Puppet Master vol.1

by Miyuki Miyabe

  　When a perpetrator flaunts the terrible things he's done, it's not unusual for copycat crimes to follow, thought Takegami. This had been on everyone's minds, consciously or not: when would the next one be? That's why this present case was causing such a furor. Conversely, you could say this type of perpetrator appeared in response to a society that had been braced for such a crime. In a bold moment, Takegami might even go so far as to say that this kind of crime only happened when society was clamoring for it.

  　“Maybe so. But, in any case,” Takegami muttered, “if the caller is our guy, even if we ignore him he'll be in touch again.”

  　Shinozaki nodded, then suddenly looked up. Takegami also looked up to see a huge hulk of a detective wrenching open the door of the incident room and making a beeline for them. Striding over to them, he bowed to Takegami.

  　“Gami, can I ask you a favor?”

  　It was Shingo Akitsu from Takegami's own Squad Four. He was in his midthirties, and as far as Takegami was concerned, a mischievous brat. “We got an important piece of information on the scene,” he said, getting straight to the point, then pulled out a swivel chair and sat down. “There's an amateur photographer who was out taking photographs in the park the day before the arm was discovered. He's an office worker and lives in public housing on the north side of the park.”

  　“What sort of photographs?”

  　“It's a real bit of luck. He's working on a series called ‘Four Seasons in Okawa Park’ so it's not like he just started snapping yesterday either. He's been taking photos all around the park since the beginning of January. And that day he was there shooting the theme of a fall evening in the park. And not just in the park, either─the roads around it, and the parking lot at the back of it, too. The park's atmosphere and the contrast between that and the surrounding area, or something.”

  　Now Takegami got why Akitsu was so worked up about it. It could be quite a breakthrough if he'd caught any suspicious people or vehicles on film, especially if it was the day before the arm was found.

  　“But the problem is, the old boy is a bit of a character,” Akitsu said with a grimace. “Seems he's won quite a few prizes, and it must have gone to his head. He's convinced that if he lets the police have his photos, they'll just go ahead and use them without his permission and he'll never get them back. Said he wouldn't trust me with the negatives for anything. So I was hoping you could talk to him directly, Gami. Can you explain to him that we always return materials we borrow on investigations, and never let them out of our hands? However much I tell him that, he won't believe me and tells me to come back with someone higher up.”

  　Shinozaki couldn't help a smirk, but quickly wiped it off his face when Akitsu met his eye. He stood up as if he'd suddenly remembered something he had to do. Akitsu watched him go, grinning.

  　“Gami, you didn't waste any time in getting him marked for a post, did you?”

  　“What?”

  　“That guy. He looks useful.”

  　“How can you tell?”

  　Akitsu jerked his chin at Shinozaki's chair. “You've got him on the maps, right?”

  　Takegami smiled sourly. “So are you going to give me the contact details for that photographer? Let's give him a call. I'll go and see him myself.”

  　“Thanks. I owe you one.” Akitsu held one hand before his face in a gesture of thanks, then jotted down the necessary details and handed the note to Takegami. Then he got up as if in a hurry. “Aren't you coming to the press conference?”

  　“No need.”

  　“I guess, but it's a pity. I'll have to get someone else to tell me what the Division Chief said. Right now I have to go the hospital in Nakano.”

  　“Hospital?”

  　Akitsu quickly glanced around. Most of the investigation personnel were out and the incident room was still deserted. Even so, Akitsu leaned down so that his face was close to Takegami, and whispered, “Torii fucked up.”

  　“What?”

  　“Mariko Furukawa, you know, the missing woman that bag belonged to …”

  　“Ah.”

  　“He went to see her mother to get confirmation the bag was hers, but she was still in a pretty nervous state─dangerously so, apparently. But Torii just banged on regardless, and she ended up freaking out, running out of the house and getting run over.”

  　Takegami frowned. It was true, Torii was the stubborn type, and was always scaring or angering witnesses. It wasn't the first time things had gone badly. However, making trouble for the relatives of a murder victim─a possible murder victim─was a first.

  　“Really, I'd been worrying when something like this was going to happen,” Akitsu went on, looking uncommonly pleased with himself. Akitsu and Torii were close in age and rivals, as it were. They'd never been on particularly good terms. Still, he sobered up when Takegami scowled at him.

  　“So what's the mother's condition, then?”

  　“Not good, apparently. That's why I have to go to the hospital, instead of Torii. Seems that the mother's father─Mariko's grandfather, I guess─actually thumped him one.”

  　Akitsu went off in a hurry. Takegami was still frowning long after he'd gone.

  Yoshio tried calling his son-in-law Shigeru Furukawa from the ER waiting room at Nakano Central Hospital repeatedly, but couldn't get through. Machiko had been brought here by ambulance, and was still in the operating room. When he'd seen a nurse, the neck of her surgical gown damp with sweat, come out into the corridor carrying an empty drip pack he asked how things were going. It seemed that Machiko was seriously injured, but that she would live. The nurse had told him comfortingly, “She'll be okay.” She looked just a little younger than Machiko and seemed experienced─relaxed, but brisk.

  　Yoshio felt all the tension that had been building up collapse abruptly like a house of cards. He felt like crying. He wanted to ask the gentle-looking nurse whether she was happy. Do you and your husband get along? What about your family, is everyone well? What's happened to my daughter is heartbreaking. Why did it come to this? What did she do wrong? I haven't a clue what I should do … The nurse looked at him in concern. She put her hand softly on his shoulder and gently shook him as if to give him courage. “She really will be okay, so brace yourself and wait just a bit longer. She should be out within the hour.” She rushed off, leaving Yoshio standing in the corridor, arms hanging, waiting for the wave of despair washing over him to recede a little.

  　After a while he remembered he had to inform Shigeru. He tried calling every ten minutes, but the secretary just kept telling him the line was busy, or he was with a client, or he was away from his desk.

  　“I have told him that you called. Shall I ask him to call you back?”

  　But Yoshio didn't know if there was a phone in the hospital that he could call back to. The public phone in the ER waiting room didn't have a number written on it anyway, so he just said that he would call again, and call he did, over and over.

  　Shigeru probably didn't know about the TV news broadcast yet. That wouldn't be at all strange for someone in his position as PR manager for a top electrical appliance manufacturer. He wouldn't have time to watch TV or follow the news at work. But what about his colleagues? Hadn't anyone seen the news in a café at lunchtime and wondered, hey, isn't that Mr. Furukawa's daughter? Yoshio had no idea how much Shigeru had told his coworkers about Mariko's disappearance or about his separation from Machiko. His department might not even know any of the details of his private life. In a conservative company, being separated or divorced might well hamper a manager's promotion chances, so it was possible that Shigeru had kept quiet about it altogether.

  　All Yoshio could say was that he needed to get hold of him urgently. If he'd told the secretary that Shigeru's wife had been in a traffic accident, she might have been shocked enough to put him through right away, but Shigeru might then be even less willing to take the call. If he just left a message for him and then said nothing
more, he would probably contact him after two or three days to see what was up─that was really the most likely scenario.

  　If Mariko were here, things would be different. Mariko would get through to Shigeru, and that would be that. But Mariko wasn't around. Far from it: the TV was blasting it across the airways to the whole country how she'd been abducted and murdered, and was buried goodness only knew where. Machiko had cottoned on to this, and she'd shattered into pieces. And yet, Shigeru couldn't be bothered to take his call. Rage boiled up in him, but he was too exhausted to let off any steam.

  　He hung up and walked unsteadily across the waiting room. A young mother holding a child limp with fever and an unwell-looking middle-aged man waiting to be called into the consulting room sympathetically shot him enquiring looks. What's up with you? Is a member of your family sick? Injured? Is it serious? Has the doctor told you anything? Everyone's suffering, he thought. Everything's falling apart. And I'm in a worse place than anyone else here.

  　He made his way back along the narrow corridor that smelled of antiseptic. Sitting on the bench outside the operating room were Sakaki and the policewoman who'd come with him from the Higashi-Nakano house. She was looking very uncomfortable, and had hardly spoken at all. Sakaki came over to Yoshio, and spoke quietly to him.

  　“Did you manage to get hold of Mr. Furukawa?”

  　Yoshio shook his head listlessly. “He's avoiding me and won't take the call.”

  　Sakaki looked indignant. “At such a time!” His eyes were a bit bloodshot.

  　“He probably hasn't heard what's happened yet.”

  　“He's living with another woman, isn't he? Can't you call there?”

  　“I don't know the number. He wouldn't give it to me. I don't think Machiko had it either.”

  　Sakaki exhaled irritably. “Even if they are separated, he still has responsibilities.”

  　“I don't know what went on between Machiko and Shigeru, or what they'd decided about their separation. Machiko did say that he'd probably come back home once he'd cooled down a bit, but that's all she told me, and I didn't like to ask. But seeing how things were going, I didn't really think he'd ever be back. Even when Mariko went missing he didn't come home.”

  　“Mr. Arima …” Sakaki started, but then seemed to be at a loss for words. He didn't say anything for a while, then murmured, “You're bleeding, you know.”

  　“Eh?”

  　“Your right hand. The knuckles are grazed.”

  　Yoshio was sitting with his hands on his knees, and now raised his right hand to look at it. Sakaki was right. The skin had been rubbed off, and blood had congealed around the wound. “Serves me right for punching that detective, I guess.”

  　“You should have punched him harder,” Sakaki said shortly. The policewoman, seated at a little distance, shrank back a bit more. “There's always one like that. They don't think about anybody's feelings, they're just like machines.”

  　Yoshio had lost control after seeing Machiko run out in front of the truck, and Sakaki had to stop him from throwing himself on her. “We mustn't move her,” he'd said. He touched her gently, and some blood trickled out of her ear. They could see her nose was broken, and her right arm was pinned under her body at an odd angle, clearly broken. That detective, Torii or whatever his name was, had come running up shouting, “What the hell happened?” He sounded irritable, as if it was all a terrible nuisance. At that point Yoshio had totally lost it, and before he knew what he was doing he had grabbed Torii's collar and started punching him.

  　Amid all the confusion of the ambulance arriving and local people gathering on the scene, Torii had disappeared. Yoshio wasn't sure why the policewoman had stuck with them all this time, but she seemed wary of him, and to be wishing it was all over. He rubbed his hands over his face. His knuckles stung. There was no sign of anyone coming out of the operating room. It was quiet, bright, and very cold.

  　Sakaki looked up. Footsteps sounded along the corridor leading from the ER waiting room. Yoshio opened his eyes to see a large, energetic young man with a somewhat stiff, serious face coming toward them. He was wearing a suit, but his shirt collar was loosened and his tie twisted. Catching Yoshio's eye, he bowed his head. “You must be from Mariko Furukawa's family. Yoshio Arima, I presume?”

  　Remaining seated, Yoshio nodded.

  　“My name is Akitsu, from the MPD,” he flashed his card, then bowed his head. “I must apologize for Detective Torii. He was out of order.”

  　So he was a colleague of that detective, Yoshio thought dully. Sakaki stood up and introduced himself. Akitsu was apparently aware of Sakaki and what he was doing there, for he nodded without hesitation.

  　“What is Mrs. Furukawa's condition?” he asked.

  　After glancing sideways at Yoshio, Sakaki replied that her life was apparently out of danger, and that they should finish operating on her soon, then asked, “Have there been any further developments on the case?”

  　Akitsu shook his head. “We won't find anything else in the park. We can't really say anything until we see what that caller does next.”

  　The two detectives talked in low voices, turned away from Yoshio, who sat absently, his arms folded. The policewoman did the same. “Miss,” Yoshio said to her. She started and sat up straight. “Shouldn't you be getting home?”

  　“Don't worry,” she replied. Her voice was unexpectedly sweet. “Once we know what condition Mrs. Furukawa is in, I'll take you home, Mr. Arima.”

  　“If that's all you're waiting for, then please don't bother yourself. I'll stay here tonight anyway.”

  　“But these days hospitals like this provide full care, and don't allow family members to stay over, you know.”

  　“I'll work something out,” Yoshio said, and jerked his chin at Sakaki as he stood talking with Akitsu. “And since Detective Sakaki is here, I'll be all right. I've calmed down now, and won't be hitting anyone else. Please go home. Thanks for all your help.”

  　“But …” the policewoman looked flustered. “But I need to take a statement from you about Mrs. Furukawa's accident. How can I get in touch with you?”

  　Really, the police were tireless with their questioning and taking statements. He gave her the number for Machiko's house and his shop. He would be at one or the other. Having confirmed this, the policewoman at last stood up. She still looked undecided, but she went and said something to Sakaki and was apparently reassured when he nodded, for she headed off toward the waiting area. Yoshio was relieved. He sat staring vacantly at the door to the operating room, even forgetting the presence of Sakaki and Akitsu for a while, until Sakaki's voice brought him back to himself.

  　“Mr. Arima.” Sakaki came and crouched at his side. “It seems the investigating team want to talk to Mr. Furukawa about Mariko's case, too. After all, he is her father. So how about we get Detective Akitsu to call him at work?”

  　Yoshio raised his head and looked at Akitsu, who was standing by the wall. He looked a lot more personable than that Detective Torii, but the corners of his mouth were turned down and he looked stubborn.

  　Akitsu looked directly at Yoshio and said, “I'll be careful not to cause trouble when I call. Given the condition of Mariko's mother, there's a lot we'll need to ask her father instead. We would like his cooperation too, as well as yours, Mr. Arima.”

  　“I don't think I'll be much use to you, though,” Yoshio said slowly. He felt so terribly tired. “Well, I'd be glad if you could deal with Shigeru.”

  　Akitsu nodded at Sakaki, then headed back down the corridor to the waiting room. As he went, Yoshio saw him taking a cell phone out of his suit pocket.

  　“Shigeru'll be shocked to get a call from the police,” Yoshio said, smiling weakly.

  　“It'll serve him right,” Sakaki said flatly.

  　They lapsed into silence. There was nothing for them to do other than sit side-by-side hanging their heads, waiting.

  　The operation drag
ged on. That kind nurse had been wrong after all. By the time Machiko was wheeled out of the operating room with an oxygen mask over her white face and her head in bandages, it was past 7 PM. Yoshio was not allowed to see her, or to enter the ICU. The surgeon explained her condition in the corridor outside the operating room. She had multiple fractures to her right arm, the impact to her abdomen had caused internal hemorrhaging, and the head injury was not as serious as they'd thought, but she did have a severe concussion so they would keep a close eye on that. “At the moment, her EEG shows no abnormality in the brain waves.”

  　“Can I see her, even just for a moment?”

  　“As long as it's through the ICU window. But you'll get a bit of a shock. There are a lot of tubes and she is hooked up to machines.”

  　It was as the doctor had said. Machiko lay flat in the middle of a white bed under the bluish light, surrounded by machines. She had worried about her middle-aged spread, but it was as though her chubbiness had shriveled away for she looked tiny, almost without substance. She didn't look like Machiko. Well, she probably wasn't really Machiko anymore. Dad! Mariko's come home! That bright voice totally out of touch with reality. It was as if her soul had turned inside out and the lining had ripped─that's what that voice had sounded like.

  　“Well, at least she's alive,” murmured Sakaki.

  　Yoshio put his hand up against the ICU window, staring at his daughter. From now on, I'll have to bear all this on my own. The knowledge of what happened to Mariko. Looking after Machiko. It's all on my shoulders now …

  　He felt terribly alone, sunk in overwhelming isolation. And it was only the beginning.

  Chapter 5

  However sensational a case is, once it loses momentum the fast ride down the slippery slope of media coverage can grind to a halt in a matter of days. The Okawa Park Case was a perfect example of this. With no major developments in the days following the first discovery on September twelfth, the media fire gradually burned out. The gossip shows carried on a bit longer, discussing the personality type of the anonymous caller, announcing the results of the analysis of the audio recording and so forth, but after a week even they ran out of fuel and moved onto different topics.