. We dried each other off and slid beneath the fresh clean sheets of the futon. As always I marveled at Kenji’s smooth muscular body made strong by years of aikido martial arts training. Like most women, I found flaws with my own body, but Kenji made me feel flawless when he made love to me. I was more amply endowed than most Japanese women, a fact that not escaped Kenji’s notice from the beginning. We kissed and made love slowly, deliberately prolonging our pleasure in each other’s bodies. When at last we finished, I lay content in his arms.

Are you looking forward to the party? Kenji asked me. I’m a little nervous, I confessed. He frowned slightly. My parents have accepted our marriage. You don’t need to feel nervous around them. I did not share his optimism, but I didn’t want to spoil the way I felt just now, so I changed the subject. Everything is almost packed and ready to go in the morning, I told him. Good, then we can sleep a little later, or not, he added with a twinkle in his eye. Through the past few months I had come to know and love that twinkle. Later that night Kenji fell asleep in my arms, but thoughts of the party kept intruding, and sleep did not come so easily to me.

Chapter 3

We arrived in Kamakura just before noon on Friday morning. It was a beautiful fall morning complete with sunshine and warmer than normal temperatures. Two maids came out of the house as soon as we stopped the car, and took our luggage inside. My past experience had taught me that my clothes would all be unpacked and hung up before I ever got to the room. This time I would be allowed to share Kenji’s old room with him. When I came in May I had a Western-style guest room, and to keep up appearances, Kenji stayed in his Japanese-style room. Of course we secretly spent every night together in my room or his. Public appearance was one thing, but we would not deny ourselves the private pleasures of the night. I don’t think we fooled anyone.

Hideo and Akiko greeted us in the beautiful living room of the old house. There was a more modern house joined to the original, but I loved the simplicity of this house. They had a light lunch waiting for us in the dining room, so we joined them at the low table. You are both looking well, I complimented them. They were a handsome couple that kept a busy social schedule. We talked about the party, and I asked if I could help with anything, knowing my offer would be refused. Akiko thanked me, but insisted that everything was under control. I did not doubt it.

We spent a quiet afternoon visiting with them, and later Kenji and I took a walk in the beautiful gardens. Remember when you gave me my pearls at this very spot? I asked him, thinking about the beautiful Mikimoto pearls I wore every day now. Yes, I remember. What will I give you this time? he asked. You have already given me far too much. I don’t want anything else. He had given me matching earrings, a diamond solitaire and platinum wedding ring, and since I was not one to wear much jewelry, that was enough for me. Page-san, no one will ever accuse you of marrying me for money. I have a hard time convincing you to take a taxi or buy yourself new clothes. He laughed, but I put my arms around him