The investigator looked properly chastened, and Daiyu quickly asked, “Any luck in establishing the time of the crime?”
“Well, the body, if you can call it that, appears to have been dead for between twelve and seventeen, possibly eighteen hours. Of course, it’s a bit difficult to perform a precise autopsy when the trunk of the body and all the vital organs are missing.”
“I see. So if it’s eleven A.M. now, then the crime probably took place last night between six o’clock and midnight, is that right?”
“Yes, that’s the one thing we’re sure of at this point.”
“Cause of death?”
“I can’t say for certain, but we found an empty whiskey bottle on the table in the sitting room, along with two cups.”
“Hmm.”
“There was some liquid left in one of the cups, and it smelled faintly of cyanide. We’ll run some tests on it, but I’m pretty sure it will turn out to be potassium cyanide, or some similar type of poison.”
“Potassium cyanide, huh. During the war the female volunteer workers in army factories were passing that chemical out to everyone, as a suicide pill, but you don’t see it around much anymore.”
The man from the Criminal Investigations Department shrugged. “Actually, Chief,” he said, “this may surprise you, but I think this case is going to be quite simple to solve.”
“Why is that?”
“Because anyone who would use something as obvious as potassium cyanide as a method of murder can’t be very intelligent. I think it’s just a matter of time before the murderer does something to give himself away.”
Daiyu Matsushita closed his eyes and shook his head lightly. “I hope you’re right,” he said, “but somehow I don’t think we’re going to get out of this case so easily.”
As the man from the CID took his leave, Detective Akita came in. He was a solemn-faced man with heavy-lidded eyes and a diagonal scar across one cheek, which emphasized his high Mongolian cheekbones. “Chief,” he began, but then he noticed Kenzo and glared suspiciously in his direction.
“Ah, Akita,” Daiyu said with an imperial wave of his hand. “Don’t worry, that’s just my younger brother, Kenzo. Have you finished canvassing the neighborhood?”
“Yes, that’s what I came to report. Kinue Nomura has been living in this house with her maid. Apparently she didn’t make an effort to conceal her tattoos, nor did she seem to be ashamed of them. People said that in hot weather she would wander around wearing nothing but a short chemise. Needless to say, she had quite a reputation around the neighborhood.”
“That’s not surprising, in a conservative residential neighborhood like this.”
Akita nodded, then resumed his report. “Because of the sort of woman she was, she didn’t form intimate friendships with any of the neighbors. There were delivery trucks from high-class stores coming and going all the time, and she didn’t seem to have to worry about paying her bills. That didn’t help her reputation, either. Anyway, they say that she used to be a low-level geisha in Yokohama, but now she’s the mistress of a man named Takezo Mogami, who owns a successful construction company. So it all begins to make a little more sense.”
“What about men? Did she seem to have a lot of lovers?”
“Evidently not. Aside from her patron, the neighbors said they didn’t see any men entering or leaving the place. They seemed almost disappointed that there wasn’t anything to gossip about on that score.”
“You should know better than to take that sort of report at face value. If she had wanted to cheat on her patron, there are plenty of ways to do that in secret.”
Kenzo had no reason to believe that his brother’s words were directed at him, but he felt as if his heart had been scooped out with a sharp dagger.
“Kenzo, where are the offices of this Mogami?” Daiyu asked.
“In Ogikubo. And I remember hearing that Takezo Mogami lives in Nakano.”
“Nakano and Kitazawa, huh? That’s a suitable distance for a concubine’s house. Okay, Akita, you and Yokoyama go to Nakano as fast as you can. If Takezo Mogami is there, bring him in for questioning.”
There were now four uniformed policemen in the room, and Daiyu Matsushita turned his attention to the second pair. “Officers Takizawa and Noto, you’ll go to Ogikubo and check out Mogami’s office. I especially want to know what Gifu Inazawa, the manager of the company, was doing last night.”
The four policemen rushed off to round up the possible suspects. As they left, a singular-looking man entered the room. This was Officer Ishikawa, a figure of great height and heroic bearing who held a total of twelve black-belt degrees in judo, kendo, and karate. Shrugging his massive shoulders like the mythological giant Atlas, he addressed his boss. “Chief, when we asked the next-door neighbor to check on the severed head she almost passed out, but she seems to be back to normal, more or less. What shall we do now? She says that she definitely saw the deceased last night around eight.”
“Eight o’clock, eh? Right-o, better bring her on in here.” Daiyu Matsushita took a deep drag on his cigarette and issued four flawless circles of smoke.
18
A white-faced Mrs. Kotaki entered the room, led by a police officer. As she lowered herself to the floor in front of Detective Chief Inspector Daiyu Matsushita, she heaved a sigh so deep that her thin shoulders shook. She was a petite, disappointed-looking woman in her fifties, clad in a nondescript gray housedress under a plain blue apron.
“I can’t begin to say how sorry I am for the dreadful shock you’ve just had,” Daiyu said. “It’s really lamentable to meet under such circumstances, but allow me to introduce myself. I’m Matsushita, the chief of detectives. You’re absolutely certain that the deceased was Kinue Nomura?”
“Yes.…”
“And I gather that you saw Miss Nomura last night. Is that correct?”
“That’s right. Last night around eight thirty she stopped by my house briefly, saying that she was on the way home from the public bath.”
“The public bath? Why would she go out to the public bath when she had a bath in her own house? Did she do that often?”
“I don’t think so. When she first moved in, I came over to extend my greetings, and of course I had no idea that she was tattooed. But sometime after that I met her at the public bath, and I was shocked. She was talking to me casually enough, but then some college coed said in a loud voice, ‘Hey, look at the female bandit.’ Miss Nomura got very angry, and after that she rarely went to the public bath. But yesterday her maid apparently had the day off. Miss Nomura said that she forgot to heat the water for her own bath ahead of time, so she went to the public bath instead.”
“And where is this public bath?”
“It’s about halfway between here and the station. It’s called Asahi-Yu, the Rising Sun Bathhouse.”
“And why did she stop at your house?”
“Well, I ran a little sewing business out of my home, and she stopped by to ask if I knew how to make a certain type of Western-style dress. She didn’t come in. We just chatted in the entryway for ten minutes or so, and then she went home.”
“What about after that? Did you notice anything unusual happening over here?”
“I don’t know of anything myself. But from about nine until eleven, my husband’s younger brother was playing guitar on the second floor of our house with some of his friends, and there’s a perfect view of this house’s gate from there. Shall I ask my young brother-in-law if he saw anything?”
“Yes, please do that. Can you think of any reason why something like this should have happened?”
“No, I really can’t think of anything but.… well, to be perfectly honest, I don’t think an ordinary person like me can really understand the existence of a person who is covered with tattoos. I mean, who knows, perhaps there was some sort of argument with some of her yakuza friends.
A very slight change of expression flitted across Mrs. Kotaki’s face, but it was enough to tell Daiyu Mats
ushita how Kinue Nomura had been perceived in Kitazawa. For a person like Kinue to try to fit into such a refined neighborhood must have been like mixing sesame oil with water. No doubt Mrs. Kotaki and the other women in the area felt a deep abhorrence for Kinue’s tattooed body and the unconventional past it symbolized. They probably felt some resentment of her luxurious life, as well.
Yes, Daiyu thought cynically, I wonder how heartbroken the neighbors will be when they learn that Kinue Nomura has been murdered.
“Thank you very much for your help,” he said out loud. “I’ll be sending one of my subordinates over to your house a bit later, but for now you’re free to go. “ Mrs. Kotaki bowed her head, then rushed from the room as if she were being pursued by wolves. Her thoughts seemed to be written on her rapidly-receding back—I hope I never have to set foot in this den of immorality and horror again!
As he watched her go, Daiyu smiled ruefully and shook his head. Before he even had time to take a deep breath, the next reports came in like a volley of machine-gun fire. “We have the address of the maid now,” announced a police officer. “She lives in Kitatama County, at 263 Tanashi-cho, her name is Fusako Yoshida, and she’s twenty-three years old. According to the talk around the neighborhood, she’s been off for the past couple of days, but she filed a certificate for change of residence yesterday.”
“We just spoke with Mr. Kotaki’s younger brother,” another detective said. “He seems certain that no one entered or left this house between nine and eleven last night.”
The third reported, “The wall around this house is concrete. It’s more than twenty meters high, and there are fragments of broken glass embedded in the top. Even if someone had a ladder, I don’t think he could have escaped over the wall. The only way in or out would be through the gate on the main road, or by the small door into the garden.”
A fourth detective: “According to the neighbors, around seven thirty last night a car stopped in front of this house, carrying some sort of baggage. It wasn’t a truck, just a passenger car, and the baggage wasn’t particularly large or bulky. They thought it was some sort of package delivery service. Apparently Miss Nomura did a lot of shopping.”
The fifth police officer looked a little paler than the others. “Regarding the method of dismemberment, the limbs were cut off with a sawlike instrument shortly after the time of death,” he said. “The amputation seems to be the work of an amateur.”
Finally, the sixth police officer added his report to the others. “I went to the Asahi-Yu public bath, and there is no question that Kinue Nomura was there last night. Since she had such conspicuous tattoos, the person who was sitting in the watcher’s seat remembers very clearly. He said that she came in just before eight and left about twenty minutes later. The bathhouse was just about to close, and that’s the reason he remembers the time so precisely.”
After listening to the last report, Daiyu Matsushita blinked three times, as if to clear his head. “The estimated time of death is somewhere between six and twelve last night,” he said. “Even if there were a slight discrepancy one way or another, it wouldn’t be more than thirty minutes to an hour. However, we know for certain that this woman was still alive at eight thirty. So the crucial time is between eight-forty and midnight, right? Starting now, the investigation will focus on this time period.”
The search for fingerprints throughout the house evidently ended just then, for the person in charge of that part of the investigation, his face showing signs of strain, entered the room. “Chief, we’ve found five clear sets of fingerprints, not including those of the victim. There are three sets that appear to belong to males, and two sets that we believe may be female prints. They’re all quite recent.”
“Three men and two women, eh? If you assume that one set of male prints belongs to Takezo Mogami, and that one set of female prints belongs to the maid, that leaves two men and one woman. Kenzo?”
Kenzo had been sitting in a corner of the room, docile as a housecat, his mind awhirl with troubling thoughts. His brother’s sharp tone of voice made him flinch.
“Surely you didn’t leave any of your fingerprints around, did you?”
“Of course not,” Kenzo said indignantly. “Professor Hayakawa warned me about that, and I was very careful I think it should be all right. I even covered the receiver with a handkerchief when I telephoned the police.”
“Just to be on the safe side, would you be so kind as to let us take your fingerprints?” said the white-coated technician. Reluctantly, Kenzo held out both his hands and submitted. A moment later the technician was shaking his head. “We didn’t find these prints in the house,” he said. He sounded almost relieved.
“You’d better get Professor Hayakawa’s prints, too,” said Daiyu Matsushita. “When you’re finished, please send the professor in here.”
19
Professor Hayakawa strode through the door. He seemed to have regained his composure, and behind the thick gold-rimmed lenses his cold, penetrating scientist’s eyes glittered brilliantly as he gazed around the room.
“You’re Professor Hayakawa? I’m Detective Chief Inspector Matsushita. Thank you very much for all you’ve done for my brother.” Daiyu gave the most minimal of bows, just a slight forward motion of the head and neck.
“Ah, so you’re Kenzo’s illustrious older brother. I’ve heard a great deal about you.” Using language that was almost too polite for the occasion, Professor Hayakawa one-upped the chief with a very low, elaborate bow.
“Please forgive me for not greeting you properly earlier,” Daiyu Matsushita said, upgrading his level of politeness to match the professor’s. “In all the confusion.…”
“Don’t worry about that,” said the professor. “The last few hours have been confusing for everyone. By the way, your goons aren’t very mannerly, are they? A while ago they insisted on taking my fingerprints in the other room. Isn’t that an infringement of my civil rights?”
“We didn’t mean to be rude, but since you and my brother found the body, we thought you might have accidentally left some around. As it turned out, neither of your prints was a match for the ones we found.”
“Oh, I see. It’s a matter of simple arithmetic: five minus x equals y, is it? That’s the limitation of scientific criminology, right there. There’s no way you’re going to be able to solve this crime with such commonplace methods. I mean, elementary math just isn’t going to be enough with a complex case like this.”
“Well, Sensei, you may be hoping that some fictional mastermind detective will show up like Sherlock Holmes and solve all the riddles of this case, but I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that in real life. We have to investigate meticulously, one step at a time. Even if we know from the start that leads are going nowhere, we have to conscientiously follow up. That may seem like a very roundabout approach, but it ends up being the most efficient way by far. In murder investigations, the shortest distance between two points may turn out to be a circle.”
“Actually, the shortest distance between two points is a narrow mind,” the professor quipped. “You might catch the perpetrator of a burglary or an unplanned murder with such an elementary approach. However, this crime was committed by someone who is a notch or two above us in intelligence, maybe even a genius. I don’t think you can solve this case unless you take it to a higher level and bring in concepts like non-Euclidean geometry. There may be more here than meets the eye. Or, quite possibly, less.”
“Are you saying we should add two and two and get five?”
“Sure, you might get five, but you also might get three, depending on the circumstances. Anything’s possible in a world where parallel lines can converge in a single point.”
“Perhaps so, but unfortunately we happen to be living in a world where parallel lines never meet. Or hadn’t you heard?”
Ignoring the chief’s sarcasm, Professor Hayakawa plunged ahead. “The one thing we know for certain is that the sort of fool who would leave behind his fingerprints would b
e incapable of committing such an artistic murder. I may be an old relic of a doctor, but I have done quite a bit of research into criminology, and I must say I find this case absolutely astonishing. To amputate a tattooed torso and somehow manage to escape with it from a locked room! That’s a truly splendid scheme, don’t you think? Whoever the culprit is, he certainly got the jump on me. I mean, first the older brother and younger sister die, and now the last of the family is gone, along with her beautiful tattoo. I’m sorry to say I’ve lost the chance to add a precious work of art to my collection.”
“Sensei, you almost seem to be praising the murderer. I get the feeling you might even know the perpetrator’s identity.”
“I know a lot of things,” the professor snapped. “And one thing I know for certain is that there’s a big difference between good versus evil, and beauty versus ugliness. For example, you people tend to despise tattoos, as if they were an affront to your puritanical eyes. You seem to see anyone who happens to have a tattoo as a thief or a murderer or some sort of lowlife scum, and that simply isn’t the case at all. In the so-called civilized countries of the West, even among royalty, aristocracy, and members of the upper classes, getting tattooed was a widespread fashion at the turn of the century. And all those people agreed that the Japanese tattoo was the absolute zenith of the art form, on a par with our famous ukiyo-e woodblock prints. If you people in the police department could just learn to look at tattoos with a slightly more artistic eye, I think you might be surprised to discover the strange beauty there. I don’t mean to climb on my soapbox, but I really think Japan should use our defeat in that stupid war as a time for national rebirth. We need to repeal the senseless ban on tattoos, once and for all.”
Daiyu Matsushita had listened patiently to this polemic, tapping his tented fingertips against each other with a piano-playing motion. “Sensei,” he said in a coolly authoritative tone, “we have already been treated to a display of your erudition on the subject of tattoos, and I may want to solicit your expert opinion at some future date. What we would like to know right now, though, is why you came to this house this morning.”
Tattoo Murder Case Page 9