Newcomer

1

Masayo Fujiyama was at the desk in the back of the store, working her way through a pile of payment slips, when the customer appeared. The hands of the clock indicated it was a little after six. On weekdays few, if any, customers came in this late, and Masayo was so focused on her work that it was a while before she realized anyone was there.

Of course, she didn’t know whether this particular customer would actually buy anything. Maybe he was just browsing. Still, Masayo never neglected a prospect, so she got up and walked over to the entrance. The customer was male, probably in his late thirties, and wearing a blue short-sleeved shirt over a T-shirt.

It was the spinning tops that seemed to have caught his eye. The tops came in three sizes — small, medium, and large — and were decorated with concentric red, white, and green circles. Picking up one of the small ones, he held it in his hand.

“Good old throw tops, eh?” said Masayo. “You probably played with them as a child.”

“Exactly what I was thinking.” The man looked up and smiled. His face was lined and a little on the dark side. “This is typical of Ningyocho. I mean, you wouldn’t find a shop stocking things like this anywhere else in Tokyo.”

“We’ve got a good selection of old-fashioned toys, if they’re something you’re interested in.” Masayo pointed to another display table. “Like these pellet drums and Jacob’s ladders over here. Everything in the shop is handmade from exclusively Japanese materials.”

“How so? Because they’re traditional Japanese handicrafts?”

“That’s part of it. It’s also because I don’t like to sell things without knowing exactly what’s in them. Little children are always sticking toys into their mouths. These manufacturers are as careful about the pigments as they are about the materials, so the toys are totally child-safe.”

“I see. That’s great.” The man ran his eye over the other toys on display, before his gaze returned to the top in his hand. He really seemed to have taken a fancy to it.

“That particular top is made in Gunma Prefecture. We buy it plain and decorate it here.”

“How about the string? Is that made in Gunma, too?”

“We source that from somewhere else, but it is made of all-natural materials.”

The man nodded, then held the top out to Masayo.

“I’ll take this one.”

“Thank you very much.”

Taking the top and the money, Masayo walked to the back of the store. Talking to the man had clearly been the right thing to do. Her theory was that people who liked handmade products were generally sociable creatures.

Masayo had opened Hozukiya in Ningyocho some twenty-four years ago. Her family had a fabric store in Nihonbashi, and her business was an offshoot of the family’s traditional business. She’d been interested in traditional Japanese handicrafts since childhood and started to collect them long before deciding to devote herself to the business. She visited the manufacturers to personally select the products in the store. Hozukiya also produced its own line of original products, many of which incorporated woven fabrics that she procured through the main family business.

Masayo wrapped up the top and got the change out of the cash register. When she looked up, the customer was standing nearby, examining a shelf of tote bags.

“Those are all made of specially selected new fabrics,” Masayo explained. “We don’t just cobble them together out of remnants. We never use odds and ends here.”

The man smiled.

“You’re very particular about the materials you use.”

“Absolutely. These are things that people handle.”

Masayo handed over the top and the change.

The man stuffed the change into his pocket and looked around the store.

“How late are you open?”

“What time do we close? It varies, but normally sometime after seven.”

“What’s your busiest time?”

Masayo gave a rueful smile.

“We get slightly more customers on weekends and holidays, but even then the place isn’t exactly busy. I run the shop half as a hobby.”

The man looked down at the wrapped-up top in his hand.

“Right. Are these tops big sellers?”

“Big? No. They sell from time to time. The buyers tend to be middle-aged or older, and generally they buy them as presents for their kids or grandkids. Computer games may be all the rage, but toys like this have a certain human quality.”

“I couldn’t agree more. Has anyone bought one recently?”

“A top? Let me think...”

Masayo was puzzled. Why was the man asking so many questions? Why did he care whether other people were buying spinning tops?

Her doubt must have been written all over her face.

The man gave a sheepish grin. “I’m sorry. All these questions must be making you nervous. Here’s why I’m asking.”

He pulled out a dark brown wallet, tilted it sideways, and flipped it open. There was an ID card and a badge inside.

“Oh, you’re a policeman...”

“Yes, from the Nihonbashi precinct. I wanted to keep our chat nice and casual. That’s why I didn’t say anything.”

Masayo reassessed his appearance now that she knew he was a cop. She thought she could detect a steely determination behind his mild, amiable expression.

“Is there a problem with my spinning tops?” Masayo inquired nervously.

“No, no, no.” Kaga waved away her concerns. “It’s not the tops that are important. I’m looking for someone who bought a top. Very recently, indeed.”

“What exactly are you investigating?”

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you. All I can say is that it has nothing to do with your shop.”

“Well, one can’t help wondering. I mean, one of my customers is involved, aren’t they?”

“We haven’t established that, so you’re better off not asking. The more you know, the less natural your behavior will be, should that person come in again.”

“Oh, maybe you’re right.”

“So can you recall any customer who bought a top recently?” said Kaga, repeating his question.

“Give me a moment.”

Masayo rifled through the payment slips she’d been working on earlier. They would give her an idea of what she’d sold and when.

A minute before, she’d told Kaga that her customers bought tops from time to time. That was overstating the case. She had no recollection of having sold even one recently.

“Aah,” she exclaimed, looking at a payment slip.

“Have you found a sale?”

“We sold one on June the twelfth. The same size that you just bought, Detective.”

“How about before that?”

“Before that?... There’s a gap of a whole month.”

“Good. Now, do you recall anything about the person who made this purchase on the twelfth?”

“I’m afraid I wasn’t working that day. It was sold by Misaki, our part-time worker.”

“Oh yes? When will she be coming in next?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Would it be all right for me to drop by and have a word?”

“No problem. Can I tell her it’s about the person who bought the top?”

“Be my guest. See you tomorrow.”

The man who’d introduced himself as Detective Kaga left the shop, clutching his spinning top.

“I wonder if it’s got anything to do with that murder over in Kodenmacho,” said Misaki Sugawara, tying on her apron.

“There was a murder in Kodenmacho?” Masayo was shocked. It was the first she’d heard of it.

“Sure. Didn’t you know? The police were over at Naho’s place, asking questions.”

Omakara, the rice cracker shop, was on the same side of the street as Hozukiya. Naho was the only daughter of the family who ran it. She and Misaki were roughly the same age, and the two young women were friends.

“What are the police doing at a rice cracker store, for God’s sake?”

Misaki cocked her head.

“Search me. Naho didn’t go into much detail.”

“The whole thing freaks me out a little. It would be too awful if there was a link between one of our spinning tops and the murder, like if it were an important piece of evidence, or something.”

“You know what they say: no such thing as bad publicity.”

“Thanks but no thanks. It wouldn’t be good for our image.”

“I wonder...” Misaki inspected the calendar on the accounts desk. “Anyway, we sold that top on the twelfth, and I’m pretty sure the murder took place before then. I doubt it would be evidence of anything much.”

“You really think so?”

“Yes. Maybe it’s not significant after all,” declared Misaki breezily, bringing the discussion to an end.

Kaga appeared just after lunch. Masayo listened in on the exchange between Misaki and the detective from the accounts desk at the back.

“Around what time on the twelfth was the top purchased?”

“Just after six, I’d guess. It was just starting to get dark.”

“Do you remember anything about the person who bought it?”

“It was a middle-aged man, not especially tall, and he was wearing a suit. Looked to me like he was on his way home from the office.” Misaki reeled off her answer smoothly thanks to the heads-up she’d got from Masayo.

“If you saw a photo, do you think you could identify him?”

“Oh, I doubt it. I hardly look at the customers’ faces at all. I tend to see more of their backs and their hands.”

I need to have a word with the girl, thought Masayo, when she overheard Misaki’s answer. How can she figure out what the customers are looking for without at least a discreet peek at their faces?

“Did anything about him stick in your mind? Anything. It doesn’t matter how trivial.”

Misaki tilted her head quizzically. “I can’t really think of anything...”

“The top comes in three sizes: small, medium, and large. Did he go right for the small size?”

“Hmmm. I was busy serving another customer, so I can’t really be sure. I think he spent a while standing looking at the tops.” Once again, Misaki’s response was less than scintillating.

“Interesting.” Kaga nodded, then turned to Masayo. “And you’ve not sold any other tops since the twelfth, right?”

“Except the one you bought yesterday, Detective.”

“Right. Okay then, give me all the tops you have on display outside. I’ll pay for them, of course.”

“All of them?”

“Yes, the whole lot. There’s no need to wrap them up. How much is it?” Kaga pulled out his wallet.

“Excuse me, Detective?” said Masayo, seizing the moment. “Is there any link between our tops and the Kodenmacho murder? Are they going to end up being used as evidence of something?”

Kaga’s hands froze on his wallet and his eyes widened. The question had obviously caught him off guard. He blinked as he looked first at Masayo, then at Misaki, then gave a small, self-deprecating smile.

“In this neighborhood, everyone knows everyone else. Rumors travel fast.”

“Is that a yes?”

Kaga paused a moment, before shaking his head slowly and seriously.

“Your tops have no link to the case. And the fact that they have no link is what makes them important.”

Masayo frowned. “What that supposed to mean?”

“I’ll be able to explain one of these days. You’ll just have to be patient for now, though. Could I get a receipt, please?” he said, as he extracted a ten-thousand-yen note from his wallet.

2

Reiko Kishida was looking over the pizza menu when her cell phone started vibrating on the table. Reiko’s mouth turned down at the corners when she saw the name on the screen. Her father-in-law was calling, but she didn’t want to pick up. She knew what he wanted. She stared at her phone a moment more, then picked it up.

“Hi, this is Reiko.”

“Hello, it’s me. Katsuya told me the police were at your place?”

“That’s right. They came by the day before yesterday.”

“Yeah? I’m actually in the neighborhood. Do you mind if I swing by your place?”

“Right now? You can if you want, but Katsuya isn’t back yet. He’s going to be out late tonight.” Reiko tried to sound as unenthusiastic as possible. She didn’t want her father-in-law coming around, and she didn’t care if he knew it. In fact, all the better if he did know.

His reaction was not what she’d hoped for.

“Is he? Well, no matter. You’re the one I want to talk to. You were the one who talked to the police.”

“Yes, but—”

“I just want you to tell me what happened. I’ll be there in ten minutes or so. Sorry to barge in on you.”

The phone went dead.

If you’re really so darn sorry, then maybe try not coming? Reiko glared at her cell phone. She was kicking herself for picking up. Her father-in-law, who lived alone, was a master at cooking up reasons for dropping in on them. How many times had he done so this month already?

Reiko looked around the living room. Not even the most charitable person could describe it as tidy. Shota’s toys and women’s magazines littered the floor, and the sofa was buried under clothes that people had flung onto it.

What a pain in the ass, she thought, getting to her feet. She decided to hide the pizza delivery menu as well as tidy up. She didn’t want to be criticized for failing to cook a proper meal again tonight.

She was busy tidying when Shota, who was supposed to be asleep in the next room, ambled in.

“What are you doing, Mom?”

“Cleaning up a bit. Grandpa will be here any minute.”

“Grandpa’s coming?” The eyes of her five-year-old son lit up.

“I don’t think he’ll stay long. You know Grandpa: always busy.”

Reiko hoped that would be a self-fulfilling prophecy.

A few minutes later, the front door intercom buzzed.

It was Yosaku Kishida, her father-in-law. He had brought along some cream puffs. Shota was crazy about the things.

“Sorry to barge in at dinnertime. Are you busy cooking?”

Yosaku looked toward the kitchen as he settled himself in an armchair.

“Actually, I only got back a few minutes ago. I was about to get started on the dinner,” Reiko said, handing her father-in-law a glass of barley tea. She glanced down at Shota, who was trying to pry open his grandfather’s briefcase. “Shota, stop it.”

“I’m sorry. Bad timing.” Yosaku pulled his briefcase toward him and took a swig of barley tea. “I’ll be as quick as I can. What did the police want to know?”

“It was no big deal. They just wanted to know what time you dropped by the evening of the tenth, stuff like that.”

“Tell me more.”

“More?” Reiko looked down at the table.

There had been two of them, a Detective Uesugi of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police and a Detective Kaga from the Nihonbashi precinct. Reiko had never met real-life detectives before.

Uesugi had done most of the talking. They were crosschecking statements from different people connected to an ongoing investigation, he explained. He started out by asking whether Yosaku had visited on the evening of June 10. When Reiko confirmed that he had, Uesugi requested specifics. She told him exactly what had happened in detail; namely, that her father-in-law arrived at around eight o’clock and stayed for roughly one hour.

“Then he wanted to know what we’d talked about. I said that we discussed the preparations for Granny’s death anniversary.”

That was the truth. Reiko had gotten a call from Yosaku at lunchtime that day to say that he was going to come to discuss the arrangements. Reiko remembered how relieved she’d been when he said he’d be there after dinner.

“Did they ask you anything else?” Yosaku was staring at her with a searching look in his eyes. It made Reiko uncomfortable.

“Anything else...”

While Reiko was trying to remember, Shota, who had been playing happily by himself, came up to them.

“Grandpa, will you spin this for me?” he said, holding out a spinning top and a length of string.

“Oh, yeah. Later, okay?” Yosaku patted his grandson’s head.

“That reminds me. They did ask about the top.”

“What!” Yosaku looked alarmed. “Did you show it to them?”

“No, I didn’t. The policemen came, and Shota was over there. Then—”

Kaga was the one who’d brought it up. “That’s an unusual toy to get for your boy. Very old-fashioned. Where did you get it?” he’d asked.

“I told him that I didn’t know. That I hadn’t bought it, rather you’d been given it and brought it around for Shota. Kaga then asked me when that was.”

“What did you say?” Yosaku asked.

“I said the twelfth,” said Reiko. “That you’d gone out of your way to bring it around on the twelfth. Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no... that’s fine. Did they say anything else about the top?”

“No, that’s everything. The two detectives didn’t stay long. They were very nice and polite, I must say.”

“Oh, really?” sighed Yosaku, winding the string around the top.

“Do you know what the police are investigating? Are you involved in something?”

“It’s nothing serious. There’s been a minor fraud at a corporate client of mine. The police are looking into that. And they’re investigating me, as they think I could be in on it.”

“Gosh, how awful!”

Yosaku owned his own tax accounting business. Most of his clients were small and medium-sized businesses, and with the recent recession, things were probably rocky for some of them, Reiko guessed.

Yosaku flung the top on the floor in front of Shota. It started spinning, but soon toppled over. Shota was nonetheless delighted.

“I seem to have lost the knack. I was quite a spin master back in the day.” Yosaku picked the top up off the floor.

It was after ten o’clock by the time Katsuya Kishida came home. His face was flushed, and Reiko wondered if he had been drinking. Loosening his tie as he entered the apartment, he went straight to the kitchen for a drink of water.

“Pizza again tonight? What the hell!” he commented. He must have noticed the empty box.

“What’s it to you? You were out having some fancy dinner.”

“I don’t go out for fun, you know. It’s called relationship building. It’s the nutrition aspect that worries me. It’s not good for a growing boy to eat nothing but this crap day in, day out.”

“He doesn’t eat ‘nothing but crap.’ You know I cook plenty of proper meals.”

“Not sure I’d describe frozen food and boil-in-the-bag meals as proper myself—” retorted Katsuya, opening the refrigerator. He stopped mid-harangue. “Oh, was someone here today?”

He must have spotted the box of cream puffs.

“Yosaku dropped by.”

“My old man? Again? What did he want this time?” Katsuya undid the top few buttons of his shirt, pulled it open, and flung himself onto the sofa.

“He was asking about that business with the police the day before yesterday. You told him they’d come by.”

“That? What did my old man have to say about it?”

Reiko recounted her conversation with Yosaku. Katsuya’s brow furrowed.

“Dirty dealings at a client company, eh? Doesn’t sound like good news for him.”

Katsuya picked up the string for the top from the table. Shota was already asleep.

“Is your father’s firm all right? You don’t think it’s going to collapse because of this?”

“No chance. I’m sure he’ll be fine.” Winding the string around the top, Katsuya threw it vigorously across the floor. Failing to spin, it bounced a few times before crashing into the skirting board.

“Don’t go making dents in the walls.”

“That’s funny.” Katsuya cocked his head as he got to his feet and went to retrieve the top. “I used to be pretty good.”

“Oh, I’ve just remembered. The credit card company called today.”

Katsuya froze in his tracks.

“What did they want?”

“Something about payment. They asked me to give them your mobile number, so they’ll probably contact you tomorrow. Don’t tell me you’re back doing that again?”

“Doing what again?”

“Getting behind on the payments. You can get in serious trouble.”

“There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Really? I wouldn’t know.”

“What’s with the attitude? I’m not the only one who spends money around here. You don’t exactly take it easy with the family credit card.”

“My card’s got a very low limit. One or two stores, and I’m maxed out.”

“You’re still spending money.” Katsuya smacked the top back on the table, grabbed his jacket, and left the room.

Reiko sighed and switched on the TV. It was a fifty-inch flat-screen, which she’d just bought earlier this year. After shopping, watching her favorite movies was what she liked to do best.

Despite Katsuya’s insisting that there was nothing to worry about, Reiko suspected that he’d fallen behind again. It had happened once before, and Yosaku had to bail him out.

Reiko and Katsuya had gotten married six years ago. They’d been in the same high school class and dated for more than five years. Katsuya wasn’t interested in getting married straight out of college. He claimed that, what with this being his first job, he needed more time to get his feet under him. Reiko knew what he really meant: that he wanted to play the field a bit more before making a commitment. The last thing she wanted was for him to keep her dangling, only to dump her. She’d been so sure that they were going to get married that she’d never bothered to look for a job.

She decided to trick Katsuya into marrying her. It was hardly rocket science. All she needed to do was to get pregnant. Since Katsuya always left Reiko to take the necessary precautions, he didn’t suspect a thing when she assured him that “today was a safe day.” Sure enough, Reiko conceived. Initially, Katsuya wasn’t thrilled, but when the parents on both sides welcomed the news, he decided that getting married was a pretty good idea after all.

Reiko had no major complaints about married life. Looking after her boy was quite demanding, but her mother, who was still on the young side, lent a helping hand, meaning she could do what she had to without stressing out. Since her parents lived nearby, she could leave Shota with them whenever she wanted to go out with her college friends. Not having to worry about money was the thing she liked best. Reiko had no idea what Katsuya’s salary was or how much he had in the way of savings. Within the bounds of common sense, she bought whatever she wanted and ate whatever she was in the mood for.

She had a vague notion that the two of them lived luxuriously compared to other young couples, but Katsuya never really demanded that she cut back, and she took that as a sign that everything was okay.

Besides, thought Reiko, even if their bank account dried up, they’d be fine. They could always fall back on Yosaku. If Katsuya was behind on his credit card payments, Yosaku would be happy to bail him out again.

3

“Hello,” said someone. Masayo looked up. Detective Kaga was standing in the doorway.

“Oh, hi there, Mr. Detective. What are you after today?” Masayo took off her reading glasses.

“I wouldn’t really say that I’m after anything. I just came by to say thank you.” Kaga held out a white shopping bag as he strolled over to her desk. There was a white box inside. “This is for your help with the investigation. These are fruit pastries and sweet almond jellies. I hope you like them.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have.” Masayo took the bag.

Kaga had come by three days ago. Wondering if he’d made any progress, Masayo just came out and asked.

Kaga nodded. “Thanks to you, we found a clue that should help us unravel the case. It won’t be long now.”

“That’s good news,” Masayo said. A second later, she shot a suspicious look Kaga’s way.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“You said, ‘thanks to me.’ That must mean that our spinning tops did play a part in the murder.”

“No, that’s not the case.” Kaga made an apologetic gesture.

“Well then, please tell me what the case is. Be straight with me. After you were here, I read up on the Kodenmacho murder. The papers said that the woman was strangled. That’s when I realized why you were so keen to find out who’d been buying tops here.”

“Oh, and why might that be?” Kaga was looking grave.

“Because of the string, of course. The top was neither here nor there; the important thing was the string, wasn’t it? You can strangle someone with string.” Masayo was jabbing her finger at Kaga’s chest.

It wasn’t actually Masayo who had come up with the idea. Misaki, the part-time clerk, suggested it.

Kaga recoiled slightly, a manufactured expression of surprise on his face.

“Darn it, how did you figure that one out?”

“You hardly need to be a genius to do so. Now, since one of our tops played a part in a murder case—”

“You’re wrong there, quite wrong. You sold your top on the twelfth, right? The murder, however, took place on the tenth. I’m afraid your theory doesn’t pan out.”

Masayo gurgled something incoherent.

Misaki had actually pointed out the same thing. Despite the police’s interest in the store’s spinning tops, the time frame meant that it couldn’t have been used as the murder weapon.

“Using forensic science, we can identify the exact kind of string used to commit the murder. The various tops on the market each have different types of string. And it turns out there’s a lot of different types of string out there.”

At that point, Kaga caught Masayo’s eye. He shot a sheepish grin in her direction. “Anyway, what am I doing lecturing you about string? Talk about preaching to the choir.”

“With traditional string, there’s braided, woven, twisted, and knitted string, and then there’s... let me see...” Half talking to herself, Masayo counted out the different types on her fingers.

“The string on the spinning tops you sell is the braided variety, right?”

“Right. It’s made by braiding multiple fibers together. It’s actually made by machine rather than handmade, but they’re very fussy about the materials used and whether they’re a good match with the top itself. It’s not like any old string will do, you know.”

“I’m sure it won’t,” Kaga agreed. “Anyway, braided string was not used to commit the murder.”

“No? Then I really don’t understand what’s going on. If you knew that, then why bother investigating our tops in the first place? Or didn’t you know what kind of string had been used when you were here last?”

“No, I already knew it wasn’t braided string.”

“More and more mysterious. Well, why, then?” Masayo gave Kaga a hard stare.

Kaga smiled and looked around the shop.

“I was actually transferred here quite recently. I’m a newcomer, still familiarizing myself with the neighborhood.”

“Oh?” Masayo was confused.

“I’m looking around, visiting all sorts of places, trying to get to know the neighborhood as fast as I can. I’ve discovered that a lot of premodern Tokyo culture still survives here; maybe ‘Japanese culture’ is a better word. I imagine you picked this area for your store here because of that?”

“You’re right. I chose this neighborhood because of its special character.”

“This is probably the only district in Tokyo where you can get wooden spinning tops outside of the New Year’s holidays. Your store’s not the only place, either. I found another shop that sells tops: a toy shop on Ningyocho Boulevard.”

“I know the place you mean. They’d be sure to have them.”

“They sell a different line of tops with a different variety of string. The tops there all come with twisted string.”

“Twisted string. Really?”

Masayo called up a mental picture of string with multiple strands twisted together like rope.

“Are you telling me it was twisted string that was used in the murder?”

Kaga didn’t reply. He just smiled evasively and shrugged his shoulders.

“Top string exists for the purpose of spinning tops, not to kill people with. Anyway, I’ve got to be going.”

Kaga spun on his heel and strode briskly out of the shop.

4

When Reiko got back to the apartment, she dumped her shopping bags onto the sofa. Before doing anything else, she opened one of them and pulled out a dark blue box. She took the lid off the box and tore off the white tissue paper wrapping to reveal a new handbag. She took it out of the box and headed for the bathroom. She had already spent ages looking at herself holding the thing in the mirror at the store, but she wanted just one more look.

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, she experimented with different ways of holding the bag and different poses. Which one made her look the best, and would make other women jealous?

Katsuya hadn’t said anything more about the late credit card payment, so she assumed he’d sorted it all out. To her, that was reason enough to go on a spree. She bought a dress and a load of cosmetics in addition to the bag. She knew that she’d probably spent more than she should, but everything would be fine.

Satisfied that the bag was up to its task, she went back to the living room. She was just about to try on the dress when the doorbell rang.

Probably a delivery, she thought. It was a little after six p.m. Her parents had taken Shota to the zoo, and Reiko was supposed to pick him up from their place at seven.

She lifted the intercom receiver.

“Yes?”

“Sorry to come by unannounced. It’s Detective Kaga. We met a few days ago.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I was here with another detective, Detective Uesugi.”

“Oh yes.”

“Do you have a moment? I’m sorry, but there’s something I need to ask you.”

“Right now?”

“Yes, it’s nothing terribly major. It won’t take long. Five minutes should be more than enough.”

Reiko gave an irritated sigh. He was a detective, so she couldn’t very well send him packing. She wondered what sort of mess Yosaku had gone and got mixed up in.

“Okay then, come on up,” she said.

The doorbell rang while she was still busy hiding the evidence of her shopping spree.

When she opened the door, Kaga was standing there, holding out a white plastic bag.

“They’re ningyo-yaki, half of them with sweet bean paste, half without. The pastry shop where I got them has a very good reputation.”

“Thank you very much.”

Reiko’s parents both had a sweet tooth. The cakes would make the perfect present for them.

She led Kaga into the living room, then slipped into the kitchen. Taking a big plastic bottle of oolong tea out of the refrigerator, she poured out a couple of glasses.

“Where’s your little boy today?” Kaga asked.

“At the zoo with my mom and dad.”

“Sounds nice.”

When she came out of the kitchen carrying the glasses on a tray, she found Kaga standing in the living room, with the top spinning furiously at his feet.

“Wow, that’s amazing,” Reiko said. “Detective Kaga, you really know what you’re doing.”

Kaga turned and smiled. “Oh, hardly.”

“Come off it. It’s spinning perfectly. Neither my husband nor my father-in-law could get the thing to work well. They were hopeless. With my husband, the thing never even got going; it just toppled right over.”

As Reiko put the tray down on the table, something white caught her eye. It was the string for the top. What was it doing on the table? How had Kaga managed to spin the top without it?

Kaga bent down and plucked the still-spinning top off the floor.

“You were out?” he asked, strolling back to the sofa and putting the top back on the table. He wasn’t holding string.

“Yes, seeing a friend. I haven’t yet had time to change. I only just got back.”

“Really? You did your shopping after seeing your friend, then?’

“Huh?”

“I saw you with a whole armful of shopping bags.”

Kaga sat down and picked up his glass of tea.

So the detective hadn’t just happened to drop by. He’d been lurking nearby, waiting for her to return. He’d said it was “nothing terribly major.” But was he telling the truth? Reiko felt herself growing tense.

“Where did you go shopping?”

“Ginza.”

“Do you ever go to Nihonbashi?”

“Occasionally. Mitsubishi Department Store is around there.”

“How long does it take to get there by taxi?”

“Nihonbashi? Probably about... uhm... fifteen minutes.”

“Gosh, this is such a convenient place to live.”

Although the apartment wasn’t all that close to the local subway station, you could get to Ginza or Nihonbashi in no time by cab. That was the reason Reiko had chosen this particular neighborhood.

“Excuse me, Detective, but why are you here today?”

Kaga put down his tea and sat upright on the sofa.

“I want to ask you about June the tenth. Can you talk me through the whole thing again?”

“The whole thing? I don’t think there’s anything more I can tell you.”

“Yosaku Kishida, your father-in-law, came by to discuss the arrangements for the anniversary of his wife’s death. Was that an urgent matter?”

Reiko tilted her head to one side and exhaled through her teeth. “I’m probably not the best person to ask about that. The anniversary is still two months away, so my husband was pretty relaxed about it. My father-in-law seemed to be taking it more seriously.”

Reiko herself couldn’t have cared less.

“So they discussed that. Then what?”

“I wouldn’t say they discussed it. It was more like they agreed to start thinking about what to do.”

“Is that all? Hardly seems worth getting together in the first place.”

“I suppose not,” murmured Reiko.

She frowned and peered at the detective.

“Anyway, why are you asking me about this? Does it really matter what they discussed? Is it a problem?”

“No, it’s not.”

“What the heck are you investigating here anyway? How is my father-in-law involved? Come on, tell me. I won’t say another word until you do. I’m under no obligation to talk to you.”

There was an edge to Reiko’s voice. If it came to a shouting match, she was confident of winning.

Kaga scowled, then gave an emphatic nod.

“I guess you’re right. The least I can do is to tell you the nature of the crime we’re investigating.”

“It’s some sort of corporate accounting fraud, right?”

“Wrong. This is a murder inquiry.”

“What!”

Reiko’s eyebrows shot up. That was the last thing she’d expected to hear.

“On the evening of June the tenth, a murder was committed. We haven’t yet identified the perpetrator. We are currently checking the alibis of everyone associated with the case. Yosaku Kishida is one of those people. When we interviewed him, he told us that he was here that night. I’m here to confirm that.”

Reiko had been holding her breath. Her heart was still pounding like a jackhammer even after she released the air from her lungs.

“Is that what this is all about? My father-in-law didn’t say anything about a—”

“He probably didn’t want you to worry. You’d be alarmed if you heard that he was involved in a murder case. And naturally so.”

“You’re not kidding. My heart’s racing.” Reiko looked at the detective.

“Anyway, if that’s what this is really about, let me make myself as clear as possible. My father-in-law came here. He arrived at about eight and left a little after half past nine. I’ve no idea what he did after that, though...”

Kaga smiled.

“Mr. Kishida told us that, after leaving here, he went to a bar in Shinbashi and drank there until late that night. We’ve confirmed that.”

“I’m glad to hear it. So his alibi holds up.” Reiko felt a sudden twinge of doubt in her chest, and her face clouded over. “But I’ve watched my fair share of crime shows on TV. No one ever believes the family members.”

“I wouldn’t say no one believes them,” replied Kaga, with a rueful grin. “More that as evidence, it carries somewhat less weight. There’s always a chance that family members are covering for one another.”

Reiko now understood why Kaga was being so persistent in his questions about June the tenth. He thought she might be lying. If she and her father-in-law were coordinating their stories, then the more questions he asked, the more likely she was to slip up.

“Trust me, Detective Kaga. My father-in-law was here in this apartment on that night. That’s the God’s own truth.”

Reiko spoke passionately. What would the neighbors think if they heard that her father-in-law was a suspect in a murder? Would little Shota get bullied at school?

“The best thing would be if you could somehow prove that to me,” said Kaga.

“Prove it?” Reiko cast her mind back to the evening of June the tenth. There had to be a way of proving that Yosaku really had been here.

“You told me that Mr. Kishida brought this with him on the twelfth?” said Kaga. He was holding up the top, which was decorated with a pattern of green and yellow circles. “What I can’t figure out is why he didn’t bring it on the tenth, if he came then anyway.”

The question seemed reasonable enough. It would be a disaster if the top ended up serving as proof that Yosaku hadn’t been there on the tenth. Reiko could feel the panic mounting.

“No. You’re right. He actually did bring it with him on the tenth.”

“On the tenth? But you said the twelfth the other day.”

Reiko shook her head.

“No, he brought it with him on the tenth. The thing was, he’d forgotten the string.”

“He forgot the string?”

“Because he’d left the string behind, at first my father-in-law didn’t mention that he had the top with him. Then Shota — my son — opened up his granddad’s briefcase and found it there. When I asked my father-in-law what on earth he was doing with a spinning top, he explained that he’d been given it by a friend.”

“And he brought it here, intending to give it to his grandson as a present, until he realized he’d mislaid the string — is that it?”

“Yes, that’s right. He thought he’d left it on his office desk. He took the top with him, promising to bring it back with the string as soon as he could.”

“So he brought the top back with him — this time with the string — on the twelfth of June?”

“Precisely. Shota was really excited about his new toy, so I pestered my father-in-law to bring it back soon.”

“I see,” Kaga agreed. “I think I understand.”

“Detective Kaga, you’ve got to believe me. My father-in-law was here with us on the evening of the tenth.”

Reiko was looking at the detective with desperation in her eyes. Why anyone would suspect her father-in-law she didn’t know, but he had a proper alibi, and she was determined to get that point across.

Kaga smiled gently.

“I believe that you’re telling the truth. Your account is extremely convincing. In fact, thanks to you, everything now fits into place.”

“Really?” Amid her relief, Reiko felt a slight shadow of anxiety. What exactly had she said that had been so “convincing”? What exactly “now fit into place”?

Kaga got to his feet and thanked her for her help.

He slipped his shoes back on just inside the front door then put a hand into his pocket.

“I forgot this. Give it to your son. He’ll be better off with this.”

Kaga was holding out a length of string. A little thinner than the string her father-in-law given them, it was twisted like rope.

“Tops need the right kind of string to work properly. You’ll have much better luck with your top if you use this string.”

Kaga opened the door, stepped into the hallway, then turned back to Reiko.

“There’s one thing I forgot to mention: the place and time that the murder was committed. The place was Kodenmacho in Nihonbashi, and we estimate the time as sometime between seven and eight that evening.”

“Nihonbashi between seven and eight?” Reiko repeated quietly to herself, then started. So her testimony about her father-in-law visiting them here at eight o’clock wasn’t an alibi after all.

What, then, had Kaga really come to check up on? She tried to ask him, but he said goodbye and pulled the door shut behind him.

5

It began drizzling. It was the kind of rain that soaks you through before you know it — and a sure sign that the rainy season was just around the corner. Tooru Sagawa stepped outside and pulled the awning out farther before pushing the articles on the display a little closer to the front of the shop. The items were mostly old-fashioned wooden toys: building blocks, cup-and-ball games, and stacked Daruma dolls. As the shop was quite close to the Suitengu Shrine, many parents of newborn babies walked this way. Sagawa made a point of displaying things outside that would appeal to them. At the same time, he never put things that might appeal to elementary and middle school children in the street, as they would just steal anything that caught their eye. He once put a line of cute toy sets out in the street, only to have the damn kids steal the most popular ones and leave him with lots of incomplete sets. It wasn’t a happy memory.

Sagawa was checking out the overcast sky, when he noticed someone approaching. It was a man in a white shirt. Sagawa had met him once before. The man’s name was Kaga, and he was a detective who’d recently been transferred to Nihonbashi Precinct.

“It’s started raining,” said Kaga, holding his hand out palm-upward.

“The rainy season will be upon us any day now. It’s a bad time for business; still, I suppose it brings us a step closer to the busiest season.”

These days you barely saw any children in Ningyocho. Once the schools broke up for summer vacation, however, children would pour in from somewhere and cluster outside Sagawa’s shop. He needed to get a move on and order fireworks in time for the summer rush. He’d been running his toy shop for twenty years, give or take, and had a pretty good idea of what sold when.

Kaga was examining the wooden toys. A group of spinning tops decorated with concentric green and yellow circles seemed to have caught his attention.

“That reminds me, did you sort out that business of the spinning tops you asked me about the other day?” inquired Sagawa.

Kaga smiled and nodded.

“I think I’m about to. You were right: they had tops at Hozukiya, too.”

“What did I tell you? Everything there is of very high quality. I pop around from time to time just to take a look.”

The last time Kaga came by, he’d asked Sagawa about his spinning tops. His first question: had he had sold any recently?

“Sold any? No. Lost any to pilfering? Yes,” Sagawa had replied. That aroused the detective’s interest. He asked when the shoplifting had occurred.

June tenth, Sagawa told him. Sagawa inventoried all the items in his shop on a daily basis. That’s how he knew that one of the tops outside the store had been lifted.

The detective had then bought a top and unwound the string from it right in front of him. After taking a good hard look, he’d muttered something about it being the twisted variety of string. Few people knew the terminology, so Sagawa was surprised.

Kaga then asked him if he knew any other local shops that sold wooden tops. The only place that occurred to him was Hozukiya. Kaga must have gone straight there after Sagawa told him about it.

“How come you don’t ask me any questions?”

“Questions about what?”

“About the investigation I’m working on,” Kaga replied. “It’s usually the first thing people ask me when I make inquiries. ‘What’s happened? What are you investigating?’”

Sagawa chuckled.

“What good would it do anyone to tell an amateur like me? If a detective’s on the case, something nasty must have happened. Learning more about it will just make me depressed.”

“I wish more people felt like you,” said Kaga.

Sagawa picked up a spinning top.

“A toy store is in the business of selling dreams, so I need to maintain a positive, fun frame of mind. I go out of my way not to hear any negative news. Still, I would like to ask you one thing. What connects the top that was stolen from here to your case? I’m not asking you to go into detail. Did it play a positive part in the case or not — that’s all I want to know.”

Kaga lapsed into a brief, thoughtful silence, then shook his head.

“Let’s not go there. It’s confidential.”

“Okay. No big surprise. Forget about it, then. Good luck with the case.”

“I’ll be seeing you,” said the detective as he wandered off into the rain.