Honeymoon to Nowhere

by Akimitsu Takagi

  “I’m glad to hear that. And where did you take her?”

  “I discussed the matter with the professor, and came to the conclusion that to leave her on her own in that apart­ment wouldn’t be any good for her. You see, Higuchi kept ringing her all the time. And there was another call from somebody who, according to Etsuko, sounded like a middle-aged woman saying, ‘it serves you right’ or ‘I told you so.’ I wonder if it might have been Mrs. Araki? Well, with all these phone calls bothering her all the time, she would’ve had absolutely no chance of recover­ing from this hypersensitiveness. On the other hand, she resolutely refused to return to her parents’ home. It seemed that in the circumstances a change of climate would probably be the best thing for her. D’you think I’ve done the right thing?”

  “Yes, I’d say so. This seems to be the best solution. And where did you take her?”

  “I was racking my brains for a while, but then I remembered my uncle had a villa at Toyoura, in Southern Izu. There’s nobody living there at the moment except the couple who look after the place, and they don’t even have the phone connected. So finally I came up with the idea of hiding her there for a while. She readily accepted my offer, and after obtaining Mr. Ogata’s per­mission I took her there. She was very impressed with the place and told me her stay there would give her an opportunity to think about the future.”

  “That sounds encouraging,” Koike said.

  “By the way—are you free tonight?”

  “Let me see . . . Yes, I’ve nothing special on.”

  “Then how about driving out there to have a look at her? It’s not a bad spot, you know. I’m sure you’d enjoy the fresh air, and perhaps a nice piece of fish. And if you’ve something to discuss with Etsuko, you can do it there without interruption . . . I’d appreciate a lift . . . Or would it be unfair to your wife, d’you think?”

  “No, that’s no problem at all,” Koike said sourly. “She seems to have developed a new affection for her parents. She’s spent the last few weeks with them. She returned once but soon went back again with the excuse that her mother was ill.”

  “Well, then it’s all the better for you to get out of the house. It’s not much fun staying at home on your own on a Saturday night, is it?”

  “You’re dead right . . . Okay, I’ll drive you out there.” Koike felt for his car key in his pocket. “Then we might as well make a start straight away. I have some papers in the car I’d like her to sign.”

  Kawaji eagerly agreed, and in less than ten minutes they were on their way. With no women around, it didn’t take them long to get going. Both seemed to be in a light-hearted mood as the car nosed its way through the Tokyo traffic.

  “You can follow the usual route till we reach Ito,” Kawaji said, studying the road map. “From there I’ll direct you.”

  Once they had passed through the outskirts of Tokyo, Koike relaxed a little, and said, “Just between you and me, why would Mrs. Kirishima come up with the idea of bringing Etsuko and Higuchi closer together?”

  Kawaji folded his arms in the passenger seat. “Well, this is only a wild guess, of course—and Etsuko gets so excited whenever I touch on this subject—but I have a feeling Kirishima thinks that Miss Kikuchi, the bar hostess, might hold the key to the murder of the Tsuka­moto brothers.”

  “That woman also came to see me one day,” Koike said, keeping his eyes on the road. “She’s a dreadful bitch . . .”

  “I understand she seems to have a remarkably detailed knowledge of the law. So I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Kirishima has come to the conclusion she has a lawyer behind her. Her ex-lover is the leader of a mob of petty gangsters and can’t be located. On the other hand, Higuchi has represented a few other members of the gang in recent months. It’s not unlikely there’s a connection there somewhere—maybe a very close connection.”

  Koike said, “I heard that in his Judicial Training Institute days Higuchi had the nickname, Bradawl the Tick. He was sharp and penetrating like a bradawl, and once he got hold of something he stuck to it like a tick . . . Or was his nickname Bradawl the Thick? Wait a minute—I’m not sure now. Perhaps it was ‘thick,’ suggesting he had a very thick skin . . .”

  They laughed together and then remained quiet for a while. The car entered the Yokohama Highway.

  When Kawaji spoke again he sounded a little em­barrassed. “I might as well tell you this now,” he said. “A couple of days ago I made a very important decision. When the time comes, I’m going to propose to Etsuko. I mentioned this to Mr. Ogata when I saw him the other day about taking Etsuko to my uncle’s villa.”

  “Well, well,” Koike said, tilting his head in surprise. “I’m sure it’ll be an excellent thing for Etsuko . . . I’m not so sure about you, though. You’re going to marry your friend’s widow, largely on the basis of friendship and a sense of responsibility. I think this is something you’d want to consider very carefully. You must make sure you won’t regret it in the future.”

  “I’m not being carried away by mere sympathy for her,” Kawaji said firmly. “I’m genuinely fond of her, and I ad­mire her courage, kind-heartedness, intelligence, and some other important qualities. In addition, I’ve lost my wife in an accident, as you know. So I thought Etsuko and I are in much the same boat, both being saddled with unhappy memories. Somehow it seems natural for us to comfort one another and start a new life together.”

  “I see . . . And what did Mr. Ogata have to say about this?”

  “He said it depended entirely on his daughter—he no longer had any influence over her. I told him I heard he’d prefer a lawyer for a son-in-law, and I’d be prepared to leave the university and go into private practice.”

  “You must be madly in love with her, by the look of things. I’ll bet Mr. Ogata was taken aback . . . Well, those who know you well won’t think for a moment you’re trying to marry her for her money.” Koike blinked demurely.

  “I’m sure some people will say nasty things about me,” Kawaji said. “But I’m ready for that. The truth of the matter is—if I’d been so keen on making money, I wouldn’t have chosen a university career in the first place.”

  Silence followed, but Koike’s last comments must have been playing on Kawaji’s mind, because suddenly he said, “Talking about money, I’d act more cautiously if I were you.”

  “What d’you mean?”

  “Well, you’re handling Etsuko’s inheritance, and you’ve obtained her power of attorney, which means you can sign things on her behalf if you want to, and do anything you like without telling her. Now, personally I’m not concerned about this, since I know you’re an honest man. But the fact is, she was in a state of shock and couldn’t have exercised her judgment properly when she signed that power of attorney for you. Some people might start whispering when they learn about this. I know the legal position is perfectly above board, but wouldn’t this nevertheless make you feel slightly uncomfortable?”

  “You think some people might accuse me of securing her power of attorney while she was unable to use her rea­son, in order to exploit her?”

  “Yes. Mr. Ogata hinted at something like that, and I know for a fact Higuchi is already spreading a story about you.”

  “This is ridiculous,” Koike said indignantly. “Now I know why they call him Bradawl the Tick. He knows very well it’s against the unwritten rules to speak ill of a fellow lawyer in the matter of fees. If a lawyer had to worry all the time about what other people might say about his fees, he couldn’t carry on at all . . . Anyhow, Etsuko’s father himself is a lawyer, and so far as Yoshi­hiro’s estate is concerned, everything—including the patent—has been disclosed to the police and to Prosecu­tor Kirishima. This is like a job in a glass case, with no room at all for manoeuvres behind the scenes. My sole purpose is to assist the widow of a close friend. I’m doing this for Etsuko out of the goodness of my heart, so to speak.”

  �
��I fully appreciate that,” Kawaji said. “But wouldn’t it be wise not to do anything positive about her inheritance, at least for the time being—until things sort themselves out? Especially after that awful Miss Kikuchi stormed into your office the other day.”

  “My instinct tells me she won’t win that suit for recog­nition.”

  “That may be so, but there’s another problem, too. If Tadaaki is found not guilty of his brothers’ murders, he’ll have succession rights to their property, too . . . When troublesome problems like these surround the settlement of an estate, wouldn’t it be advisable for you to tear up that power of attorney and ask Etsuko for another one at a later date?”

  “You don’t sound like a lawyer at all,” Koike said with contempt. “Since this is such a complicated business, Etsuko needs a legal adviser all the more. Or are you thinking of going into legal practice straight away and representing her interests? If so, I’ll willingly withdraw. But you can’t leave the university so quickly, can you?”

  “That’s true,” Kawaji said in a low voice. “But you can understand how I feel, can’t you? I’ve a sincere desire to do everything possible in Etsuko’s best interests.”

  “Huh. Then why didn’t you tell me this right at the start? In your indirect way, you make it sound as if there was something fishy about me.”

  “I’m sorry if I gave you that impression . . .” Kawaji cast a cold glance at Koike’s profile. “Incidentally, what’s the latest about the other one?”

  “What other one? What are you talking about?”

  “I’m sure you know what I mean,” Kawaji said. There was a frozen smile on his face.

  At about the same time, Kirishima and his party were having early dinner in the Kiyokan Inn at Ooiso. It was a bit noisy, being right on the street, but Kyoko had recommended the special fish they served there, and the men were in no position to question her authority in such things.

  Inspector Yoshioka looked happily relaxed, but the one most delighted with the solid floor under him was Kitahara, as might be expected after the car ride. He had already managed to empty several glasses of sake in his subtly inconspicuous way, and was just about reaching the talkative stage.

  “Mr. Prosecutor,” he said, “even from the back seat I could appreciate your cousin’s marvellous driving skill . . . There was just one thing that bothered me a little. Every now and then he speeded ahead, overtaking a number of other cars, then suddenly slowed down till the same cars were ahead of us again. He seemed to be doing this all the time. I wonder if the motor was giving him trouble?”

  “No, it wasn’t that,” Kirishima said with a poker face. “You may already know this, but a rally is a competition based on driving over a given distance at a certain average speed per hour. Unless a contestant passes through a checkpoint at a set time, he loses points. And my cousin is practicing this all the time.”

  “Aah? So that’s what it was?” Kitahara nodded several times in appreciation.

  Kyoko had been away for a few minutes to freshen up. On her return to the room she said, “I’ve paid the bill.”

  They stubbed out their cigarettes and stood up.

  As they were leaving the inn, Yoshioka grinned happily, and said to Kirishima, “I’ll sure enjoy that fishing tomorrow, Mr. Prosecutor.”

  It was completely dark now. Koike’s car had just passed through Ito City.

  “Oh, I almost forgot to tell you,” Kawaji said. “The lawyer we were talking about could be in this city right now.”

  “What lawyer? Are you talking about Higuchi?”

  “Mm-hm. Mr. Ogata rang me around midday and said Higuchi was going to stay at the Kanzeso Inn at Ito.”

  Koike looked at Kawaji out of the corner of his eye. He seemed genuinely surprised. “But he knew nothing of Etsuko’s whereabouts, did he? He must be using a private detective to keep an eye on her all the time . . . This man really fills me with awe. I heard about his obstinacy before now, but I didn’t realize he was as dogged as that. I don’t envy you—having him for a rival.”

  “You must be joking,” Kawaji said scornfully. “He’s no rival. Etsuko despises him. I’ve got no worries about him. He may be very clever in other things, but in this instance he’s only making a fool of himself.”

  “Well, if you have that much confidence in yourself, then you shouldn’t have any problems.”

  “Wait, that’s the turn-off—on your right . . . Sorry, I should’ve warned you before.”

  Koike turned the wheel sharply and just made it.

  Away from the highway the road soon became a meandering mountain path, sending up clouds of dust behind them. They passed between a couple of thickets and then came upon a stretch of road that was only wide enough for one car at a time. There was a steep rock face along one side, and a sheer drop of at least fifty yards into a gorge along the other.

  As the headlights knifed into the darkness, Koike said, “This is an awful road . . . How much further is it?”

  “Not very far now,” Kawaji said encouragingly. “But drive slowly, won’t you?”

  A little later the road widened again to double tracks. It must have been the place for vehicles to pass each other.

  “Could you stop for a minute?” Kawaji asked.

  “What’s the matter?” Koike put his foot on the brake.

  “I’d like to water the pony . . . There’s a beautiful view from here in the daytime. We’re about thirty minutes’ walking distance from my uncle’s villa.”

  Kawaji spoke casually. The darkness concealed the pallor and stiffness of his face.

  The car carrying Kirishima’s party was slowly moving up the same mountain road. Sitting in the front passenger seat, Kirishima watched the car’s powerful headlights probing the darkness. His lips were tight and hard, and he kept glancing at the luminous dial of his wristwatch.

  There was a strange, stifling atmosphere inside the vehicle. Kitahara was looking around restlessly and asked for the fourth time how much further they had to go. Even Inspector Yoshioka seemed a little impatient. Kyoko sat in her place quietly. Only her eyelids fluttered every now and then.

  Once more Kirishima looked at his watch carefully, then gave his cousin a nudge with his knee. The driving ace nodded and lowered his foot on the accelerator. The car leapt forward with a groan and began to negotiate the narrow, winding mountain path at kamikaze speed, leaving billowing dust in its wake.

  “Holy smoke!” Kitahara yelled out. “Mr. Prosecutor, there’s a deep gorge on one side! . . . Hey, what’s going on? . . . Is this supposed to be a car rally? . . .”

  Kirishima didn’t answer. The car was hurling itself through the darkness, held on to the road by the skill of the driver. As it took the curves left to right and right to left, Kitahara heard the tires whining in protest. He stared for a while with bulging eyes, but finally covered his face with his hands.

  Before long the headlights picked out a car parked right at the edge of the gorge . . . and then the figures of two men, locked in struggle.

  The driver slammed on the brakes. The vehicle skidded on the loose gravel and veered sideways as it came to a halt. Almost in the same instant Kirishima swung the door open and jumped out.

  Just then one of the struggling men knocked the other down with a karate chop and tried to dart away. But the second man tackled him like a Rugby player and brought him to the ground. They were rolling together now, only a couple feet from the brink of the precipice.

  Kirishima and Yoshioka were sprinting toward them, side by side.

  Then one of the combatants broke free and kicked out viciously at the other before starting to run. The man on the ground yelled out in pain but at the same time picked up a fair-sized stone and threw it after the other, hitting him right behind the knee. The escapee lost his balance for a moment, but then started running again with a limp. Inspector Yoshioka caught up with
him and grabbed him by the arm. As the man slashed out with his free hand, the inspector dodged and without apparent effort threw him over his shoulder in a remarkable demonstration of judo skill.

  Kirishima helped the other man on the ground to his feet. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “I’m okay,” he gasped. “Just a few bruises . . .”

  By this time Kyoko reached them, and Kirishima left the injured man in her care.

  Snapping the handcuffs shut on his prey, Yoshioka was also panting. “Well, Mr. Prosecutor,” he said, “I must say this is a catch beyond my wildest dreams, though you did promise good fishing for the weekend.”

  “So you’ve set a trap for me?” said the man in the handcuffs, his chest rising and falling, his eyes shining in the dark. “Nice work.”

  “You’ve been pretty clever, too,” Kirishima said with biting sarcasm. “You’ve been caught in the act by none other than a police officer . . . Shoichi Koike, I charge you with the attempted murder of Tatsuo Kawaji.”

  18

  On Monday, March 9, Tadaaki Yasuda was com­mitted for trial, charged with the unlawful killing of Morita. And on the same day Kirishima began the examination of suspect Koike.

  The police had delivered Koike into Kirishima’s hands the previous afternoon. The accompanying report listed three charges: the murder of Yoshihiro Tsukamoto, the murder of Nobumasa Tsukamoto, and the attempted murder of Tatsuo Kawaji.

  During the initial questioning by police Koike had first tried to deny even the third charge. Almost frothing at the mouth, he violently argued it was he who had been unexpectedly attacked by Kawaji, who must have been seized by some mad impulse. But after several hours of non-stop interrogation he finally realized the futility of his stand. And once he admitted the third offense, it would have been impossible for him to hold out for long on the other two, despite his shrewdness and his legal training.