The Devotion Of Suspect X (35 page)

Ishigami frowned.
Who could it be?
Not Yasuko, he hoped.

Kusanagi led him to the interrogation room and opened the door. Manabu Yukawa sat inside. He stared at Ishigami, a pensive look on his face.

The final hurdle,
Ishigami thought, bracing himself.

For a time, the two geniuses sat across the table from each other in silence. Kusanagi leaned against the wall, keeping an eye on them.

“You’re looking a little thin,” Yukawa said at last.

“Oh? I’ve been eating fine.”

“Good to hear. I wanted to ask you,” Yukawa licked his lips. “Aren’t you embarrassed at all to be labeled a stalker?”

“But I’m not a stalker,” Ishigami replied. “To the contrary, I’ve been protecting Yasuko Hanaoka, though not openly. I’ve told the police this several times already.”

“I know what you told them. And I know you continue to protect her even now.”

Ishigami looked displeased and glanced up toward Kusanagi. “How is this discussion going to help your investigation?”

Kusanagi said nothing.

“I told him what I know,” Yukawa said. “I told him what you really did, and who you really killed.”

“I’m sure you’re free to discuss your conjectures with whomever you wish.”

“I’ve also told her—Yasuko Hanaoka.”

The skin of Ishigami’s cheeks drew taut across his face. But he soon managed a thin smile. “Did she show some remorse, maybe? Was she thankful to me? From all I’ve heard, she’s been going on like I did nothing for her—like I never got rid of that thorn in her side.”

Kusanagi swallowed, watching Ishigami’s face twist as he played the role of spurned stalker to perfection. He hadn’t realized it was possible for anyone to devote himself so utterly to another. It was as impressive as it was terrifying.

“You seem to be suffering under the belief that as long as you don’t tell the truth it will never come to light, but you’re not entirely correct,” Yukawa said. “A man went missing on March 10. An innocent man, guilty of nothing. If we were to find out who he was, and find his family, we could do some
DNA
testing. Compare those results with the results from the body thought to be Shinji Togashi, and we’ll know the truth.”

“I’m not sure what you’re going on about,” Ishigami said, smiling. “But whoever this man you mentioned was, he probably didn’t have a family. And even if there was some other way of finding out who he was, it would take a staggering amount of time and effort to do so. By the time you’re done, I will already have been tried and convicted. Rest assured I’ll plead guilty. Once the verdict is announced, the case will be closed. The murder of Shinji Togashi will have been solved. The police’s hands will be tied. Or maybe—” He looked at Kusanagi. “Maybe you’ll listen to this guy’s story and change your mind about charging me. Which means you’d have to let me go. But on what grounds? Because I’m not a criminal? I assure you, I am. I’m a confessed murderer.”

Kusanagi looked down at the floor. It was true. As long as they couldn’t prove Ishigami’s confession false, it was impossible to stop the legal proceedings. That wasn’t how the system worked.

“There’s one thing I need to tell you,” Yukawa said.

Ishigami looked back at him and raised an eyebrow.

“It fills me with regret to think that that brain of yours, that wonderful brain, had to be used like this. It saddens me, truly. Like it saddens me to think that I will be losing a companion—and a competitor—like no other in this world.”

Ishigami’s mouth formed a single straight line across his face, and he lowered his eyes, as if he was resisting the urge to reply.

After a moment, he looked back up at Kusanagi. “I believe he’s done talking. Can I go back to my cell now?”

Kusanagi looked at Yukawa. The physicist nodded quietly.

Kusanagi opened the door. Ishigami left first; Yukawa followed more slowly.

Once outside the room, Yukawa stood aside while Kusanagi led Ishigami back toward the holding cell. Then two figures appeared approaching down an intersecting hallway. It was Kishitani, with a woman following behind him.

Yasuko Hanaoka.

“What’s this all about?” Kusanagi inquired of the junior detective.

“Sir, I … that is, Ms. Hanaoka contacted the station and said she had something to tell us, and you won’t believe what she said—”

“Wait—did she tell this to just you?”

“No, the chief was there, too.”

Kusanagi looked at Ishigami. The mathematician’s face was the color of ash. His bloodshot eyes stared at Yasuko. “What are you doing here…?” he said in a voice barely more than a whisper.

Yasuko stood frozen behind the detective. Then, gradually, her expression began to fall apart. Tears came streaming from her eyes. She stepped out in front of Ishigami and suddenly threw herself to the floor, bowing.

“I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry. What you did for us … that thing you did for us—” Her back shuddered as she spoke.

“What are you saying? What the hell do you think you’re doing? What the hell…” Ishigami droned, his voice unearthly, as if he were chanting the words to some spell.

“I know you wanted us to be happy, but that’s … that’s impossible. I should pay for what I did, too. I’m to blame, too. I’ll take the blame with you, Mr. Ishigami. That’s the only thing I can do for you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so very, very sorry.” Yasuko crouched with both hands on the floor, her head resting against the tiles.

Ishigami stepped backward, shaking his head convulsively. His features were twisted with pain.

Then he whirled around, pressing his fists to his temples, and howled—a long, roaring howl like that of a beast. A cry of confusion and desperation. A cry that tore at the hearts of all who heard it.

Two guards ran over to restrain him.

“Leave him alone,” Yukawa barked, appearing between them and Ishigami. “The least you can do is just let him cry.”

Yukawa turned toward Ishigami, laying his hands gently on the bigger man’s shoulders.

Kusanagi watched as Ishigami screamed, and it seemed to him as if the mathematician was shouting out his very soul.