Honeymoon to Nowhere

by Akimitsu Takagi

  “That’s what I think, too.”

  “It seems pretty obvious to me that Nobumasa chucked her out when he discovered she had another lover somewhere. When you asked her why she didn’t sue him for recognition while he was alive, she was at a bit of a loss for a moment, wasn’t she? Well, she might have thought she couldn’t win that way. Nobumasa might have got hold of some evidence against her that would’ve put her right out of the running.”

  “Are you suggesting her lover and adviser are the same person?”

  “That’s possible, isn’t it? The baby may well be his. Or she may not be sure which man has done the trick.”

  “In most suits for recognition there’s a firmly estab­lished de-facto relationship at the time the woman becomes pregnant, and that’s a great advantage to her. But Miss Kikuchi has a special problem on her hands because of the delicate time factor.”

  “Perhaps this greedy woman has decided to put every­thing on the one card. While she was living with Nobumasa she must have become vaguely aware of his assets, including the patent.”

  “I’m not surprised she used the baby to squeeze some money out of him while he was alive. That’s why she kept visiting him. But I’m afraid your idea that she’s putting everything on the one card just doesn’t make sense.”

  “But why?” Kitahara opened his eyes wide and calmed himself with another glass of sake. “Are you saying there’s no conspiracy between Miss Kikuchi and her lover?”

  “If those two planned this murder together, then need­less to say their motive was to make their child the suc­cessor to Nobumasa’s money, and in turn put some of that money to their own use. Now, to achieve this, it’s essential they win the suit for recognition after death. But as I said before, her case is pretty risky because of the time factor, and if it went to trial, the blood type would naturally come up.”

  “What if they’re sure there’s no problem about the blood type?”

  “You mean Nobumasa and Miss Kikuchi’s lover belong to the same blood group? That may be so, but these days a more refined test is used in forensic medi­cine. There’s very little chance of the two men having exactly the same blood type.”

  “But Nobumasa’s remains were cremated today, weren’t they? Then how could his blood type be analyzed?”

  “Hmmm.” Kitahara’s idea was based entirely on a guess, but still, it couldn’t be completely ignored, Kirishima thought. “All right. Supposing your theory is correct so far, then how do you fit Yoshihiro’s murder into it?”

  “Mr. Prosecutor,” Kitahara said theatrically, “I don’t think my pride could stand another blow, such as it suffered when my theory about Nobumasa being the killer collapsed so shamefully. But if I have the excuse of being drunk, perhaps I can take the risk. Then may I pause here for a moment?” He emptied his glass, refilled it from the bottle, and promptly emptied it once more. “I think the registration of the marriage certificate on the day of the wedding created an unexpected situation for Miss Kikuchi and her partner. The normal thing would’ve been to get it registered the next day at the earliest.”

  Kirishima looked at Kitahara out of the corner of his eye. “You mean, if the marriage hadn’t been legally established before Yoshihiro’s death, the patent registered in his name would’ve automatically reverted to Nobumasa, and then if he died next . . . You think they had this all worked out?”

  “Yes. Why not? Though I must concede one weak point. My theory doesn’t answer your basic question—why did they chose the wedding night for the murder? Well, perhaps Miss Kikuchi didn’t know about the wedding till the last minute. That doesn’t sound so odd, does it?”

  Kirishima knitted his brows but found it rather hard to think. Was it the sake? Kitahara seemed to have been doing all the drinking . . . This latest theory of his was certainly much smarter than the one about Nobumasa being the killer. Even so, there were several holes in it. For example, how did Miss Kikuchi’s partner manage to lure Yoshihiro out of the hotel?

  “The police are checking on Miss Kikuchi’s environ­ment and friends. Let’s wait for their report, shall we? The thing that bothers me most at the moment is this Hiroshi Watanabe. Nobumasa knew something about him. He couldn’t make up his mind whether he should disclose it to me . . .”

  Kitahara kept picking with his chopsticks at the meat and vegetable pieces in the sukiyaki in front of him. He nodded politely every now and then, but made no com­ment.

  “. . . Nobumasa tried to tell Etsuko something before seeing me again. He wanted to explain something to her before disclosing it to me. And whichever way I look at it, it must have been something to do with Watanabe . . . If this man has no connection with Etsuko, then why did Nobumasa feel he had to tell Etsuko about him? This is the part I can’t work out . . .”

  Kirishima fell silent but his thought processes didn’t stop. Once again he drew the conclusion the existence of Watanabe, whoever he was, couldn’t be a factor import­ant enough to have precipitated the death of the Tsuka­moto brothers . . . Nobumasa had said the matter con­cerned another man’s reputation. Could that person be Yoshihiro? If so, it was easy to see why he had wanted to explain it to Etsuko before making it public by disclosing it to the authorities. But what could’ve had such an important bearing on Yoshihiro’s reputation, even after his death?

  “Mr. Prosecutor!” Kitahara yelled out.

  “For goodness’ sake, what is it? You don’t have to shout.” He thought his clerk was beginning to look very drunk. It was time to end the session.

  “I’ve come up with a fantastic idea.”

  “Yes?”

  “How can we be sure the man who married Etsuko was really Yoshihiro Tsukamoto?”

  Kirishima was dumbfounded. Kitahara had produced a few surprises during the evening, but this was the king of them all.

  “What are you talking about? His corpse didn’t have the face blown off it.”

  “No, I wasn’t thinking of that. What I’m wondering is whether it was really his younger brother, Tadaaki, who was burnt to death at that hot spring inn? Suppose it was Yoshihiro who died in the fire? This would’ve given Tadaaki—a man wanted for murder—the chance of a lifetime, wouldn’t it? He could assume Yoshihiro’s identity and start a new life, escaping justice forever. So far as his features were concerned, he could’ve got around that by undergoing plastic surgery, ostensibly to get the burns to his face fixed up. Anyway, they must have resembled each other because they were brothers . . .”

  “You’re unlucky,” Kirishima said, chuckling. “This time your bomb just didn’t go off. Yoshihiro was a university lecturer. An impostor could’ve never hoped to cope with that. He might have been able to get away with a few lectures, using some notes left behind by the deceased, or reading out of a book. But how could he have written a thesis on industrial management or have his own book published? That would’ve been impossible. And everyone at Chiyoda University confirmed Yoshihiro had been a competent and ambitious man, keen on research.”

  Kitahara lowered his head and sighed. “Ah, well, it was a good try . . . I must have had too much to drink—dreaming up rubbish like that. Please don’t hold it against me, Mr. Prosecutor.”

  Just then a thought flashed through Kirishima’s mind. He stood up quickly.

  “This is the end of our little session, by the look of things,” Kitahara mumbled with resignation.

  “Not at all,” Kirishima said brightly. “You just go on drinking while I ring Inspector Yoshioka. You’ve given me an idea.”

  Kitahara screwed up his face, now purple after several bottles of sake. “Ha. You must be poking fun at me again, Mr. Prosecutor.”

  “No, I’m not. I’m going to tell Yoshioka to get the police records on that fire at the hot spring inn.”

  15

  Nothing happened for the next two days, and this gave Kirishima an opportunity to clean up a number of small
jobs he had on his plate.

  He was about to leave for home around six o’clock in the evening when his phone rang. The caller was Higuchi.

  “Would you have dinner with me?” Higuchi asked without any preliminaries.

  “Dinner—with you?” Kirishima was amazed at Higuchi’s brazenness.

  “I don’t propose to take you to dinner, Mr. Prosecutor—since I’m involved in a case you’re investigating. What I had in mind was to go Dutch with you.”

  “Why your sudden interest in me?”

  “I’ve got a story to tell you. It may be useful to you.”

  After a moment’s thought Kirishima said, “I’d like to listen to your story, but I’d rather not have dinner with you. Can’t you come up to my office?”

  “Not unless you promise to make it an unofficial inter­view. I wish to co-operate with you as much as possible, but I can’t afford to take the risk of being charged with false accusation or slander.”

  Kirishima tightened his hold on the receiver. “Then are you going to accuse somebody of murder?”

  “I haven’t got sufficient evidence for that. That’s why I’m asking for an informal interview. All I can say is that I’ve some information which may be helpful to you, and that I hope these two murders will be solved as quickly as possible.”

  “Mm-hm. And where are you now?”

  “Not far from your office.”

  “All right. Come up then. I’ll send my clerk home straight away.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Prosecutor,” Higuchi said coldly. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

  Kitahara was already putting on his overcoat. He had listened to Kirishima talking on the phone, of course. Diplomatically concealing his disappointment, he said, “I’d better be going then, Mr. Prosecutor . . .”

  Higuchi arrived within the next couple of minutes. He had the expression of a boxer about to go into the ring.

  “I’d like to make it clear from the start, Mr. Prosecutor, that I’m not doing this out of personal pre­judice. I’m indebted to Mr. Ogata, as you know, and I find it upsetting to look at him in his present condition. I’m also concerned about Etsuko. But I can assure you my move has absolutely nothing to do with any future chance I may have to marry Etsuko.”

  Kirishima couldn’t decide for the moment whether Higuchi was sincere or just clever at putting on an act. He certainly sounded very serious.

  Higuchi said, “If Etsuko is allowed to remain the way she is now, she may end up losing her mind altogether. Already she appears to have completely exhausted her nervous energy. And to make matters worse, she seems to be surrounded at the moment by people who, in my opinion, are accelerating her progress toward a nervous breakdown. I can’t help seeing her as a lamb surrounded by wolves.”

  “Wolves?” Kirishima thought of Kyoko’s frequent visits to Etsuko. “Whom are you describing as wolves?”

  “I’m talking about Yoshihiro Tsukamoto’s friends. As you know, birds of a feather flock together. Some im­possible people have been hanging around her since her husband’s death.”

  “Is this the information you wanted to convey to me?”

  “Yes. I’ve serious doubts about these people. Not only do they allow her to live in that apartment on her own, but they seem to paralyze her reasoning powers. I can’t help interpreting this as part of some wicked plot.”

  “You seem to be very confident and rather excited, but unless you get down to facts, you’ll make little impression on me.”

  “I appreciate that,” Higuchi said. “I was about to go into detail. You may find some of this a little tedious, but I don’t want to leave out anything that might help to uncover the truth and bring Etsuko back to her senses.”

  “I see. Please start,” Kirishima said curtly.

  Higuchi leaned forward and stuck out his chin. “First I’ll talk about university lecturer Kawaji. He’s opposed to Etsuko returning to her parents’ home and is obviously trying to win her favors. Only a short while ago he was shedding tears over his friend’s death, but already he’s after the widow. It’s incredible he’s got the nerve to do this.”

  “Your assessment of Kawaji doesn’t seem completely impartial to me.”

  “But Mr. Prosecutor, can you exclude the possibility that he’s been secretly in love with Etsuko for some time past? He might have calculated that if Yoshihiro died, he’d be able to get her as well as her money. Since he was one of Yoshihiro’s closest friends, isn’t it possible he knew about the patent?”

  “Well, it’s not unthinkable . . .”

  “Furthermore, it was he and Koike who insisted the marriage certificate should be registered on the day of the wedding. Was it to ensure Etsuko became legal suc­cessor to Yoshihiro’s property on the very day, so he could murder him the same night, before she was touched? If this was his plot, then we’ve no trouble explaining why he committed the crime on the wedding night.”

  “But I don’t think Kawaji could’ve been one-hundred-percent sure Etsuko would marry him.”

  “Who can be one-hundred-percent sure of anything? Most gamblers would be happy with a ninety-percent chance. And Kawaji must have thought his chances were as good as that.”

  “What makes you think so?”

  “Look, it’s only common sense that when a woman becomes a widow, at least for the first week or so her contacts with members of the opposite sex are very limited. Well, of those few men with access to Etsuko during that first week, who d’you think could be planning to marry her? Nobumasa Tsukamoto is out because he’s dead. Koike’s out, too, because he’s already married. And as I previously pointed out to you, until the killer gets caught, Etsuko won’t have anything to do with me. That leaves Kawaji . . .” For a couple of seconds Higuchi stared at the polished top of Kirishima’s desk, looking very bitter. “Admittedly, there’s no guarantee Etsuko will marry any of the men now around her. But if Kawaji can successfully pretend he’s the only person who under­stands her, and manages to draw her under his influence, he’ll certainly have a big advantage over anyone else.”

  Higuchi was a talented man, Kirishima thought. Dis­regarding the basic truth or falsehood of his argument, each sentence he uttered was completely logical.

  Higuchi said, “I can easily understand why Kawaji is opposed to the idea of Etsuko returning to her parents’ home. He wants her to remain under his influence as long as possible. Once Etsuko goes back to her parents, he won’t be able to do as he likes.”

  Kirishima nodded. “I must admit your argument is very persuasive. Have you any other reason to suspect Kawaji?”

  “Yes, I have. He must be very anxious to get hold of some money in a hurry, I’d say.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes. According to my information, when Kawaji’s father retired from some company, he started up a trade journal in partnership with a couple of friends. It was going well for a while, but last year the business was hit by the general wave of recession, and it’s been in dire straits since. He’s been forced to mortgage his house up to the rooftop.”

  “In other words, Kawaji himself has no financial prob­lem, but to save his father he must get hold of a fairly large sum of money?”

  “That’s right. It’s quite possible he has already borrowed a considerable amount from Yoshihiro.”

  It was not at all unusual for businessmen to mortgage their houses in order to raise funds, so it was impossible for Kirishima to judge on the available information whether Kawaji’s father was really in trouble. He felt he had to take Higuchi’s story with a grain of salt, but neither could he completely ignore it.

  Apart from that, he was amazed how Higuchi could have ferreted out all this information about Kawaji in such a short time, regardless of whether he had been motivated by a sense of justice or a tenacity of purpose.

  Kirishima said, “I’m grateful to you for offerin
g this information. But just a few minutes ago you used the word ‘wolf’ in the plural. This suggests to me Kawaji isn’t the only one you suspect of these murders.”

  “I’m sure it’d be much simpler for everyone concerned if there was only one suspect,” Higuchi said with some re­luctance. “But to be quite honest, I can’t get rid of my doubts about another man—Koike. Besides, it’d be unfair to Kawaji to single him out and ignore the information I can offer on Koike . . . Do you know anything about his wife?”

  “I haven’t met her,” Kirishima said evasively.

  “Neither have I, but according to information supplied to me, she comes from a noble family which was ruined by the war. Her father was a baron or something like that. About seven years ago she won a talent quest and was sub­sequently promoted by a film company as a new star. But she didn’t have much luck on the screen and later switched to fashion modelling.”

  “Hmm.”

  “In short, for several years she lived in a world of vainglorious glamour. Perhaps because of this, she has an extremely high opinion of herself and is twice as extravagant as any other well-to-do young woman—so I understand. She’s supposed to be a very beautiful woman of good education, so I’m not surprised Koike fell for her . . .”

  “Are you suggesting Koike’s now sorry he married her?”

  “No, I’m not. He seems to be still crazy about her. But because she happens to be such an expensive plaything, he never stops complaining about his pocket being always empty. As a matter of fact, I’ve heard in legal circles that he’s been trying to boost his income in some questionable ways. So it’s not unreasonable to suspect he might have tried to take advantage somehow of the Tsukamoto broth­ers’ shady patent deal.”

  “How do you know about the patent?”