The Informer

by Akimitsu Takagi

  She finished her wine, and said, “Your sister will probably be involved in all sorts of legal proceedings over the next few months. I wonder if it mightn’t be a good thing for her to marry a lawyer—if she’s going to marry again?”

  Toshiko gave her a cold look. “What d’you mean by legal proceedings? Does Mr. Kirishima suspect my sister, too? Is he thinking of charging her with complicity, or something like that?”

  “I’m sure he’s not thinking of that—not so far, anyway. By legal proceedings I meant the business of the inheritance. It’s not a simple matter—there are always problems beyond the understanding of an amateur. She could easily fall victim to the greed of an unscrupulous lawyer. That’s why I said it might be a good thing for her to marry a lawyer—it just slipped out somehow.”

  Toshiko wrinkled her brow. “Let me see. The family lawyer, Mr. Kurahashi, is a single man, but my sister hardly knows him—they’ve only met a few times. What might happen in the future is anybody’s guess, of course, but I just can’t imagine my sister ever becoming involved with a man like Kurahashi. He’s simply not her type, and the same would apply vice versa, I’d say.”

  “Well, it was only a passing thought. I don’t know your sis­ter, and I’m the daughter of a lawyer, so I may be too ready to assume that everything in life is governed by logic and conve­nience.” She thought Kurahashi was quite unlikely to be the man waiting in the wings. “By the way, forgive me for asking this, but do you think there might’ve been some special pur­pose behind Mr. Segawa’s first visit to this house—I mean his call on your brother-in-law prior to the day of the tragedy?”

  “I’m sure this is something they want to know at the State Prosecutor’s office.” Toshiko cast her eyes down and sighed. “Well, to tell you the truth, I bear the sole responsibility for Mr. Segawa’s visit. In recent months the relationship between my sister and her husband had become very strained, and I couldn’t stand watching her misery any longer. She would’ve been the last person to admit she wanted to see Mr. Segawa again—she wouldn’t even mention his name. But I took it on myself to do something about it. I managed to convince myself it was my duty to bring them together again for the sake of her happiness. So I went and sought him out and asked him to meet her again . . . You know me from the old days. Once I make up my mind about something, I go like a bullet—nothing can stop me . . . I very much regret it now that it’s too late.” She was again on the verge of tears.

  “Don’t let it upset you, Toshi,” Kyoko said, feeling sorry for her. “You did what you thought was best for your sister, so you needn’t blame yourself. I wasn’t really thinking of this when I asked you about Mr. Segawa’s purpose. I was thinking of some­thing else—I mean—I was wondering if he had another, per­haps more sinister purpose besides wanting to see your sister again.”

  “I don’t know. This is the part I don’t understand.” Toshiko’s voice faltered as if her heart had missed a beat. “The other day Mr. Fujita suggested Mr. Segawa had only renewed his friend­ship with my brother-in-law so he could spy on him somehow. Mr. Fujita glared at me and spoke so harshly as if to imply I was Mr. Segawa’s accomplice. It was an awful experience, but frankly, I don’t think there’s any basis for his accusation. If it were true, it’d be a terrible shock for my sister, and I’d certainly try to keep it from her for as long as I could. She’d probably hear about it one day anyway, but in her present state of mind, this could make her lose her last remaining shred of faith in human nature.”

  Kyoko was about to say something when she heard the front door chime.

  “Excuse me a moment.” Frowning, Toshiko left Kyoko alone in the living room. When she returned a couple of minutes later, her face was still, like a mask.

  “What’s wrong?” Kyoko asked.

  “Mrs. Nishiwaki is here, and she insists on seeing my sister. I don’t know what she wants, but I’m worried. I asked her to wait in the visitors’ room.”

  “Then it might be better if I go now—don’t you think?”

  “No, don’t go, please. Wait for me here, will you? I don’t know what’s going to happen—I’d feel much better if you stayed.”

  “All right then,” Kyoko said, but Toshiko didn’t seem to hear her. She had already turned away from her and was di­alling a number on the phone.

  “Hello. Mr. Kitano? Toshiko Murozaki here. Thank you for your help the other day . . . Yes . . . Mrs. Nishiwaki is here now—she insists on seeing my sister . . . Yes, I’d like to discuss it with you . . . I follow . . . Okay, I’ll ring you then.” She put down the receiver and turned to Kyoko again. “You’ll stay, Kyoko, won’t you? Thank you so much.”

  She rushed out of the room, and Kyoko heard her running up the steps. Was that a lawyer she’d been talking to on the phone? She had dialled the number without looking it up in the book, so she must know it by heart. He might be her boyfriend, Kyoko thought.

  A little later she heard footsteps again—first upstairs, then down the steps, along the hallway and into the visitors’ room. Then the phone in front of her started ringing.

  She lifted the receiver. “Hello,” she said uncertainly.

  A deep voice replied, “It’s me. Something’s come up—make it three o’clock at the Elize at Shinjuku, will you?”

  The phone went dead in her hand before she could ask the man’s name. He must’ve mistaken her for Toshiko—their voices were very similar. And he hadn’t at all observed the normal courtesies on the phone. This Mr. Kitano must be Toshiko’s boyfriend ail right, Kyoko thought, and a pretty rough one at that.

  She sat there for a while wondering if she should call Toshiko out of the other room to pass on the message. Then she heard a high-pitched voice coming from the other side of the thin plaster wall: What? Are you saying Mr. Segawa mur­dered my husband for his money, with my blessing? You must be out of your mind! It was almost a scream, and it must’ve come from Mrs. Ogino, she thought.

  Then she heard another voice, not so shrill but just as loud: Cheating on my brother wasn’t enough for you—you wanted him out of the way altogether, didn’t you?

  How dare you say such a thing?

  You’re brazen like a thief! But somebody overheard you planning his murder in the Café Takuto!

  You’re a liar! It’s not true!

  To think that I used to call you my sister-in-law!

  Why d’you want to hurt me like this? How can you be so cruel?

  If you give yourself up now, your punishment will be less severe.

  Please leave—get out of here! This is my house!

  It won’t be for long, I can assure you!

  Kyoko just sat there breathlessly, listening to footsteps and the slamming of doors, and a pitiful wailing coming from the visitors’ room.

  Then Toshiko came in, almost running. “Did you hear all that?”

  Kyoko nodded.

  Toshiko opened the phone book and began dialling almost in the same instant.

  “Hello. Dr. Tsuyama? This is the Ogino house. My sister’s very upset—I don’t know what to do with her. Would you come over, please, and give her an injection as soon as you can? . . . Thank you very much . . . I’ll be waiting for you.”

  She replaced the receiver with a trembling hand, took a cigarette from a box on the coffee table, and lit it after breaking the first match. “What a vicious creature,” she muttered, as if talking to herself.

  “I’d better go now,” Kyoko said.

  “Well, you’ve witnessed a beautiful scene today, haven’t you? We are a lovely family, I must say . . . But you won’t write me off because of this, will you? Kyoko, will you promise me this?”

  “You don’t have to worry about it. But I really must go now—I’ve got some shopping to do on my way home. I prom­ise I’ll come to see you again, soon.”

  This time Toshiko didn’t try to stop her. As they passed in front of the vi
sitors’ room, Kyoko could hear quiet sobbing inside.

  She put her shoes on in the entry, then remembered the phone call. “Oh, I nearly forgot—there was a phone call for you from a man. He didn’t give his name—I think he might’ve mistaken my voice for yours. He said something had come up, and now he wanted you to meet him at three o’clock at the Elize at Shinjuku. I hope it makes sense to you.”

  “Yes, I’ve got it,” Toshiko said, looking at the floor.

  The same afternoon Kirishima was listening to Shozo Ogushi at Criminal Affairs Division head office. It wasn’t an official in­terview. He’d given Ogushi a ring and asked him if he could spare a little time, and Ogushi had willingly offered to come to see him.

  “I can hardly believe Segawa would’ve been capable of com­mitting murder,” Ogushi said. “To my knowledge he hasn’t got a temper. Of course, it’s always possible even for a very calm person to get worked up and lose his head . . . If you’ve con­crete evidence against him, you’ll have to charge him, I sup­pose. I can’t argue with that.”

  Before saying this, Ogushi had talked at some length about Segawa’s personality and character. Kirishima thought Ogushi’s attitude could be construed as tail-turning or indifference, de­pending how one looked at it. He might want to keep out of this because he was scared, or simply because he was fed up with Segawa.

  “I see,” he said. “Then you didn’t know Segawa was an industrial intelligence agent?”

  “Industrial intelligence? You mean—he was a spy?” Ogushi’s chin dropped in disbelief. “But what was he trying to find out?”

  “He admitted he’d been trying to secure the secret of a new product called paramizol, currently being developed by the Shichiyo Chemical Company. That was his sole reason for renewing his friendship with the Oginos.”

  “What? He told you this himself?” Ogushi shut his eyes and was silent for a moment. He looked as if he was going to be sick. “But how can a man sink that low? I’ve heard it said the poorer a man gets the greedier he gets, but this is really beyond the pale—I’ve nothing but contempt for him . . . Industrial spying might be a necessary evil in a free-enterprise economy, but to try to exploit a long-established friendship for such a purpose? All I can say is he’s disgusting.”

  Kirishima held Ogushi with a steady gaze. “You claim you had no inkling of this until now?”

  “Of course not! How could I?”

  “Segawa told us he’d started spying on Mikio Sakai’s orders. And it was you who’d introduced him to Sakai in the first place. Therefore—”

  “Just a minute, Mr. Prosecutor.” Ogushi went all red in the face. “Are you suggesting I’ve put Segawa up to this? This is in­credible! Look, if I knew Sakai was mixed up in anything like this, I would’ve never introduced my friend to him. I never questioned Sakai’s claim that he was the manager of a trading company engaged in selling chemicals and electric instru­ments. I had no reason to doubt him. Segawa is a damned fool to get himself involved in industrial spying. All he had to do was slam his resignation on Sakai’s desk when he received his first spying order. The fact he didn’t do this reveals a flaw in his character. I refuse to hold myself responsible for his actions.”

  “I’m not suggesting that,” Kirishima said, “but I can’t help wondering why you didn’t become suspicious in the first place about the unusually high salary of 50,000 yen a month Sakai was offering?”

  “As a matter of fact, I did think of this at the time—I clearly recall it now. But I reckoned it was a very small company—it couldn’t provide the same conditions as a big concern. Paying a larger than average salary might be their only way of attract­ing staff—that’s what I thought.”

  “Mm-hm. Now, tell me this. Haven’t you ever heard of the suggestion that Shinwa Trading Company is in fact an indus­trial espionage agency under the direct control of the Sanei Group?”

  “No, never! But if it were true, surely it’d be a carefully kept secret known only to top executives of the group? If it were al­lowed to leak out to the lower ranks, the poor spies couldn’t get very far in their job, could they?”

  Kirishima felt Ogushi was telling the truth. If he did have anything to hide, answering so readily and smoothly would be really a fantastic performance. No, it was more likely he’d known nothing about Segawa’s spying, just as he said.

  Kirishima began to ask some questions about Kazumi Yama­guchi, and this time Ogushi put an unexpected end to the interview.

  “I was really sorry to hear about her death,” he said. “And if by any chance I happen to be on your list of suspects, Mr. Prosecutor, well, I’m pleased to say I’ve the perfect alibi. That night I was down south in Fukuoka on business. To commit the murder I would’ve had to fly backwards and forwards by jet plane between Fukuoka and Tokyo.”

  14

  At three o’clock that afternoon Kyoko was having a cup of coffee in the upstairs section of the Café Elize at Shin­juku. From where she was sitting by the rails, she could see a large part of the ground floor.

  She had found the café quite by accident while shopping around Shinjuku, and her curiosity got the better of her. She hadn’t intended coming here in the first place, but like a typi­cal woman, once she had stumbled on the place, she was itch­ing to take a look at Toshiko’s boyfriend, even more so because she had kept so quiet about him.

  A few minutes after three Toshiko walked into the shop, her eyes kept to the ground. She looked upset, Kyoko thought. Mrs. Nishiwaki’s cruel accusations might’ve hurt her as much as her sister. Her usually bright face was clouded.

  Toshiko walked straight to a man sitting in the corner, read­ing a magazine. He was in his early thirties. With his sharp eyes and slightly swarthy complexion he gave the impression of being a bit of a rogue, but Kyoko thought a man like that could be just right for Toshiko, who was gay, hot-headed and defi­nitely unconventional.

  They were soon absorbed in conversation, putting their heads together. The waitress had hardly served their orange juice before they had it finished, almost in one swig. Then they were on their feet again, ready to leave. Kyoko thought they’d used this café only as a meeting place—they’d probably go somewhere to eat and have a beer now.

  Just then Toshiko looked up and their eyes met. Kyoko smiled and waved to her, but Toshiko just kept staring, her ex­pression suggesting anger rather than surprise. Embarrassed, Kyoko quickly stood up and walked downstairs to them to explain.

  “I’m sorry, Toshi,” she said when she reached them, “I didn’t mean to spy on you.”

  Toshiko broke into laughter. “That’s all right—I didn’t think you were. I was only staring at you because I wasn’t sure it was you. But you’ll keep this to yourself, won’t you? I’d hate to have people think I’m leaving my helpless sister on her own to meet a man.”

  “I won’t breathe a word to anyone—it’s a promise.”

  Relaxed again, Toshiko introduced the man. “This is Mr. Shinji Kitano, a lawyer friend . . . and this is Miss Kyoko Tat­suta, my former classmate. She’s going to marry State Prosecu­tor Kirishima.”

  “Really?” Kitano raised his bushy eyebrows in surprise. “I’ve heard of him, of course, but haven’t met him so far—probably because I’m mainly concerned with civil matters . . . Well, you must excuse us now—we are in a hurry, unfortunately. Very pleased to have met you though.”

  By the time Kyoko emerged from the café after paying her bill with a 10,000 yen note and waiting for the change, Toshiko and her friend had disappeared in the crowd.

  After completing the interview with Shozo Ogushi, Kirishima had another session with Segawa.

  The first part of his probing was based on Segawa’s own statement the previous night. Kirishima laced his questions with carefully devised traps and mercilessly took Segawa to task whenever his replies varied in any way from his earlier an­swers. But Segawa passed the test without mu
ch trouble.

  It was difficult to say whether he was telling the truth. He had previously demonstrated his ability to maintain a lie through a number of gruelling police interrogations. He also had a retentive memory and was a very cautious man.

  But after a suspect had been in custody for a while, the strain usually began to tell on him. Segawa would have to possess un­usually strong nerves to be able to stick to a false story at this stage without making a single mistake, Kirishima thought. For this reason he made Segawa repeat his previous long statement from beginning to end. But once again, Segawa came through unscathed.

  During the latter part of the session Kirishima based his questioning on the hypothesis that Segawa was not the killer.

  Once Segawa recognised this apparent change in the pro­secutor’s attitude, he became more hopeful again. Desperately he began to put to Kirishima all sorts of suggestions. He named person after person as the possible killer, each time trying to support his idea with some strained reasoning that just couldn’t be taken seriously. It was a bit like saturation bombing—blasting anything and anybody along the way, and then trying to justify it afterwards. And when he started to run out of names, he began to mention people like one of his former stock market clients who had suffered heavy losses after acting on his tips.

  Kirishima was growing tired of this nonsense. Stretching himself to restore his concentration, he said with a sigh, “And how would all these people know you were a spy?”

  The words acted on Segawa’s spirit like a burning match would on a balloon. His head sank between his shoulders, and he stared in front of him with a vacant expression.

  “Are you sure you haven’t revealed your spy assignment to anyone?”

  “No one except Kazumi Yamaguchi, and even to her only after Ogino’s murder.” He lifted his head and looked as if some of his will was coming alive again. “Mr. Prosecutor, would it be possible the informer didn’t have any definite evidence of my spying? He might’ve had a shot in the dark and hit a bull’s eye by accident?”