Higuchi turned red as a beetroot and clenched his fists. But when he looked at Kawaji’s athletic figure, he seemed to change his mind. “The saying ‘a mean person sees evil in everything’ fits you like a glove. I set aside my personal feelings long ago, and I’m quite capable of taking Etsuko home with me in a dignified manner . . . Pardon me for asking this, but I hope your attempts to keep her in this apartment aren’t part of some insidious design of yours?”
This was becoming a slinging match, with harsh words being exchanged for harsher ones, Kyoko thought with trepidation. She wondered how she had ever got mixed up in it.
“Even if you happen to be at the fag end of the legal profession,” Kawaji told Higuchi, “surely you must know enough about the law to realize your previous words amount to slander?”
“I don’t care about that—I meant what I said. What other reason would you have for opposing Etsuko’s return to her parents?”
“I just happen to have some respect for her feelings—that’s all. And since she’s an adult, she doesn’t have to obey anyone’s instructions, especially yours.”
“But can’t you see something might happen to her if she’s left here alone? This is hardly the time for us to enter into mud-slinging.”
“You can stop worrying about Etsuko,” Kawaji said sarcastically. “I’ll accept the responsibility of looking after her. If I think it’s better for her to go back to her parents, I’ll have a proper discussion with her and try to convince her with sensible arguments. Lunatic bullying tactics—the kind you tried just before—won’t shift her from here, I can assure you.”
Higuchi must have thought this wasn’t getting him anywhere, because now he ignored Kawaji and turned to Etsuko again. “Etsuko, please come home with me.” He loaded his voice with all the sincerity he could muster. “Because you’ve been among these people for a while, you’re becoming a bit odd yourself. Please try to recover your common sense and return to your previous peaceful life again . . . I must insist you come with me. Please don’t make it too difficult for me.”
“As I told you at the beginning, I’m not going anywhere,” Etsuko said harshly. “It’s you who’s going—now.”
“Etsuko, I can’t let you—”
“This is my home. Please leave quietly, or I’ll make a complaint to the police. You’re unlawfully intruding.”
Higuchi’s face turned pale for the first time. Only his eyes were still glowing as he said, “I see. I seem to have lost once again.” He glanced at Kawaji, then back at Etsuko. “All right. I’m going. And I’ll report your charming words to your father, just as you’ve uttered them.” He turned and walked out of the room but stopped at the door, and said, “Whatever you do, please don’t forget your father. Or don’t you have a heart anymore?”
14
When Kirishima returned to the office from lunch the next day, he was confronted by the beaming face of his clerk Kitahara.
“Inspector Yoshioka rang a minute ago,” Kitahara said. “He’s coming over to see you, Mr. Prosecutor. He’s got that woman.”
Kirishima couldn’t help smiling. Ever since Nobumasa’s murder, his clerk had kept his mouth shut and looked as if he had no further interest in the human race. The collapse of his theory about Nobumasa being Yoshihiro’s killer had been a severe blow to his pride, but now that the matchbox he had picked up proved useful, he seemed to have regained some of his self-esteem.
“I’d like to say that getting hold of that box of matches with the Princess Bar printed on it was quite an achievement on your part,” Kirishima said. “Unfortunately, I’m in no position to say so on this occasion.”
“I perfectly understand, Mr. Prosecutor,” Kitahara said demurely. “In the strict sense of the word, it was a theft, wasn’t it?”
They continued in this bantering fashion until Yoshioka appeared in the doorway.
“The woman in question is a hostess in the Princess Bar,” Yoshioka said. “Her name is Toshiko Kikuchi. She requested an interview with you, Mr. Prosecutor, and since I thought this would be an opportunity for Mr. Kitahara to identify her, I’ve brought her along. She’s outside in the waiting room now.”
“Did she say why she wanted to see me?” Kirishima was surprised. Most ordinary people wanted to keep away from the prosecutor’s office, even when they were resigned to being pestered by the police.
“No, she didn’t—she’s hard as nails . . . But could I first bring you up to date on some other things?”
“Go ahead.”
Yoshioka opened his black police notebook. “We haven’t quite finished our investigations at Nobumasa Tsukamoto’s place of work, but I’ve got something here. The chief of the research laboratories, a Dr. Shimagami, said the company recently learned of Nobumasa’s deception concerning the patent.”
“Only recently?”
“Yes. It’s probably because Toho Kasei is such a big organization . . . Anyway, Dr. Shimagami said Nobumasa would’ve been put on the mat immediately on his return to work. And depending on his explanation, he was going to be dismissed or asked to resign.”
“I see.”
“He said most people in a similar position had at least the decency to go back to a university and work there for a while before applying for a patent, and he was amazed at Nobumasa’s impudence . . . He could hardly contain his anger, even though he knew the man was no longer alive.”
“Do other members of the staff know about this?” Kirishima asked.
“It looks like it. He certainly wouldn’t have been able to stay there any longer . . . As for his relations with other employees, he isolated himself as much as possible—for obvious reasons. He didn’t seem to have any friends there. My man questioned his assistants, too, but all they could talk about was the work they were doing. They just about drove him up the wall . . .”
“What about acquaintances of the victim outside Toho Kasei?”
“We’re still looking into that, but so far we haven’t come across anyone who might have intended to join him in the new company. This suggests his plans were in the fairly early stages, as Koike said.”
“Mm-hm.”
“Other than this, we did some more work at Chiyoda University and also took a good look at the Araki couple. On the night of the first murder Professor Araki had an alibi and his wife didn’t, and on the night before last it was the other way around . . .”
There were known cases of partners in crime sharing their alibis, but this would hardly apply to the Arakis, Kirishima thought.
Yoshioka consulted his notebook. “On the first night Mrs. Araki was supposed to have stayed at home, but she can’t prove this. The professor attended the wedding, then took one of Yoshihiro’s assistants for a drinking session. They separated around eleven o’clock. Araki hasn’t got a current driver’s license, but Mrs. Araki’s speeding around in a flashy sports car.”
“And the second occasion?” Kirishima asked, suppressing a yawn.
“Araki was reading a book at home, and Mrs. Araki went to see a play together with a number of other women. She was in company till well after eleven o’clock . . . At any rate, there’s no way to connect either of them with the second murder.”
“Have you already checked the alibis of all the other possible suspects?”
“Koike’s story about playing go is confirmed by Takei, the fellow who visited him. Higuchi returned to Tokyo on a plane which left Osaka at eight o’clock yesterday morning. Kawaji spent the night of the second murder in his parents’ home, where he now lives. But his room is in a new extension, so he can come and go without passing through the main building. He claims he returned home from the wedding reception around eight o’clock, gave his parents the piece of wedding cake he brought back with him, then went straight to his room and didn’t leave the house again till the following morning.”
Kirishima nod
ded without comment. It looked as if the elimination method wouldn’t work in this case. The alibis of most people involved were full of holes.
“That’s about all I’ve got at present,” Yoshioka said. “Would you like to see Miss Kikuchi now?”
“Don’t you want to brief me on her first?”
The inspector sniffed, as if smelling something unpleasant. “You’ll know all about her as soon as you look at her . . . We’re checking on her sexual relationships at the moment. I’m sure it’ll take some considerable time.”
Miss Kikuchi was twenty-seven or twenty-eight. Her above-average beauty was spoiled by a hard face and greedy eyes. Judging by her hair, piled high above her head, and her bright red suit with fur collar, she must have worked around the Ginza at one time or another and managed to acquire a certain polish there.
Kitahara’s nod confirmed she was the right woman.
After introductions Kirishima said, “I understand you work as a hostess at the Princess Bar.”
“I work as a companion,” she said delicately.
“Oh, I see. Ever since the Tokyo Olympic Games this word seems to have been in vogue.”
“But I happen to be the niece of the manageress, so I’m different from ordinary hostesses.”
“Then do you help out at the bar when you’re free?”
“That’s right.”
“And what sort of relationship did you have with Nobumasa Tsukamoto?”
“In legal terms, I was his de-facto wife,” she said without moving a muscle in her face.
Kirishima took out his handkerchief and wiped his nose to conceal his surprise. Yoshioka had been absolutely right when he said there was no need for a briefing on her.
“In law, a de-facto relationship means the partners are living together as husband and wife, only their marriage hasn’t been registered. But you haven’t been living with him, have you?”
“Well, then let’s say I’m his ex-de-facto wife.”
“Are you suggesting you lived with him some time ago?”
“Yes.”
“When was that?”
“We separated about last March. We’d lived together for some nine months before that.”
“Why did you separate?”
“He threw me out,” she said spitefully, then suddenly changed her mind and began to dab her eyes with her handkerchief.
“Why would he do that?”
“I couldn’t work it out.” She produced a couple of unconvincing sobs in her voice. “He claimed I was having an affair with another man at the same time or some crap like that. There was no truth in it at all . . . When I thought he might have some other woman besides me, I got really depressed . . . He gave me only 200,000 yen to go away with.”
“How did you become friendly with him in the first place?”
“Oh, I don’t know—there was no special reason. Just one thing led to another. It’s one of those things—happens all the time.”
“I see,” Kirishima said, folding his arms across his chest. “I understand you visited him on the morning of the day he died. Did you go there a number of times after you separated?”
“Yes.”
“Why? Trying to make it up with him?”
“No!” Miss Kikuchi pursed her brightly painted lips. “It was for the sake of the baby.”
“What baby?”
“My baby, of course. I was pregnant when he kicked me out, though I wasn’t sure of it then because I was in that very early stage . . .”
Kirishima frowned but didn’t say anything.
She said, “Around that time he was the only man I was having intercourse with—I can give you my word on that. So the child is definitely his. There’s no mistake about that. That’s why I tried so hard to reason with him—for the sake of the little mite to be brought into this world. But all he did was try to get out of it by saying the child must belong to some other man . . . After a while I got so desperate, I even thought of committing suicide, wondering how he’d take that. But then I thought he might change his mind once he saw the baby, especially if it looked like him, so I decided to leave it till then.”
“And did you give birth to a child?”
“Yes. I thought of an abortion at the time, but I couldn’t make up my mind about it quickly enough and then it was too late. The baby was born on November 16—a lovely little boy. Because of my occupation, I had to leave him in the care of my parents. And that mean creature insisted the baby wasn’t his, right up to his death . . .” Miss Kikuchi covered her eyes with her handkerchief and managed a couple of sobs.
“What was the exact date of your separation?” Kirishima asked.
“I can’t remember the day, but it was around the end of last February. I must have become pregnant at the last moment . . .” She sighed, closing her eyes, then quickly looked up at Kirishima. “Are you doubting me, too?”
“Well, it was cutting it fine, I must say.”
“A mother always knows who the father of her child is,” she said indignantly. “As soon as I could move about again, I went to see Nobumasa and asked him to take me back with the baby. When he refused, I got awfully upset—really sick. Finally I told him I’d give up hope of becoming reconciled with him, and begged him almost on my knees at least to acknowledge the child was his. But the heartless wretch just laughed coldly under his ugly nose . . .”
“And when you visited him the day before yesterday—was it to try once again?”
“Yes,” she said eagerly. “When I heard about his brother’s death, I got scared something might happen to him, too.”
Kirishima found this very revealing, though she obviously wasn’t aware of it.
“What was his answer this time?”
“We never got that far. He immediately flew into a rage—I just couldn’t cope with him at all.” Suddenly she sat up and looked hard at Kirishima. “Mr. Prosecutor, I must ask you something.”
“Yes?”
“Now that Nobumasa’s dead, can I still sue him for the admission of his fatherhood?”
“You’re talking about a suit for recognition after death.”
“I heard that since a dead man can’t be made a defendant, I must bring a suit against a prosecutor. Is that right?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“Then I’ll bring a suit again you, Mr. Prosecutor. Would you please arrange this for me?”
It was obvious what she was after. Even if she could prove she had been Nobumasa’s de-facto wife, this wouldn’t automatically give her succession rights to his estate. But the boy would inherit everything if he was recognized as his.
“It’s not as simple as that,” Kirishima told her. “You can’t just pick any prosecutor you like. The one mentioned in the relevant clause has the exclusive job of appearing on behalf of dead or absent defendants so that trials can be conducted according to the civil court rules. What you want to do is get yourself a lawyer. I can’t help you in this.”
“Oh, I see. It’s altogether too complicated for me . . . But there’s one thing I’d like you to remember, Mr. Prosecutor. Anyone who might try to rob my baby of his lawful rights could well be Nobumasa’s killer.”
“Okay, I’ll keep that in mind. But tell me this. Since Nobumasa treated you so cold-heartedly, why didn’t you bring a suit against him for recognition while he was alive?”
For the first time Miss Kikuchi looked slightly bewildered, but it only took her a few seconds to regain her presence of mind. “Well,” she said, “that was because I thought it’d be better if we could come to an agreement without going to court. Legal action costs a lot of money and time . . . Besides, it’s only three months since my baby was born.”
“That’s fair enough,” Kirishima said, admiring her native cunning. “And now, just to change the subject, can you tell me where you were and
what you were doing on the night of February 20?”
“February 20? That was last Saturday night, wasn’t it? I was in the bar, of course. That’s the best night of the week for us. I couldn’t afford to miss it—with business being so slack these days.”
“About what time did you leave the bar?”
“I was there till after eleven thirty.” She raised her eyes and suddenly looked incredulous. “You’re not suggesting I might have murdered him, are you? Much as I hated him, he was still the father of my child. How could I do a thing like that?”
“It was only a routine question. We check on everybody connected with the victim . . . By the way, have you ever met Nobumasa’s younger brother, Yoshihiro?”
“No, never. He came to Tokyo after we separated.”
“And what were you doing on the night of February 15—last Monday?”
“I was in the bar. There must be plenty of witnesses to that.”
When they finished work that evening, Kirishima invited his clerk Kitahara for a drink.
There was nothing on earth Kitahara loved more than sake, and after a few glasses it was impossible to shut him up. Depending on the subject, he could become rather tiresome at times, but there were occasions when Kirishima found his comments on a current investigation quite interesting, even useful. The ruddy-faced old badger had a kind of sixth sense developed over long years of service under many different prosecutors.
Sipping his sake, Kitahara said, “Mr. Prosecutor, what d’you think of Miss Kikuchi’s story?”
“Well, by raising the matter of recognition after death, she automatically revealed that she, too, had a motive for the crime. So she must have absolute confidence in her alibi.”
“Mr. Prosecutor, would you let me offer my opinion on this?”
“Look, you’ve been with me a number of years now, and you know I think highly of your work. There’s no need to beg my permission every time you want to say something. Just say it, for goodness’ sake.”
Kitahara helped himself to another glass of sake. “Well, I think Miss Kikuchi has somebody behind her, who finally decided to get in on the act by putting Nobumasa out of his misery . . . When it comes to things like recognition after death, and filing a suit against the nominal defendant, surely there must be somebody advising her. It couldn’t possibly have originated in her own brain-box.”
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