“Ridiculous!” Sakakibara laughed awkwardly. Just at that moment, the door opened and some newspaper reporters barged noisily in.
“Are you the one who stood up to the thugs in the street?” asked one of them, peering at Sakakibara in bed.
Taguchi was called up to the Chief ’s office. As he went in he saw a newspaper spread out on the desk.
“You read this, I suppose?” A worried expression hovered on the Chief ’s face as he peered at Taguchi over the top of his glasses.
“Yes, I read it.” Taguchi smiled. “All the papers are giving him the hero’s treatment. I suppose the fact that it happened during the campaign to banish violence had something to do with it.”
“Like… ‘Street poet’s heroic stand against violence’?” The Chief read a headline out loud. The report was accompanied by a large photo of Sakakibara smiling on his hospital bed. “And you just happened to be there?”
“Yes. The incident happened while Detective Suzuki and I were tailing him.”
“We have two problems.” The Chief folded his arms. “The first concerns your actions. You’re bound to be pilloried in the press for not having broken the fight up sooner.”
“Yes, I’m ready for that. It’s all my responsibility. Detective Suzuki wanted to go in right away, but I stopped him.
“Well, I guess we’ll find a way round that one somehow. Which brings me to the other problem… have the papers got their facts right concerning the case?”
“More or less.”
“Nevertheless, you believe Sakakibara murdered that bathhouse girl?”
“It can’t be anyone else.”
“However…” The Chief looked serious as he rose from his chair and walked slowly over to the window. It was as hot as ever, and Taguchi wiped the sweat from the back of his neck. He knew what the Chief was going to say.
The Chief turned to him, a puzzled look on his face. “I just don’t get it. How can someone like this commit a murder? Was it all an act for your benefit?”
“I believe he helped that old man because he needed helping.”
“It’s not just that. According to your investigations, there’s nothing to suggest he had any grudge against the victim, right?”
“There isn’t—in fact, I’m sure he didn’t have any grudge against her.”
“So that just makes his motive for murder even weaker, doesn’t it? So why do you think it is Sakakibara? What exactly is the basis for your conviction?”
“I can’t explain it very well, but…” Taguchi searched for the right words to express what he wanted to say, but he could not find them. For want of a better way to put it, he said simply, “Sakakibara himself is telling me that he is the murderer.” It wasn’t exactly accurate, but in a sense it was what Taguchi believed.
“He’s confessed?” The Chief ’s eyes popped.
“He hasn’t actually confessed,” responded Taguchi. “I know it sounds odd, but he’s taunting me and deliberately challenging the police. It comes across like he’s yelling that he killed her, that he’s the murderer.”
“I see.” The Chief nodded slowly. It seemed from his expression that he had no idea what Taguchi was getting at. “But we can’t arrest him on the basis of your conviction.”
“I know that.”
“And now Sakakibara’s become the neighborhood hero. If you pursue him despite your lack of proof, you may well come under attack from the press.”
“I’m also aware of that, but I just want a little more time.” Taguchi looked the Chief directly in the face. It would be enough if he could discover the motive. If he could just do that, Sakakibara would probably give himself away without being pushed. “Please let me investigate him for a little longer.”
The Chief sat in silence, his arms still folded. Taguchi took that to mean his tacit approval and, bowing his head briefly, he left the Chief ’s office.
Taguchi went to Peace Villa apartments to pay a visit to the hostess, Mineko. She was all dressed up on her way out to visit Sakakibara in hospital.
“Well, let me accompany you to the hospital,” said Taguchi. Mineko scowled in irritation, but she seemed unable to refuse outright and set off without a word.
“There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you,” he commented to her profile as he walked alongside her. In the bright sunlight, she looked even younger than when he had seen her in the dimly lit bar. Perhaps the victim, Kazuko Watanabe, would have looked this young if he’d seen her in the light of day too.
“Were Sakakibara and Kazuko sleeping together?”
Mineko shrugged. “None of us have that sort of relationship with Sensei.”
“But you’re men and women, right? It would be more natural for there to be a physical relationship.”
“Sensei’s a poet.”
“But he’s a man. Or perhaps he’s lacking in that respect?”
“Don’t be silly.” Mineko stopped and glared at Taguchi with contempt in her eyes. “Sensei’s a fine man. But we don’t have a sexual relationship. And neither did Kazu.”
“You girls into platonic love? Now that’s a surprise.”
“Well, you detectives are just plain dumb, aren’t you?” Mineko turned away and started walking again.
Taguchi stood for a while watching Mineko as she stalked off. She was short, and he could tell at a glance that her clothes were cheap. In fact, she was the very picture of a trashy bargirl. The customers who came to that back alley bar were after women more than they were after booze, and she must have been with any number of them. That must be why she and the other girls longed for platonic relations. It was because they only ever met men who were blatantly after their body that they hankered after someone calling themselves a poet, like Sakakibara. If Sakakibara behaved like all the other men, they almost certainly would not call him Sensei with so much affection and respect.
Taguchi was satisfied with things thus far. But something was just not quite right. Neither Sakakibara or the girls seemed to realize it, but there was something fishy going on. He could not help feeling that the pleasantry was somewhat forced, the relationship fabricated. Perhaps the murder had been caused by the breakdown of that fabricated relationship?
Taguchi started walking again, but he lost the urge to catch up with Mineko. By the time he got to the hospital and went into Sakakibara’s room, Mineko was arranging some flowers she had bought on the way in a vase. The air conditioning was not working and the room was quite hot. Nevertheless, Sakakibara looked cheerful and was sitting up in bed. When he saw Taguchi, he grinned.
“Am I under surveillance again today? You’ll never solve the crime coming here.”
“You seem pretty well.”
“I am well. This hospital room is a lot more comfortable than my tiny home.”
“I guess you’ve seen the papers.”
“Sure. The nurse brought them for me.”
“So how does it feel being the neighborhood hero?”
“It’s not me at all,” said Sakakibara with an abashed smile. It was clear from his face that he wasn’t just being modest. He really was embarrassed, thought Taguchi. He had the feeling that this man’s emotions were always awkward.
Sakakibara reached out a hand and picked up a cigarette off the table. Mineko quickly lit a match and held it out for him. Sakakibara looked self-conscious again.
“I asked the reporters not to make such a big thing out of it. It’s really so embarrassing, I didn’t even want it to be in the papers.”
“How very self-effacing of you.”
“Perhaps I’m shy.”
“You’re being unusually unassuming today, aren’t you?” Taguchi looked at Sakakibara teasingly. Mineko glared at him.
“Sensei is a wonderful person.”
“No, I’m not,” Sakakibara blushed. “You girls really are living on the edge. Compared to you I’m utterly irresponsible.”
“No, Sensei, you are a great person. Much more so than some petty detective.”
There was something strangely translucent about Sakakibara and Mineko’s conversation.
He fully understood the feeling that Mineko and also the dead Kazuko had demanded something emotionally from Sakakibara. From their point of view, reality was sometimes fun but it was also tough and unhappy. So when a man calling himself a poet had come along making what for them seemed a fairytale world, it provided them with an escape from their harsh reality and they were making the most it. Young girls needed a prince, and Sakakibara probably fulfilled that role for them.
But why did Sakakibara need them?
If Sakakibara had been living off them like a pimp, then things would be clear. Even if they were merely linked by a sexual relationship, Taguchi would consider it natural. He had seen it so many times before—and if it had been that kind of relationship, there probably would have been no murder case now.
But Sakakibara had formed an unnatural relationship with the girls. From the girls’ point of view it was natural, but for Sakakibara surely it was anything but?
To put it another way, for the girls, Sakakibara was a fairytale prince, but Sakakibara probably did not see himself that way. Was it this gap in awareness between them that had led to the murder?
If so, then just how did Sakakibara perceive himself?
What was it that he’d said?
What had the line been? Something about woman as slave to the muse, and the poet as slave to woman. It was apparently something that Baudelaire had said, but Taguchi was interested in why Sakakibara had quoted it.
If he asked Sakakibara to his face, he would probably say, “I’m like a slave to those girls.” But Sakakibara’s exhibitionism bordered on the abnormal, carrying around that Baudelaire anthology, and putting up the sign “Contemporary Poetry Appreciation Society” on the door of his tiny apartment.
In which case he was probably subconsciously likening himself to the muse. And if so, wouldn’t that mean the girls were his slaves?
During the time Sakakibara was in hospital, Taguchi met up with a number of people to find out more about him. Of interest were the accounts given by a fairly well-known poet by the name of Ko Fujimura, and a former college friend.
Ko Fujimura had never met Sakakibara, but had apparently read some of his poetry.
“I used to be involved with a publisher that holds the T. A. Poetry Award, which is a pretty authoritative prize. He used to enter it every time. But he was apparently never selected.”
“Ah.”
“I was on the panel of judges, and he once wrote demanding to know why his poem hadn’t been selected. He wanted to know the reason. He sounded pretty full of himself, which is why the name Tetsuya Sakakibara has stuck in my memory.”
“Sorry to be so crude, but were his poems any good?”
“They’re very sensual, and in that respect I think some of them are quite good, it’s just that they’re somewhat saccharine. It’s like there’s no rigorousness in his view of reality, or perhaps it’s that there’s something lacking in the way he relates to the world.”
“I think I know what you mean,” laughed Taguchi. This was true, but he was more interested in how Sakakibara had kept entering the poetry competition, and had even written to the judges.
The old college friend’s account backed up what Ko Fujimura had told him. At college, the words that Sakakibara had been fond of quoting were not by Baudelaire, but that famous line uttered by Byron, “I awoke one morning and found myself famous.”
“That’s why,” the friend told Taguchi, “at that time I thought it would be Sakakibara, not Kyo Sasanuma, who would become a popular writer. He was precocious, a real go-getter. I’m amazed that it turned out the other way round.”
These two statements were consistent in that Sakakibara’s current lifestyle was somewhat removed from reality, but he himself longed for worldly fame. And his was an uncommonly intense longing for fame. However, that ambition had never been satisfied, not even once. His heart must be full of disappointment. Could it be that Kazuko and Mineko had been necessary to him in order to soothe his disenchantment?
Taguchi decided to talk to Mineko once more. Why had Sakakibara needed the girls, and what on earth did they mean to him? Things were still hazy, but he had the feeling he was beginning to understand. He wanted something concrete he could hold onto. If he could just clear these points up, he might possibly discover Sakakibara’s motive for killing Kazuko Watanabe.
That evening, he headed for Julie’s bar. There was no sign of Mineko, and when he commented to the manageress that it must be her day off, the answer came back, “Mine-chan won’t be coming back at all.”
“At all?”
“She quit.”
“You’re not telling me…” A thought had popped into Taguchi’s mind that put a gleam in his eyes. “She’s not getting married, is she?”
“How come you knew?”
“It’s true, then?”
“Yes. An old boyfriend from her hometown she hadn’t seen for several years turned up and asked her to marry him. She told me she was going back to Akita to get married.”
“Getting married…” A slight shiver ran through Taguchi’s chest.
Kazuko had been killed just before her wedding. Now Mineko was in the same situation as she had been in.
Will Sakakibara kill Mineko too?
Taguchi left Julie’s and headed for Peace Villa apartments.
Mineko was in her room packing her bags.
When Taguchi told her, “I hear you’re getting married,” she wiped the sweat off her brow with the back of her hand and then grinned at him.
“Yeah, a guy from my hometown. He wants me despite everything.”
“Sakakibara will be lonely, won’t he? You’ll no longer be around for him.”
“I guess.” There was a fleeting expression of triumph on Mineko’s face.
“Have you told him you’re getting married yet?”
“I’ll go to the hospital tomorrow to tell him. I’m sure he’ll be pleased for me. He always tells us he wants to see us happy. He often says it. Although I don’t know if marriage is happiness really.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-one.”
“The same age as Kazuko then.” Taguchi hesitated.
There was definitely a possibility that Mineko would be killed, in which case he should probably warn her not to inform Sakakibara of her marriage. But he stopped himself. Mineko would probably just laugh it off, and also he had a somewhat imprudent urge to make a “bet.” He wanted to set a trap for Sakakibara, and this stopped him from saying anything. If he could trap Sakakibara—
“Detective, there’s something I want to ask you.”
Jogged out of his thoughts by Mineko’s studied formality, Taguchi replied, “What’s that?”
“Are the police allowed to rummage through anyone’s apartment at will?”
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s just when I started packing that I noticed, but I’m missing a makeup set. Did the police take it?”
“Why do you think it was the police?”
“If it had been a thief, he would have taken money. It must have been the police. But it’s not that I’m asking for it back or anything.”
“Sorry, but the police don’t engage in that sort of petty thieving,” Taguchi smiled wryly. But the next moment his smile disappeared and his expression hardened. “When did it go missing?”
“What?”
“I’m asking you when the makeup set disappeared.”
“I don’t know. And I’ve got loads of other makeup, so I don’t need it back.”
“What exactly was it that went missing?”
“Don’t bother about it.”
“Even if you don’t mind, I do. I need to know. I want you to tell me exactly what it
was that was taken.”
“A makeup set. Cream, lipstick, eyebrow pencil, that sort of thing.”
“I see.”
“Do you know who took it?”
“I think I just might,” replied Taguchi vaguely, his eyes narrowed.
The next evening it started raining.
With each passing car, sheaves of rain shone white in the headlights. It showed no sign of easing up. In his sheltered location on watch, Detective Suzuki stirred slightly and looked at Taguchi.
“Will Sakakibara go out in this?”
“Probably,” responded Taguchi, his gaze fixed on the hospital. “At least, Mineko came this afternoon and told him she’s getting married. And what’s more, Sakakibara can walk again.”
“What was Sakakibara’s motive for killing Kazuko Watanabe? You know it, don’t you, boss?”
“I’m not certain I’m right, though.” Taguchi lit a cigarette, never taking his eyes from the hospital. He thought he knew what it was, but if he was wrong then Sakakibara was unlikely to leave the hospital. “I just tried to imagine what sort of person he is.”
Taguchi spoke slowly, as if reconfirming his own thoughts to himself. “He doesn’t have a proper job, he lives in a tiny, cheap apartment, and he spends what little money he makes selling mimeographed collections of his poetry on drinking in a back alley bar. The girls who work in the bar and the bathhouse all call him Sensei. This is the Sakakibara you see on the surface.”
“So carefree! Sounds pretty enviable to me.”
“I also thought that to begin with, too.” Taguchi smiled sardonically. Nobody had come out of the hospital yet, and the light was still on in Sakakibara’s room. “But looking at it rationally, Sakakibara’s lifestyle is fake, it has no substance. When we were watching him, he hardly sold any of his poetry, did he? Can he really live on that? Let alone go drinking in bars. The fact he’s been able to do that is because those girls have been helping him. Or to put it simply, he’s pretty much like a pimp. However much he calls it a poetic relationship, I think he’s just using words and airs to cover up for the lack of substance in his life. That pompous sign “Contemporary Poetry Appreciation Society,” carrying around that Baudelaire volume, and even the girls—they’re all nothing more than decorative means to cover up his empty life.”
The Isle of South Kamui and Other Stories Page 14