“Koike mentioned it to Mr. Ogata, and I was told by him.”
“Ah, I see . . . We’re looking into that right now, but the fact is, Koike himself volunteered the information on the patent immediately after the second murder, and he had a justifiable reason not to disclose it earlier. Even if he’d been charging excessive fees for handling the patent application and its subsequent leasing to that chemical company, it would’ve been illogical for him not to reveal this because he knew we’d find out about it anyway.”
Higuchi tilted his head and twisted his mouth at the corners. “Mr. Prosecutor, I’ll be very surprised if his charges aren’t in accordance with the standard scale of fees. But how can you be sure there isn’t a hidden contract alongside the official one for the license on the patent?”
“Hidden contract?”
“Yes. It’s a very common thing these days. The company may pay a five-percent royalty on gross sales under the official contract, but has an arrangement with the owner of the patent to pay an extra one percent under the table. The purpose of this, of course, is tax evasion. Once the owner’s income from the patent reaches tens of millions of yen, his tax becomes staggeringly high . . . Naturally, the company has to ‘lose’ in its accounts the amount paid out secretly, and there’s a limit to what it can do. But a big company with a huge turnover wouldn’t have any trouble concealing even as much as a couple of hundred million yen a year.”
“But to me it’s unthinkable the Tsukamoto brothers would’ve left the negotiation of such an important contract entirely to Koike and knew nothing of a hidden contract.”
“I’m not suggesting that,” Higuchi said. “What I’m saying is that if by any chance Koike had diverted to his own purpose part of the money flowing from the hidden contract, this would’ve been difficult to detect. And now that both brothers are dead, and Etsuko knows nothing about this hidden contract, all the return from it will naturally go into Koike’s pocket.”
Kirishima could hardly conceal his admiration for Higuchi’s logic. This man would be a formidable opponent in court, he thought. Shifting in his chair, he said, “But for a lawyer this would be a very dangerous thing to do, don’t you think? If ever that hidden contract came to the surface, he’d be ruined. Furthermore, there’s no evidence a hidden contract does exist, is there?”
“I’ve no evidence of it, and I don’t think I could obtain it. Very few companies would reveal such a thing, even under official pressure.”
Kirishima thought hard for a little while, then said, “There are certain aspects of your theory which don’t help to convince me Koike’s the killer, I’m afraid. For example, why didn’t he pay attention to the money Nobumasa had already saved up before his death? And another thing. If there’s a hidden contract, according to your estimate, the income from it is only about one-fifth of the income from the official contract. If he’d kept the whole patent business completely to himself at this stage—and there was no real need for him to reveal it to anyone, not even to Etsuko—he would’ve been able to divert the whole of that income to his own use, at least for the time being. If he was prepared to go to the trouble of killing two people for money, then why did he throw away this unique opportunity?”
“Yes, I see what you mean,” Higuchi said, and bit his lip.
“Also, as a lawyer, Koike must have been well aware that Nobumasa’s estate would pass to the State. Then why didn’t he persuade him before killing him to make a will, naming Etsuko as his heir? Koike knew Nobumasa was fond of Etsuko—it would’ve been worth at least a try . . . Alternatively, why didn’t he murder Nobumasa first, so that his property would go to Yoshihiro instead of the State, then kill Yoshihiro? In both cases Etsuko would’ve been the sole successor, and this would’ve given Koike ample opportunity to milk her . . . No, I think it would’ve been most illogical for Koike to kill two people for the income from that hidden contract alone and ignore all the other opportunities to grab some money.”
Higuchi appeared to be at a loss. He said, “Well, Mr. Prosecutor, as I told you at the start, I haven’t come here to lay a firm charge against Koike, or Kawaji, for that matter. I simply wanted to tell you what I know about them, thinking this might help you with your investigations.” He stood up and looked Kirishima in the face. “Thank you very much for giving me your valuable time . . . And if I happen to get hold of some additional information, I hope you’ll allow me to come to see you again.”
It wasn’t till the following evening that Inspector Yoshioka had something new to report to Kirishima.
“We’ve managed to piece together an almost complete picture of Nobumasa’s assets,” Yoshioka said, looking rather tired, for a change. Since he specialized in the detection of crimes of violence, this type of financial investigation must have been rather a strain on him.
“Thank you very much for your efforts, Inspector,” Kirishima said.
“I’ll give you a complete list of amounts in the various banks in a written report later. For now I only want to point out that, according to Koike, the total income received to date from the patent would’ve been around 23,000,000 yen. Nobumasa’s tax for the current year hasn’t been paid, so after deducting from the total last year’s tax, the cost of his new house, and the percentage he paid to Yoshihiro, the balance should be around 10,000,000 yen. Well, the total of his savings is just over 9,500,000 yen, which is near enough. The difference of less than 500,000 yen doesn’t upset our calculations.”
“Then it doesn’t look as if Koike charged excessive fees, does it?”
“No, we’ve found no trace of that. For transacting the whole patent business, including the license contract, he charged a fee of 500,000 yen and wrote a receipt for it. I think his fee was very modest—he must have been influenced by his friendship with the brothers. And there’s no suggestion he might’ve got hold of the 500,000 yen unaccounted for.”
“Anyway, it’s unthinkable he would’ve murdered his friends for that amount of money.”
“That’s what I think, too,” Yoshioka said. “Now, regarding Miss Kikuchi, at the time of separating from Nobumasa she had another lover all right.”
“Could you find out anything about him?”
“His name is Mikio Yamazaki, and he seems to be a leading light of the terrorist group Sekishinkai, which was in the news recently. But we don’t know his present whereabouts, or whether his affair with Miss Kikuchi’s still alive.”
“Could this fellow have some knowledge of the law, d’you think?”
“He might know a bit about commercial law, but I doubt very much if he’d have more than an amateur’s idea about laws generally. Anyway, I’ve asked some officers at Section 4 to check him out, so I’ll get something on him soon . . .” Yoshioka opened his briefcase and began rummaging through it. “Now, regarding the fire at the hot spring resort, I’ve finally managed to get an outline on that. The building gutted was the Shinsenkan Inn at Kuboyama hot spring resort, which is about a two-hour bus ride from Tottori City. Here’s a report sent to us by the Tottori police.”
Kirishima eagerly looked through the report. After about five minutes, he said, “According to this, the dead man’s body was so badly charred, it was unrecognizable.”
“Yes. The immediate cause of death was suffocation by smoke, and the cause of the fire was an electric short-circuit. There seemed to be no suspicious circumstances.”
“It says here that while investigating the identity of the victim, police found that he had entered a fictitious name and address into the hotel register, which survived the fire because it was locked in the office safe. But once they learned the victim had come to visit Yoshihiro Tsukamoto and stayed overnight in a room next to Yoshihiro’s, they could identify him as soon as Yoshihiro regained consciousness.”
“Obviously, Yoshihiro admitted the man visiting him was his younger brother.”
“Wait a
minute,” Kirishima said, “there’s something strange here. It says that on the basis of Yoshihiro’s statement, police were able to locate Tadaaki’s picture among police photographs of wanted criminals, and they showed this picture to all members of the staff at the inn. But no one could definitely identify it as the picture of the guest who had died in the fire.”
Yoshioka pouted and shrugged his shoulders. “D’you think this is so important? The photograph was probably pretty old. And since Tadaaki had been in hiding for quite a while, his features must have changed somewhat. On top of that, he would’ve tried to change his appearance deliberately by wearing glasses, or something like that . . . No, I wouldn’t attach too much importance to this.”
“You may be right,” Kirishima said sleepily. He closed the report and stared at its cover for a while, then began to mutter, as if talking to himself. “The problem that bothers me is the true identity of this man Watanabe. He might have been in possession of some secret of the Tsukamoto brothers. If Nobumasa had been determined not to disclose Watanabe’s true identity under any circumstances, he would’ve thought up a suitable lie on the spot. But instead, he asked me for a day’s grace. He must have done this because he wanted to explain to Etsuko something about Watanabe before revealing it to me. And since Etsuko had no personal connection with Watanabe, there’s only one answer. Watanabe must have had some special relationship with Yoshihiro—quite apart from saving his life in childhood—which adversely affected Yoshihiro’s reputation. That’s what Nobumasa wanted to tell Etsuko before disclosing it to me . . .”
“I see,” Yoshioka whispered, careful not to interrupt Kirishima’s train of thought.
“. . . What could that be—the thing that affected Yoshihiro’s reputation? It needn’t have been anything illegal. It probably wasn’t. When a person murders somebody, or commits a robbery, or engages in drug trafficking, the last thing he worries about is his good reputation . . . And since Nobumasa was prepared to disclose this thing affecting Yoshihiro’s reputation to Etsuko, he must have been fairly confident Etsuko wouldn’t condemn Yoshihiro for it. Otherwise he would’ve kept silent about it, especially at this stage, so soon after Yoshihiro’s death . . . Etsuko already knew about their father and youngest brother, so it must have been something Yoshihiro was personally responsible for . . . He must have done something wrong—and there’s only one thing I can think of.”
“Would it have something to do with the fire at the inn?” Yoshioka asked.
“Yes.”
“But according to this report, there’s no suggestion that Yoshihiro disposed of his troublesome brother. The Tottori police are satisfied there was no murder or arson committed. It was an accident caused by faulty electric wiring. And if Yoshihiro escaped without stopping to try to save his brother, that’s still understandable in the circumstances. He himself was nearly burnt to death. Who could blame him for thinking of his own skin first?”
“As I told you before,” Kirishima said, “I’m not suggesting Yoshihiro murdered his brother. But I feel he could’ve nevertheless disposed of him, in a sense.”
“In a sense? In what sense?” Yoshioka gaped at Kirishima, leaning forward in his chair.
Just then the phone rang. Kitahara answered it. “Hallo . . . Yes . . . Yes, he’s here . . . What?” Now he was gaping, too, as he replaced the receiver. “Watanabe’s just been arrested in Mrs. Tsukamoto’s apartment . . . He tried to assault her . . .”
16
Kirishima and Yoshioka immediately drove to police headquarters. And a patrol car carrying Watanabe was speeding toward the same destination. It was followed by Koike’s car, which had Etsuko in it.
From the brief telephone message it sounded as if Koike had called at Etsuko’s apartment by chance and helped to arrest Watanabe.
While they were waiting for the patrol car, Kirishima told Yoshioka the rest of his theory about Watanabe’s true identity, but very soon a policeman reported the arrival of the vehicle. Yoshioka dashed out of the room and was back in a couple of minutes.
“The lad’s already getting the treatment from five detectives,” he said with satisfaction. “This ‘fireworks’ style of questioning is our usual welcome for the tough ones. It’s pretty effective, too. Even the most hardened criminals get rattled. It makes them feel they’ve just reached the first corner of hell . . . Well, in the meantime, would you like to see Mrs.Tsukamoto and Koike?”
Kirishima nodded, and Yoshioka went to fetch them.
Etsuko looked pale but surprisingly calm. Koike’s eyes were slightly bloodshot. He was obviously proud of himself. Yoshioka asked him to give an outline of the incident.
“I ran into that man purely by accident,” he said. “I went to visit Etsuko because I had some papers for her to sign. I rang the bell, but nobody answered it. Then I discovered the door wasn’t locked. I poked my head in and noticed something was wrong. Then I walked in and saw Watanabe in the western room. He was about to assault Etsuko. I knew the police were looking for him, and I myself had very strong suspicions, so I didn’t waste any time—I went for him.”
“Did you have a fight?” Yoshioka asked.
“Of a sort. First he was stunned by my sudden appearance, then tried to knock me down and get away, but I ran after him. We finished up wrestling on the stairs, while Etsuko rang the police emergency number . . . He hit me a few times, but I managed to hold him till the police arrived.”
“We really appreciate your help.”
“Don’t mention it,” Koike said, laughing. “If it wasn’t for this, I would’ve missed the thrill of driving at breakneck speed and going through red lights behind the patrol car without collecting a ticket . . . But seriously, if Watanabe is the killer, I’ll have the satisfaction of having done something for my dead friends. I’m glad now I had to play so many sports in my student days. I used to think it was a waste of time.”
Yoshioka turned to Etsuko. “Mrs. Tsukamoto, how did he try to assault you?”
“I’m not sure that he did,” she said hesitantly. “I was having a cup of tea when the bell rang. I went to the door and asked who it was without opening it. I did this because I’ve become rather nervous over the past ten days.”
“It was a very sensible thing to do . . . And what did he say?”
“He said he had an express letter for me, and I had to sign for it.”
“Yes, every second burglar pretends to be a postman these days. I know what happened. You opened the door a little, and he put a foot in it and forced it wide open.”
“That’s right.”
“And what happened next?”
“I never could put that man’s face out of my mind, and now he was staring at me all of a sudden. I thought I was having a nightmare . . . I started to scream . . . He covered my mouth with his hand, pushed me inside, and said I had nothing to worry about—he only came to see me because he had something to tell me . . . He kept talking about my late husband, but I was so scared and excited—I didn’t really listen to him. The only thing I can recall clearly is that he said we weren’t complete strangers.”
“I see,” Yoshioka said. “This doesn’t sound like an unlawful assault to me. The story must have got inflated by the time it reached us . . . And have you any idea what his real purpose might have been? Perhaps he came to ask you for some money?”
“I wouldn’t know . . . I was in such a panic at the time—I was ready to bite him if he tried anything queer . . . He put a hand on my shoulder and said something like ‘Sit down and relax—I want to talk to you quietly.’ I pushed his hand off and tried to get away from him, and that’s when Mr. Koike arrived . . .”
Kirishima remembered Kyoko worrying about Etsuko’s mental state and thought there seemed to be nothing wrong with her. And he decided Watanabe hadn’t tried to harm her either. It looked as if his intention had been misinterpreted through force of circumstances.
Yoshioka looked a bit deflated, following his boast about their infallible ‘fireworks’ method. He turned to Kirishima, rather sheepishly, and said, “What d’you think, Mr. Prosecutor?”
It was very rare for a prosecutor to do the initial questioning of a suspect, although there were quite a few arrogant characters who demanded this. Usually they were people who either believed or pretended they were big time—until the police cut them down to size. But Kirishima felt this man had something else on his mind.
“All right, bring him in,” he said, and turned to Koike and Etsuko. “Mr. Koike, thank you very much for your co-operation . . . Mrs. Tsukamoto, I’m glad you didn’t get hurt . . .”
Etsuko looked at him steadily. She had this strange glow in her eyes again. For some reason, her stare always made him embarrassed. He bowed lightly and busied himself with his briefcase till she was well out of the room.
The man in the interrogation room was completely surrounded by detectives when Kirishima and Yoshioka entered. He was comfortably stretched out in a chair, wearing a flashy tweed suit. There was a faint smile on his sallow, shiny face. Kirishima noticed his protruding dirty-yellow teeth, and a knife scar all the way down his left cheek. The man looked unpleasant, to say the least.
Yoshioka made a small gesture like a back-handed slap, and the detectives immediately filed out of the room, leaving only the uniformed guard there.
Kirishima sat down opposite the man, and said, “I’m State Prosecutor Saburo Kirishima. I understand you wanted to talk to a prosecutor.”
The man leaned over the table and carefully examined the badge on Kirishima’s coat lapel. “You seem to be the genuine article,” he said. “All right. Since things have come to this, I’ll tell you all you want to know.”
Honeymoon to Nowhere Page 23