A Midsummer's Equation

FIFTY-NINE

Shinagawa Station came into view. There were a lot of cars, and traffic was moving slowly.

“You can just let me out here,” Yukawa said, gathering his things.

Utsumi pulled over to the side of the road, and Yukawa opened the door. “Thanks for the lift,” he said, getting out.

“Hold on, I’ll see you to the gate,” Kusanagi said, undoing his seatbelt.

“It’s fine, it’s still a bit of a walk to the station.”

“None of that, now.” Kusanagi opened his door. “You go on back without me,” he said to Utsumi as he stepped out onto the sidewalk.

The two men walked past the line of cars toward the station. It was nearing the end of August, but the heat made it feel like midsummer. Yukawa started sweating, the grime of the city clinging to his face.

“It’s still impossible to say what’s true and what’s not,” he said abruptly. “I have my theories, but I would hesitate to even call them conjecture. In the end, it might all just be my imagination. The only reason I think Narumi might have been the one who killed Nobuko is because it answers several questions. I have no concrete evidence. And there are many things I still don’t know. The entire premise that Narumi is Senba’s daughter might be flawed. And if it is true, does Shigehiro Kawahata know? What about Nobuko’s murder, does he know about that? If so, when did he learn of it? It’s all mysteries within mysteries. The only thing that could clear any of it up would be a confession from those involved, but that’s one thing I am absolutely positive we’ll never get.”

“And what about Tsukahara’s murder?”

“You mean Tsukahara’s ‘death due to negligence.’ It’s the same situation. As long as the Nobuko Miyake case is considered closed, there would be no motive for murdering him.”

“But it is possible to connect the Kawahatas with him,” Kusanagi said. “Tsukahara was the one who arrested Senba. And Senba knew Setsuko.”

“True. But how much does a thirty-year-old connection between a barmaid at a restaurant and one of her customers count for, I wonder.”

“It’s hard to write it off as coincidence.”

“Is it?” Yukawa wondered out loud. “I see coincidences like that all the time. Regardless—” The physicist breathed a deep sigh. “Regardless, as long as Senba isn’t telling his story, I don’t see a way for us to get to the bottom of this case. And he won’t talk. He took a long prison sentence to protect the daughter he loved; he won’t throw that away now. He intends to take his secret to his grave, and he won’t have long to wait. No, I’m afraid this is one fight your side isn’t going to win, Kusanagi.”

The physicist’s tone of indifference irked him, but Kusanagi couldn’t think of a retort. Everything he said was true.

They arrived at the station. Yukawa said farewell and started to walk off toward the ticket gate.

“You’re just going to let it go?” Kusanagi asked to his turned back. “You’re okay with the way things turned out? What about that person you were trying to protect?”

Yukawa turned. “Of course it’s not okay,” he said, his voice ringing out over the din of the station. “That’s why I’m going back to Hari Cove.”

“Wait—” Kusanagi said, but Yukawa just slung his jacket over his shoulder and walked through the gates.