The Devotion Of Suspect X (19 page)

“No, he didn’t say anything in particular,” Ishigami said.

“I see. Very well. Sorry to bother you on your way home.”

Kusanagi nodded farewell and headed back along the way that they had come. Ishigami watched him go. A feeling rose inside him, making him queasy, as though an elaborate formula he’d thought was perfect was now giving false results because of an unpredictable variable.

Kusanagi pulled out his cell phone as he emerged from Shinozaki Station. He looked up Manabu Yukawa’s number and pressed the call button. Then, phone to his ear, he looked around. It was three in the afternoon—the lull time between the lunch rush and the commuter hour—but there were still plenty of people out on the street. A line of bicycles stood in front of the supermarket across the way.

Kusanagi’s cell found a signal quickly, and he waited for the dial tone—but then, before the phone began to ring, he closed it with a snap. He had just spotted the man he was looking for.

Yukawa was sitting on a guardrail in front of a bookshop, eating an ice cream cone. He was wearing white trousers and a simple black long-sleeved shirt. He was wearing sunglasses, too—a sleek, fashionable pair.

Kusanagi crossed the street and approached him from behind. Yukawa wasn’t moving. His eyes were fixed on the supermarket and its environs.

“Detective Galileo!” the detective exclaimed, hoping to get a rise out of his friend, but Yukawa’s reaction was unusually subdued. Still licking his ice cream, he looked around, his head turning in slow motion.

“I see your nose is as keen as ever. Who says the police need bloodhounds to do their sniffing for them?” he said, his expression unchanging.

“What are you doing here?” Kusanagi asked. “Oh, and before you say it, ‘I was eating ice cream’ isn’t an acceptable answer.”

Yukawa chuckled. “I might ask you the same question, but there’s no need. The answer’s quite evident. You came looking for me. Or rather, you came here hoping to find out what I was up to.”

“Well, now that the jig is up, you can just come out and tell me what you’re up to.”

“I was waiting for you.”

“Me? Yeah, right.”

“I’m quite serious. You see, I called the lab a little while ago, and one of the grad students said you’d been there asking after me. And I hear that you dropped by last evening, too, didn’t you? So, I reasoned that if I waited here long enough, you’d show up. After all, my grad student told you I was here at Shinozaki, didn’t he?”

This was all true enough, but it didn’t answer the real question, and Kusanagi wasn’t in the mood to let Yukawa off so easily.

“What I want to know is: why are you here in the first place?” he said, his voice rising a little. He was used to his physicist friend’s circumlocutions, but still they could be maddening sometimes.

“No need to get impatient. How about some coffee? All I can offer is what’s in those vending machines over there, but it’s bound to be better than the instant stuff back at the lab.” Yukawa stood, tossing the rest of his ice cream cone into a nearby trash can.

With Kusanagi following he ambled over to the supermarket, where he bought two coffees out of one of the vending machines. He passed one to the detective, and then, carelessly straddling a nearby parked bicycle, he began to sip his own drink.

Kusanagi remained standing. He looked around as he opened the top on his can. “You shouldn’t sit on other people’s bicycles like that. What if the owner comes back?”

“She won’t. Not for some time.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because the owner of this bicycle left it here, then went into the subway station. Even if she was only headed to the next station over, it would take her at least thirty minutes to get there, do whatever it was she was going to do, and then come back.”

Kusanagi took a sip of his coffee and frowned. “That’s what you were doing while you sat there, eating your ice cream?”

“Watching people is a bit of a hobby of mine. It’s quite fascinating, really.”

“It’s good to have a hobby, but I’d rather have answers. Why are you here? And don’t even try telling me this has nothing to do with my investigation.”

Yukawa twisted his body around the seat, examining the back fender.

“Not many people bother to write their names on their bicycles anymore. I suppose that these days they don’t want strangers knowing who they are. But it wasn’t that long ago that everyone would write their names on their bicycles. It’s interesting how customs change with the times.”

Now Kusanagi understood. “This isn’t the first time we’ve chatted about bicycles, is it.”

Yukawa nodded. “I believe you told me that it was very unlikely that the bicycle had been left near the scene of the crime on purpose.”

“Not exactly. What I said was, there wasn’t any point in deliberately leaving it there. If the killer was going to put the victim’s fingerprints on the bicycle, then why go to the trouble of burning fingerprints off the corpse itself? After all, those prints on the bicycle were what led us to the man’s identity.”

“Fascinating. But tell me, what if there hadn’t been any fingerprints on the bicycle? Would that have kept you from being able to identify the body?”

Kusanagi had to think for a full ten seconds before answering. It was a question he hadn’t considered before.

“No, it wouldn’t,” he replied at last. “We used the fingerprints to match the body to the man who disappeared from the rented room, but we didn’t need the fingerprints to do that. I think I told you we did a
DNA
analysis as well.”

“You did. In other words, burning the victim’s fingerprints off was ultimately meaningless. But, what if our murderer knew that from the start?”

“You mean, he burned off the fingerprints even though he knew doing so would be futile?”

“Oh, I’m sure he had a reason for doing what he did. Just, that reason wasn’t to hide the identity of the body. What if he did it to suggest that the bicycle he planted nearby wasn’t a plant at all?”

Kusanagi blinked, momentarily at a loss for words. “So what you’re trying to say is that it
was
a plant, placed there to confuse us somehow?”

“Yes. It’s the
somehow
I haven’t figured out yet,” Yukawa said, dismounting from the bicycle. “I’m sure he wanted us to think that the victim got there on that bicycle by himself. Why would he want us to think that?”

“To hide the fact that the victim
couldn’t
have gotten there by himself,” Kusanagi said. “Because he was already dead when the killer carried him there. That’s what the captain thinks.”

“And you disagree with that theory, yes? I assume because your lead suspect Yasuko Hanaoka doesn’t have a driver’s license.”

“Well, all bets on that are off if she had an accomplice.”

“Right, but let’s focus on the time that bicycle was stolen. I heard it was taken sometime between eleven in the morning and ten at night, and I wondered how you were able to pinpoint the time it was stolen so precisely.”

“Because that’s what the bicycle’s owner told us. It’s not rocket science.”

“Indeed,” Yukawa said, gesturing emphatically with his can of coffee. “And how were you able to find out that it was her bicycle so quickly?”

“That’s not rocket science either. She reported it stolen. All we had to do was compare the registration number on the bike to the one on the police report she filed.”

Yukawa groaned at his response. Kusanagi could see his hard stare, even behind his sunglasses. “What is it? What’s bothering you now?”

“Do you know where the bicycle was when it was stolen?”

“Of course I do. I was the one who questioned the owner.”

“Then, could you take me there? It’s around here, isn’t it?”

Kusanagi felt the intensity of Yukawa’s gaze. He was about to ask, “Why bother?” but decided against it. The physicist’s eyes had that gleam they got whenever he was close to formulating a hypothesis.

“It’s over this way,” Kusanagi said, and he headed for the site.

The place was only fifty meters or so from where they had been drinking their coffee. Kusanagi stood in front of a row of bicycles.

“She said that she had it chained to the railing along the sidewalk, here.”

“The thief cut the chain?”

“Seems likely.”

“So he had bolt cutters with him…” Yukawa muttered, glancing down the road. “There’s an awful lot of bicycles here without chains. Why would he steal one that was chained?”

“How should I know? Maybe he liked that bike.”

“Liked it?” Yukawa said to himself. “What did he like about it?”

“If you’re trying to say something, why not spit it out?” Kusanagi growled.

“As you know, I came here yesterday as well. And like today, I stood here, observing. Bicycles are left here all day long—lots of them. Some are locked, and some left so blatantly unlocked I think the owners half want them to get stolen. Out of all these bicycles, why did our murderer choose that one?”

“We don’t know it was the murderer who took the bike.”

“Very well. Let’s stick with the original theory. Say it was the victim himself who stole it. Either way, why choose that one?”

Kusanagi shook his head. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at. It was an average bike, nothing remarkable about it at all. He probably just picked one at random.”

“Random? I think not.” Yukawa waved a finger at the detective. “Let me guess: the bicycle was brand-new, or practically brand-new. Well? Am I right?”

Taken aback, Kusanagi reflected on his discussion with the bicycle’s owner. “Yeah, it was,” he replied after a moment. “Now that you mention it, she did say she’d only bought it a month ago.”

Yukawa nodded, a satisfied look on his face. “As I expected. The owner of a brand-new bicycle with an expensive chain on it is a good deal more likely to file a report with the police if it’s stolen. Our thief expected this, and that’s why he brought the bolt cutters.”

“You mean he went for a new bike on purpose?”

“Indeed.”

“Why?”

“There can be only one reason. The criminal wanted the bicycle owner to file a report. Somehow, having a police report on file claiming the bicycle was stolen worked in our criminal’s favor. Probably because it would lead the investigation down the wrong path.”

“So you mean to say that even though we think the bicycle was stolen between eleven in the morning and ten at night, we’re wrong? But how would the thief know what the bicycle’s owner was going to say?”

“He might not know what they would say about the time of the theft, but he could be sure they would at least file a report that the bicycle had been stolen from Shinozaki Station.”

Kusanagi gulped and stared at the physicist. “You’re saying it was a ploy to draw our attention to Shinozaki?”

“That’s one possibility.”

“We did spend a lot of time and manpower questioning people around the station here. If your theory’s right, that was all wasted time.”

“Not a waste, per se. After all, the bicycle
was
stolen from here. But I don’t think this case is simple enough that knowing that fact will do you any good at all. No, our little caper was constructed far more craftily and with greater precision than that.”

Yukawa turned abruptly and began to walk away.

“Hey—” Kusanagi hurried after him. “Where are you going now?”

“Home. Where else?”

“Wait a second.” The detective grabbed Yukawa by the shoulder. “There is one more question I wanted to ask you. Why are you so interested in this case?”

“Was I not supposed to be interested?”

“That’s not an answer.”

Yukawa shrugged Kusanagi’s hand off his shoulder. “Am I a suspect?”

“A suspect? Hardly.”

“Then I can do as I please, can’t I? I’m certainly not trying to obstruct your investigation.”

“Okay, then let me be frank. You mentioned my name to the mathematician living next to Yasuko Hanaoka, didn’t you? And you lied to him. You told him I wanted his help with the investigation. I think I have the right to ask what that was all about.”

Yukawa turned to face Kusanagi, his body suddenly tense, and behind his sunglasses, he stared at the detective coldly. “You went to talk to him?”

“I did. Because
you
wouldn’t tell me anything.”

“What did he say?”

“Now just hold on a minute. I’m the one asking the questions here. What was that all about? Do you think the mathematician is involved?”

Yukawa turned away and resumed walking toward the station.

“Hey, wait—” Kusanagi called to his back.

Yukawa stopped and peered back over his shoulder. “Now it’s my turn to be frank. I’m afraid I can’t give you my full cooperation with this case. I’m looking into it for personal reasons. So don’t expect me to be of much help.”

“Then don’t expect me to give you any more information.”

Yukawa’s eyes dropped to the pavement, then he nodded. “Fair enough. We’ll just each have to go it alone this time around.” He began walking again.

Kusanagi sensed a rare determination in Yukawa’s gait, and he refrained from calling after him again.

After pausing for a cigarette, the detective headed for the station himself. He had decided to delay his departure so he wouldn’t end up on the same train as Yukawa. For reasons Kusanagi couldn’t fathom, his friend had some personal connection to this case and seemed to be determined to solve it on his own terms. Kusanagi didn’t want to do anything to distract him.

What is Yukawa so worried about?
Kusanagi wondered as the subway car swayed along the tracks.

Could it really be the mathematician, Ishigami?
But if Ishigami was somehow connected to the case, why hadn’t his name come up at all, except as the lead suspect’s neighbor? What was it about him that bothered Yukawa so much?

Kusanagi thought back over what he had seen a couple of evenings before at the lunch box store. Yukawa was there with Ishigami—and Ishigami had told him it was Yukawa’s idea to go there.

Yukawa wasn’t the type to go out of his way to do something without a good reason. He had been after something when he went to that shop with Ishigami. But what?