The Devotion Of Suspect X (16 page)

“Really?” she finally managed.

“I wouldn’t joke about something like that,” he replied with a wry smile.

“No, of course you wouldn’t. I just don’t know what to say—” She looked down at the table, then bit her lip before looking back up. “I … I’m sorry for your loss. It must have been difficult.”

“It was. But, like I said, it was over quickly. She went to the hospital complaining of a backache. Then I got a call from the doctor and she was admitted. She went into surgery. I came in to be with her—one thing after the other, like we were on a conveyor belt. I was hardly aware of the days passing, and then suddenly she was gone. It wasn’t hospital policy to tell patients about their cancer without family consent, so I’m not sure whether she ever knew what she had.” Kudo picked up a glass of water and drank.

“When did you first learn she had it?”

Kudo thought for a moment. “Around the end of the year before last … so, two years ago.”

“I was still at Marian then … you were still coming to the club.”

Kudo laughed quietly, his shoulders shaking. “Pretty insensitive, huh? Here my wife is on the brink of death, and I’m going out drinking.”

Yasuko froze. She didn’t know what to say. All she could remember was Kudo’s smiling face at the club.

“Well, if you want an excuse, let’s just say I was tired. I needed a break, I wanted to see you.” He scratched his head, frowning.

Yasuko thought back to when she had quit the club. On her last day, Kudo had brought her a bouquet.

Work hard and be happy—

What had he meant when he said those words? How had he felt? He must’ve been in far more pain than she, yet he had never let it show. He’d sent her on her way with good wishes and flowers.

“Well, sorry for killing the mood,” Kudo said, pulling out a cigarette. “What I was trying to say is, you needn’t worry about my family.”

“What about your son, then? He’s got exams coming up, doesn’t he?”

“My parents are taking care of him for the time being. They live closer to his high school, and I’m pretty useless around the house. Can’t even make the kid a proper dinner. I think my mother’s happy to have someone to look after.”

“So you’re living alone now?”

“If you call going back to the bedroom after work, falling on my face, and sleeping ‘living,’ then yeah, pretty much.”

“But you didn’t say anything about that the last time we met.”

“Didn’t think there was a need. I came to see you because I was worried about you, after all. But I figured if I asked you to dinner, you would worry about my family—and you certainly have a right to. So, that’s the story and here we are.”

“I had no idea…” Yasuko lowered her eyes.

Kudo’s intentions were clear now. He was letting her know that he wanted to see her more often. He wanted to date, officially this time. And dating with the possibility of a future together. No doubt that was why he wanted to meet Misato, too.

After that they left the restaurant, and Kudo gave her a ride home in a taxi just as he had the other night.

“Thanks for dinner,” Yasuko said before she got out.

“I hope it won’t be the last?”

There was a pause, then Yasuko smiled and said, “Yes.”

“Then, good night. My best to your daughter.”

“Good night,” she replied, but even as she spoke she was thinking about how difficult it would be to talk to Misato about her evening with Kudo. In the message on the answering machine, she had said she was going out to dinner with Sayoko and her husband.

She watched the taxi leave, then walked up the stairs to her apartment. Misato was sitting with her legs tucked under the kotatsu, watching television. An empty pizza box was on the table.

“Welcome back, Mom,” the girl said, looking up.

“Hi, honey. Sorry about tonight.”

Yasuko had trouble meeting her daughter’s eyes. She was afraid her guilt at having gone out to dinner with a man would show on her face.

“You get a call?” Misato asked.

“A call?”

“Yeah, from Mr. Ishigami next door?” Misato added, quietly. She meant the usual evening call.

“No, I had my phone off.”

“Oh,” Misato said glumly.

“Why, did something happen?”

“Nothing, just—” Misato’s eyes glanced toward the clock on the wall. “Ishigami’s been going in and out of his apartment all night. I watched him from the window, and it looked like he was going down to the street. I figured he was going out to call you.”

“Oh…”

He probably had been, Yasuko thought. She had been worried about that very possibility, even while she was eating dinner with Kudo. And she was worried even more about the fact that Ishigami had run into Kudo at Benten-tei. Of course, to Kudo, Ishigami was nothing more than another customer.

She wondered why Ishigami had come to the store at such a time—on this day, of all days. And with his “friend.” He never came with friends, and he never came after lunchtime.

Of course Ishigami would remember Kudo. He probably suspected something when he saw the same man who had dropped Yasuko off in a taxi the other day show up at Benten-tei. None of this made her look forward to Ishigami’s next call.

She was hanging her coat on the hanger when the doorbell rang. Yasuko froze and exchanged glances with Misato. For a moment, she thought it must be Ishigami. But then that didn’t make much sense; he would never risk coming to her apartment.

“Yes?” she called out toward the door.

“Sorry to bother you so late at night, ma’am. I was wondering if I could ask a few questions?” It was a man’s voice, but not one she remembered hearing before. Yasuko opened the door, leaving the chain on. Someone was standing outside the apartment. She recognized him even as he reached into his coat and pulled out a police badge.

“Detective Kishitani, Homicide, ma’am. I came by the other day with Detective Kusanagi?”

“Right, of course,” Yasuko said, remembering. She looked down the hallway but Kusanagi was nowhere in sight.

Yasuko closed the door and gave Misato a look. Misato got out from under the kotatsu and went silently into the back room. As soon as the sliding door was shut behind her, Yasuko undid the chain and opened the front door again. “Can I help you with something?”

Kishitani nodded. “Yes—it’s about that movie you went to see, again…”

Yasuko frowned despite herself. Ishigami had warned her the police would get on her case about the movie theater, and he was turning out to be more right than she had expected.

“What about the movie? I’ve already told you everything I know.”

“Yes, you’ve been very cooperative, ma’am. Thank you. I was just wondering if I could borrow those stubs?”

“Stubs? You mean the ticket stubs?”

“That’s right. I believe Detective Kusanagi asked you to keep them in a safe place the last time we were here?”

“Just a moment.”

Yasuko went to the kitchen cupboard and pulled out the drawer. She took out an envelope and from it removed two ticket stubs. She handed both of them—one for her and one for Misato, over to the detective. He thanked her and took them. She noticed he was wearing white gloves.

“I’m a suspect, aren’t I?” Yasuko asked suddenly.

Kishitani shook his head and waved his hands in front of his face. “Not at all, not at all. In fact, we’re having trouble finding a suspect. That’s why we have to do this: we go around eliminating all the people connected with the victim, even the ones that aren’t very suspicious.”

“How can those stubs help you do that?”

“Well, I can’t really say, but they might be of some use. The best thing would be if we could prove that you did go to the movies on the day you say you did … tell me, you haven’t thought of anything else, have you—anything unusual from that day?”

“No, nothing more than what I’ve already said.”

“Right, thank you,” Kishitani said, his eyes wandering around the room.

“Sure has been cold lately, hasn’t it? You use that electric kotatsu there every winter?”

“The kotatsu? I suppose…” Yasuko said, turning around to glance at the heated table, in part to hide her shock from the detective. He couldn’t have mentioned the kotatsu purely by accident.

“How long have you had that kotatsu for?”

“Oh, I don’t know … four, maybe five years. Is there something wrong?”

“No, not at all,” Kishitani said, shaking his head. “By the way, did you go someplace after work today? I noticed you came home late.”

Yasuko blinked, the question taking her by surprise. She realized that the police must have been waiting for her by her apartment. Which meant they had probably seen her getting out of the taxi.

I’d better not lie
.

“I went out to dinner with a friend,” she answered, trying to keep her answer as vague as possible, but of course that wasn’t enough to satisfy the detective.

“The man who was with you in the taxi? Right. I was wondering, how do you know him? If you don’t mind me asking,” the detective said, almost bashfully.

“Do I have to tell you where I went to dinner, too?”

“If it’s not a problem, ma’am. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry into your personal affairs, but if I don’t ask about it then my boss will complain when I get back to the office, see?” Kishitani gave a sheepish grin. “Be assured, we wouldn’t think of troubling your friend—the man you were with. If you could just tell me where you went?”

Yasuko sighed deeply. “His name is Kudo. He was a regular at the club where I used to work. He knew I had been married to Togashi and he was worried about me with the case on the news and all. He came to my work to check in on me.”

“What does he do, this Mr. Kudo?”

“I heard he runs a printing company, but I don’t know much more than that.”

“Do you have a number where we could reach him?”

Yasuko furrowed her brow and frowned.

“Please understand,” Kishitani said, nodding apologetically, “we won’t contact him unless there is some dire need—and even if we do, we will be very discreet, I assure you.”

Yasuko took out her cell phone, not bothering to hide her displeasure, and quickly read off the number Kudo had given her. The detective hurriedly scribbled the number down.

Kishitani then asked her to tell him everything she knew about Kudo. All the while that they talked, even as he kept on prying, he maintained his sheepish demeanor. Eventually, Yasuko found herself telling him everything back to the first day when Kudo had appeared at Benten-tei.

After Kishitani left, Yasuko locked the door and sat down in the entranceway. She felt overwrought, her emotions dragged out to exhaustion.

Then she heard the sound of the sliding door as Misato emerged from the back room. “They still suspect something about the movie, don’t they?” the girl said. “Everything’s happening just like Ishigami said it would. It’s pretty incredible, you know.”

“I know.” Yasuko stood and brushed her fallen bangs out of her face.

“Mom. I thought you went out to eat with the people at Benten-tei?”

Yasuko looked up. Misato was frowning.

“You were listening?”

“Of course I was.”

“Oh…” Yasuko slid her legs under the kotatsu, her head hanging. She remembered the detective asking about the kotatsu.

“How could you go out to eat with someone at a time like this?”

“I couldn’t say no. He—the person I went to dinner with–was very good to me in the past. And he came to find me because he was worried about me—about us. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about it before.”

“No, Mom, I’m fine. It’s just—”

They heard the door to the next apartment open and shut. Then came the sound of footsteps, heading down the stairs. Yasuko and Misato exchanged glances.

“Mom, your cell.”

“It’s on.”

A few minutes later, Yasuko’s phone began to ring.

Ishigami used the same public phone he always did when he made his third call that evening. The first two times he hadn’t been able to get through to Yasuko’s cell phone. He was worried that something might have happened—he’d always gotten through to her before—but when she answered he realized immediately from her tone that his fears were misplaced.

Ishigami had heard the doorbell at the Hanaokas earlier—and as he’d suspected, it had been the police. Yasuko told him that the detective had asked her for the ticket stubs. Ishigami knew what they were after. They would try to match the stubs to their other halves, presumably in storage at the movie theater. If they found stubs that matched the ones they got from Yasuko, they would check the fingerprints. If Yasuko’s fingerprints were on them, that would prove that she and her daughter had at least been at the movie theater that night—whether they had actually seen the movie or not. If there were no fingerprints, the police suspicion of the Hanaokas would go up a notch.

And the detective had asked about the kotatsu. This, too, Ishigami had predicted.

“I think they’ve determined the murder weapon,” Ishigami said into the receiver.

“The murder weapon?”

“The kotatsu cord. That’s what you used, isn’t it?”

The phone went silent on the other end. Maybe Yasuko was remembering the moment it had happened, when she had strangled Togashi.

“In any strangulation, marks from the murder weapon remain on the skin of the neck,” Ishigami explained. It felt harsh to lay it out so plainly, but this was no time for euphemisms. “Forensics is quite advanced these days. They can usually tell the murder weapon used by looking at the marks it leaves.”

“So that’s why the detective asked about the kotatsu?”

“I’d assume so. But there’s no need to worry. I’ve already made arrangements.”

He had expected the police to identify the murder weapon. Which was why he had exchanged the Hanaokas’ kotatsu with his own. Their old kotatsu—the real murder weapon—was packed away in his closet. As luck would have it, the cord on his old kotatsu was different from the one on theirs. If the detectives came back and examined that cord, they would immediately realize it was a dead end.

“What else did the detective ask you?”

“What else…?” Yasuko’s voice faded into silence.

“Ms. Hanaoka? Hello?”