Salvation of a Saint

  ‘Don’t worry about that. What is it?’

  She smiled. ‘I was just thinking that it’s time to water the flowers at home. When I left, I assumed I would only be here for a day or two at most.’

  ‘I’m sorry for the inconvenience,’ Kusanagi said. ‘And I think you should be able to move back into your house any time now. Forensics is done, and our reexamination should be finished today. I’ll let you know.’

  ‘No, that’s all right. I think I’d prefer to stay here for now, actually. It’s … hard to imagine being alone in that big house.’

  ‘I can understand.’

  ‘I know I can’t just run away from the truth forever, but all things being equal, I think I’ll stay here at least until the date of the funeral is set.’

  ‘On that note … we should be able to return the remains to you shortly.’

  ‘Thank you. I suppose that means I should be making arrangements …’ Ayane blinked. ‘About the flowers at the house – I was planning on watering them when I went there tomorrow to pick up some more things. But the sooner the better. I know it sounds silly, but it’s been weighing on my mind.’

  Kusanagi smiled. ‘Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll be happy to water the flowers for you. The garden as well as the ones on the balcony, correct?’

  ‘You’re sure you don’t mind? I hate forcing anyone to do my chores.’

  ‘It’s the least we can do in return for all of your assistance. I’m sure I can find someone else to take care of it if I can’t, so don’t worry about a thing.’

  Kusanagi rose and Ayane stood with him. She stared into his eyes. ‘It would be a shame if the flowers there were to wither,’ she said, an unexpected softness slipping into her voice.

  ‘I understand they’re very important to you.’ Kusanagi recalled how she had watered them the day she got back from Sapporo.

  ‘I’ve been keeping those flowers on the balcony since before I got married. Each one of them brings back a different memory …’

  Ayane’s gaze wandered into the distance before returning to the detective. The look in her eyes tugged at something in Kusanagi’s chest, and he found himself unable to meet her stare. ‘I’ll be sure to water them. Don’t worry.’ He turned and went to pay the bill.

  Out in front of the hotel he caught a taxi and headed over to the Mashiba residence. The expression on Ayane’s face as he left her still burned in the back of his mind.

  Kusanagi let his gaze wander outside the window until he spotted a large sign for a home repair centre. A thought came to him, and he told the driver to stop.

  ‘Wait for me here.’

  Kusanagi hurried into the store, then returned to the taxi with a spring in his step.

  A police cruiser was parked outside the Mashiba house. Just what she needs, Kusanagi thought. More for the neighbours to talk about.

  A uniformed officer was standing next to the front gate, the same one who’d been stationed at the house the day Mashiba died. He acknowledged the detective with a silent nod.

  Kusanagi spotted three pairs of shoes in the entranceway. The trainers belonged to Utsumi. The other two pairs were men’s shoes: one pair cheap and worn nearly to the ground, the other new and bearing an Armani logo.

  He walked down the hallway towards the living room. The door was open; he stepped inside and found the room empty. A man’s voice sounded from the kitchen.

  ‘I’m not seeing any signs this was touched at all.’

  ‘Right?’ Utsumi’s voice answered. ‘Forensics said the same thing, that no one had touched it for at least a year.’

  Kusanagi peeked into the next room. Utsumi was standing in front of the sink, a man kneeling next to her. He had his face stuck into the cabinet beneath the basin, so Kusanagi couldn’t see who he was. Kishitani was standing next to them.

  It was Kishitani who noticed the new arrival first. ‘Hey, Detective Kusanagi.’

  Utsumi turned around, a flustered look on her face.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Kusanagi asked.

  She blinked. ‘Why are you …’

  ‘Answer me first. I asked what you’re doing here.’

  ‘Is that really the tone to take with someone so devoted to their work?’ came the voice of the man beneath the sink. He extracted himself and looked around.

  Kusanagi took a step back, startled. ‘Yukawa?! What are you—’ He stopped and looked back at Utsumi. ‘You were talking to him behind my back, weren’t you?’

  Utsumi bit her lip.

  ‘Well, that’s an odd thing to say. Does she need permission from you before she talks to everyone, or am I a special case?’ Yukawa stood and smiled at the detective. ‘Long time no see. You look well.’

  ‘I thought you weren’t helping with investigations anymore.’

  ‘As a rule, I’m not. But every rule has its exceptions. For instance, when I’m presented with a mystery that piques my scientific curiosity. Although, I will admit that this particular case interests me for other reasons as well … but I see no need to go into that with you,’ Yukawa added with a meaningful glance at Utsumi.

  Kusanagi looked at the female detective. ‘Is this what you meant by a reexamination? Bringing him in?’

  Utsumi’s mouth opened halfway in surprise. ‘Mrs Mashiba told you?’

  ‘I was with her when you called. Oh, I almost forgot. Kishitani, you don’t look like you’re doing much.’

  Kishitani stiffened. ‘I was asked to accompany Utsumi and the professor, so we wouldn’t miss anything.’

  ‘Great. Then, in the interests of thoroughness, go and water the flowers.’

  ‘Water?’ Kishitani blinked several times. ‘Flowers?’

  ‘Mrs Mashiba has vacated the premises of her own accord to make our investigation as easy as possible. We can at least water the flowers for her. Just get the ones in the garden. I’ll take care of the balcony.’

  Kishitani frowned, his eyebrows drawing together for a moment, before he nodded and walked out of the kitchen.

  Kusanagi turned back to Utsumi and the physicist. ‘So, sorry to make you go over this again, but can you tell me exactly what it is you’re reexamining? Start from the beginning.’ He set down the paper bag he’d been carrying.

  ‘What is that, anyway?’ Utsumi asked with a glance at the bag.

  ‘It’s not related to the case so it’s nothing for you to worry about. Well?’ Kusanagi crossed his arms and looked at Yukawa.

  Yukawa hitched his thumbs in the pockets of his trousers – Armani too, no doubt, the detective surmised – and leaned back against the sink. He was wearing gloves. ‘The young detective here presented me with a puzzle: “Is it possible to poison the drink of a specific person from a distance, using a method that leaves no trace?” Quite the mystery, right? Even in physics it’s hard to find problems as worth solving as that.’ He shrugged.

  ‘From a distance, huh?’ Kusanagi said with a glare at Utsumi. ‘You still suspect the wife. You’ve decided that she’s the one, and you want Yukawa to tell you what kind of magic trick she had to pull off in order to do it.’

  ‘It’s not just Mrs Mashiba that I suspect. I just want to be sure that no one with an alibi for Saturday and Sunday could have done it.’

  ‘Same difference. You’re after her.’ Kusanagi looked back at Yukawa. ‘So why were you looking beneath the sink?’

  ‘According to what Ms Utsumi here has told me, the poison in question was found in three locations.’ Yukawa lifted three fingers of his gloved hand. ‘The victim’s coffee cup. The ground coffee beans and filter used to make the coffee. And last but not least, the kettle used to boil the water. But what I can’t figure out is what comes next. There are two possibilities: the poison was either inserted directly into the kettle, or it was mixed with water. If it was mixed with the water, we have another two possibilities: bottled water or water from the tap.’

  ‘Tap water? Are you suggesting that the water line was poisoned?’ Kusanagi asked with a snort.
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  Yukawa’s expression did not change as he continued. ‘When multiple possibilities exist, the most logical course of action is to use a process of elimination. Forensics tells us that nothing was amiss with the water line or the filtration system, but I like seeing things for myself. Thus my expedition under the sink here. If you were going to do anything to the water line, that’s where you would have to do it.’

  ‘Find anything?’

  Yukawa slowly shook his head. ‘No signs of anything unusual on the water line, the connector for the filtration system, or the filter itself. It might be worthwhile to take the whole thing apart and examine the inside, but I’m guessing we would still come up empty-handed. This leads me to conclude that if the water was poisoned before the coffee was made, it was water from a bottle.’

  ‘But no poison was found in any of the empty bottles.’

  ‘We’re still waiting on a further report from the lab,’ Utsumi reminded him.

  ‘They won’t find anything. Our Forensics unit does good work,’ Kusanagi said, uncrossing his arms and putting his hands on his hips. He looked at Yukawa. ‘What’s your conclusion, then? For all your effort, leaving your ivory tower and trekking all the way out here, you’ve got precious little to show.’

  ‘We’ve covered the water; next comes the kettle. Didn’t I just say the poison could have been put directly into the kettle?’

  ‘That’s what I’ve been saying,’ Kusanagi replied. ‘But we know that there was nothing in the kettle as of Sunday morning. If we’re to believe Hiromi Wakayama’s testimony.’

  Without answering, Yukawa reached out and picked up a kettle that sat beside the sink.

  ‘What’s that?’ Kusanagi asked. ‘You brought your own kettle?’

  ‘This is the same brand of kettle as the one Mr Mashiba used. Ms Utsumi requisitioned it at my request.’ Yukawa poured hot water from the tap into the kettle, which he then emptied into the sink. ‘Nothing special, no tricks, just a regular kettle.’

  He refilled the vessel with water and lit the gas stove.

  ‘What are you doing now?’

  ‘Watch and learn,’ Yukawa said, leaning nonchalantly on the edge of the sink. ‘So: you’re thinking our killer came here on Sunday and put poison into the kettle?’

  ‘I don’t see any other explanation.’

  ‘That seems like an awfully risky strategy. They must have been sure that Mr Mashiba wouldn’t tell anyone they were coming. Or is your hypothesis that Mr Mashiba stepped out for a moment and they snuck in?’

  ‘Breaking and entering seems unlikely. I’m thinking the killer knew that Mr Mashiba wasn’t the type to talk about his guests.’

  ‘I see. So this guest wasn’t someone he wanted the neighbours to know about, then.’ Yukawa nodded and turned to Utsumi. ‘You don’t have to worry. Your boss is still capable of rational thought.’

  Kusanagi scowled. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Nothing in particular. I was just making the point that, if both parties are rational, then any difference of opinion is probably a good thing.’

  There he goes again – that charming way of making me feel like a complete idiot. Kusanagi glared at the physicist. Yukawa grinned, completely unperturbed.

  The water in the kettle came to a gradual boil. Yukawa turned off the stove, opened the lid, and looked inside. ‘Exactly what I was looking for,’ he said, tipping the kettle over the sink.

  When Kusanagi saw the liquid spilling out into the sink he almost jumped. The water was bright red.

  ‘Is this some kind of joke?’

  Yukawa placed the kettle in the sink and turned towards Kusanagi with a smile. ‘When I said there were no tricks, I lied. There was red powder in the bottom of the kettle, covered with a layer of gelatin. As the water boiled, the gelatin gradually dissolved, allowing the powder and water to mix.’ His smile faded and he nodded towards Utsumi. ‘Am I correct in my understanding that the kettle was used at least two times before the victim died?’

  ‘Yes,’ Utsumi replied. ‘On Saturday night and Sunday morning.’

  ‘By adjusting the type and amount of gelatin, it is theoretically possible to keep the poison from getting into the liquid until the third time the water is used. You might want to have Forensics look into that. They should also consider where on the kettle the gelatin was placed. Oh, and they’ll also want to consider alternatives to gelatin.’

  ‘Right,’ Utsumi said, making a memo in her book.

  ‘What’s wrong, Kusanagi?’ Yukawa chided. ‘You look unhappy.’

  ‘My happiness has nothing to do with it. I was just wondering whether your average murderer would use such an elaborate method of poisoning.’

  ‘Elaborate method? There’s nothing elaborate about it. Anyone who has any familiarity with gelatin would have no trouble doing something like this. Say, for instance, a wife who fancied herself as a good cook.’

  Kusanagi began grinding his molars – a bad habit he had developed in moments of stress. It was becoming clear that the physicist, too, suspected Ayane Mashiba. What has Utsumi been putting in his head?

  Just then the junior detective’s mobile phone rang. She answered it, said a few words, then looked up at Kusanagi. ‘A report from the lab. You were right – they didn’t find anything in the empties.’

  THIRTEEN

  ‘We will now observe a moment of silence.’

  Hiromi closed her eyes and bowed her head at the emcee’s announcement. The Beatles’ song ‘The Long and Winding Road’ filled the room, nearly making her gasp. Yoshitaka was a Beatles fan and had often played their CDs in the car. This was one of his favourite songs, with its slow rhythm and poignant melody. Ayane’s choice, no doubt, Hiromi thought bitterly. The mood of the song fit the occasion far too perfectly.

  Hiromi felt a tightening in her chest, and tears she thought had long run dry began to spill from her closed eyes. How could she not remember him? Yet she knew she mustn’t be seen crying here. What would people think if they saw me, the deceased’s wife’s assistant, crying my eyes out? What would Ayane think?

  After the moment of silence, there was a presentation of flowers. The guests approached the altar in order and laid their bouquets in a pile. Yoshitaka hadn’t been a religious man; the church ceremony was Ayane’s choice. She stood beside the altar, keeping her head bowed as people shuffled forward.

  The police had released the body to the funeral home the day before, and Tatsuhiko Ikai had made the arrangements for the ceremony as soon as he received word. This presentation of flowers took the place of a traditional wake; the company would hold a more formal, upscale ceremony the following day.

  Now it was Hiromi’s turn. She took her flowers from the attendant waiting in the aisle and laid them at the altar. Then she looked up at the photo of the deceased and pressed her hands together in prayer. In the photo, Yoshitaka was smiling, looking tanned and fit.

  Hiromi struggled to hold back a fresh wave of tears. Her stomach gave a sudden brutal lurch. Morning sickness. She unclasped her hands and pressed them to her mouth.

  Nauseous, she turned to leave; her eyes met Ayane’s and she stiffened. Ayane’s face was devoid of emotion as she stared down at her. Hiromi bowed quickly and began to walk past her.

  ‘Hiromi?’ Ayane called out in a soft voice. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘I’m fine, thanks,’ Hiromi managed.

  Ayane nodded and turned back towards the altar.

  Hiromi left the room. I need to get out of here. She hurried for the exit, but she had just reached the door when some- one touched her on the shoulder from behind. It was Yukiko Ikai.

  ‘Oh … h-hello.’

  ‘Poor dear.’ Yukiko sighed. ‘You’ve had a rough time. With the police asking you all those questions …’ Though her expression was one of genuine concern, Hiromi detected a glimmer of curiosity in the woman’s eyes.

  ‘It’s over now,’ Hiromi told her.

  ‘You have to wonder what those detect
ives are doing, anyway. I hear they don’t even have a suspect yet.’

  ‘I know,’ Hiromi agreed.

  ‘My husband was saying he hoped they solved the case quickly, before the company’s clients start worrying. I hear Ayane’s not going back home until they figure it all out – which I completely understand, by the way. Talk about creepy.’

  Hiromi nodded and mumbled agreement.

  ‘Hey,’ said Tatsuhiko Ikai, walking towards them. ‘What are you two doing out here? There’s food and drink in the guest hall.’

  ‘Oh?’ his wife replied. ‘Well, Hiromi, shall we?’

  ‘No, I think I’m fine, thanks.’

  ‘You should come! You’ll be waiting for Ayane anyway, won’t you? With all those people in there, she won’t be getting out for a while.’

  ‘No,’ Hiromi insisted, ‘actually, I’m leaving early today.’

  ‘Oh, you should come, just for a little while. Keep me company.’

  ‘Don’t be so pushy,’ Mr Ikai said, frowning. ‘Other people have lives, too, you know.’

  Something in the way he said ‘lives’ sent a chill down Hiromi’s spine. Ikai stared coolly at her for a moment before looking away.

  ‘I’m sorry. Maybe next time … Excuse me.’ Hiromi nodded to the couple and turned to leave without looking up. He knows about me and Yoshitaka, she thought. Ayane wouldn’t have told him. Maybe he heard it from the police? She guessed that he hadn’t told Yukiko, at least. What must he think of me?

  Hiromi’s thoughts churned. What was going to happen to her? People were bound to learn the truth about her and Yoshitaka eventually. And once they did, she couldn’t remain so close to Ayane. She would eventually have to distance herself from the social circle that had once included the Mashibas.

  I doubt she’s really forgiven me, anyway. She probably never will.

  The look Ayane had given her by the altar was seared into her memory. She regretted putting her hands over her mouth when she went up to offer her flowers. Of course Ayane knew what that meant. Why else would she ask if I was okay?

  If she and Mashiba had merely had a fling, maybe Ayane could have forgiven her. Dirty water under the bridge. But a pregnancy changed all of that.