‘I can’t help but feel like there was something we could’ve done,’ Yoko said, her voice trembling. ‘If I had been a bit more attentive, maybe I would’ve noticed she was in so much pain.’
At a loss for something appropriate to say, Utsumi returned the letter to the drawer, noticing the other letters as she did so. ‘What are these?’ she asked.
‘More letters from her. I don’t use e-mail, so she would write to me now and then to tell me how she was doing.’
‘Do you mind if I look at these as well?’
‘Certainly, go ahead. I’ll bring tea,’ Yoko said, leaving the room.
Utsumi sat down at the desk and began looking through the letters. Most of them were simple reports about the picture books Junko was working on or future projects she was planning. There was hardly anything suggesting relationships, or even friends.
She was on the verge of giving up when she saw a postcard. The front showed a red double-decker bus. The back held a note written in blue ink. Utsumi held her breath as she read the tightly spaced letters.
How are you? I’m finally in London. I met another Japanese girl here! She’s an exchange student from Hokkaido, and she’s offered to show me around town tomorrow.
TWENTY-FIVE
‘According to Mrs Tsukui, Junko got a job right out of college, but quit after three years because she wanted to study art in Paris. She sent that postcard during her two years over there.’
Kusanagi listened to the junior detective rattle off the facts, growing steadily gloomier as she grew more animated. A part of him didn’t want to acknowledge the importance of her discovery.
Mamiya leaned back in his chair, thick arms crossed across his chest. ‘So what you’re trying to say is that Junko Tsukui and Ayane Mashiba were friends?’
‘Well – it’s very likely. The postmark on the postcard coincides with the time that Mrs Mashiba was studying in London, and she’s from Hokkaido. I don’t think it’s a coincidence.’
‘Come on,’ Kusanagi said. ‘It could be a coincidence. How many exchange students do you think there are in London at any given time? At least one hundred, maybe two.’
‘Take it easy.’ Mamiya hushed the older detective with a wave of one hand. ‘So, Utsumi – say the two of them were friends. How do you think that relates to the current case?’
‘This is still just conjecture,’ she told him, ‘but there’s a chance that the arsenous acid Junko used to commit suicide passed into Mrs Mashiba’s possession.’
‘Forensics will be on that shortly, though there’s no telling whether they’ll be able to give us a definitive answer. So: if what you’re suggesting is true, then Mrs Mashiba essentially married her friend’s ex-boyfriend.’
‘That’s what it would mean, yes.’
‘Doesn’t strike you as odd?’
‘Not really.’
‘Why not?’
‘Plenty of women date their friends’ exes. I know at least one personally. Some people make a habit of it – that way they know a fair bit about a potential mate before getting involved with them.’
‘Even when it’s the ex of a friend who committed suicide?’ Kusanagi butted in. ‘What if this ex-boyfriend was the cause?’
‘What if he wasn’t?’
‘You’re forgetting something really important,’ Kusanagi said. ‘Ayane met her husband at a party. Does your theory assume that she just happened to run into her friend’s ex-boyfriend?’
‘It’s not impossible. They were both single.’
‘And then they just happened to fall in love? Sorry if I’m not overly convinced here.’
‘Maybe it was more than a coincidence, then?’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Kusanagi asked.
Utsumi fixed him with a stare. ‘Maybe Ayane set her sights on Mr Mashiba right from the start. She was interested in him when he was dating Junko – her death might have even brought the two of them closer. Their meeting at the party might not have been their first encounter. And maybe it wasn’t a coincidence, either.’
‘Ridiculous!’ Kusanagi spat under his breath. ‘She’s not that kind of woman.’
‘Then what kind of woman is she? Exactly how much do you know about Mrs Mashiba, Detective Kusanagi?’
‘That’s about enough of that,’ Mamiya said, standing. ‘Utsumi, you’ve got a good nose, but an overly active imagination. Save the conjecture for when we have a little more proof. And Kusanagi, try listening to what someone says without nitpicking every little detail. Sometimes you have to toss around a few ideas before you find something that sticks. I was under the impression you were a good listener.’
Kusanagi nodded silently, and Utsumi lowered her head.
‘Sorry,’ she said.
Mamiya sat back down. ‘Right. This is all very interesting, Utsumi, but a little too tenuous to do much with. And really the only thing it might explain is how Mrs Mashiba got her hands on the poison. I don’t see how it relates to the rest of the case. Unless …’ He rested his elbows on the desk, looking directly at the junior detective. ‘Are you thinking Ayane got close to Yoshitaka Mashiba in order to avenge her friend’s death?’
‘I wouldn’t go that far … I can’t imagine anyone who would get married solely for the purpose of revenge.’
‘Then I recommend we lay off the hypothesizing for now. We can pick it up again once Forensics has taken a look at that storage shed in Hiroshima.’
It was past midnight by the time Kusanagi made it home. He wanted to take a shower, but in the end the best he could manage was to take off his jacket and crawl into bed. He wasn’t entirely sure whether his exhaustion was physical or mental or some combination of the two.
‘Then what kind of woman is she?’
Utsumi’s words ringing in his ears.
‘Exactly how much do you know about Mrs Mashiba, Detective Kusanagi?’
Nothing, he thought. He had only talked to her a little, just grazed the surface. Yet he felt like he knew what was inside.
It was hard to picture her marrying the former lover of a friend who had committed suicide. She would feel guilty – even if Yoshitaka Mashiba had nothing to do with the reason her friend took her own life.
He sat up and loosened his tie, his eyes falling on the two picture books he had tossed on the table. He went over and got them, then padded back over to his bed.
Lying back down, he flipped through the pages of The Snowman Tumbles. The story involved a snowman who, after living his life in the wintry north, decides to go on a trip to a warmer country. He starts heading south, but realizes that if he goes any farther he’ll melt. Giving up, the snowman returns north. On his way back he passes by a house. Looking into the window, he sees a happy family sitting around the fireplace, talking and laughing. The subject of their conversation was how nice it is to be warm inside when it’s so cold outside.
When Kusanagi’s eyes fell on the picture Junko Tsukui had drawn for that page, he leapt out of bed.
Something familiar was hanging on the wall of the room the snowman was looking into – a tapestry with intricate flower designs that spread out in a regular pattern like a kaleidoscope image against a background of brown.
Kusanagi remembered his impression upon first seeing that pattern with vivid clarity. And he knew exactly where he had seen it: the Mashibas’ master bedroom.
It was the very same tapestry that Ayane had been talking about hanging in her classroom with his help earlier that day.
Maybe she thought better of it because I mentioned Junko Tsukui’s name? Maybe she knew Junko had used the tapestry in one of her books?
Kusanagi put his head in his hands. His ears were ringing in time with his pulse.
*
The next morning, Detective Kusanagi awoke to the sound of an incoming phone call. He checked the time and saw that it was already past eight in the morning. He was on the sofa. A whiskey bottle and a glass were sitting on the table in front of him. The glass was half full.
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Only then did he recall being unable to sleep the night before, though he didn’t care to be reminded of why.
He reached out a leaden arm to answer the phone, still ringing loudly on the tabletop. It was Utsumi.
‘Yeah?’
‘Sorry to call you so early, but I thought you’d like to know as soon as possible.’
‘Know what?’
‘The results came back from Spring-8. They found arsenous acid in the filter.’
TWENTY-SIX
The Ikai Law Offices, a five-minute walk from Ebisu station, occupied the entire fourth floor of a six-storey building. A receptionist in her early twenties wearing a grey suit greeted Kusanagi when he arrived. She showed him into a meeting room – a small side office, with a little table and some folding chairs. Kusanagi spotted several other similar offices along the same hall. Presumably Ikai employed several lawyers at his firm.
Which is how he was able to spend so much time helping run Yoshitaka Mashiba’s company, Kusanagi mused.
More than fifteen minutes passed before Ikai showed up. He said hello without bothering to offer an apology.
He probably thinks I should be the one apologizing for bothering him at work, Kusanagi thought.
‘Any developments?’ Ikai asked, sitting down. ‘I haven’t heard anything from Ayane.’
‘I’m not sure whether you would call them developments, but several pieces of new information have come to our attention. Though, I must apologize for not being able to share them with you at this time.’
Ikai chuckled dryly. ‘I’m not here to needle you for information. I haven’t got the time. Now that Mashiba’s place seems to have settled down finally, all I’m interested in is getting the case closed as quickly as possible. So why did you want to see me? As is no doubt quite clear to you by now, I’m not an expert on Mashiba’s private life.’ He glanced at his watch.
‘Actually, I’ve come to talk about something you know very well,’ Kusanagi said. ‘Maybe it would be better to say something about which only you know.’
Ikai raised an eyebrow. ‘Something only I know about? I wonder what that might be.’
‘I wanted to ask a bit more about Mr and Mrs Mashiba’s meeting. You were there, correct?’
‘That again?’ Ikai gave a disappointed sigh.
‘I was hoping you could describe in detail how the two of them acted around each other at the party. How exactly did they meet each other there?’
Ikai furrowed his brow with suspicion. ‘This has something to do with the case?’
Kusanagi only smiled a thin smile. Ikai sighed again.
‘Another secret, then? Still, we’re talking about something that happened quite a while ago. I can’t see how it could have anything to do with the case.’
‘We’re not sure that it does yet. We’re just trying to get all the details. Leave no stone unturned, as it were.’
‘You don’t seem like the detail type to me but, whatever. What exactly did you want to know?’
‘Well, what you told me before was that the event where they met was essentially a dating party. As I understand it, these parties are intended to bring together men and women who have never met before, and give them an opportunity to talk and get to know each other. Was it that sort of party? Were there some kind of intro -ductions?’
Ikai shook his head. ‘No, nothing like that. Think of it more as a semiformal cocktail party. If it was one of those ridiculous meet-your-future-wife things, I never would’ve gone along with him.’
Kusanagi nodded. ‘Speaking of which, did Ayane come to the party alone?’
‘I’m pretty sure she did. I remember seeing her at the bar, drinking a cocktail. She wasn’t talking to anyone.’
‘Who spoke first?’
‘Mashiba,’ Ikai said quickly.
‘So Mr Mashiba went up to her?’
‘We were having a drink at the bar, too. She was about two seats down. Then, out of the blue, Mashiba commented on her mobile phone case.’
Kusanagi stopped writing in his notepad and looked up. ‘Her mobile phone case?’
‘Yes, she’d put it up on the bar. It was made out of patchwork, with a little window to read the display. He said something like, “That’s pretty,” or, “That’s unusual,” I forget which. But it was definitely Mashiba who spoke first. Then she told him she made it herself, and smiled. That got them started.’
‘So that was how they met?’
‘Yep. Of course, I didn’t imagine at the time that they’d be getting married.’
Kusanagi leaned forward. ‘Was that the only time you’d gone with Mr Mashiba to a party like that?’
‘Once was enough.’
‘Was Mr Mashiba the type, in your opinion, to make comments like that to complete strangers?’
Ikai frowned. ‘That’s hard to say. He wasn’t nervous talking to women he didn’t know, but he wasn’t exactly the type to hit on girls at bars, either. Not even in college. He used to say that content mattered more than looks, and I think he actually meant it.’
‘So would it be safe to say that talking to Ayane at that party was exceptional behaviour for him?’
‘A little, sure. I was surprised, but I chalked it up to being a spur-of-the-moment thing. Maybe she inspired him in some way. And that in turn led to the two of them getting together. That was my interpretation, at any rate.’
‘Did you notice anything unusual about them at that time? Anything at all?’
Ikai thought for a moment, then shook his head again. ‘I don’t remember much. Once they got to talking, I kind of faded into the background. But why would you ask me that, Detective?’
Kusanagi smiled and stuck his notepad into his pocket.
‘Not even a little hint?’ Ikai asked.
‘I’ll be happy to talk to you about it when the time is right. Thanks for seeing me today.’ He stood, but stopped on his way to the door. ‘If you wouldn’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you don’t mention the details of our conversation to Mrs Mashiba.’
Ikai’s eyes narrowed. ‘So she’s a suspect?’
‘That’s not what I’m saying. Just … it would be helpful if you could keep it secret for now.’ Kusanagi hurried from the room before Ikai could ask him more.
Outside the building, the detective paused on the pavement. He breathed a deep sigh.
If what Ikai had just told him was true, Ayane hadn’t been the one who initiated the encounter with Yoshitaka Mashiba. Their meeting at the party was a coincidence.
Or was it?
When Kusanagi asked Ayane if she knew Junko Tsukui, she had told him she didn’t. That bothered him. She must have known her.
How else could he explain the tapestry on the wall in Junko’s book? It was an Ayane Mita original – Ayane didn’t spend months making copies of other people’s designs. Which meant that Junko Tsukui had seen her work somewhere.
However, as far as Kusanagi was aware, that particular tapestry wasn’t featured in any of Ayane’s published collections. Tsukui had to have seen the piece at a gallery show – and taking photos at such a show was strictly prohibited. Tsukui’s art wasn’t bad, but Kusanagi didn’t peg her for someone with a photographic memory. That would suggest that Ayane had shown the tapestry to Junko personally, which in turn meant the two women knew each other.
So why did Ayane lie? Why did she tell him that she didn’t know Junko Tsukui? Did she just want to hide the fact that her deceased husband was also her friend’s ex?
Kusanagi glanced at his watch. Just past four. I better get going. He was supposed to be at Yukawa’s by four thirty; but something slowed his pace. The truth was that he didn’t want to see his old friend. It was pretty clear that the physicist would be waiting for him with exactly the kind of answers Kusanagi didn’t want to hear. And yet, there was no way he could send someone else to stand in for him. As the detective in charge, it was his responsibility to get all the information he could, like it or not. And increasingly he foun
d himself longing for an end to his own confusion.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Yukawa used a spoon to scoop coffee into the paper filter.
‘I see you’ve got used to your coffeemaker,’ Utsumi commented from behind him.
‘Got used to it, yes – but at the same time I’ve become aware of a shortcoming.’
‘Oh? What’s that?’
‘You have to decide how many cups you want to make up front. Of course, once you realize that two or three won’t be enough, you can always make more. But it’s a pain to go to all that trouble for just one extra cup. Which means I find myself making enough for an extra cup but then I risk making too much. I hate to throw out perfectly good coffee, and if I leave it on the burner too long, the flavour changes. You see?’
‘Well, you won’t have to worry about that today. I’ll drink whatever’s left over.’
‘Oh, we’re fine today. I’ve only made four cups. One for you, one for me, and one for Kusanagi. The final cup I’ll drink at my leisure after you’ve left.’
Clearly, the physicist wasn’t planning on keeping them long. Utsumi had her doubts that things would go so smoothly. Unless Yukawa’s going to stop being coy and solve the puzzle once and for all.
‘You know, the entire department is grateful to you, Professor,’ she said. ‘If you hadn’t insisted on it, we never would have taken the extra step of sending the filtration system on to Spring-8’s lab.’
‘There’s no particular need to thank me. I merely gave the advice that any scientist would in that situation.’ Yukawa sat down across from the detective. There was a chessboard on the workstation between them; he picked up the white knight and began toying with it. ‘So they found the arsenous acid.’
‘We had them run a full analysis. The acid in the filtration system was almost certainly that used to kill Yoshitaka Mashiba.’
Yukawa nodded, returning the piece to the chessboard. ‘Did they say in which part of the system they found the poison?’
‘It was near the water outlet, not in the filter itself. Forensics thinks the killer inserted the poison into the joint that connects the filtration system with the water hose running up from the main line.’