The Devotion of Suspect X

by Keigo Higashino

  “It’s Mr. Kudo!” Yasuko answered, smiling. “He’s come to visit!”

  “What? Mr. Kudo…?” Sayoko came out from the back, taking off her apron. When she saw the man standing there in his coat, smiling, her mouth opened wide. “Why, Kudo! It is you!”

  “You both look well. How are you and the old man getting along, mama? From the looks of your place, I’d say quite well.”

  “Oh, we get by. It’s so nice to see you again! To what do we owe the honor?”

  “Nothing much, I just wanted to see your faces again,” Kudo replied, with a glance at Yasuko. He was scratching the tip of his nose—an old habit. Yasuko remembered that was something he did when he was feeling particularly shy about something.

  Kudo had been a regular at the club in Akasaka when Yasuko first started working there. He had always asked for her at the club, and once or twice, they had even gone to dinner before her shift started. Sometimes, when club hours were over, they had gone out drinking. When she had moved on to Club Marian in Kinshicho to escape Togashi, Kudo was the only customer she had told. He’d quickly become a regular at her new workplace. He was also the first she had told when she quit Marian. She remembered the sad look on his face. “Work hard, and be happy,” he had said.

  She hadn’t seen him since.

  Yonazawa came out from the back of the shop, and soon they were all exchanging old stories. The two men knew each other well, both having been regulars at Club Marian.

  After they had all talked for a while, Sayoko suggested that Yasuko leave early so that she and Kudo could go out for tea. Yonazawa nodded in assent.

  Yasuko looked at Kudo.

  “Only if you have time?” he asked. Of course, he had probably come close to closing time with this in mind.

  “Just for a little while, then,” she replied, smiling.

  They left the shop, walking toward Shin-Ohashi Road.

  “Truth be told, I’d rather be taking you out to dinner, but I’ll let you off the hook today. I’m sure your daughter’s expecting you at home,” Kudo said as they walked. She had told him about her daughter shortly after getting to know him at Akasaka.

  “Speaking of which, how’s your son?”

  “Great. He’s a senior already. Makes my head hurt just thinking about college exams,” he said, grimacing for effect.

  Kudo was the manager of a small printing company. He lived in Osaki, in southern Tokyo, with his wife and son.

  They went into a coffee shop along the road. Yasuko avoided the family restaurant near the intersection where she had met with Togashi.

  “I went to Marian to ask after you,” Kudo told her. “I remember you telling me that you were going to work at a lunch box place with mama Sayoko after you quit, but I didn’t know where that was.”

  “You just remembered me, out of the blue?”

  “Yeah, well, not exactly.” Kudo lit a cigarette. “I heard about the murder on the news, and started to worry about you. Sorry to hear about your ex.”

  “Oh … I’m surprised you knew it was him.”

  Kudo chuckled, blowing out smoke. “Of course I knew it was him. The name ‘Togashi’ was right up there on the screen, and I’d never forget that face.”

  “… I’m sorry.”

  “Nothing for you to apologize about,” Kudo laughed, waving his hand dismissively.

  She knew Kudo had a thing for her, of course. In truth, she was rather fond of him, too. Yet their relationship had always been strictly platonic. On more than one occasion he had invited her to join him at a hotel, but she had always refused as pleasantly as she could. She lacked the courage to have an affair with a man who was married with children, and she was, at the time, married, too, though she hid that from Kudo and her other customers.

  Kudo had finally met Togashi once when seeing Yasuko home. She always had the taxi drop her off a short distance from her apartment, and that night was no exception. But she had left her cigarette case behind in the taxi. Kudo had discovered it and followed her out of the taxi to return it. He had seen her go inside the apartment, so he’d knocked on the door. But when the door opened, it wasn’t Yasuko, but a stranger who had answered—Togashi.

  Togashi had been drunk. When he saw Kudo standing there outside the door, breathless, he had immediately assumed it was one of her customers who just couldn’t take no for an answer. Before Kudo could even explain himself, Togashi had flown into a rage and started throwing punches. If Yasuko hadn’t come out of the shower to stop them, there was no knowing how far it would have gone.

  A few days later, Yasuko took Togashi with her to Kudo’s workplace to apologize. Togashi had been on his best behavior. He knew full well what would happen if Kudo filed a police report.

  Yet Kudo had shown no rancor. All he had done was warn Togashi that he couldn’t let his wife work at nightclubs forever. Although Togashi clearly didn’t appreciate the criticism, he’d said nothing in return and merely bowed his head.

  Even after that, Kudo had continued coming to the club as usual, always treating Yasuko exactly the same as before. But they had never met outside of club hours again.

  As time wore on, every once in a while, Kudo had asked about Togashi when no one else was around—usually about whether he had found work. All Yasuko had been able to do was shake her head.

  Kudo had been the first to notice when Togashi grew more violent. She had done the best she could to hide the bruises with makeup, but while it might have been good enough to deceive most customers, she never fooled him.

  You should get an attorney, I’ll pay for it, he once offered.

  Now, years later, as they sat down with their coffee, Kudo looked over her shoulder and asked, “So, what about this whole thing? I hope you didn’t get caught up in it?”

  “Well, the police have been by a few times, but that’s about all.”

  “I figured they might,” Kudo said with a sigh.

  “It’s really nothing to worry about,” Yasuko assured him, laughing.

  “And the media haven’t been after you as well?”

  “No, not at all.”

  “Well, that’s good news, at least. I didn’t think Togashi’s murder was the kind of spectacular event that the media hounds tend to jump on, but you never know. If you were having trouble with them, I thought there might be something I could do to help.”

  “Thank you. You’re too kind, as always.”

  Kudo blushed. Looking down at the table, he reached for his coffee cup. “Well, I’m just glad to hear that you didn’t have anything to do with it.”

  “Of course I didn’t. What, you thought I did?”

  “Not like that. As soon as I heard the news, I was worried about you. Someone murdered your ex, after all. I don’t know who killed him or for what reason, I was just worried that it might come back around to you somehow.”

  “Sayoko said the same. You all worry far too much on my account.”

  “Well, seeing how good you look, I’m starting to think that maybe I was worrying about the whole thing a bit too much. You’ve been divorced from him for a few years now, too. Had you seen him recently?”

  “Seen him?”

  “Yeah, Togashi.”

  “Not at all,” she replied, feeling the muscles in her face tighten.

  Thankfully, Kudo switched topics and began talking about his life. The economy was in a downturn, but his company had managed to tread water so far. When he talked about his home life, he only mentioned his son. This had always been the case. Yasuko knew nothing about Kudo’s relationship with his wife, though she had always imagined them getting along well. One thing Yasuko had discovered during her time working as a hostess was that men who were good listeners and truly cared about other people’s problems generally came from happy homes.

  When they left the coffee shop, it was raining.

  “This is my fault,” Kudo apologized to Yasuko. “You could have beat the rain if you’d gone straight home.”

  Yasuko shoo
k her head. “Don’t be silly.”

  “You live far from here?”

  “Only about ten minutes by bicycle.”

  “Bicycle? Oh dear.” Kudo bit his lip, looking up at the clouds.

  “It’s okay. I have a folding umbrella in my bag, and my bicycle’s at the shop. I’ll walk home and just go in a little early tomorrow.”

  “Let me give you a lift.”

  “No, it’s all right.”

  But Kudo was already stepping out into the street, hailing a cab.

  “Let’s have dinner next time,” Kudo said as the taxi pulled out into the street, the two of them in the back. “Your daughter can come along, too, if that works better.”

  “You don’t have to worry about her—but what about you?”

  “Oh, I’m fine anytime. Not that busy these days.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  What she had meant was, What about your wife? but she decided not to press the matter. She sensed that he got her drift but was avoiding the topic.

  He asked for her cell number, and she gave it to him. She couldn’t think of a good reason not to.

  Kudo had the taxi take them right to her apartment. She was sitting on the inside, by the door that didn’t open, so they both had to get out.

  “Jump back in or you’ll get wet,” she said, standing out on the sidewalk.

  “Right. Till next time.”

  Yasuko merely nodded and smiled.

  As Kudo got back into the taxi, he glanced past her, his eyes fixing on something. She turned around to see what it was, and discovered a man standing at the bottom of the stairs, umbrella in hand. It was too dark to see his face, but from the shape of his body she realized it was Ishigami.

  Ishigami started walking down the street now, moving slowly. From the look on Kudo’s face, Yasuko imagined that Ishigami had been standing there watching the two of them as they got out of the taxi.

  “I’ll call,” Kudo said through the window before signaling for the driver to leave.

  Yasuko watched the taillights of the cab as it pulled away. Only then did she realize that her heart was fluttering. How many years had it been since she had spent time with a man who actually made her happy?

  She watched as the taxi drove past Ishigami on his way down the sidewalk.

  When she got back to her apartment, Misato was watching television.

  “Anything happen today?” Yasuko asked.

  Misato knew perfectly well she wasn’t asking about school.

  “Nope. Nothing. Mika didn’t say anything, either. I don’t think the police have talked to her yet.”

  “Okay.”

  Moments later, Yasuko’s cell phone rang. The display showed that the call was coming from a public phone.

  “Yes, it’s me.”

  “Ishigami here,” came the low, familiar voice. “Anything happen today?”

  “Nothing in particular. Nothing with Misato, either.”

  “I see. Please, be careful. The police still suspect you. They’ll be doing the groundwork now, checking into everything and everyone around you.”

  “I understand.”

  “Did … anything else happen?”

  “What?” Yasuko asked, flustered. “No, nothing. I just said nothing happened.”

  “Right … all right. Sorry. I’ll talk to you again tomorrow.” Ishigami hung up.

  Yasuko put down her cell phone, wondering what that was all about. She had never heard Ishigami sound so uncertain before. Then it dawned on her that it must have been because he had seen Kudo. He had to have wondered who the man was who was talking to her so familiarly. No doubt that was why he had pressed her at the end—he wanted to know about Kudo.

  Yasuko knew why Ishigami was going so far out of his way to help her and her daughter. Like Sayoko had said, he had a thing for her.

  Suddenly she wondered what would happen if she got close to another man. Would Ishigami keep helping her like he had? Would he keep solving all their problems? Yasuko decided that it might be best not to have dinner with Kudo. And if they did meet, not to let Ishigami know about it. But as soon as the thought came, a strange feeling of anxiety seized her. How long would this last? How long would she have to avoid Ishigami’s watchful eyes?

  Would she be barred from seeing another man until the statute of limitations on Togashi’s death ran out?

  EIGHT

  From outside the gym door, Kusanagi could hear the squeaking of sneakers on polished hardwood, punctuated by what sounded like tiny percussive explosions. Familiar sounds.

  He stopped in the doorway and looked inside. On the nearest tennis court he saw Yukawa poised on the near half of the court, racquet held at the ready, prepared for the next serve. The muscles in his thighs weren’t as toned as they had been back when the two of them were in school, but his form was as good as ever.

  His opponent was a student. He was apparently very skilled, and he had deftly countered Yukawa’s usual devious attacks and answered his every move.

  In one smooth motion, the younger man tossed the ball in the air and then smashed it into the corner. The game was over, and Yukawa sat down on the spot. He chuckled and said something to his victorious opponent. Then his eyes caught sight of Kusanagi. He called a thanks to the student, waved good-bye, pulled himself shakily to his feet, and, racquet in hand, headed over to the waiting detective.

  “What is it now?”

  Kusanagi took a half step back. “Hey, that’s my line. It was you who called me.”

  There had been a call from Yukawa on the calls-received list on Kusanagi’s cell phone.

  “Oh, that’s right. When I tried to get ahold of you my call went direct to voice mail, but it wasn’t important enough to leave a message. I figured you must be busy.”

  “Actually, I had my phone turned off because I was watching a movie.”

  “During business hours? You’re really letting your hair down.”

  “I wish. I was checking into the mother and daughter’s alibi. Figured I might as well see what kind of movie the ladies went to see. After all, I can’t really tell if the suspect is telling the truth if I don’t know my facts.”

  “Still, it’s hard to beat getting paid to watch movies.”

  “That’s the irony of it. It’s no fun at all when you’re doing it for work. Anyway, I’m sorry I came all the way down here if it wasn’t important. I tried to find you at the lab, but they told me you were here.”

  “Well, since you’re here anyway, how about getting something to eat? I do have to ask you something, after all.” Yukawa walked over to the door, where he slipped out of his gym sneakers and into his regular shoes.

  “And what might that be?”

  “It has to do with where you were this afternoon,” Yukawa said, walking.

  “Where I was?”

  Yukawa stopped and leveled his racquet at Kusanagi. “The movie theater.”

  * * *

  They stopped in at a bar near campus. It was a newer place, one that hadn’t been there when Kusanagi was at school. They sat down at a table at the back.

  “The suspect says she went to the movies on the tenth of this month—the day Togashi was murdered. Now, the daughter told one of her friends at school about it on the twelfth,” Kusanagi said, pouring Yukawa a glass of beer from a bottle. “I just confirmed that with the friend. Which is why I went to see the movie—to see if what she said about the movie checked out.”

  “Yes, yes, I’m sure you had every reason to be watching drivel on the public’s dollar. So what did the daughter’s friend have to say for herself?”

  “Nothing helpful. According to her, there was nothing unusual about anything the daughter said. Her friend’s name is Mika Ueno. Mika told me she had seen the movie, too, so they had had a lot to talk about.”

  “Odd that she would wait a day after seeing it,” Yukawa noted.

  “Isn’t it? If she wanted to chat about it with her friends, why wouldn’t she do that the next day? So I sta
rted thinking, what if they really went to see that movie on the eleventh?”

  “Is that possible?”

  “Can’t rule it out. The suspect works until six o’clock, and if the daughter came home right after badminton practice, they could make the seven o’clock show. Which is what they allegedly did on the tenth.”

  “Badminton? The daughter’s in the badminton club?”

  “Yeah. I figured that out the first time I went to visit them. Saw her racquet in the apartment. Incidentally, the whole badminton thing bothers me, too. It’s a pretty intense sport, and even if she is in junior high, she should be bushed after practice.”

  “Not if she’s a slacker like you who lets everyone else do the heavy lifting,” Yukawa commented, smearing some hot mustard on a rubbery cube of steamed konnyaku.

  “Don’t try to derail the conversation with your little jokes. What I’m trying to say is—”

  “It’s remarkable that a schoolgirl, worn out from badminton practice, would go off to the movies, then sing late into the night at a karaoke joint, right?”

  Kusanagi blinked at his friend. That was exactly his point.

  “Still, it’s not entirely inconceivable. She’s a healthy enough girl, right? And young.”

  “That’s true. But she’s skinny—doesn’t look like she has much stamina.”

  “I don’t know that that’s a valid assumption, and besides, maybe practice wasn’t so hard that day. And you confirmed they went to the karaoke place on the night of the tenth, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, what time did they go into the karaoke place?”

  “9:40 P.M.”

  “And you confirmed that the mom works at the lunch box store until six, right? If the crime was committed in Shinozaki, then allowing for a round trip, they had two hours to do the deed and still get to karaoke. I suppose it’s possible.” Yukawa folded his arms, chopsticks still in hand.

  Kusanagi stared at him, wondering when he had told Yukawa that the suspect worked at a lunch box shop. “Tell me,” he said after a moment, “why are you so interested in this case all of a sudden? You never ask me how my other investigations are going.”