A Midsummer's Equation

SIXTY-THREE

Tatara flipped through the pages of the report, the wrinkles across his brow frozen in deep lines. Kusanagi sat across from him, rubbing his hands together beneath the conference table. His palms were sweating.

“So basically,” Tatara said, looking up with a deep sigh, “we have absolutely no evidence?”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Kusanagi said, lowering his head. “As that says, it’s very likely that Setsuko Kawahata was involved with the murder of Nobuko Miyake. However, as long as Senba remains unwilling to talk, it will be extremely difficult to prove.”

Tatara leaned one cheek on his hand and groaned. “If Tsukahara couldn’t crack him, neither can we. Not to mention the Miyake murder was a closed case. We can’t do anything about that. Nor should we. You did a good job, though. At least, I’ve got some closure on this now.”

“What about Hari Cove?” Kusanagi asked.

Tatara groaned again and pulled a notebook out of his pocket.

“Yeah, about that, I got a call from the police. Sounds like they’re going to write the whole thing off as an accident after all. The testimony they got left no room for questions, and forensics says the chances of the accident having been arranged are next to nil. They didn’t say anything about Tsukahara’s connection to the Kawahatas, either. Of course, we haven’t told them what we know.”

“Well? Should we?”

Tatara’s eyes went a little wider. He crossed his arms across his chest and stared back at Kusanagi. “Now? What good would that do? We’re not reopening the Nobuko Miyake case.”

Kusanagi shrugged. “So what do we do then?”

Tatara picked up the report and slowly tore it in two. “This is the prefecture’s call, so we take it. I’ll explain everything to Tsukahara’s widow.”

“Are you—” Sure, Kusanagi was about to say, but he swallowed his words.

Torn report in one hand, Tatara stared straight back at him. “I meant what I said. You did good work. Now it’s time for you to go back to your regular assignment.”

Kusanagi stood, bowed stiffly, and walked over to the door. He stepped outside, glancing back at Tatara before he closed the door behind him. The white-haired director was looking out the window, lines of deep regret on his face.