“Yes. I know Nobumasa was thinking of resigning from Toho Kasei and becoming independent. Naturally, he wouldn’t have been able to establish a company all on his own. He intended to find a number of investors who’d join him in the venture, but he wanted to have as much financial say as possible. That’s why I think that after paying for his house he would’ve put most of his extra income into savings bank accounts. Yoshihiro was well aware of his brother’s plan, and he had a considerable income of his own, so I don’t think he would’ve expected to receive a large share of the royalties from the patent.”
“I see . . . Nevertheless, the money he paid for his apartment would’ve come from his share of royalties, wouldn’t it?”
“Well, 3,000,000 yen is fifteen percent of the 20,000,000 yen return for last year. Nobumasa could’ve given him that much.”
“And I assume the matter Nobumasa wanted to discuss with Etsuko this morning would’ve concerned this patent business?”
“Yes, he was going to tell Etsuko about it. He intended to relinquish his succession rights to Yoshihiro’s estate, but so far as the income from the patent was concerned, he expected her to agree to maintaining the existing arrangement. I’m sure Etsuko would’ve complied with his request without any trouble.”
“But as things stand at present, Etsuko still doesn’t know anything about this?”
“No. He was going to ask her personally this morning. I was to be there only in case they needed my advice.”
“Do you know what percentage of the royalties Nobumasa proposed to pay to Etsuko?”
“Last night he suggested twenty to twenty-five percent of the total after tax. As her lawyer, I considered this a fair offer under the circumstances and was going to advise Etsuko to accept it.”
“Have you any idea where Nobumasa banked his savings?”
“No, I haven’t. But my guess is he would’ve placed it into a number of accounts with various banks, using false names to circumvent the problem of tax and other things.”
“How far was he with his plans to set up the company?”
“I’ve gained the impression he wasn’t very far advanced. He seemed to have held discussions with various people from time to time, and he was getting his own capital together, but I think it would’ve taken at least another year to get the company actually registered, even without making allowances for the present tightness of the money market.”
“Has Nobumasa left a will?”
“No, he hasn’t, but after the accident he did talk about making one. Once he said, ‘Who can guess what may happen next?’ Now that I think of it, he might have had a premonition of his death.”
“Then it looks as if there’ll be no successor to Nobumasa’s property?”
“As far as I know, there won’t be,” Koike said with a sigh.
Kirishima unconsciously shook his head as he thought about it. When a person died without leaving a will, his legal successors were, firstly, the lineal descendant, secondly, the lineal ascendant, thirdly, the brothers and sisters, and as an exception the status of the spouse was recognized under present Japanese law. Assets left without a will came under the jurisdiction of the Court of Family Affairs, which appointed an executor. And if nobody came forward to claim succession rights, after a certain period the estate automatically became Treasury property. Inheriting a distant relative’s fortune, as it happened in the United States and some other countries, was unthinkable in Japan without the existence of a will.
Nobumasa had no wife or child, and his parents and brothers were dead, therefore he had no successor to his property. It would pass to the State, and no individual would gain anything from it. Etsuko would be the only person to benefit, in an indirect way. She would inherit the patent under Yoshihiro’s name, and with Nobumasa dead, she would naturally retain all the income from it.
Koike seemed to have guessed what Kirishima was thinking, because he said, “Mr. Prosecutor, this is a strange situation, isn’t it? I was so excited this morning—it just didn’t occur to me. Nobumasa certainly had considerable assets, and yet, no one could possibly profit by his death . . . Then what was the motive for this crime? Is there anybody who might have had a very deep-seated grudge against the Tsukamoto brothers? I can’t think of anyone . . .”
For Kirishima, this was a riddle to which he had to find an answer, sooner or later. At least Yoshihiro’s death could have a connection with the hidden ownership of the patent. Possession of something that produced an income of more than 20,000,000 yen a year might be a strong enough motive for murder. And in theory, the only person who could have had such a motive was Etsuko. This was an inevitable conclusion.
“Are you sure Etsuko Tsukamoto still knows nothing of this patent? Couldn’t Yoshihiro have told her about it before his death?”
“I don’t think he did,” Koike said, frowning. “A few days before the wedding I suggested to Yoshihiro he should disclose the patent to Etsuko. His answer was that if he hurriedly told her about it, she might get the wrong impression about his brother’s character. He preferred to explain everything to her during their honeymoon, when they’d have plenty of time to themselves . . . So it’s most unlikely he would’ve told her before his death. Had he died a few days after they’d left on their honeymoon, then I’d say it would’ve been possible.”
“I follow,” Kirishima said. “And was there anyone else who knew about the patent—apart from the brothers and yourself?”
“Well, because of the nature of the arrangement, I think they would’ve kept it to themselves as much as possible. But I couldn’t say definitely that no one else knew about it. For example, the people who were going to invest in the new company might have been told. I wouldn’t have a clue who they are . . .”
Kirishima leaned back in his chair to cross his legs. “Now, let’s get back to where we began,” he said. “Had Nobumasa already taken steps to relinquish his succession rights to Yoshihiro’s estate?”
“It was arranged between us that I’d prepare the document after completing today’s discussion with Etsuko. As you know, a notice of intention to forsake succession has to be lodged with the Court of Family Affairs. I was going to do this sometime after tomorrow.”
“Then the position is that Nobumasa’s share of Yoshihiro’s estate will pass to the State?”
“Well, we’ll see about that . . . I’ll certainly put up a good fight in Etsuko’s interests. I don’t see why the Ministry of Finance should get the money.”
“Now, this may sound a strange question, but isn’t it possible that secretly Yoshihiro looked upon this patent arrangement as an embarrassment rather than an advantage to him?”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Koike said, knitting his eyebrows. “When I first heard of it, somehow I didn’t think this invention of Nobumasa was anything special. I reckoned it might yield an annual income of 2,000,000 to 3,000,000 yen, and this could be handled without much trouble under the arrangement. But of course, the result was far more spectacular than expected, as I’ve told you. As time went on, people in industrial circles began to take more and more notice of it . . . Yes, now that I think of it, Yoshihiro did seem increasingly concerned about it. His moodiness over the past six months or so might have had something to do with it.”
“That’s what I thought,” Kirishima said. “If someone in the industry buttonholed him and asked him some searching questions about the more intricate technical details, he would’ve been hard pressed to conceal his ignorance. At the same time, this could’ve proved very embarrassing to his brother, too.”
“What d’you mean?”
“Well, let me put is this way. Once sales resulting from this invention reached hundreds of millions of yen a year, Toho Kasei, which is a rival of the company that bought the manufacturing rights, would’ve naturally taken an interest in this product, perhaps to the extent of checking
on the inventor’s name. While things had been only at the patent application stage, and even later, while no real profit was being made, Toho Kasei probably wouldn’t have been aware of it, since the number of new patents taken out annually must be enormous. But once they started to check, they would’ve been most surprised to find the inventor was a business management expert who had absolutely nothing to do with advanced chemical production techniques. And then they would’ve discovered that the so-called inventor’s elder brother, who was employed by them, was doing research in exactly the same field! . . . Of course, they couldn’t have labelled Nobumasa an industrial spy, since he sold a secret which hadn’t been stolen but had been produced in his own brain. Still, I can’t understand why he stayed with Toho Kasei for two more years after the patent had been issued.”
Koike looked up quickly. “I thought I’d already given a clear-cut answer to that one. Nobumasa intended to resign when he was ready to set up his own company.”
“That may be so,” Kirishima said, tilting his head, “but after the first year—when his income from the invention reached something like 1,000,000 yen a month—wouldn’t it have been natural and advisable for him to leave Toho Kasei? But he stayed on, right up to his death. This looks a bit odd to me.”
Koike nodded, and said, “Yes, it does look rather odd, now that you’ve drawn attention to it. I just never thought of it before.”
This was a reasonable answer, Kirishima thought. As Yoshihiro’s legal adviser, Koike’s job was to look at and attend to problems as they came up. He wasn’t expected to gaze into the future.
After exchanging a few words with Yoshioka, Kirishima decided to bring the interview to an end. “Mr. Koike, thank you for your co-operation. I may have to ask you for your help once again some other time, but this will be all for now . . . Oh—is it all right with you if I borrow the papers relating to the patent?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Then Inspector Yoshioka will send a detective along to get them straight away.”
“That’ll be fine,” Koike said and stood up. “Well, Mr. Prosecutor, to be frank with you, I feel a lot better now that I’ve told you all this. And if at any time you want further clarification on any point, please don’t hesitate to contact me. I’ll be happy to tell you everything I know. And I certainly wouldn’t want you to gain the impression I’ve tried to take advantage of my long-standing friendship with the Tsukamoto brothers in any way.”
•
Soon afterward the group of detectives who had searched Nobumasa’s house returned to the police station. Their work had produced very little result. Even in the drawer which was supposed to hold all the important papers, all they had found was a post office savings book with about 300,000 yen in it. With the passbook was an envelope containing nine different seals.
“Judging by these seals,” Yoshioka said, “there must be nine more passbooks left with various banks.”
“You’re probably right,” Kirishima agreed. “This is an old technique used for tax evasion. It renders ineffective any raid by taxation officers. But I think in his case the principal purpose was protection against burglary. He was a bachelor, away from home in the daytime, and he had a charwoman who was free to come and go. It would’ve been unsafe for him to leave passbooks lying around with a lot of money in them. But with seals only, unless the thief knew the name of each bank and the false name in which each account was operated, he had no hope of touching the money.”
“Yes, that’ll be it. He must have used the post office savings account for his day-to-day needs . . . I’ll get the detectives to take those seals and check with every bank in Tokyo, one after another.”
“You may be able to avoid some of that work if you carefully check any notebook your men might have found in his house. He could’ve listed those account numbers somewhere for reference.”
“Yes, I’ll certainly do that,” Yoshioka said. “But there’s another problem. Suppose there’s someone who knew of at least one of those passbooks. That person could’ve withdrawn the money from that particular account, provided he or she managed to get hold of the right seal. And then we’d find it pretty hard to trace that money.”
“Probably.” Kirishima was again getting irritated by the inspector’s I’m-so-clever attitude.
After a short pause Yoshioka said, “We’ll check out that woman straight away—the one your clerk was talking about. We should be able to do this fairly quickly by going to the Princess Bar. And we’ll also investigate Nobumasa Tsukamoto’s place of work and all his friends and acquaintances, though I feel there’s a definite connection between his murder and his brother’s. The method of dealing with the victim would suggest this, for a start.”
“Yes, I agree,” Kirishima said. “But just to make sure, I’d like you to keep in mind also the possibility of the two incidents being independent . . . My present feeling is that the clue to Nobumasa’s murder lies in whatever he was going to tell Etsuko in addition to the matter of the succession rights and the patent.”
That afternoon Kyoko rushed to Etsuko’s apartment immediately after talking to Kirishima on the phone. He had only given her a bare outline of the morning’s happenings, but that was enough to make her once again very anxious about Etsuko.
She pressed the button on the bell, and to her surprise the door was opened by Kawaji.
“Ah, Mrs. Kirishima,” he said, looking slightly embarrassed. “You must have heard what happened. It’s monstrous . . . Not so long ago Etsuko rang me at my home. She sounded so upset, I immediately dashed over here . . .”
Kyoko was stuck for words. It wasn’t any wonder Etsuko was terribly upset, no matter how stout-hearted she was, or that she wanted someone to be with her after this new shock. But why did she ring Kawaji? Why didn’t she ask me?
But soon Kyoko could see the reason. Etsuko must still be determined to stay in the apartment on her own. She must have guessed that after this second tragedy everybody would implore her again to return to her parents’ home. Kawaji was the only one who had supported her from the start in her decision to live here alone. She must feel Kawaji was the only person who really understood how she felt . . .
“Since I arrived, she’s calmed down a little,” Kawaji whispered as he showed Kyoko in.
Etsuko was in the western room, staring vacantly at the heartbreak doll on the table.
“She’s been looking at that doll for the past half hour at least,” Kawaji whispered. “I’d like to be able to help her in some way . . .”
Kyoko began to wonder if Kawaji had been harboring a secret affection for Etsuko for some time past. His attitude toward her seemed to go beyond the bounds of normal sympathy . . . There were many examples of sympathy growing into love, or at least being mistaken for it . . .
“Kyoko, I’m sorry to trouble you all the time,” Etsuko said tonelessly.
Kyoko was just about to answer when the doorbell rang again. Kawaji went to see who it was, first closing the paper door behind him.
Then Kyoko heard some voices coming from the entry. It sounded like an argument. Suddenly the paper door slid open again, and a man marched into the room. She had never seen him before.
Etsuko gaped at the man for a few seconds, then said, “Mr. Higuchi . . .”
“Etsuko—you look ill,” Higuchi said. “To be completely honest with you, I felt rather awkward about coming here, but I can’t put up with this any longer.”
“I don’t think we’ve anything to discuss,” Etsuko said coldly.
“You just shut up!” Higuchi shouted. He had such a threatening look on his face, Kyoko thought he was going to slap Etsuko across the face. “Isn’t it about time you came to your senses? How long d’you think you’re going to stay in this place? I’ve come at your father’s request to take you back where you belong. Now, go and get ready to leave!”
“I
’m not going anywhere.” Etsuko’s face became white as a sheet, and her hands began to tremble.
“Are you going to let your father die without looking at him?”
“Let him die? What are you talking about?”
“He’s been in very poor health since the day of your wedding, and now he can’t get out of bed at all. I don’t have to tell you he hasn’t been well for a long time. Though he’s been saying lately you’re no longer his daughter, I know how much he’s looking forward to your return . . .”
Etsuko didn’t answer. She just kept looking at the floor.
Higuchi seemed to be pleased with his performance so far, because he dropped his voice a little and became more persuasive. “I needn’t tell you how worried I’ve been about you ever since your husband’s murder. Then this morning, just as I got back to Tokyo from the Kansai district, a journalist friend of mine, a police reporter on the Tokyo Shinbun, told me about the second murder . . . For the sake of Mr. Ogata and yourself, I can’t let you go on like this. Don’t you see the Tsukamoto family is under a curse? The father died in prison, two of his sons have been murdered, and the third was burnt to death. If you stay in this place any longer, you may be next. Bearing their name’s bad enough . . .”
Etsuko went red in the face and was about to say something, but Kawaji cut in.
“The killing of Yoshihiro and his brother has nothing to do with the Tsukamoto family name,” he said. “The killer’s the one to blame, not the victims.”
“You keep out of this if you know what’s good for you,” Higuchi said threateningly. “A minute ago you put on great airs telling me that nobody was allowed to see Etsuko. But what right do you have to be here, anyway?”
“You’re the one who has no right to demand she should go with you. Judging by your attitude, you must be Higuchi. I’ve heard of you, and I think you’re disgraceful, chasing after Mrs. Tsukamoto like this.”
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