A Midsummer's Equation

FORTY-FOUR

Kusanagi arrived at the restaurant and found Utsumi sitting at one of the tables in the back. He waved off the hostess, who had come to greet him, and walked in.

Utsumi had been fiddling with her phone, but she put it away when she saw him approach. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t thinking and sat in the no-smoking section. You want to move?”

“No, we’re fine right here,” he replied. “You get precedence tonight. You’ve been out questioning people all day.”

The waitress came up, and without looking at the menu, Kusanagi ordered coffee. Utsumi already had a coffee on the table in front of her.

“So, let’s have it. How’d you find him?”

“The traditional method. I started asking at every hospital in the Chofu Station area. I could eliminate any place that was outpatient only, which didn’t leave too many. When I showed Tsukahara’s picture to the receptionist at the fifth hospital, she told me she’d seen him visit several times.”

“Good work. Where was this?”

Utsumi produced a brochure from the Shibamoto General Hospital.

“It’s a medium-sized place. Notable because it has a hospice center.”

Kusanagi had been about to take a sip of his coffee, but he put it back on the table. “Senba’s in hospice? What is it, cancer?”

“The director of the hospital and his appointed physician were both out today, so I couldn’t get the details. But one of the nurses confirmed that Senba’s in hospice care. That would indicate late-stage cancer, or something close to it. She couldn’t tell me more.”

“Did you see him?”

Utsumi shook her head. “They don’t let anyone in other than family after 6:00 p.m. In this case, they’d been considering Tsukahara family, and the nurse mentioned that he’d paid for the hospitalization.”

“Was there some connection between Tsukahara and the hospital, then?”

“I’m not sure. One of the nurses did see Tsukahara speaking with the director on several occasions, and she thought they might be friends.”

Kusanagi took a sip of weak coffee and grunted. “Well, you might be right about Tsukahara having some pull there. The question now is, why did he go to such lengths to take care of Senba?”

“A very good reason,” Utsumi agreed, a hard light in her eyes.

Kusanagi crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, looking at her. “You’re thinking something, aren’t you? You’ve got an idea, vague though it might be.”

“I’m guessing you do too, Detective Kusanagi.”

Kusanagi snorted. “Okay, stop acting all important and get on with it. What’s your amazing theory?”

“There’s nothing amazing about it. It’s just what Tatara said. Tsukahara had Senba’s case on his mind. The case might have been officially closed after the arrest, but there was some deeper truth that remained uncovered, and Tsukahara knew it.”

Kusanagi rested his arms on the table and looked up at the younger detective. “A deeper truth, eh? So let’s hear it.”

Utsumi hesitated for a moment before brushing back her hair and shaking her head. “I don’t believe in wild speculation without solid evidence.”

Kusanagi chuckled and scratched his lip beneath his nose. “That’s probably a good policy, but maybe I can give you a little help on the evidence front.” He glanced around and said, more quietly, “I found out where Mrs. Kawahata and her daughter were living. The exact address is still a mystery, but I know the station they lived near: Ogikubo.”

Utsumi’s eyes gleamed.

“The Kawahatas were involved in that case sixteen years ago—there’s your deeper truth. As to how they were involved, well, I have a guess,” Kusanagi said, adding with a grin, “Of course, that would be wild speculation.”