“It’s strange all right,” Yoshioka said, biting his lip. “This problem is so basic—that’s why I didn’t think of it, I suppose . . . Well, there must be a reason why the killer didn’t act before the wedding day. Perhaps he’d been away from Tokyo?”
“Surely that wouldn’t have stopped him. By using a plane he could’ve got back to Tokyo within a few hours from the northern tip of Hokkaido or the southern end of Kyushu . . . But suppose he couldn’t have acted before the wedding. Why didn’t he then wait for the couple to return from their honeymoon? He would’ve had plenty of opportunities afterward. Why did he have to pick that most unsuitable night?”
“Isn’t it possible he was afraid that during the honeymoon Tsukamoto might tell his wife something she shouldn’t know? So to prevent this . . .” Yoshioka stopped and shook his head, frowning. “No, that doesn’t make sense either. If that was the case, he could’ve murdered Tsukamoto long before the wedding.”
“Well,” Kirishima said with a smile, “it’s a well known fact that sex partners love to launch into true confessions after their first session together.”
For a while neither of them said anymore. Kirishima kept twirling his pen between his fingers, and the inspector looked increasingly uncomfortable, as if the silence was becoming suffocating for him.
After a few minutes he took a deep, mournful breath, and said, “I’ve certainly made a bad blunder missing this point . . . Have you any suggestion, Mr. Prosecutor?”
Slowly Kirishima shook his head. “No, I’ve no idea at all. But I do feel that once we find the answer to this question, we’ll have no trouble identifying the killer . . . I think at this stage we should work on the assumption that he had deliberately planned to strike a few hours after the couple became man and wife. He must have had a very good reason for doing that. I could be wrong, of course, but I feel that once we discover that reason, we’ll have the case solved.”
8
Kyoko Kirishima looked out the window. The clear winter sky was dazzlingly blue again that day. But inside the building the atmosphere seemed to be damp and gloomy. Perhaps it was only her own state of mind.
There were about twenty people in the anteroom of Nishihara Crematorium, waiting in small groups for the deceased to make his final journey through the flames. Soon Yoshihiro Tsukamoto would be reduced to a handful of ashes and placed in an urn inside a small wooden box.
Kyoko sighed and glanced around the room. Etsuko was sitting between her parents, still as a statue. Behind her glasses her eyes looked so swollen, she must have found it difficult to see through them.
Only thirty minutes ago the coffin had disappeared on its way to the furnace. That moment must have burnt into Etsuko’s mind. She had placed both hands on the coffin for the last time and muttered something in a quavering whisper that could hardly be called a sound. The tears were running down her cheeks.
Not far from Etsuko, the deceased’s brother, Nobumasa, and his lawyer, Koike, were sitting together.
Nobumasa hadn’t made the wedding, but he had managed to drag himself to the funeral. He looked just as pathetic as Etsuko, but in a different way. His left arm was in a sling, and a walking stick was placed against his chair—a reminder of his heavy limp. His face seemed feverish. A white gauze mask covered his mouth, and every now and then he coughed painfully. He must have contracted the current flu which was just reaching the height of its fury, Kyoko thought.
Koike looked rather worn out, too. After completing the business of the wedding, he had hardly had time to catch his breath before being called upon to organize the funeral. Even today he had to receive the mourners, look after Nobumasa, act as pall-bearer, and do a thousand other things. But now it was all over, and for the first time in days he had an opportunity to sit down and think of the death of his client, who had also been one of his closest friends. No wonder his face looked hollow with grief, Kyoko thought.
Perhaps it was natural that Higuchi wasn’t at the funeral and hadn’t turned up at the wake ceremony either. To him Yoshihiro Tsukamoto had been a complete stranger who had taken away from him the woman he wanted to marry. And in any case, it would have been rather awkward for him to face Etsuko at a time like this. But he did send her a telegram. Kyoko had been sitting with Etsuko at the wake last night when she opened the black-bordered piece of paper and then quickly put it aside as she recognized the name of the sender.
Sitting in a group at the rear were some university people, including Kawaji, the deceased’s personal friend, and Professor Araki, head of the business management section. Professor Kuwajima, dean of the Department of Economics, who had been official witness at the wedding, had to depart early for another engagement but left his wife behind to pay her respects on his behalf.
Apart from Etsuko and Nobumasa, it was Kawaji who looked most upset by Yoshihiro’s death. His naturally harsh face was broken and pale. In offering Etsuko his sympathy he had revealed a depth of sorrow not often seen in a man. Even now he seemed to be almost on the verge of tears as he kept watching her. His expression was in odd contrast with that of Professor Araki, who appeared to be peeved by the unpleasant taste of his cigarette.
Kyoko turned with a start when she felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Mr. Ogata. She hadn’t seen him leave his seat.
“We’re indebted to you for your kindness, Mrs. Kirishima,” he whispered. His pleading attitude suggested he had something to tell her but couldn’t do it in front of the others.
Kyoko stood up and followed him out into the corridor, feeling sorry for him. It was all too obvious the past two days had taken their toll of him.
“For forty-nine days—until the ashes are committed to the grave—Etsuko herself wants to keep watch over them,” he said. “It’s perfectly natural for a young widow to want to do this—we appreciate how she feels. But she wants to take the ashes with her to the apartment at Setagaya, and we can’t agree to this under any circumstances. We’re afraid something terrible might happen to her if she’s allowed to brood over them all alone in her dead husband’s home.”
“I thought she had given up the idea.”
“No, far from it. She’s becoming more and more obstinate. She now insists on going over there tomorrow night . . . I wonder if you’d try to persuade her not to go? She might take more notice of a close friend . . .”
“Yes, I understand,” Kyoko said, feeling even more sorry for the old man now. “I’ll try . . .” She herself was definitely against the idea of Etsuko living on her own in that apartment.
She returned to the anteroom and gently took the chair beside Etsuko, previously occupied by Mr. Ogata. But before she had time to collect her thoughts, Etsuko turned and glared at her like never before in all the years they had known each other.
“I know what you’re going to tell me,” she snapped. “You’ve been talking to my father, haven’t you?”
“Please listen to me, Etsu. I know how you feel but—”
“And I know how you and my parents feel. You’re worried about me, and I’m grateful to you for that. But this is one occasion when you’ll just have to stay out of my way, that’s all. At least for the first forty-nine days I’m going to live in that apartment on my own, thinking about my husband, re-living our happiest hours together . . . What’s wrong with that? Isn’t it perfectly natural for a widow to do that?”
“Yes, but—”
“Are you worried I might try to kill myself?” Etsuko was talking in whispers, but there was a stiff determination in her voice. “Well, stop worrying—that’s what I’ve been telling my parents for the past twenty-four hours. You should know me better than that—I’m not that kind of woman. And even if I were crazy enough to want to commit suicide, I could never do it till my husband’s killer is caught and I hear judgment passed on him with my own ears.”
“But Etsu, I only—”
�
��Look, I promise you I’ll return to my parents’ home without fail at the end of forty-nine days. It may take six months or more even to catch the killer, let alone convict him. So you can rest assured I’ll be perfectly safe on my own for the next seven weeks.”
Listening to her Kyoko became conscious of a new doubt in her mind. Perhaps there was no danger of Etsuko committing suicide, but what if she was thinking of doing some other preposterous thing? What if she set out to track down the killer herself and then take her own revenge? Being a young woman whose happiness in marriage had been nipped in the bud, it wouldn’t be at all surprising if she was bitter enough to entertain such ideas.
“All the same, Etsu,” Kyoko said, “I beg you to consider it carefully once more. My husband’s worried about you, too, but for a different reason. He says so far he’s been unable to establish an acceptable motive for the crime. So how can we be sure the killer hasn’t picked you for his next target? By living on your own in that apartment you’d be unnecessarily exposing yourself to danger, I feel.”
“I can’t recall incurring anybody’s grudge, and I can’t see that anybody would gain anything by killing me. Even if my husband had left behind a vast estate—and you know he hasn’t—in the event of my death it would pass on to my parents. I know that much . . .” Suddenly she shot Kyoko a sharp glance. “Surely you don’t think my father and mother would murder me for money, do you?”
Kyoko thought the conversation was becoming absurd, with Etsuko’s voice growing more hysterical with every additional word. But she decided to try again, dabbing at the base of her throat with her handkerchief.
“Please stop talking nonsense, Etsu,” she said. “Isn’t it possible your husband’s killer is insane? He may be doing things without any reason at all.”
“Come now, Kyoko,” Etsuko said impatiently. “Once we start on this, we can go on forever. If he is insane and wants to kill me, what will stop him even if I remain at my parents’ home? He can murder my whole family if he wants to, in a number of ways. And next time he may even go for you, who have no connection with this case at all.”
Kyoko was quickly approaching her wits’ end. Etsuko’s words seemed insane and logical at the same time. No wonder her parents had completely lost control of her.
She glanced at Mrs. Ogata. The poor old woman’s face persuaded her to try just once more. “Listen, Etsu,” she said, “the apartment at Setagaya isn’t the only place where you can do your vigil in memory of your husband. Furthermore, you’re not the only one who’s been badly hurt by his death. How about considering your parents’ feelings, too?”
Etsuko’s pale face turned scarlet all of a sudden. “It’s easy for you to talk like that,” she said, raising her voice to an embarrassingly high pitch in that quiet place. “You’re a happily married woman. How could you understand my feelings?”
Kyoko was left speechless. She felt she had been slapped in the face.
The wave of emotion leading to Etsuko’s outburst seemed to have passed quickly. She covered her face with her hands and quietly began to sob. “I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have said that,” she muttered. “I didn’t think I could ever become so insanely bitter. Please forgive me.” She raised her eyes and took Kyoko’s hand. “Kyoko, please remain my friend, will you? I need you . . . Please come to see me often in the apartment at Setagaya.”
Early in the afternoon the same day, Kirishima was on his way back to the office from lunch. He had almost reached the rear entrance of the Criminal Affairs Division Building, when a young man walked up to him and said, “Excuse me. Are you State Prosecutor Kirishima?”
“Yes. And who are you?” Kirishima could tell by the badge on the man’s double-breasted coat that he was a lawyer. But there were three different law societies in Tokyo alone, and it would have been impossible for anyone to know the faces, let alone the names, of all the lawyers in the city.
“I’m Tetsuya Higuchi, Mr. Ogata’s junior partner. I’m sure you’ve already heard about me in connection with the Tsukamoto case.” When Kirishima didn’t reply, he added, “I’ve seen you a number of times in action in various courts, Mr. Prosecutor.”
“And what’s the problem?”
“Haven’t you got something to discuss with me?” Higuchi spoke in an even tone.
“Not that I know of.”
“I’m sure I’ll be questioned, sooner or later. As a lawyer I can predict that much. So I thought I’d try to see you straight away. I don’t particularly relish the idea of the police sniffing around me all the time. Besides, I’ll have to go to the Kansai district to appear for a client within the next few days, and I don’t want anybody to think I’m running away. That’s why I decided to contact you now.” His lips curled up in a smile that had a trace of sarcasm in it.
“I’m grateful to you for making the effort,” Kirishima said pleasantly. “Please come up to my office—I’m prepared to hear whatever you have to say.” If he was really going on a trip, he thought, it was preferable to get his story before he left. There was no way of keeping him in Tokyo at this stage.
In Kirishima’s office Higuchi took one of the visitors’ chairs and began to talk immediately. His voice was smooth and without the slightest trace of tension.
“This is a most unfortunate case,” he said. “Well, to put it bluntly, I must be one of your suspects at this stage. I met the victim only once, quite by accident, but in relation to Etsuko Ogata we were rivals, and he beat me. I must admit I hated his guts at the time.”
Kirishima gave a short nod and thought the man facing him was making the usual play of being completely honest about the obvious.
“But—and you may well refuse to believe this, Mr. Prosecutor—my real concern was not for my own pride but for Etsuko’s happiness. I asked her to marry me partly because I was confident I could make her happy, and partly because I firmly believed this was the way to repay Mr. Ogata for all he had done for me over the years. So it’s simply unthinkable that I would’ve done something to land Etsuko and the Ogata family in the depths of despair. Please note this point before anything else.” Higuchi spoke as if he were standing behind the bar table, addressing the court.
Kirishima decided to try to jolt him out of his complacency with a nasty question. “Then it wasn’t love but a sense of obligation to Mr. Ogata that prompted you to propose to his daughter?”
“Let me answer this by saying that I’m not quite as simple in my emotional make-up as the fellow in the naniwa-bushi ballad. For some time past I had entertained the idea that if Etsuko were prepared to become my wife, this would benefit everyone concerned. I also felt some affection toward her, though I can’t say it was passionate in any way. Perhaps I could best describe it as a quiet affection based on reason . . . In my opinion, any man who at the age of twenty-nine allows himself to be blinded and demented by love is a little weak in the head.”
Kirishima thought Higuchi was the most unlikely person to commit a crime of passion. He was a man whose mind was dominated by reason to such an extent that he was almost as cold as a stone. A man like him, if he were ever to commit a crime, would plan everything to the minutest detail and would always be at least two jumps ahead of his pursuers.
Changing the subject, he asked, “When did you become aware of the existence of Yoshihiro Tsukamoto?”
“I’d suspected for some time that Etsuko was having dates with some other man besides me, but it was near the end of last year that I had the fact confirmed. I met them accidentally in a Chinese restaurant at Akasaka.”
“Did you demand an explanation on the spot?”
“No, I wouldn’t have done anything so boorish, especially in the presence of other people. As it happened, Etsuko herself insisted on introducing us. I think it was a panic reaction on her part.”
“Judging by the behavior of those two, did you assume their relationship had already passed b
eyond the stage of normal friendship?”
“Well, yes, I did,” Higuchi said sourly.
“And did you withdraw then, realizing you had no chance of holding her?”
“No, I didn’t. I met Etsuko the following day and told her I’d fight to the end. You’d already know this from her, I’d say.”
“What exactly did you mean by the word ‘fight’?”
“I thought if I could demonstrate to her he was unsuitable for a partnership for life, she might come to her senses. But I had no intention of taking the wind out of his sails by distorting the facts in any way. That would’ve been against the spirit of fair play, and in any case, I thought if I did that and Etsuko learned about it, I’d be automatically disqualified.”
“What gave you the impression Tsukamoto was unsuitable for marriage?”
“Purely by accident I came across the fact that he had some special association with a man called Sogo Kumagaya, leader of a right-wing extremist group. I wanted to find out more about this, so after obtaining Mr. Ogata’s permission I began to investigate Tsukamoto’s background generally.”
“And then you reported your findings to Mr. Ogata?”
“Yes. As I’d expected, my investigation confirmed my first impression had been correct. I was now fully convinced this man wasn’t fit to become Etsuko’s husband. Regardless of my personal feelings, don’t you think it was my duty to report my findings to Mr. Ogata?”
“Nevertheless, your personal feelings did enter into it?”
“Mr. Prosecutor, you are at liberty to put your own interpretation on it. But I can assure you that although I told Etsuko I’d fight him to the end, I wouldn’t have interfered had I thought there was a fair chance of her achieving happiness by getting married to him. But I was soon convinced a man with such shadows in his past couldn’t possibly establish a happy home that would last.”
Higuchi pulled a file out of his briefcase and put it on the desk. Then he said, “This is a report by the Teikoku Private Detective Agency. I wouldn’t have had the time to look into every detail personally, but I didn’t want to leave any gaps either. So I engaged these people to do it for me. Unfortunately, by the time this report was delivered to me, it was too late anyway. My efforts were completely wasted . . . It may be of some use to you, Mr. Prosecutor, so please accept it.”
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