The Devotion Of Suspect X (17 page)

“Y-Yes?”

“Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing at all. I was just trying to remember what else he said. There wasn’t anything, I don’t think. He mentioned that if they could prove that I went to the movies then I would no longer be a suspect, or something to that effect.”

“Yes, the movie theater alibi is very important to them. That was part of my plan, of course. There’s really nothing to be worried about.”

“Thank you. It’s a great relief to hear you say that.”

Yasuko’s words lit a fire somewhere deep in Ishigami’s chest. For a brief moment, the tension he had been feeling pretty much around the clock eased a little.

It occurred to him then that he might ask about the man. The man who had dropped her off—the customer who had come into Benten-tei when he was there with Yukawa. Ishigami knew that he had given her a ride home tonight, too. He had seen them from his window.

“That’s about all I have to report. What about you, Mr. Ishigami? Is everything all right with you? Is something wrong?” Yasuko asked abruptly. Ishigami realized he hadn’t said anything for some time.

“No, nothing at all. Please, try to live life as normally as possible. I’m sure the police will be back with more questions, but what’s most important is that you don’t panic.”

“Yes, I understand.”

“Great. Please give my best to your daughter. Good night.”

He waited for her reply, then hung up the handset. The phone spit out his telephone card from the slot below the receiver.

When Mamiya heard Kusanagi’s report, the chief’s despair was written on his face. He rubbed his shoulders and rocked in his chair. “So this Kudo guy only met with Yasuko Hanaoka
after
the incident? You’re sure about that?”

“That’s what the couple at the lunch box store are saying. I don’t think they have any reason to lie, either. They said Yasuko was just as surprised as they were when Kudo first showed up at the shop. Of course, it could be an act.”

“She
was
a hostess at a nightclub. Acting would be second nature to her.” Mamiya looked up at Kusanagi. “Anyway, let’s look into this Kudo a bit more. I don’t like how he showed up right after all this happened.”

“Yeah,” said Kishitani, butting in, “but according to Ms. Hanaoka, Kudo came to see her because he heard about the murder. So, it’s not like it was a coincidence. And I hardly think they’d go meeting in public or having dinner together if they were coconspirators or something.”

“You never know. Could be a really gutsy diversion,” Kusanagi offered.

Kishitani frowned at his superior officer. “Well, yeah, but—”

“You want us to try talking directly to Kudo?” Kusanagi asked, turning to Mamiya.

“I think so. If he was involved, he might let something slip. Check it out.”

Kusanagi nodded, and he and Kishitani headed out.

“You gotta stop saying things like that based on these assumptions of yours,” Kusanagi warned Kishitani as they left. “The killers might be trying to use that against you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your comment about Kudo and Ms. Hanaoka. And the assumptions it’s based on. For all we actually know, Ms. Hanaoka and this Kudo might have been really close for years, but have been keeping it hidden. When it comes to committing this sort of crime, a hidden connection like that would be a big advantage. What better accomplice than someone no one else knows you have anything to do with?”

“Well, then why wouldn’t they continue to keep it hidden?”

“Lots of reasons. Relationships always come out eventually. Maybe they thought this was the perfect chance for them to stage a little reunion.”

Kishitani nodded, but his face said he wasn’t buying it.

They left the Edogawa police station and got into Kusanagi’s car. “Forensics thinks the murder weapon was some kind of electrical cord,” Kishitani said as he put on his seatbelt. “A ‘textile braided insulated cord,’ specifically.”

“Right. The ones they use on heating appliances. Like an electric kotatsu.”

“They picked up the thread pattern on the cord from the wound.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Well, I glanced at the kotatsu in the Hanaokas’ place. The cord wasn’t textile insulated. It was what they call a ‘round braided’ cord. Like a smooth tube of rubber.”

“Okay. So?”

“That’s all.”

“There are a lot of electrical appliances other than a kotatsu, Kishitani. And the murder weapon doesn’t have to be something the killer had around all the time. They might’ve picked up an electrical cord they found lying on the street.”

“Right…” Kishitani mumbled glumly.

Kusanagi and Kishitani had spent the previous day together, on stakeout, watching and tailing Yasuko Hanaoka. Their primary goal had been to watch everyone who crossed her path, looking for anyone who could possibly be an accomplice.

After she left work, from the time she had left the shop with a man in a taxi, they watched her every move. They had waited patiently for her to come out after the two went into a restaurant in Shiodome, near the harbor.

Eventually the couple had finished dinner and gotten back into the taxi. From there, they had gone straight back to Yasuko’s apartment. The taxi had stopped, but the man hadn’t gotten out. Kusanagi had sent Kishitani up to ask questions while he followed the taxi. Luckily, no one seemed to have noticed the tail.

The man lived in a large apartment in Osaki. Kusanagi had learned his name from the sign next to his door: “Kuniaki Kudo.”

Kusanagi had already accepted that even if Yasuko was involved with Togashi’s murder, she couldn’t have done it alone. She would have needed a male accomplice—or perhaps it would be better to call him the actual killer, whoever he was.

So, could this Mr. Kudo be the man? Even as Kusanagi described that possible scenario to Kishitani, he didn’t half believe it himself. To the contrary, he felt like they were once again barking up the wrong tree.

And something else had been tugging at Kusanagi’s brain: the two unexpected visitors he had seen while he was on stakeout outside Benten-tei. Manabu Yukawa and the math teacher who lived next door to Yasuko Hanaoka.

A little after six P.M., a green Mercedes pulled into the underground parking lot. Kusanagi had confirmed it was Kuniaki Kudo’s car earlier that day. The detective stood up from his seat at the coffee shop across the street from the lot and fished a few yen out of his wallet to cover the two coffees he’d bought. The second cup was still on the table, almost full.

Kusanagi jogged across the street and into the apartment block’s parking complex. The building had entrances on the first floor and the basement floor, both fitted with an autolock system. People who parked their cars here always used the more-convenient basement entrance. Kusanagi wanted to catch Kudo before he disappeared inside the block of apartments. The detective wanted to avoid having to call up to Kudo’s apartment via the intercom system. That would give Kudo time to prepare himself.

Luckily, Kusanagi got to the entrance first. He was standing off to the side, with one hand against the wall, catching his breath, when Kudo came up. Kudo, wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase, walked past him without a pause.

Kudo had his key out and was just putting it into the door when Kusanagi called out from behind. “Excuse me, Mr. Kudo?”

Kudo straightened up and pulled out the key. He turned around and took in the detective with a glance, sizing him up. A frown spread across Kudo’s face. “Yes?”

Kusanagi flashed his badge at him. “Sorry to bother you like this. I’m with the police. I was wondering if you could help me.”

“The police … you’re a detective?” Kudo lowered his voice, his eyes narrowing.

Kusanagi nodded. “Yes. I was hoping I could talk to you about Ms. Yasuko Hanaoka?”

Kusanagi was watching closely to see how Kudo would react when he heard Yasuko’s name. Kudo should know about the case, and if he looked unduly surprised or startled, then Kusanagi would know something was fishy. Kudo frowned and nodded grimly. “Very well. Do you want to come up to my place? Or is a café better?”

“Your apartment would be just fine, thanks.”

“Sure thing. It’s a little messy…”

Not so much messy as desolate,
Kusanagi thought when they got up to the apartment. There was hardly any furniture. Just two plush chairs, one of them large enough to seat two. Kudo waved Kusanagi toward it.

“Can I get you something to drink? Tea?” Kudo asked without taking off his suit jacket.

“No thank you. I won’t be long.”

“All right,” Kudo said, but he went into the kitchen anyway and brought out two glasses and a plastic bottle of cold oolong tea.

“Do you have any family?” Kusanagi asked suddenly.

“My wife passed away last year. I have a son, but, for various reasons, my parents are taking care of him at their house,” Kudo explained, speaking evenly.

“I see. So you live alone?”

“Pretty much, yes,” Kudo said, his expression softening. He poured the tea into the two glasses and placed one in front of Kusanagi. “Is … this about Mr. Togashi?”

Kusanagi had been reaching for the glass, but now he pulled his hand back. If Kudo wanted to get to the heart of the matter, there was no point wasting time on pleasantries.

“That’s right. As you know, Yasuko Hanaoka’s ex-husband was murdered.”

“She had nothing to do with it.”

“That so?”

“Of course. They broke up a while ago, and they never saw each other. Why would she kill him?”

“As it happens, I’m inclined to agree with you, for the most part.”

“For the most part?”

“There are many couples in the world, and a lot of divorces, and none of them fall apart exactly the same way. If every unhappy couple could just break it off cleanly, become total strangers in the space of a day and never see each other again, well, then we wouldn’t have stalkers. Unfortunately, that’s not the case. Often one party breaks off a relationship, but the other party doesn’t. Even after the divorce papers have been filed.”

“Well, she told me she hadn’t seen Mr. Togashi at all,” Kudo stated, a look of defiance growing in his eyes.

“Have you talked to her about the murder?”

“I have. I mean, after all, that’s why I went to see her.”

Which fits with Yasuko Hanaoka’s testimony.

“So you had Ms. Hanaoka on your mind, even before the incident?”

Kudo frowned. “I’m not sure what you mean by ‘on my mind.’ Given that you came to me here at my apartment, I’m guessing you already know about my relationship with her. I was a regular at the club where she used to work. I even met her husband once, though that was by accident. That’s when I found out his name was Togashi. When he was killed, I saw his name and photo on the news, so I got worried and went to see how Yasuko was doing.”

“I’ve heard you were a regular at her club, yes. Just, it’s a little hard for me to imagine you going so far out of your way to see her just because of that. You run a business, don’t you? I’d think you’d be rather busy.” Kusanagi knew how his questions sounded—cynical and leading. He didn’t like talking like this, even though his job frequently demanded it.

Admittedly though, the technique worked. Kudo blanched. “I thought you were here to ask about Yasuko Hanaoka. So far, all your questions have been about me. Am I a suspect?”

Kusanagi smiled and waved a hand. “Not at all. I’m sorry to pry. I merely wanted to find out more about you, since it seemed like you were particularly close to Ms. Hanaoka.”

The detective had spoken as gently as he could, but Kudo’s glare only hardened. He took a deep breath, then nodded.

“All right. As I’d prefer to not have you poking around further, I’ll be as frank as I can. I’m fond of Yasuko, romantically. When I heard about the murder, I thought it might be my chance to get closer to her. How’s that? Does that satisfy your curiosity?”

Kusanagi chuckled wryly. It was an honest chuckle—not an act or an interrogation technique. “There’s no need to be defensive.”

“But that’s what you wanted to know, isn’t it?”

“We just need to understand who is connected to Yasuko Hanaoka, and how.”

“That’s what I don’t get. Why do the police suspect her?” Kudo shook his head.

“Togashi was trying to find her just before he was killed. Which means there’s a chance they did meet,” Kusanagi told him, hoping the revelation would do more good than harm.

“What, so that means she killed him? Isn’t that a little simplistic, even for the police?” Kudo snorted and shrugged.

“Sorry we’re not very sophisticated. Of course, we have suspects other than Ms. Hanaoka. It’s just that we can’t afford to remove her from the list at this point. Even if she isn’t the key to solving this murder, someone around her might be.”

“Someone around her?” Kudo raised an eyebrow, then shook his head as though he had just realized something. “Is that so,” he said.

“Is what so?”

“You think she went to someone and asked them to kill her former husband for her, don’t you? That’s why you came here. So now I’m a suspected assassin!”

“We’re certainly not saying anyone is an assassin, yet…” Kusanagi protested, purposely letting his voice trail off. If Kudo had any bright ideas he wanted to share, Kusanagi didn’t want to discourage him.

“If it’s an accomplice you’re looking for, you’ll need to talk to a lot more people. I wasn’t the only customer infatuated with her, that’s for sure. She’s quite a beauty. And I don’t just mean when she was a hostess, either. To hear the Yonazawas tell it, they get customers at the lunch shop who come just to see her. Why don’t you go talk to all of them, too?”

“If you have any names or contact information, I’ll be happy to question them.”

“Sorry, but I don’t. Nor would I wish that on anybody. It’s against my policy to squeal on innocents,” Kudo said, chopping his hand through the air with finality. “And even if you did manage to meet with all of them, I don’t think you’d turn up much. She’s not the kind of person to go looking for someone like that. She’s no black widow, and she’s no fool. In any case, I wouldn’t be stupid enough to kill someone just because a beautiful woman asked me to. So, Detective … Kusanagi, was it? I’m sorry you’ve come so far out of your way only to leave empty-handed.” He then stood abruptly, putting a period at the end of his words.