Points And Lines

10 An Eyewitness in Hokkaido

Mihara took the express Towada from Ueno Station the following evening. This was the train Yasuda claimed he had taken to Hokkaido. Mihara wanted to follow in his footsteps as closely as possible.

Only after passing Taira was Mihara able to fall asleep. The two passengers across the aisle never stopped talking and their loud voices and broad local dialect both amused and disturbed him. He was unable to relax. But by eleven o'clock the day's exertions took their toll; he dozed off. He was awakened at Sendai by the noise and bustle around him, but dropped off again and slept until the train arrived at Asamushi.

The sea looked fresh and inviting in the early dawn. As Mihara was starting to get ready to leave, the conductor appeared at the entrance to the car. He greeted the passengers with a cheerful "Good morning!" then announced, "the train is about to arrive at the terminal, Aomori Station. All of you must be very tired from the long journey. Will those who wish to board the Sei-kan ferry to Hakodate please sign the passenger register. I will now pass out the forms."

He passed through the car and handed the blank forms to those passengers who requested them. Since this was Mihara's first trip to Hokkaido the procedure was unfamiliar to him. He held out his hand for one. It was a single sheet with two identical columns marked A and B, the same information to be entered in each. The completed form had to be surrendered at the gate, upon leaving the station.

The train arrived at Aomori at 9:09. Although there was still forty minutes before the departure of the ferry, the passengers started running down the long platform in order to get a good seat on the boat. Mihara was badly jostled as he was swept along by the crowd.

The ferry docked at Hakodate at 2:20 in the afternoon. Twenty minutes later the express Marimo departed. The connections were as regular as links in a chain.

Mihara was disappointed in his first impressions of Hokkaido. For the next five and a half hours he was thoroughly bored-and very weary by nightfall when the train pulled into Sapporo. Yasuda had probably traveled from Tokyo in comfort in a second class sleeper or, at least, a reserved seat in second class. A police inspector's travel allowance, however, was limited and such luxury was not for him. His back ached and his limbs were stiff.

Outside the station he inquired about an inexpensive inn and was recommended to one nearby. At the Marus he could have checked Yasuda's movements more easily, but that inn, he knew, would be beyond his means. It started to rain early. Listening to the patter on the roof, Mihara quickly fell asleep.

It was after ten o'clock the next morning when he awoke with a start. The rain had stopped; sunlight was pouring into the room. But the air was chilly. Mihara realized he was in Hokkaido.

As soon as he had finished breakfast he set out for the Sapporo Central Police Station. It was to be a courtesy call.

He thanked them for the telegram they had sent to Tokyo some days before.

"Was the report satisfactory?" The chief detective appeared apprehensive: someone from the Metropolitan Police Board had come all the way from Tokyo. Mihara quickly reassured him. He had come to make a personal survey, he explained.

A detective from the police station offered to accompany him to the Marusō Inn. Mihara felt he could not refuse.

The inn had been checked earlier so there was no difficulty. The maid in charge at once brought out the guest book in which Yasuda's name was entered. "He arrived about 9 o'clock on the night of January 21," she explained. "He stayed till the twenty-fourth. During the day he was out on business but returned early each evening. There was nothing unusual about his behaviour. He was a quiet guest."

The maid's description of Yasuda clearly identified him. Mihara retained the guest book for future reference. Leaving the inn, he thanked the detective for his help and dismissed him. He wanted to be on his own.

The Futaba Company dealt in machinery. It occupied rather large premises on the main street of Sapporo. A diesel engine was on display in the window.

Kawanishi, a bald-headed man of about fifty years of age, introduced himself as the business manager of the company. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw Mihara's card. "A detective from the Sapporo police station questioned me the other day about Mr. Yasuda," he said. "He asked me whether I had met him at the station. Is Mr. Yasuda under suspicion?"

"No, that's not the point." Mihara hastened to reassure him. "We're merely checking references. No need to be concerned. How long have you been doing business with Mr. Yasuda?"

"About five or six years. I've always found him to be a man of his word-one I could trust," Kawanishi added, with deliberate emphasis.

Mihara nodded several times as though he approved the statement. "Did you meet him at the station when he arrived on January 21?"

For the answer to this question Mihara had come all the way to Hokkaido.

"Yes," Kawanishi replied. "I went to meet him because I received a telegram from him that he would arrive on the Marimo on the twenty-first. He asked me to meet him in the waiting room of the station. Unfortunately, I didn't keep the telegram."

"Do you always meet him at the station when he comes to Sapporo?"

"No, not as a rule. But this time he arrived at night and our office was closed. He had some urgent business to discuss so I went to the station."

"I see. Now, when the train arrived did Mr. Yasuda come directly to the waiting room?"

Kawanishi paused a moment, as if in thought. "Let me see. No, it wasn't right away. The express arrived at 8:34. I was watching for him through the waiting room windows, and when I saw the passengers leaving the station I remember expecting him at any moment. I believe he must have come in about ten minutes later."

Arriving a few minutes late was not a matter of great importance. The important point was that Yasuda had actually arrived by the Marimo express.

Once again, Mihara was disappointed. Yasuda did come to Sapporo on the twenty-first by the express arriving at 8:34. He did stay at the Marusō Inn. There could be no question about these facts. They were just as Yasuda had told him. Mihara felt that he was up against a blank wall.

He was thinking of Inspector Kasai who had supported him so generously. The section chief, Kasai had told him, had been dubious from the beginning. It was the inspector who had been on his side, who had backed him up at every step. Mihara keenly felt his responsibility.

His disappointment showed in his face. Kawanishi, who had been watching him, said somewhat hesitantly, "Mr. Mihara, perhaps I shouldn't say this about Mr. Yasuda, but since you came all the way from Tokyo to inquire about him I must tell you what's on my mind. It's an observation only, mind you. Please don't let it influence you."

"Certainly. What is it?" He looked at Kawanishi with renewed interest.

"I told you that Mr. Yasuda telegraphed me to meet him on urgent business. I did receive such a message, of course, but when we met I was surprised to find that there was nothing at all urgent about the matter we discussed."

"What? Are you quite sure?" His throat had tightened and he was swallowing hard.

"Yes, it's true. It was something Mr. Yasuda could have talked over with me at the office the next day. I found it rather strange at the time."

Mihara thought he could see a tiny crack in the wall in front of him. He was excited. Outwardly, however, he remained calm. Quietly, he asked Kawanishi to repeat his remarks, looking over his notes as he listened.

Yasuda had asked Kawanishi to meet him at the station on urgent business. Since the business was not urgent, why had he done it? What was the reason? Could Yasuda have wanted a witness to the fact that he arrived at Sapporo Station by the Marimo on January 21? Had he selected Kawanishi to be that witness?

That was it! That must have been the purpose! The parallel was clear. Yasuda had had witnesses present during the four-minute train interval in Tokyo Station; in Sapporo he had repeated the performance. If this were true, if it was a plot, then it cast doubt upon Yasuda's assertion that he had arrived on the Marimo Express. It could even mean that he had not come by train.

Mihara recalled a remark Kawanishi had made earlier. "Mr. Kawanishi, you met Mr. Yasuda in the waiting room, didn't you?"

"Yes." Kawanishi looked uneasy. He seemed to fear what he might be asked next.

"You didn't meet him on the station platform?" "No. The telegram said to meet him in the waiting room." "Then you did not see Mr. Yasuda actually get off the train?" "No…" Kawanishi wanted to say that since Tatsuo Yasuda had appeared before him in the waiting room he had no reason to doubt that he had arrived on that train.

Mihara left abruptly. He didn't even remember thanking Kawanishi for his information. He wandered through the unfamiliar streets, lined with acacia trees. His eyes hardly noted where he was going. A single thought occupied his mind. Yasuda was lying! He pretended to have arrived at Sapporo by the Marimo and sent a wire to Kawanishi to meet him in the station waiting room. He showed up at a time to coincide with the arrival of the express. So they had met. The wire from the Sapporo police in reply to Mihara's request for an investigation confirmed the fact that they had met. Since this much was true, anyone would assume that he had arrived by train. Yasuda knew this and had taken advantage of it. At Tokyo Station, he had used the two waitresses from the Koyuki Restaurant as witnesses. In Hokkaido, he had used Kawanishi for the same purpose.

Mihara took out his notebook and went over his memo again. Yasuda had explained it in this way: Left Ueno on the twentieth by the express Towada and arrived at Aomori Station the morning of the twenty-first. Left Aomori at 9:50 on the Sei-kan ferry, arriving in Hakodate at 2:20. Left Hakodate by the express Marimo and arrived in Sapporo at 8:34. As he studied the memo a new idea came to him. Why hadn't he thought of it before? He remembered that on the Sei-kan ferry all the passengers had to register. That register could provide the evidence that would destroy Yasuda's alibi, for if the man had crossed on the ferry as he claimed, his name would have to appear in it.

Mihara tried to control his excitement, for he was still unsure. A month had gone by since January 21. Would the files still be available? The station officials would know, of course. He hurried to Sapporo Station and sought the office of the railway security police. Introducing himself, he asked if they could tell him how long the ferry registers were retained.

"The passenger registers for the Sei-kan ferry are kept for six months," he was informed by the officer on duty. He was immensely relieved.

"They are kept at Aomori, I presume," he said.

"Did the passengers get on at Aomori?"

"Yes."

"Then I don't believe you need to go all the way to Aomori. There should be a copy at Hakodate."

Mihara looked puzzled. "There are identical columns, A and B, on the passenger forms," the security officer explained. "The A section is filed at the port of arrival. In this case, Hakodate would have a copy."

Mihara nodded. He remembered entering the same information in both columns.

"What dates are you checking?" the security officer asked.

"January 21. The ferry that arrived in Hakodate at 2:20 P.M."

"That's No. 17. If you yourself are making the investigation, I'll telephone and ask the Hakodate ferry terminal to have the file ready to show you."

"I'd be grateful if you would. I'll take a train that gets to Hakodate early tomorrow morning."

There was one departing at 10:00 that evening. That meant eight hours to train time and another eight hours for the journey to Hakodate. Mihara walked the streets of Sapporo aimlessly, to kill time, his mind so filled with thoughts of Yasuda that he could remember nothing of what he saw.

It was six o'clock in the morning when he arrived at Hakodate. The wind was bitterly cold. Mihara impatiently waited two hours for the ferry official in charge to report to work.

He was an obliging young man. When he heard Mihara's request he rose at once to his feet. "I received word about this by telephone yesterday. I have the file you asked for. The one for No. 17 on January 21, isn't it?" He brought out several bundles of forms, held together by a piece of string.

"These are divided into second and third class. Which one do you need?"

"It would be the second class, I believe, but it could be the third."

Third class was the far bigger bundle, and it looked as though it would take him a long time to go through the pile. Second class amounted to less than thirty forms. Mihara decided to search through these first. As he looked at them, one by one, he kept saying to himself, Tatsuo Yasuda's name can't be here, it mustn't be here. On the twelfth or thirteenth form his eyes caught a familiar name: "Yoshio Ishida, government official, age 50, Tokyo…"

Yoshio Ishida, again, the division chief in the X Ministry- Mihara remembered only too well. Here was the man under suspicion, the one at the center of the scandal and on whom the 2nd Detective Section was concentrating its attention. Ishida had crossed to Hokkaido on this ferry! A gloomy premonition flashed through Mihara's mind.

He continued checking the forms carefully. He leafed through a few more, and, suddenly, he almost cried out in disappointment. It was there!

"Tatsuo Yasuda, machinery manufacturer, age 42, address: Tokyo…" It was unbelievable. It could not be possible, yet there it was, right before his eyes. Mihara caught his breath. With unsteady hands he took from his bag the guest register he had brought from the Marusō Inn and placed the two documents side by side. The signatures were identical. Yasuda had crossed on the ferry.

Since this was clear evidence he had been a passenger on the ferry, it followed that his presence on the Marimo express could also be proven. Yasuda had not lied. The crack in the wall Mihara thought he had discovered was an illusion. He felt crushed. Numb with disappointment, he sat staring at the piece of paper lying on the table in front of him.