Agony. Agony. He fell to his knees.
His vision clouded with pain and he squeezed his eyes shut. It hurt. More than anything, ever, it hurt.
She was getting away.
“Stop! Police!” someone shouted. Suzuki?
Thump. The floor shuddered and he tried to open his eyes to see what had fallen but everything was shimmering, swimming in tears.
There was something thrashing near the door. He blinked. It was two people.
Choking sounds.
He wiped his eyes.
Miho was on top of Suzuki. Her hands were around Suzuki’s neck.
He had to stop her.
Tried to stand, but black spots closed in. He hung his head.
Kunk. The thrashing stopped and Kenji looked up as Miho slowly rolled off Suzuki onto her back. Yumi was standing over her, holding the champagne bottle that had been cooling in the bucket by the door. Her hands started to shake and she dropped it with a thunk. It rolled toward him across the floor.
Suzuki was lying on his back, gasping for air.
“Are you all right?” Kenji croaked.
The assistant detective slowly raised himself to a sitting position, coughed a few times, and nodded. Kenji dragged himself over to feel for a pulse at Miho’s throat. He fumbled for his phone and called an ambulance.
“Can you go down and wait for them?” he asked Suzuki, who was climbing slowly to his feet.
The assistant detective nodded and disappeared, closing the door behind him.
Kenji’s mind was clearing, the pain receding a little. He looked at Yumi, who was standing next to the champagne bucket, shaking, white-faced.
He rose and crossed the room, pulling her into his arms.
“She’s…not going to die, is she?” Yumi whimpered, her voice muffled against his chest.
“No. An ambulance is on the way.” Holding her tight, he stroked her hair.
“What will happen now?” she asked.
Kenji thought about the shockwaves already rippling out from the moment she’d hit Miho over the head. An ambulance was on the way. Charges would be filed. The case would hit the papers; there would be weeks of headlines. Ichiro Mitsuyama would be furious that his fiancé was involved in a public scandal. Maybe he would break the engagement. Yumi would be free. Yumi would be his.
“Will there be a trial?” she asked.
There would be. His fantasy fell to pieces. If the prosecutor didn’t believe her assault on Miho was justified, it would be Yumi who stood accused. She could go to prison.
“Will I have to testify? In public?”
For a moment he held tight to everything he was about to lose, then he stepped back.
“No, because you were never in this room.”
They heard sirens approaching. Kenji picked up the bottle and took it to the bathroom. He polished off Yumi’s prints with a tissue, then flushed it down the toilet. Wrapping his hand firmly around the neck to replace her prints with his own, he set it down where she’d dropped it.
Outside, the sirens stopped. Car doors slammed. Voices.
Yumi was now kneeling next to Miho, anxiously watching her chest rise and fall.
“Go,” he insisted, “before there are any more witnesses.” He helped Yumi to her feet and propelled her out the door. “After the manager found you, you went home. I’ll try to keep your name out of it, but if I can’t, say that and no more.”
“But…” She stood there indecisively.
“Take the back stairs. Now. Go.”
She looked at him one last time, then was gone. The medics rolled out of the elevator with a gurney.
“This is a crime scene,” Kenji said, reminding them not to touch or move anything they didn’t have to. As they went to work on Miho, he pulled Suzuki out of the room. Mindful of the CCTV camera that was certainly recording the comings and goings in the hallway, he bowed his head and explained the situation to Suzuki in a low voice.
“…so I wiped her prints off the bottle and put mine on instead. I’m willing to take the weight,” he said, “but in order for it to be justifiable violence in the line of duty, I need someone to back me up.” He bowed deeply and held it. “Onegai-shimasu.” I’m begging you.
Chapter 79
Thursday, November 21
9:00 A.M.
Kenji
The mood was anything but convivial as Section Chief Tanaka joined Kenji and Suzuki in interview room 3 the next morning, shutting the door and closing the blinds.
“Before the big guns descend to rake us over the coals, I want an airtight explanation of why a woman from a very high-profile family is in the hospital under police guard on suspicion of murder, and the First Investigative Division had to learn about it on the morning news.” He regarded Kenji balefully. “I’m listening.”
Kenji had downed a fistful of Bufferin before coming into the station this morning, but his groin still ached and he had a swollen welt on his cheek where he’d been hit with the riding crop. He sighed and set down his tea. “Last night, after Inspector Mori finished interviewing Nobu Matsuda, I got a call from that Club Nova host Hoshi, saying he was being followed by someone he suspected of targeting his customers, including Cherry and Coco.”
He explained the series of events that made Hoshi suspect Miho Yamaguchi. This morning before the meeting, he’d finally talked to Hoshi and heard the whole story of how she’d systematically targeted his patrons. Deliriously happy over the slightly early birth of a healthy baby daughter, and pleased with the morning’s splash of publicity that would prevent Miho’s family from sweeping everything under the rug, Hoshi had agreed to keep Yumi’s name out of his statement.
Kenji reminded the section chief of the CCTV record that showed the suspicious timing of the white sedan’s return on the nights of Cherry’s death and Coco’s accident. The license plate belonged to Miho Yamaguchi, and the crime lab was enhancing the images so the driver could be identified.
“Miho Yamaguchi had opportunity and motive. Hoshi convinced me he could get her to incriminate herself, but there wasn’t time to call for approval and backup because he was already on his way to the rendezvous point.”
He explained how the Hotel Marquis manager had allowed them to use a room and how they’d hidden in the peephole-equipped closet to observe. After Hoshi joined Miho and she admitted her complicity in two crimes, they discovered that she’d intercepted Hoshi’s accomplice and left her with her life in jeopardy. Kenji told Tanaka he’d sent Suzuki and Hoshi to look for her, then admitted he’d blundered by removing Miho’s handcuffs.
“By then I knew she’d pushed one rival down the stairs and tried to run over another with her car, so I believed her when she said that without her help, we might be too late to save the girl’s life. Miho refused to take me to her victim until I removed her handcuffs and let her put on her coat. I let my fears get the better of me; instead of following proper procedure, searching her for weapons and calling for backup, I let her get me in a position my training should have prevented.” He stood and made a formal bow of apology. “Moshiwake gozaimasen.”
“Save that for the brass,” Tanaka said impatiently.
Suzuki took over. “The hotel manager helped Hoshi and me locate Miho’s victim, right down the hall from the room where we’d left Nakamura-san, so when the suspect attacked him, I heard him yell and went to help. I took her down with a judo throw, but I guess I need to go to practice more often. She grabbed my jacket as she fell and I went down with her. If Nakamura-san hadn’t hit her with that champagne bottle, she’d have choked me until I was the one in the hospital.”
“Or the morgue,” Kenji said. “She’d killed before, and it was clear she was prepared to do it again.”
“Was it?” Tanaka sighed. “Convincing a panel of brass with closer ties to the great-and-good than the rank-and-file isn’t going to be easy. Her family is already screaming police brutality to anyone who’ll listen, and the boys from headquarters are pissed that another hig
h-profile case was pursued without their help by detectives at lowly Komagome Station. We’ll be lucky if they don’t throw us to the wolves.” He didn’t have to spell out that even though he’d been kept in the dark, as Kenji’s superior, he’d be held accountable.
The room fell into gloomy silence as they contemplated the worst-case scenario.
“Well, shō ga nai,” the section chief finally said. It can’t be helped. He levered himself wearily out of his chair. “I’ll call the Superintendent General, try to stack the deck in our favor. Hand over your badges and keep your phones on. I’ll call and let you know when to show up for the hot seat.”
Chapter 80
Thursday, November 21
10:00 A.M.
Yumi
Kenji and Suzuki emerged from the elevator into the lobby, talking intently. Yumi stood and took a tentative step toward them.
Kenji spotted her, surprised. “Yumi? They didn’t tell me you were here. Have you been waiting long?”
“I saw the papers this morning and how Miho Yamaguchi’s family is talking about police brutality.” She took a deep breath, then said, “Hoshi called this morning to remind me to tell you he brought a voice recorder last night, in case you refused to come when I called you. He hid it in the bathroom of room 205. Did you find it?”
Kenji and Suzuki looked at each other.
“I don’t think the techs even went in there,” Suzuki said.
“It should have recorded everything that happened in that room,” Yumi said. “It’ll prove she’s lying. So she doesn’t get away with it.”
“Arigatō gozaimasu,” Suzuki said, bowing. He turned to Kenji. “Maybe we’ll get our badges back after all, sir.”
“What?” Yumi realized for the first time what Kenji had sacrificed to keep her name out of the whole mess. Their eyes met.
Suzuki looked from one to the other. “Shall I take a crime tech and go find that voice recorder, sir? Meet you back here later?”
Chapter 81
Thursday, November 21
10:30 A.M.
Yumi
Clouds dimmed the sunlight that had been glinting off the gilded eaves of the Komagome Shrine as Yumi and Kenji seated themselves on a bench across from the sanctuary. A gust of wind swayed the heavy white rope hanging in front of the offering box, but not quite hard enough to ring the bell and summon the attention of the divine kami-sama.
Kenji stuck his hand in his pocket and brought out something glittery. “I found this under the bed after the techs carted away Miho Yamaguchi’s discarded clothes. Do you know if it’s hers?” he asked, dangling the rhinestone bear ornament.
Yumi shook her head. “Hoshi gave it to me to make her jealous, but I don’t think I want to be reminded of that every time I use my phone.”
He nodded and put it back in his pocket.
A small boy with a red brocade success-in-exams amulet dangling from his backpack ran up the steps to the shrine entrance. He flung a coin into the offering box and rang the bell to get the attention of the resident god. Bowing twice, folding his hands, he asked for his heart’s desire.
Yumi wished her life were that simple again.
“What will happen if the Mitsuyamas discover you were involved last night?” Kenji asked.
“They’ll never forgive me.” She scuffed at the gravel mixed with yellow leaves. “A few days ago, I found out that Ichiro had proposed to me before discussing it with his parents. They’d allowed him to put me on the o-miai list—so they couldn’t really object—but they weren’t happy. After he broke the news, they put a good face on their disappointment and did everything in their power to make it look like the kind of engagement they’d hoped for. His father pulled strings to get my father a professorship, so our family would look almost prestigious enough to marry into theirs. His mother invited my mother to join her women’s club, so she could claim to know the Suntory chairman’s wife and the Empress’s sister.”
Yumi paused, watching sparrows scatter as the boy clapped, bowed, and ran down the shrine steps. “But if Ichiro’s parents find out I helped the police arrest a woman who’s a member of their inner circle, it’ll be like a stray dog they adopted turned around and bit them. Nobody would blame them for cutting all ties with me and my family.”
Kenji digested that for a moment and sighed.
“But that wouldn’t be the end of it, would it?”
“No,” she admitted.
“Your father wouldn’t find another teaching position anywhere near Tokyo, would he?”
“No. If he found one at all.” Yumi turned to face him. “But that’s nothing compared to what you’re doing to keep me out of this. I still don’t understand why you’re trying to protect me. Why are you risking your career so I can marry Ichiro? Last time I checked, you were trying to convince me that was a big mistake.”
He gave a short laugh. “The biggest one you’ll ever make. And don’t give me too much credit—my first thought when I saw you standing over Miho Yamaguchi with that champagne bottle was that your engagement was history. I couldn’t believe my good luck. But—” He looked away. “I don’t want to be your second choice any more than you want to be Ichiro’s.”
“Ken-kun…”
He raised his hand, stopping her. “And I couldn’t take the chance you’d be sent to prison for catching the woman who really killed Cherry Endo.”
Prison? As Kenji explained, a whole new nightmare unfolded and Yumi realized just how much she owed him. In a single moment, he’d sacrificed his integrity by covering up evidence she’d been involved, and taken her place as the one who bore the consequences for hitting Miho over the head.
“I think you’re safe from prosecution,” he concluded, “but I still may not be able to protect you from publicity. Right now the powers-that-be are assembling a tribunal to decide whether to rake me over the coals or prosecute Miho Yamaguchi. If they decide there’s enough legal evidence against her, there’ll be a trial, a very public trial. They won’t find your fingerprints on that bottle, but I’m worried about that voice recording you told us about. Everything that we said after you hit Miho over the head is irrelevant and can be erased, but I know I used your name when I asked Miho where you were. If it’s entered into evidence, I can’t stop the prosecutor from calling you to testify.”
“But what about you?” Yumi said. “If there’s a trial, everybody will think you’re the one who hit her.”
Kenji hunched over and contemplated the ground between his feet. “Yeah, I guess I’ll have to get used to hearing the phrase ‘police brutality,’ because those will be her defense attorney’s new favorite words.”
He didn’t have to spell it out for Yumi to know that he’d be hearing those words the rest of his life, even if they never appeared in his official file.
“And…what if the tribunal decides there’s not enough evidence to prosecute her?”
“The brass will make a public apology and a lid will be firmly nailed on anything that smells, including your involvement.”
Hope flared. Could they still walk away from this, no harm done? Then the spark dimmed as she realized it couldn’t be that easy.
“They’ll make someone take the blame, won’t they?”
Kenji sighed. “A few heads will roll.”
“You’ll lose your job, won’t you?” she said. “And what about Suzuki-san?”
Kenji picked up a stick and drew in the gravel by his feet. “If we’re lucky, they’ll just bust us back to koban duty in some town so small you’d need a magnifying glass to find it on the map.” A flurry of leaves flew past. “I hear rural Aomori is beautiful this time of year.”
Loss lodged in her throat like a fishbone. She’d never felt closer to Kenji than she did at that moment, but every road that stretched into the future tore them apart. Whether it was she who was forced to leave Tokyo in disgrace, or Kenji who was banished to a backwater where his career would go nowhere, from this day forward, fate would send them in opposite di
rections. She looked up at the clouds scudding across the sky, pushed by an invisible and irresistible wind, and her eyes filled with tears.
Yumi sniffed, and without a word, Kenji drew a pack of tissues from his jacket pocket. He handed them to her and waited for her to blot her eyes, then he tossed his stick away and stood. “I guess there’s really nothing we can do now but leave it up to the kami-sama.”
He offered her his hand and pulled her up. Reaching deep into his pocket, he produced a pair of silver coins. He offered one to Yumi, and together they climbed the steps to the shrine. Their ¥100 pieces clattered into the offering box as they took turns bowing and shaking the bell rope, asking the gods to smile upon them.
As the sound of the bell gave way to the whispering of wind in the trees, Yumi’s fingers stole into Kenji’s pocket and entwined with his. They stood there a long time, neither wanting to break the connection, knowing this might be the last time. Whichever way the tribunal ruled, it would rescue one and exile the other.
Kenji’s phone rang. Tanaka.
“Nakamura desu.”
“The hammer comes down at one. Better go home and iron your uniform.”
Chapter 82
Friday, November 22
4:00 P.M.
Kenji
It took the tribunal twenty-four long hours to decide their fate.
Friday afternoon, buttoned into their dress blues, Kenji, Suzuki, and Section Chief Tanaka silently followed the tribunal officer into the room at National Police Headquarters where they’d testified the day before. Kenji turned to face the three gold-braid-festooned officials seated at the table, and stood at attention next to Suzuki and Tanaka to await the verdict.
The Superintendent General leaned into his microphone and summarized the charges. Detective Kenji Nakamura had acted alone and without approval to entrap a citizen into incriminating herself, contrary to proper procedure. Furthermore, he had injured the suspect in the course of the arrest, and jeopardized the personal safety and career of his subordinate by ordering him to back him up.
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