“This is quite likely. She didn’t have to go to extremes. All she had to do was manoeuvre her gently into a position where any additional shock would tip her over the edge. The false complicity charge provided this shock.”
“This was obviously Mrs. Nishiwaki’s doing?”
“Yes, but it could’ve been Fujita, the secretary, who’d put her up to it. People can become very ugly when they set eyes on a huge amount of money. And when it comes to inheritance, it’s not at all unusual for relatives to start fighting with their horns sharpened. I can easily understand how Mrs. Nishiwaki had been driven into a position where she was prepared to engage a crooked lawyer, pay for the services of a shady private detective, buy a phoney witness, and perhaps even give false evidence herself to implicate her sister-in-law in her brother’s murder. Of course, once it became obvious Segawa had no connection with the crime, the bottom fell out of her plan. It’s the irony of fate that she’s still likely to end up with Eiko’s share of the fortune now that Eiko is dead and Toshiko will go to the gallows as a murderess. So the cost of hiring villains to set up the false charge has proved a good investment for her after all, since that false charge precipitated Eiko’s suicide.”
“It’s a horrible thought—it makes you wonder if there is such thing as natural justice.”
“Mind, this false charge of complicity was a rude shock not only to Eiko, but also to Toshiko. If it had succeeded and Eiko had been found guilty, she would’ve put an end to Sakai’s insidious scheme, too. He would’ve murdered two people for nothing.”
“No wonder then Toshiko panicked when Mrs. Nishiwaki turned up at the house! That’s why she made the error of ringing Sakai in my presence, hoping that using a false name would be sufficient safeguard.”
“You’re probably right. And when Sakai phoned back to change the arrangement for their meeting, and you took the call—that must’ve been the hand of Providence. Sakai himself would’ve been in a panic—that’s why he mistook your voice for Toshiko’s, though you’d only said one word. And because of this, you met them in the café. Toshiko had previously introduced Sakai as a lawyer to Ogino, and in her panic she carelessly used the same trick once again. But I’ll bet Sakai’s heart missed a beat when he listened to it. He knew very well a trick like this wouldn’t work with real lawyers who only have to look up the register to check it out.”
“Well, I didn’t see any change on his face, but he might’ve shuddered inside.”
“It would’ve been more than a shudder, I’d say . . .” Kirishima drained his glass slowly and then placed it on the coffee table, winking at Kyoko to indicate he could manage one more. “Well, if the pair had their own way, Segawa would’ve been hanged, and Eiko would’ve committed suicide as planned, and soon people would’ve forgotten about the whole thing. Then after a while they would’ve put on a nice act as if they’d just met by chance and fallen in love with each other and wanted to get married—and nobody would’ve suspected anything. It was essential to the success of their plan that nothing of their connection be revealed at this stage. But what if at Segawa’s trial Sakai were called as a witness and you were sitting in the courtroom watching my performance? The prospect of this, however remote, must’ve frightened Sakai, and with two successful murders already behind him, he decided to make you his third victim. Of course, by doing so he was only digging his own grave.”
“And he very nearly took me with him,” Kyoko said with a joyless smile.
“That’s why I was so mad with you for taking such an awful risk . . . Anyway, Sakai must’ve guessed you’d visit Toshiko that night to express your sympathy. So he parked his car near the gate and waited for you. When you arrived he won your confidence by saying he’d just been inside for the condolence. And you know the rest of it . . . If he had succeeded in killing you, he would’ve hidden your body somewhere. To all appearances you would’ve disappeared without trace after leaving the Ogino house . . . You know, if you hadn’t come to my place and told me about your day just before going to the Ogino house that night, I might never have been able to connect your death with the other two murders. I might’ve thought of them separately and decided to prosecute Segawa after all, thereby adding one more victim to Sakai’s list.”
All this talk about her death made Kyoko suddenly frightened. She turned pale and bit her lip to stop it from trembling. “But why did those two start this vicious thing in the first place?” she asked after Kirishima’s reassuring hand had calmed her down. “To think that all these years I believed she was a kind and trustworthy girl!”
A shadow passed over his face as he placed the brandy glass on the table. “Haven’t you ever even suspected that Toshiko was born illegitimate—the child of her father’s short-time mistress? She was adopted by her father after her mother’s death. Her birth saddled her with a huge inferiority complex. And during their childhood she was an ugly duckling compared with Eiko, who was always beautiful. No wonder she was jealous of her half-sister . . . On top of this, Eiko married Ogino and his wealth and was going to be the wife of a company president. This fed the flames of Toshiko’s envy until it gradually developed into a deep-seated hatred . . . Sorting this out properly is really a job for a psycho-analyst.”
“Her hatred must’ve been brought to flash-point suddenly when she came into contact with a villain like Sakai?”
“You’ve put it very nicely. Sakai was on the skids when he met her. He still had a small amount of money to play with—but that was the only difference between him and Segawa. The police investigation into his background has revealed that he, too, had worked for a small firm of stockbrokers, slipped up on tebari when the market crashed, and got the sack. He’d been trying desperately to make a comeback with the small amount of money he had left, when suddenly the glittering chance of grabbing hundreds of millions of yen appeared before him. And he decided to go for a gigantic gamble . . .”
Kyoko stared at the carpet for a while, and her thoughts drifted to Segawa. “By now Mr. Segawa must’ve realised that once you trip, it’s not so easy to get up again.”
“If he hasn’t learnt this by now, he never will . . . But somehow I feel he’ll be able to get back on his feet again. Sakai had deliberately driven him into a corner, but during his detention he displayed a remarkable resilience, which I think will help him in the future. Basically he’s not a wicked man. You never know—one day he may even call on us to say thank you . . . So far as I’m concerned, I’m prepared to say—not as a prosecutor but as a human being—that I’ll never forget this case as long as I live.”
“Well,” Kyoko muttered, “all I can say is that every friendship, however genuine it may seem, must have a shady side to it. I’ve learnt this at the risk of my own life.”
About the Author
Akimitsu Takagi was born in 1920 in Aomori, a northern city on the main island of Japan. He was educated at First High School, Tokyo, and at Kyoto University. After graduating as an engineer, he joined the Nakajima Aircraft Company.
He had his first novel, The Tattoo Murder Case, published in 1948, and was immediately recognised as a talented mystery writer. His early work was largely confined to the classic detective story, but by 1960 he was probing deeper into human nature and was beginning to base his novels on real incidents, and often on personal experience as in the case of The Informer.
Without any legal training he won the admiration of professionals for his knowledge of Japanese criminal law. Throughout the famous Marusho trial he acted as special advocate at the invitation of trial counsel. At the last hearing on February 15, 1965, he addressed the court for more than one-and-a-half hours. He died in 1995.
s book with friends
The Informer Page 26