Kirishima ended the questioning with a short nod. The clue to the identity of that woman was locked away in Kitahara’s desk, anyway. There was no need to terrorize this poor creature any longer.
In this instance Etsuko was useless as a source of information. Not only did she know very little about Nobumasa; this second shock must have further impaired her powers of reasoning. She just sat there with the empty stare of a doll. Yoshioka must have sensed her state of mind, because he asked only very formal and simple questions. Even to those, her answers could have been summarized in one sentence—she had been brought here by Koike, and she knew nothing about anything concerning this incident.
Kirishima offered her his sympathy in a fairly formal manner. He would have liked to comfort her in a more personal way, but since he was here as an investigating prosecutor, there was a limit to what he could say, especially in the presence of a police officer.
Then came Koike’s turn. To begin with, he gave an account of his visit here last night and this morning. He was deadly pale, as might be expected, but didn’t lose his composure at any stage. His story was clear and to the point.
“It was about seven o’clock last night when I received a phone call from Nobumasa. He said he’d like to discuss certain things with Etsuko in the morning, but wanted to make some arrangements beforehand, so could I go over to his place straight away. I agreed. After advising Mrs. Tsukamoto on the phone that she’d be expected here in the morning, I came over, arriving just before eight o’clock.”
“Were you on your own at home when the victim rang you?” Yoshioka asked.
“No. A young man called Keizo Takei was visiting me at the time. As a matter of fact, it was he who answered the phone. Mr. Takei worked in my legal office as an assistant clerk while studying for his Judicial Training Institute entrance exam. He passed last year and will commence his studies at the institute next April.”
“I see. And when you arrived here last night, Nobumasa was on his own in the house?”
“Yes.”
“Were you immediately shown into the visitors’ room?”
“Yes.”
“Was the gas heater on at the time?”
“No. Nobumasa lit it after we went into the room. Then he produced a bottle of cognac and two glasses and offered me a drink.”
“Did the arrangements he referred to on the phone concern his brother’s estate?”
“Yes.”
“Did the victim tell you he was going to forsake his succession rights?”
“He had indicated that some time ago.”
“Then why was there any need to make certain arrangements before meeting Mrs. Tsukamoto?”
Koike hesitated for just a moment before answering. “There are a number of problems concerning Yoshihiro Tsukamoto’s estate, and I intend to tell you all about them. But this will require a rather lengthy explanation. I wonder if we could leave it till later? It’s clearly a side issue, so far as your present investigation is concerned, and if I go into detail about it now, we’ll be here all day.”
Yoshioka glanced at Kirishima to gauge his reaction, then said, “Well, we can put it aside for the present, if you promise to tell us all about it later.”
“I’ve already done that,” Koike said with just a trace of irritation in his voice.
“Well then, you said the victim had informed you he wanted to tell Mrs. Tsukamoto something in addition to the matter concerning her husband’s estate.”
“That’s correct. And because he considered this other matter very important, he wanted a witness. That’s why he specifically asked me to be present during the discussion.”
“I see. Have you any idea what this other matter might have been?”
“None whatsoever. I didn’t want to pry, as I thought I’d learn about it this morning anyway. Furthermore, I had a hunch it wouldn’t involve me as Mrs. Tsukamoto’s lawyer.”
“Didn’t he drop any hint at all? People often do that when they want to be mysterious.”
“The only thing he said was that he had to go to the Criminal Affairs Division head office in the afternoon to tell the State Prosecutor something, and he wanted to have a discussion with Mrs. Tsukamoto beforehand. But I don’t know if this had any bearing on that other matter.”
“Then do you think it might have something to do with Hiroshi Watanabe?”
“I wouldn’t hazard a guess. I know next to nothing about Watanabe. I don’t even know how much Nobumasa himself knew about him.”
“About what time did you leave this house last night?”
“Our discussion took only thirty to forty minutes at the most. I left here straight after that.”
“Was there any suggestion he might have been expecting another visitor after you?”
“No, I don’t think so. But he must have been still alive around half past nine.”
“Why’s that?”
“Well, after leaving here I drove straight back to my home at Yoyogi-Uehara, and when I took off my coat I realized I’d left my notebook somewhere. Losing it would’ve been a great inconvenience to me because I’ve got a lot of important data in it, including some appointments and the office schedule for the next two weeks. I thought I might have left it here, so I rang Nobumasa to find out. He looked for it and then told me it was here. This was around twenty past nine, I’d say.”
“Are you sure it was Nobumasa you were talking to on the phone?”
Koike nodded. “Absolutely. I’ve known him for a long time—there was no chance of mistaking someone else’s voice for his.”
“Was there anybody with you when you made the call?”
“Mr. Takei was still there. We both like playing go—we’re pretty evenly matched. We’d previously arranged the game for last night. With my wife being away, we had a good opportunity to play a leisurely game. Actually, we were interrupted by Nobumasa’s phone call.”
“Where’s your wife?”
Koike adjusted one of his cuff links before answering. “I think I mentioned this to the detective when he interviewed me the other day . . . Well, this is rather embarrassing, but the day before Yoshihiro’s wedding I had a row with my wife. The upshot of it was that she returned to her parents’ home at Kamakura . . . She’ll be back . . .”
Yoshioka was suddenly seized by a coughing fit. After a few seconds, he said, “Would you like to tell us what the quarrel was about? You’re not obliged to, of course.”
“I don’t mind,” Koike said, smiling. “It had to do with the wedding, in fact. At the last minute my wife suddenly declared she didn’t want to go in a kimono to that particular reception, and then began complaining she didn’t have a suitable dress to wear. I got mad with her and told her she wasn’t the one who was getting married. Well, that was the start of it. Finally she didn’t attend the wedding at all, and I certainly lost face over it.”
“And she hasn’t been back since?” Yoshioka asked as casually as possible.
“No . . . As a matter of fact, I was just going to fetch her this afternoon—after completing the business here . . . My wife is a rather headstrong person, and we’ve had a similar showdown before. There’s no real problem, you know, only on this occasion I’ve been so busy following Yoshihiro’s death—I just haven’t had the time to go and get her. And of course, she expects me to do just that—she wouldn’t come back on her own steam. Too proud.” Koike gave a sardonic cackle.
“I hope it’ll work out all right . . . But that means you don’t have an alibi for the night of Yoshihiro Tsukamoto’s murder, do you?”
Yoshioka’s question was sharp as a dagger, but Koike didn’t bat an eyelid.
“No, I don’t,” he said. “But then Yoshihiro’s murder was the last thing I would’ve expected. Following the wedding I went straight home and into bed, after a glass of whisky, because I felt tir
ed . . . Yes, I was on my own all night, but what difference would it make even if my wife had been with me? The testimony of a spouse has little or no value in court, as you know.”
To Kirishima’s ears Koike’s words carried sarcasm and self-scorn in equal proportion, but they seemed to have offended the inspector.
“In that case,” Yoshioka said spitefully, “you don’t really have an alibi for the night of either of the two murders, do you?”
This time Koike looked as if he was getting fed up with the inspector. He looked Yoshioka in the face, and said, “You’re quite correct. But if I’d been the killer, I wouldn’t have done the job in such an absurd way . . . Mr. Takei knew I was coming to this house. I also mentioned it to Mrs. Tsukamoto on the phone. Surely if I’d wanted to come here to murder somebody, I wouldn’t have told everyone about it . . . Moreover, I left my notebook here, and my fingerprints are all over the place. If I were really the culprit, to do all these things would amount to saying to you, ‘Please come and arrest me, Inspector, I’m the killer, you know.’ Isn’t that right? Being a lawyer, I should know at least that much about how an investigation into a murder is, or should be, conducted.”
Koike’s sarcasm seemed to conceal genuine indignation. Kirishima felt Yoshioka had gone too far and deserved what he got.
13
The homicide squad detectives now started on a room-by-room search of the house. Kirishima and Yoshioka didn’t want to be in the way, so they took Koike with them to the nearby Takaido police station.
“Now you can tell us all about those problems concerning Yoshihiro Tsukamoto’s estate,” Kirishima said when they had settled down. “I don’t mind how long it takes—I’ve got plenty of time.” He had decided to take over the questioning from Yoshioka, because Koike’s statement was likely to be crowded with legal references.
“Mr. Prosecutor,” Koike said formally, “before I proceed, I must request you to make this an unofficial interview. I’ve no objection to you taking personal notes, but I wouldn’t like my statement to go on record.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because it could be against the interests of my client. So unless you accept this condition, I can’t tell you the story, I’m afraid. I don’t think I have to point out to you that as a lawyer I’ve the right and the duty not to disclose the confidences of a client.”
“Who’s the client you’re referring to?”
“Etsuko Tsukamoto. I have her warrant of attorney to act on her behalf in the matter of her husband’s estate.”
“I see . . . But as you know, we don’t disclose any confidential information unless it’s essential to the case of the prosecution.”
“Well, even if the facts I’m going to reveal do become essential to your case, I must still insist this interview be kept out of the official records. Otherwise my professional reputation could suffer. Of course, if the police carry out their own investigation on the basis of what I’ll tell you, and they uncover the same facts through their own efforts—that’ll be no concern of mine.”
In other words, his concern was for himself, not for his client, Kirishima thought with distaste. This was characteristic of a certain variety of lawyers practicing today. “All right,” he said, “your statement will be kept confidential.” He motioned to the police shorthand writer to leave the room. “You can go ahead now.”
“Thank you,” Koike said, obviously pleased he was getting his own way. “Well, the other day, when one of the detectives asked me about Yoshihiro’s property, I mentioned copyrights ‘and some other rights.’ I used these words advisedly.”
“Then what you’re about to tell me relates to those other rights?”
“That’s correct. My answer at the time wasn’t quite frank, but it certainly wasn’t a lie either. I couldn’t have revealed the truth then under any circumstances.”
“Are you suggesting the death of Nobumasa Tsukamoto has changed the position?”
“Yes, indeed.”
“Then were you legal adviser to Nobumasa as well?”
“No, I wasn’t. Had I been, I couldn’t have acted for Etsuko Tsukamoto at the same time, since her interests weren’t necessarily coinciding with those of Nobumasa. I was legal adviser to Yoshihiro only, but his interests had a bearing on Nobumasa’s future.”
“Would you mind clarifying that?”
“Yes, of course,” Koike said obligingly. “Yoshihiro’s estate has a large hidden component—the patent on a manufacturing process relating to some synthetic resin product. I don’t know the technical details . . .”
Kirishima controlled his surging excitement. Yoshihiro, a business management expert, couldn’t have invented a new chemical process. It must have been Nobumasa—he must have done the research on it.
Koike said, “As you probably know, any new invention by a company employee automatically becomes the property of the employer. This is the accepted rule in Japan today. A research worker who wants to retain the benefits of his invention for himself can get around this by resigning from the company, taking up a post at a university, and marking time till he can plausibly claim he’s done the research there. Alternatively, he can hide his invention from the company and take out a patent on it in the name of a relative or friend. This sort of thing’s done quite often these days . . .”
Kirishima nodded. Now he fully understood why Koike had been so anxious to keep this interview confidential.
Koike’s expressive face became a mirror of righteousness. “Of course, anyone who deliberately deceives the company which guarantees his livelihood, using its research facilities and materials for his personal gain, isn’t a very nice person, to put it mildly. However, there would’ve been nothing improper about Nobumasa using his spare time to help his younger brother with some research work.”
Kirishima couldn’t help smiling. This fellow could talk his way out of a noose around his neck, he thought. “Since I’ve promised to keep this discussion off the record, there’s no need for you to try to find excuses for Nobumasa. On the other hand, nobody in his right mind would believe a lecturer in economics could’ve done original research in an unexplored area of resin chemistry, even with his brother’s help.”
“That may be so, but while he was in Kyoto, Yoshihiro used to lecture regularly on industrial administration in engineering departments of universities other than his own. Because of this, he was perfectly entitled to describe himself as a lecturer in a certain chemical engineering department. And I’m pretty sure that’s what he put on the patent application at the time. There was nothing fraudulent about that.”
“That’s true,” Kirishima conceded.
“And Mr. Prosecutor, I have quite a lot of sympathy for Nobumasa, and don’t find it at all difficult to justify his action. Normally, if a person of outstanding ability makes a contribution to his company’s progress with an important invention like this, he’s rewarded by promotion to executive status. So he has the incentive to devote all his energy to the service of that company. But Nobumasa had no hope of promotion.”
“Because of his father and younger brother?”
“That’s right. A big company like Toho Kasei is very jealous of its reputation. It’d be unthinkable for them to raise to executive rank a man who had a criminal in his family. It’s just not done . . . Actually, at one stage Nobumasa’s immediate superior considered him as a possible match for his daughter. Because of that, he looked into Nobumasa’s family background, and of course the whole thing was immediately dropped . . . When a person comes to the conclusion that no matter how hard he may try, he’ll get no reward for his efforts, isn’t it natural for him to become rebellious? Personally, I couldn’t blame him for what he did.”
There was certainly logic in Koike’s argument, Kirishima thought. There was nothing more frustrating for an able employee than seeing his prospects of promotion
cut off. It was a different story with a man of limited talents, who’d be resigned to a life of mediocrity.
He nodded, and said, “Would you know when the patent application was approved?”
“Approximately two years ago. I can’t recall the exact date or the patent number at the moment, but I’ll get it for you. All the papers relating to it have been left with me.”
“I’d like to see them,” Kirishima said. “And has anybody bought the patent?”
“Yes. Yoshihiro entered into a contract with Taiyo Kako for the manufacturing rights. As you probably know, this company recently embarked on a major expansion program, so it’s particularly interested in utilizing all new developments in the field. On the other hand, its research staff is still fairly weak compared with Toho Kasei, or its long-time rival, Nisshin Kagaku.”
“Were you involved in the signing of the contract?”
“Yes. At the time Yoshihiro was still in Kyoto, so I often had to act on his behalf. On all occasions I handled the matter on a strictly business basis, charging the normal fee. You’re welcome to examine the contract and my receipts.”
“Yes, I’d like to do that, just as a matter of formality . . . By the way, what annual income did Yoshihiro derive from the patent?”
“He was getting a five percent royalty on sales according to the contract. During the first year, production didn’t get properly under way, so he only received a little over 3,000,000 yen, as far as I can remember. But last year he grossed about 20,000,000 yen, and from now on the annual amount is expected to increase further.”
“That’s a very large income . . . And what happened to the money?”
“Most of it would’ve gone to Nobumasa, I’d say. Yoshihiro probably received a percentage for lending his name. But this was something arranged between the two brothers, and there was no need for me to concern myself with it, even if I was Yoshihiro’s lawyer.”
“Isn’t it more likely it was a fifty-fifty arrangement? Have you any special reason to think most of this income would’ve gone to Nobumasa?”
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