by Asa Nonami
"It would all run down."
"Exactly. The burning would concentrate on the lower part of your body. Besides, this was a crowded restaurant! Hard to imagine somebody deliberately picking a place like that to set himself on fire, in front of all those people. Even supposing he doused himself outside and then walked in— something weird about it."
The minimal damage to the lower half of the body made it plain at a glance that the deceased was male. Unless he left a car in the parking lot, if he was someone who just wandered in for a meal, establishing his identity might take some time.
"What if he had a grudge against the place?" Sorimachi persisted.
"A death protest. In a family restaurant?"
"Maybe he had a grudge against the owner."
This was not impossible. But only one thing seemed certain to Takizawa: the deceased was near the seat of the fire. With burns that severe, whether he had other injuries—whether, even, he was alive or dead before incineration—would be hard to determine.
In assessing burns, Takizawa and his colleagues adhered to the "rule of nines." Assuming the genitalia accounted for one percent of total body surface area, the remainder of the body was divided into eleven sections: head and neck, right arm, left arm, upper trunk front, upper trunk back, lower trunk front, lower trunk back, left leg front and back, and right leg front and back. Each section was allotted nine percent, the numbers altogether adding up to one hundred. Depending on the placement and extent of burns, you determined the multiple of nine. Generally speaking, burns covering two-thirds or more of total body surface area resulted in death, burns covering one-third or more were life-threatening, and burns covering one-fifth or more were considered critical. But burns on the head and face were potentially serious in any case, and in the case of children, the rule of nines did not apply.
Today's victim had suffered burns all over his body, so death was probably inevitable. Still, there was something about the nature of his burns that Takizawa didn't like.
We're gonna be busy on this one.
That was Takizawa's instinct talking. This incident, it was telling him, was more than a simple fire in a restaurant. Perhaps it was just as well that he was going to be absent from home for the next few weeks: he had a kid at home studying for college entrance examinations.
At 3:00 a.m., the backup team returned to the station with eyewitness testimony.
"A customer? You mean the guy was a customer?"
Takizawa, with the help of Sorimachi and Wada, had just finished rinsing off the body with cold water in the morgue. Rubbing his freezing hands, Takizawa stared vacantly at the investigators as the group convened. They had gotten started with the barest of greetings, scarcely introducing themselves. This one guy, who looked to be in his late thirties, peered into his notebook with a serious air and nodded slowly. He spoke: "Witnesses say he burst into flames all of a sudden. Until then, he was sitting like a normal person at his table."
Along with everybody else gathered in the meeting room, Takizawa cocked his head at this.
Another investigator added: "Doesn't seem much chance it was a suicide.
We've got testimony that the guy rolled around on the floor, yelling 'Help! I'm burning up!'"
Takizawa, feeling worse and worse, blew his nose; he still couldn't get rid of the stench of the fire. His heart ached to think that he had just cleaned the body of a man who, hours ago, had no idea he was about to wind up as a blackened corpse.
3
At 9:00 a.m., a joint inspection of the fire scene was undertaken by the heads of investigation of the Tokyo Fire Department and the arson unit in the First Investigation Division of the MPD, along with Takizawa and his colleagues on emergency duty the night before. Because of a flurry of testimony indicating that the flames had originated on the person of the one victim who burned to death, the group was joined by a forensic scientist from the physical evidence division of SRI, the Science Research Institute.
"Damn, it's cold." As soon as he set foot back on the site, Takizawa screwed up his face with displeasure.
Wada, who the night before had been ashen-faced and silent, was now in a different mood. "What's the matter, didn't bring your pocket warmer?" he teased.
Why shouldn't he feel the cold more than Wada? The kid was twenty years younger than him—and then some. "Wise guy," he said, and made as if to jab Wada in the ribs as they walked across an area already ringed by reporters. They ducked under the perimeter tape. A rank odor still pervaded the ruins. The ground, heavily soaked in water the night before, was covered in puddles that glistened in the weak winter-morning sunlight.
Other investigators were deep in conversation.
"You're saying we can rule out the possibility that the fire broke out in the kitchen or somewhere else in the restaurant? "
"We can't say that for sure yet. The fire could have started beneath where the victim was sitting, or nearby."
"Hard to believe there was any electrical wiring around there."
"Anyway, a simple short circuit wouldn't give you a firestorm like that."
"According to eyewitness testimony," the MPD arson unit head now began, "the victim was seated at a window table. He burst into flames, writhed in agony, and rolled on the floor as far as the salad bar." After peering at a roughly drawn map of the fire scene, he pointed out the relevant locations to the group. Within the First Investigation Division, the arson unit was charged with ascertaining a fire's origin and its cause, whether accidental or intentional. They were professionals in fire disaster.
The group then prepared themselves. They wrapped a towel around the lower half of their faces and the neck of their jumpsuits. They put on helmets, slipped on heavy gloves. Because of the danger of treading on nails, they wore steel-soled boots. Each had a rake.
All told, there were fifteen men, including Takizawa and his Tachikawa colleagues, who now proceeded into the site of the fire.
"The waitress who took the victim to his seat hasn't recovered her eyesight and wasn't able to show us the exact place, but she did say it was a window table, fourth from the rear, next to a round pillar, and had a curved bench, so it's probably . . . ," the arson unit head paused, standing with the group in the restaurant now destroyed beyond recognition, his feet set on fittings reduced to rubble, looking from his map to the premises and back again before pointing, "... right around there." He went on: "The victim fell over and rolled on the floor. Taking into account where the body was found, he must have come along here."
Finding the seat of the fire was the most important question in a fire investigation. It could be difficult to pinpoint, especially if the building had been deserted, but that was not a problem in this case where there were so many eyewitnesses.
"Common sense tells you people don't just spontaneously combust, so there's got to be some clue right around where he was sitting."
More than seven hours had passed since the fire was put out, yet the site still gave off a lingering heat. Exercising caution where they stepped, the investigators walked around what had until last night been a colorful restaurant serving dinner to an array of customers.
"I'm going to pour water."
"Easy now."
When water was poured on a certain spot, the soot ran off, exposing the degree of incineration beneath. Just as the MPD officer had predicted, a curved bench next to a thick pillar near a large, shattered window showed particularly intense incineration; even the urethane filling was charred. Further, where the man had presumably rolled on the floor, the carpet was severely burned; just one place the approximate width of a human back was spared. This, then, was where the man expired.
The investigators then focused on the distance between the curved bench that the victim had been sitting on and the spot where he came to an end, seeking any kind of evidence. Nothing was to be overlooked, however small; with utmost concentration, they sorted out even tiny particles. If kerosene or gasoline was used, there would be an oily residue; if there was
an explosive device, there would be remnants of it; if an electric wire had shorted out, there would be telltale signs of the live current.
"Hey, take a look at this," Wada beckoned to Takizawa, who was engrossed in examination of the bench and its surroundings. Wada had donned a surgical-like face mask, the kind sold for protection from pollen, that he'd cleverly brought along. Takizawa walked over to him, giving wide berth to the other investigators, and when he saw what Wada had uncovered from the cinders, he immediately called the forensic scientist from SRI over.
Wearing thick glasses that gave him the appearance of an insect, the scientist crouched down and picked up the item with tweezers, examining it meticulously. Takizawa stood behind him, leaning forward, studying the object. One by one, the others gathered around.
Leaning farther forward, Takizawa asked, "Now whaddaya suppose that is?"
Hearing Takizawa's voice in his ear, the scientist gave a start, but he answered thoughtfully, "Well, let's see." He brought the object to his nose and sniffed it, then held it up so the rest of them could see. Less than two inches long, it looked, at first glance, like a charred section of the body of a snake.
"Part of a belt, I should think. Probably belonging to the man who burned to death," the scientist pronounced, his voice muffled behind the towel over his mouth. Recalling the severity of the victim's burns at the midriff, Takizawa was amazed that any part of the belt could have made it through the fire.
"Whaddaya make of that?" Takizawa said, pointing to a part of the item that was completely carbonized and so fragile-looking that it seemed the least amount of force might cause it to disintegrate.
The scientist nodded. "See the tarry substance, over here?"
"Yeah."
"I can't be sure, but. . . Let's look around again. I'm wondering if there's anything in this area that could be part of an ignition device?"
At these words, spoken as the scientist got up from his crouch, an excitement ran through the team of investigators. Takizawa also straightened up, stretching his sore back. Several investigators were already crouched down again to begin a new search.
"Part of an ignition device, you say?" Takizawa asked the scientist.
"At this stage, I can't draw any hard and fast conclusions, of course. But just for argument's sake, let's say—"
Long years of experience gave Takizawa a pretty good idea what the other man was thinking. But the scientist tilted his head to one side as if deep in thought, and chose his words carefully. Resisting the impulse to tell the guy to stop sounding so self-important and just spit it out, Takizawa looked up at this scientist, who, fortyish, still seemed to have something of the student about him. Takizawa had never thought of himself as particularly short in stature, yet lately it had occurred to him that no matter who he was talking to, especially if they were younger, he was the one looking up.
"There is a possibility that a chemical was used."
"A chemical," Takizawa repeated.
That much he could understand. The problem was, it was on the belt. The scientist was holding the blackened object up in his tweezers and sniffing it.
"Is it possible to rig something like that up on a belt?"
"That would depend on the type of chemical. But there's nothing on the inside of a belt that would burn like this, and we do have multiple witnesses saying the fire erupted from the victim himself, so it fits the facts."
The same suspicion had occurred to Takizawa straight away; the moment he saw the blackened object held up by Wada, alarm bells had gone off. That was precisely why he had beckoned the scientist over. Yet even if the theory fit the facts, the notion of attaching an ignition device to a belt still seemed incredible.
"People will do the goddamnedest things."
Until now the scientist had looked distinctly out of sorts at being dragged out of bed so early in the morning, but with the discovery of the belt fragment, his attention seemed all at once to quicken. He, too, began searching the floor with care, his eyes darting around.
One investigator had taken a broom and swept up debris around where the belt fragment was found; he was now going through it painstakingly. Suddenly his voice rang out: "Hey, this could be it!"
"Aha," said the scientist, as he picked the item up with his tweezers.
It was about a quarter inch thick, an inch and a half tall, and an inch and three-quarters across—a perfectly ordinary belt buckle, on the surface of it. On closer examination, however, there was a tiny hinge along one side of the buckle. Carefully, the scientist pried the face of the buckle open, and lo and behold, inside there was a digital monitor. It had not burned evenly; of the four corners, only one was severely damaged.
"This means—"
It meant that suicide could be ruled out. One, someone determined enough to immolate himself would not immediately cry out for help. Two, here was evidence of a timed incendiary device. And three, if the point of origin of the fire was not the bench or any other place in the restaurant, but the belt the victim was wearing—assuming that the device had somehow been implanted in his belt—then this was no accident. It was premeditated murder.
"What a convoluted plot," said one investigator.
Takizawa's sentiments exactly. If this was intended as an act of terrorism, maybe you could say there was a kind of logic to it. But this planting of a timer to blow the poor bastard up was . .. Well, it certainly wasn't common. So the question was: Who was this guy? Who were his enemies? Was he some kind of bigwig? And what the hell was he doing at midnight in a family restaurant?
Takizawa stepped away and called the head of the Criminal Affairs Division at the Tachikawa Central Station to let him know the latest development, then returned to the area where the buckle was found; he walked around, muttering. The division head who received Takizawa's report would pass it on to the First Investigation Division of the MPD. Then, instead of the arson squad, a homicide squad would be brought in on the case. If they found a likelihood of murder, a homicide investigation would be set up.
"The next thing we do is hurry up and ID this guy," Takizawa said to himself.
The autopsy would have started at 9:30 a.m. The crime scene investigation would last till noon. Around the time he got back to the station, the results of the autopsy would be getting in.
The homicide investigators from the MPD came scuttling over as soon as word got around, and they went over the site thoroughly; after listening to the opinions of the SRI scientist and the arson investigators, they agreed with the general opinion: This was murder.
"There are definite signs a timed incendiary device was used, and if it was fastened directly to someone's body, that's pretty compelling."
"Its going off here could have been coincidental. For all we know, it might have had an even bigger impact somewhere else."
What kind of person would do this—fasten a device to the victim's belt and burn him up like kindling? What coldhearted monster lurked behind this crime?
The other investigators spoke together in horrified undertones.
"You ever see an MO like this before?"
"I've heard of dousing your victim with gasoline and setting him afire."
"One thing to burn the body after you killed the guy; they burned this guy alive! That's cruel, man. He was fully conscious the whole time."
Takizawa, too, had no experience with a crime the likes of this. He had encountered several cases of self-immolation, when the suicide victims had poured kerosene or gasoline over themselves; each time, staring at the frozen agony of a hideously burned body shriveled into a boxer's stance, he couldn't believe that anyone could do it. But at least there it was self-inflicted.
"Sure is no ordinary murderer," Takizawa mumbled as he raked the rubble, as if tilling a barren field. "Who the hell would do a thing like this? It's beyond belief." He was getting tired, too. His paunch got in the way; he couldn't stay bent over very long. His legs, he realized, were getting numb, and his ass was freezing.
Workin
g beside Takizawa, Wada said quietly, "You know, if the murderer's only intent was to kill the victim, then destroying this restaurant, this whole building, was just a bonus. Nice, huh?"
Wada's getup reminded Takizawa of a clam-digger. But what he said was true—if the dead guy had just happened to stop in here and have the device go off, it would be a cruel trick of fate for everyone else who'd been injured or wiped out by the fire. "Dumb luck," said Takizawa. "Sheer chance, coincidence. Happens all the time."
"That's profound."
"All right, genius, lay off!" Takizawa jabbed Wada with an elbow, and continued his raking.
It was not until early afternoon that they got back to the station. Before that, every cinder around the point of origin of the fire had to be sorted by size. Only when it was all gathered was their survey done. The belt fragment and buckle covered with the tarry substance were turned over to the forensic scientist; determination of the ignition device and detonator would be left to the First Investigation Division.