The Devotion Of Suspect X (22 page)

“And according to your theory, the victim rode that bicycle to the crime scene?”

“I guess so, yes.”

“Which would mean that Ishigami had forgotten to wipe it for fingerprints. You really think Ishigami would have made such a simple mistake? Ishigami the Buddha?”

“Even geniuses make mistakes.”

Yukawa slowly shook his head. “Not that one.”

“Okay, then why do you think he left those prints on the bicycle?”

“That’s what I’ve been wondering,” Yukawa said, crossing his arms. “I haven’t come to a conclusion yet.”

“Maybe you’re overthinking this. That guy might be a genius mathematician, but he’s certainly a novice murderer.”

“They’re the same thing,” Yukawa stated simply. “Murder probably comes even easier to him.”

Now Kusanagi shook his head. Examining the stains on his mug, he said, “in any case, we’re keeping an eye on him. If we proceed on the assumption that there was a male conspirator, it broadens the range of our investigation considerably.”

“If this new theory of yours is correct, it means the crime was carried out in a rather slipshod manner. We have the fingerprints left on the bicycle, the half-burned clothes—all evidence of carelessness. My question is, do you think this crime was planned from the beginning? Or did it happen more spontaneously?”

“Well—” Kusanagi began. He glanced at Yukawa’s calm, intent face, and hesitated for a moment before continuing. “It could’ve been spontaneous, sure. For instance, what if Yasuko called Togashi up to talk with him about something, and Ishigami came along as a sort of bodyguard? The discussion got heated, and the two of them ended up killing Togashi. Something like that.”

“But that doesn’t fit with the movie theater story at all,” Yukawa observed. “If they were just getting together to talk, why prepare an alibi? Even an insufficient alibi like hers?”

“So you think it was planned? That Yasuko and Ishigami told him to come someplace and then ambushed him?”

“That’s hard to imagine.”

“Well, great. So what do
you
think happened, then?” Kusanagi asked sourly.

“If Ishigami planned the whole thing from the start, it wouldn’t be half as full of holes as it is now.”

“Fine, but how does that help—” Kusanagi broke off abruptly as his cell began to ring. “Hang on a second.” He answered the phone.

A moment later he was engaged in a hurried sotto voce conversation. He pulled out a pad and scribbled a few notes before hanging up.

“That was my partner, Kishitani,” he told Kusanagi. “I’ve received some very important news concerning Yasuko’s daughter. It turns out one of Misato’s classmates just gave a very interesting testimony.”

“What’s that?”

“Apparently, at lunch on the day of the murder, this classmate of hers heard from Misato that she was going out to the movies with her mother that night.”

“Really?”

“Kishitani confirmed it. It looks solid. Which means that Yasuko had already decided to go to the movies by lunchtime that day at the latest.” Kusanagi nodded to the physicist. “Maybe I was right to think this was premeditated.”

In response, Yukawa shook his head, his eyes dead serious. “Impossible.”

Club Marian was about a five-minute walk from Kinshicho Station, on the fifth floor of a building that held several other drinking establishments. The building was old, with an ancient elevator that growled dispiritedly as it carried Kusanagi and his partner upward.

The elder detective peered at his watch. It was just past seven in the evening.
Perfect time for asking a few questions,
he thought, as he stared dubiously at the peeling paint on the elevator wall.
There shouldn’t be many customers around at this early hour—not that I’m an expert on this sort of place …

The noise of the crowd took Kusanagi by surprise as he got off the elevator and stepped through the nightclub door. Of the more than twenty tables inside, fully a third were already occupied. Judging by their clothes, most of the patrons were salarymen, though there were a few in the crowd whose occupation he couldn’t place.

“I was asking questions in a club in Ginza once,” Kishitani whispered in his ear. “The
mama
there was wondering where all the guys who used to drink at her place during the economic bubble were drinking now—well, I think I just found out. They’re all here.”

“I have a hard time believing that,” Kusanagi shot back. “Once you get used to luxury, it’s hard to lower your sights. The Ginza crowd wouldn’t be caught dead in a place this seedy, hard times or no.”

He called over one of the waiters, who was dressed in a black tuxedo, and asked to speak to a manager. The young waiter’s casual smile vanished, and he disappeared into the back.

A bit later, another waiter came out and showed the two detectives to seats at the bar.

“Will you be drinking something?” he asked.

“A beer for me, thanks,” Kusanagi replied.

“You sure that’s okay?” Kishitani asked after the waiter had left. “We’re on duty.”

“If we don’t drink anything, the other customers will get suspicious.”

“You could’ve had some tea then.”

“Since when do two grown men come to a bar to drink tea?”

They were still debating the ethics of drinking alcohol on the job when an elegant woman in a silver-gray suit appeared. She was about forty, and wearing a lot of makeup, with her hair done up in a neat bun on her head.
A little on the thin side,
Kusanagi thought,
but a beauty nonetheless
.

“Welcome,” she said. “You wanted to speak to me?” The trace of a smile played across her lips.

“We’re police,” Kusanagi announced in a low voice.

Next to him, Kishitani reached into his breast pocket, but Kusanagi stopped him, turning back to the woman. “You need proof?”

“That won’t be necessary.” She took the seat next to Kusanagi, placing her business card on the bar. It read, “Sonoko Sugimura.”

“You’re the
mama
here?”

“You could call me that,” Sugimura replied with a smile.

“Quite the place you’ve got. Business looks good,” Kusanagi commented, glancing over his shoulder at the tables.

“It’s mostly just for show. I think the owner runs it for the tax break. Most of the customers are indebted to him for one thing or another.”

The detective nodded.

“This whole thing could shut down any day, really. Sayoko was right to get out while she still could and start that luncheon shop of hers.”

Kusanagi suspected business wasn’t all that bad—he even detected a hint of defiant pride in the way the woman casually mentioned her predecessor. This Sonoko Sugimura was a survivor.

“I believe some of our people from the department were down here the other day?”

She nodded. “They came a few times, asking about Mr. Togashi. Is that why you’ve come today?”

“We’re sorry to take your time like this.”

“Well, I told the other gentlemen this, so I may as well tell you, too. If you’re trying to pin this whole thing on Yasuko, you’re barking up the wrong tree. She has no motive, for one.”

“No,” Kusanagi said, waving a hand, “we’re not here because we suspect Yasuko. It’s just that our investigation isn’t going as smoothly as we’d have liked, so we’re trying to make a fresh start.”

“A fresh start, hmm?” the
mama
echoed with a sigh.

“Previously, you told us that Shinji Togashi had come here on the fifth of March?”

“That’s right. It was quite a surprise, seeing him after all that time. I couldn’t imagine why he would be dropping by now.”

“So you knew him?”

“I’d met him once or twice. I worked together with Yasuko back in Akasaka, you know. That’s where I knew him from. He was a big spender back in those days, always dressed to a T. Quite handsome, too.”

Kusanagi sensed from her tone that this description hardly applied to the Togashi she had met in March.

“And Shinji Togashi was trying to find Ms. Hanaoka, is that correct?”

“I think he wanted to patch things up between them. But still, I didn’t tell him anything. I knew all too well the hell that poor girl had been through on his account. I thought as long as I didn’t say anything she’d be safe, but I didn’t count on the girls. One of them knew about Yonazawa and Sayoko’s lunch shop, and she told that smooth talker everything.”

“I see,” Kusanagi said with a nod. After working for a long time in a business like this, which thrived on human connections, a former hostess would find it nearly impossible simply to disappear.

“Does a Mr. Kuniaki Kudo come here often?” he asked next, changing his line of questioning.

“Mister Kudo? From the printing company?”

“That’s right.”

“Quite often, yes. Though not so much recently.” Sugimura tilted her head. “Has Mr. Kudo done something?”

“No, no. We’ve just heard that he was one of Yasuko Hanaoka’s regulars back when she was a hostess.”

Sugimura’s lips softened and she nodded. “He was. He thought the world of that girl.”

“Were they seeing each other outside the nightclub?”

“Hmm…” The woman tilted her head again. “Some of the girls thought she was, but as I see it, their relationship began and ended at the club.”

“How so?”

“Well, they were closest when Yasuko was in Akasaka. But right around then she started having trouble with Mr. Togashi, and it seems Mr. Kudo found out. After that, he became more like Yasuko’s counselor then her lover. I don’t think things between them progressed very far at all romantically.”

“But after Ms. Hanaoka got divorced, they could have started going out…”

Sugimura shook her head. “Mr. Kudo’s not that sort of man, detective. After he’d been giving her all this advice on how to make things right between her and her husband, he couldn’t go dating Yasuko after the divorce. It would have made it look like that was his plan from the start. To be honest I think he intended to maintain a sort of platonic friendship with her after the divorce. Mr. Kudo is married, after all.”

So Sonoko Sugimura didn’t know that Kudo’s wife had passed away. Kusanagi decided there was little to be gained by telling her, so he kept silent.

For the most part, he guessed that she was right about Yasuko and Kudo’s relationship. Like other experienced detectives, he respected a hostess’s intuition when it came to the affairs of men and women. Sugimura’s observations were in line with his own, only confirming Kusanagi’s hunch that Kudo was innocent. Which meant it was time to change the topic.

He pulled a photograph out of his pocket and showed it to the
mama
. “Know this man?”

It was a photograph of Tetsuya Ishigami. Kishitani had snapped a shot of the teacher as he left his school one day. In the photograph, the mathematician’s eyes were fixed on some faraway point. It had been taken from an angle, and at a distance, so that Ishigami wouldn’t notice.

Sugimura frowned. “Who’s that?”

“So you don’t know him?”

“No, sorry. I can tell you he’s never come to this club.”

“His name’s Ishigami. That ring any bells?”

“Mr. Ishigami…”

“Maybe Ms. Hanaoka mentioned him?”

“I’m sorry. If she did, I don’t remember it.”

“He’s a high school teacher. Did she ever say anything about seeing a teacher?”

“I don’t know,” Sugimura replied, her frown fading. “I talk to her now and then on the phone, but she’s not said anything of the sort.”

“What about any other relationships Yasuko might be having? Has she asked you for advice with anything, or told you anything about that?”

At this question, Sugimura let slip a wry chuckle. “The other detective who came before asked that as well, and I’ll tell you what I told him: she hasn’t said anything. Maybe she is seeing someone, and she didn’t want me to know, but I don’t think that’s the case. That girl’s got her hands full raising Misato. I’d imagine she hasn’t the time to bother with love right now. Mind you, it’s not just my opinion. Sayoko said something of the sort not too long ago.”

Kusanagi nodded quietly. He hadn’t expected to hear much about a possible relationship between Ishigami and Yasuko here at the club, so he wasn’t too disappointed. Still, hearing someone say that there was no man in Yasuko’s life made it hard for him to feel confident about the theory that Ishigami was Yasuko’s conspirator.

Another customer walked in. Sugimura glanced with interest in his direction.

“You said you kept in touch with Ms. Hanaoka on the phone? I was wondering when you last talked to her.”

“The day that Mr. Togashi was on the news, I think. I was so surprised I had to call her up. I’m certain that I told that to the other detective, too.”

“How did Ms. Hanaoka sound at the time?”

“No different than ever, really. She told me the cops had already been by to talk to her.”

That was us,
Kusanagi thought, but he didn’t feel the need to mention that to Sugimura.

“And before that, you didn’t tell her that Togashi been in to the club asking after her whereabouts?”

“I didn’t. Which is to say, I couldn’t bring myself. I didn’t want to make her upset.”

So Yasuko Hanaoka hadn’t known that Togashi was looking for her. And if she didn’t know he was coming, she wouldn’t have had time to devise a plot to murder him.

“It did occur to me to mention it … but at the time, she sounded so happy, there just wasn’t a good moment.”

“At the time?” Something tugged at the back of Kusanagi’s mind. “You mean the last time you talked to her on the phone, when Togashi was on the news? Or some other time?”

“Oh, that’s right, I’m sorry. I was talking about a time before then. Oh, about three or four days after Mr. Togashi dropped in. She’d left a message for me, so I called her back.”

“Around when was that?”

“Let me see—” Sugimura retrieved her cell phone from the pocket of her suit. Kusanagi expected her to go into her list of calls made and received, but she pulled up her calendar instead. She studied it for a moment, then looked back up at him. “March tenth.”

“The tenth?” Kusanagi echoed, raising his voice. He and Kishitani exchanged glances. “Are you sure?”