The Devotion of Suspect X

TWO

Then something fell from Misato’s hand. It was a copper flower vase—a thank-you gift the Yonazawas had handed out to customers when Benten-tei opened for business.

“Misato!” Yasuko screamed, finally finding her voice. She went over to her daughter.

Misato’s face was blank. She had become a statue; for one long moment she stood unmoving. Then her eyes jerked open wide. She was looking past Yasuko—over her shoulder.

Yasuko whirled around to see Togashi staggering to his feet. He was grimacing, one hand pressed to the back of his head.

“Son of a…” Togashi grunted, his face red with hate. His eyes were fixed on Misato. He stumbled again, then took a lunging step toward her.

Yasuko kept herself between them. “No, stop!”

“Out of my way!” Togashi grabbed her arm and roughly shoved her aside. Yasuko reeled, hitting the wall hard and falling to her knees.

Misato turned to run, but Togashi grabbed her by the shoulders and brought all his weight to bear, pushing the girl down to the floor. Then he leapt astride her, grabbing her long hair and striking the side of her face with his right hand. “I’m gonna kill you, you little bitch!” he roared.

He is going to kill her, Yasuko thought. He really is going to kill her—

Still on her knees, Yasuko looked around frantically. The electrical cord snaking out from beneath the kotatsu caught her eye. She reached over, grabbed it, and yanked it out of the wall socket. The other end was still attached to a corner of the kotatsu top. She stood, making a loop out of the cord in her hand.

She stepped behind Togashi where he sat atop her daughter, hitting her repeatedly, howling in blind anger. She slipped the loop over his head and pulled with all her strength.

Togashi gave a strangled yelp and fell over on his back. Realizing what was happening, he tried to work his fingers under the cord, but Yasuko kept pulling. This man was a curse on her and her daughter. She had to get him off her daughter. She had to be rid of him. If she let go now she might never get another chance.

But Yasuko had only a fraction of her ex-husband’s physical strength. The cord slipped in her hands as they struggled. Meanwhile, Misato had scrambled out from beneath the man when he toppled over. Now she joined in the fight, clawing at Togashi’s fingers, pulling them away from the cord around his neck. She straddled his chest, pinning him to the floor.

“Quick, mom! Quick!” Misato shouted.

There was no time for hesitation. Yasuko screwed her eyes shut and pulled as hard as she could. Her heart pounded in her chest. She could hear the blood surge inside her as she drew the garrote tighter and tighter.

She could not have said how long she stood like that, straining blindly, desperately. Finally, a faint voice calling “Mom, Mom,” began to penetrate her mental fog and brought her back to her senses.

Slowly Yasuko opened her eyes, the cord still tightly gripped in her hands.

Togashi was right in front of her face. His open eyes were blank, the color of slate, glaring out into nothingness. His face was a sullen blue, suffused with blood. The cord had left a dark line across his neck.

Togashi wasn’t moving. A line of drool hung from his lips. His nose ran. Yasuko yelped and dropped the cord from her hands. Togashi’s head hit the tatami with a thud. He still showed no sign of life. Misato gingerly slid off him and onto the floor. The skirt of her school uniform was a wrinkled mess. She leaned back against the wall. For a moment mother and daughter sat in silence, their eyes glued to the unmoving man. The buzzing of the fluorescent light in the kitchen sounded loud in Yasuko’s ears.

“What do we do?” Yasuko said, her voice barely a whimper. Her mind was blank. “I killed him.”

“Mom…”

Yasuko looked up at her daughter. Misato’s face was white, but her eyes were red, and dried tear tracks ran down her cheeks. She must’ve been crying, though Yasuko couldn’t imagine when she’d had the time.

She looked again at Togashi. She was torn, half wanting him to spring back to life and half wanting him to stay dead. Not that it mattered what she wanted. From the looks of him, he wasn’t coming back.

“He did this. It was his fault.” Misato drew up her legs, hugging her knees to her chest. She buried her face between them and began to whimper.

“What do we do—?” Yasuko began. Then the doorbell rang, and her whole body jerked with surprise.

Misato looked up, her cheeks glistening. Their eyes met, asking each other, Who could it be?

Then there was a knock on the door, and a man’s voice. “Ms. Hanaoka?”

It was a voice she’d heard before, though she couldn’t for the life of her place it. Yasuko was fixed to the spot, paralyzed. She and Misato simply stared at each other.

Knock, knock.

“Ms. Hanaoka. Ms. Hanaoka?”

Whoever was outside knew they were home. One of them would have to respond. But how could they open the door when inside was … this?

“Go to the back room. Close the door, and don’t come out,” Yasuko ordered Misato in a hushed voice. Her brain was slowly regaining its function.

Another knock at the door.

Yasuko took a deep breath. Nothing happened. Just another ordinary evening. “Yes?” she called, acting the part she knew she had to play. The part of a woman who hadn’t just strangled her ex-husband to death on the living room floor. “Who is it?”

“Oh—it’s me, Ishigami. From next door.”

Yasuko started. Who knew what kind of noise they’d been making? Of course their neighbors would have ample cause for suspicion. Ishigami was checking in on them.

“Just a moment please,” Yasuko called back, trying to sound calm, and entirely unsure of her success.

Yasuko looked around the room. Misato had retreated to her room and closed the sliding door. Yasuko then looked at Togashi’s body. She would have to do something about that.

The kotatsu table was at an angle to the wall, pulled out of its usual place. She dragged the table a few more feet until it just covered the body; the thick quilt hanging down from its sides hid Togashi from sight. It was an odd placement for a kotatsu, but there was nothing she could do about that now.

Yasuko checked to see that her clothes were in order and stepped down into the entranceway. Then she noticed Togashi’s scuffed shoes lying there. She shoved them out of sight.

Then, careful not to make any noise, she gently slid off the door chain. The door was unlocked. She patted her chest to stop her heart from fluttering.

Opening the door at last, she found Ishigami’s large round face hovering just outside. His narrow eyes stared in at Yasuko. There was no discernable expression on his face; it gave Yasuko the chills.

“Um, er, can I help you?” Yasuko said, managing a smile, even as she felt the muscles in her forehead twitch.

“I heard some noise,” Ishigami said, his face still impossible to read. “Did something happen?”

“Oh, no, nothing,” she replied, shaking her head vigorously. “S-Sorry to have bothered you.”

“Well, if you’re sure it’s nothing,” Ishigami replied, his eyes wandering toward the room behind her.

Yasuko’s skin was on fire. She said the first thing that came to mind. “It was a bug. A cockroach.”

“A cockroach?”

“Yes. A cockroach on the wall, and I—my daughter and I were trying to get it. I’m afraid we made quite a ruckus…”

“Did you kill it?”

Yasuko’s face hardened. “What?”

“The cockroach. Did you kill it?”

“Yes … yes, we did,” Yasuko said, bowing her head with each word. “Killed it good. Everything’s fine. Thanks.”

“I see. Well, if there’s ever anything I can help with, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you very much. I’m sorry. Really sorry. For all the noise.” Yasuko bowed her head deeply and shut the door. Then she locked it. Only when she’d heard Ishigami return to his own apartment and shut the door behind him did she allow herself a deep breath. Then she crouched down, putting her hands to the floor to keep from toppling over.

She heard the sliding door open behind her. “Mom?”

After a long moment Yasuko stood shakily. She glanced at the bulge in the kotatsu cover and a new wave of despair came crashing down on her. “We didn’t have a choice,” she said at last.

“What are we going to do?” Misato asked, looking up at her mother.

“What can we do but call the police?”

“You’re going to turn yourself in?”

“You have a better idea? He’s dead. I killed him.”

“But what’ll happen to you?”

“I don’t know.” Yasuko pulled back her disheveled hair. She realized that she must have looked frightful. She wondered what the mathematician next door had thought. Not that it mattered.

“Will you go to jail?” Misato asked.

“Well, I suppose so, yes.” Yasuko’s lips shaped a smile. She could already feel herself giving up. “I did kill him, after all.”

Misato shook her head violently. “But that’s not fair!”

“Why not?”

“It’s not your fault. It was all his fault. He was gone, history! But he kept coming back, tormenting you, and me … You shouldn’t have to go to jail for him.”

“Murder is murder. Everything else is just details.”

Oddly enough, Yasuko could feel her own feelings coming under control as she explained the situation to Misato. She could almost be coolheaded about the whole affair. And as soon as she began to calm down, she started wondering if it was really true that she had no other option. She hadn’t wanted Misato to grow up the daughter of a nightclub hostess. A murderer’s daughter had to be worse. But she couldn’t think of a way out. Still, even if there was no getting around the fact of what had happened, at least she could try to make both of them look as good as possible in the eye of the public.

Yasuko saw the cordless phone where it lay in a corner of the room. She went over and picked it up.

“Mom, no!” Misato darted across the room, trying to take the receiver from her mother’s hand.

“Let go!”

“No, you can’t!” Misato shouted, grabbing Yasuko’s wrist. She had a strong grip, probably from those hours of badminton practice after school.

“Let go of me, please.”

“No, Mom, I won’t let you do it. I’d rather turn myself in.”

“Nonsense! What are you talking about?”

Misato shot her mother a defiant look. “I hit him first. You were just trying to save me from him. And even after it all started, I helped. I killed him, too.”

Yasuko’s body stiffened, and her grip on the phone weakened. Misato snatched it from her hand. Hugging it to herself she went to the far corner of the room, turning her back on her mother.

Yasuko thought furiously. What would the police do? Would they believe her if she said she’d killed Togashi by herself? Would they just take her word for it?

No, the police would make a thorough investigation. She had seen enough police dramas on television to know that they would want evidence—and they would use every means at their disposal to get it. They would question the neighbors, there would be a forensics team, and then—

Yasuko’s vision dimmed. The police could threaten her all they wanted, she would never tell them what Misato had done, she was sure of that. But what if their investigation revealed the truth anyway? It would all be over.

She wondered if there was some way she could make it look like she had killed him by herself, but she soon discarded the idea. If she tried anything of the sort, they’d see right through her amateurish efforts.

I have to protect Misato. The girl had had it so tough, growing up with a mother like her. Yasuko would gladly give her own life if it meant Misato would not have to suffer anymore.

So what should I do? Is there anything I can do?

A curious sound shook Yasuko out of her thoughts. Gradually, she realized it was the phone, ringing as Misato clutched it. Misato’s eyes went wide and she looked at her mother.

Yasuko quietly extended her hand. Misato bit her lip, then slowly handed over the phone.

Yasuko steadied her breath, then lifted the receiver to her ear and pressed the talk button. “Yes? Hello? Hanaoka speaking.”

“Um, hi. It’s Ishigami, from next door.”

Yasuko stared stupidly at the phone. It’s that teacher again. What could he possibly want this time? “Yes? Can I help you?”

“Erm, well, actually, I was wondering what you were going to do.”

Yasuko had no idea what he meant. “I’m sorry, about what?”

“Just, well—” Ishigami paused before continuing. “If you were going to call the police, well that’s fine, I’ll say nothing about it. But if you weren’t, then I was thinking there might be something I could do to help.”

“What?” Yasuko’s mouth hung open. What the hell was he saying?

“How about I come over there now,” Ishigami said, his voice hushed over the phone. “Would that be okay?”

“What? No, I don’t think—no, that would not be okay.” Yasuko stammered, her body breaking out in a cold sweat.

“Ms. Hanaoka,” Ishigami went on. “It’s very difficult to dispose of a body. A woman can’t do it by herself.”

Yasuko was speechless.

He must have overheard. He must’ve been able to hear her talking with Misato. Maybe he had been listening to everything—her argument with Togashi, the struggle, everything.

It’s over, she thought, lowering her head. There was no escape now. She would have to turn herself in. She would just have to try to make sure that Misato’s involvement never came to light.

“Ms. Hanaoka, are you listening to me?”

“Um, yes. I’m listening.”

“Can I come over then?”

“But I just told you—” Yasuko stopped and looked at her daughter. Misato stared back at her, fear and confusion on her face. She must really be wondering who I’m talking to.

If Ishigami had been listening to everything from the neighboring apartment, then he knew Misato was involved in the murder. And if he were to tell the police what he knew …

Yasuko swallowed. “Right. Okay. There is something I wanted to ask your help with anyway. Please do come over.”

“Be right there,” came Ishigami’s reply.

“Who was it?” Misato asked as soon as Yasuko had hung up.

“The teacher from next door. Mr. Ishigami.”

“Why? How did he—”

“I’ll explain later. You go to your room, and close the door. Quickly!”

Still looking confused, Misato went into the back room again. At almost the same instant that the girl shut her door, Yasuko heard Ishigami step out of his apartment.

A few moments later, the doorbell rang. Yasuko went to the entryway, unlocked the door, and removed the chain.

Ishigami was waiting there with a curious expression on his face. For some reason, he had put on a dark navy jacket. He wasn’t wearing that a moment ago.

“Come in.”

Ishigami nodded and stepped inside.

While Yasuko locked the door behind him, the teacher stepped into the room and without the slightest hesitation pulled back the cover on the kotatsu. He went down on one knee to get a closer look at Togashi’s corpse. From his expression he seemed to be deep in thought. For the first time, Yasuko noticed that he was wearing gloves.

Hesitantly, Yasuko joined him where he knelt. All the life had drained from Togashi’s face. Spittle, or something else—it was hard to say—had run down from his lips and dried on his skin.

“You heard us, didn’t you?” Yasuko asked.

“Heard? Heard what?”

“Through the wall. You could hear us. That’s why you called.”

Ishigami turned to Yasuko, his face blank. “I couldn’t hear you talking, if that’s what you mean. For all its faults, this building’s quite soundproof. That was one of the reasons why I moved here, actually.”

“Then how did you—”

“Realize what happened?”

Yasuko nodded.

Ishigami pointed to a corner of the room. An empty can lay there on its side. Some ash had spilled from it onto the floor.

“When I knocked on your door a few minutes ago, I smelled cigarette smoke. Figuring you had a guest, I looked for shoes by the door, but I couldn’t see any. I glanced into the room, and noticed it looked like someone was under your kotatsu, and the cord was pulled. But if someone wanted to hide, they could’ve just gone into the back room. Which meant that the person under the kotatsu wasn’t hiding there, they had been hidden there. When I put that together with the thumping noises I’d heard, and the fact that your hair was unusually disheveled, it wasn’t hard to imagine what had happened. Oh, and one more thing: there aren’t any cockroaches in this building. I’ve lived here several years now and never seen one.”

Yasuko stared at Ishigami’s mouth as he talked. His voice was calm, never rising, his expression never changing. I’ll bet that’s exactly how he talks when he’s giving a lesson to his students, thought Yasuko, her mind wandering nervously.

Then she realized she was staring at him, and she averted her eyes. She felt that he had been watching her, too.

He’s terribly levelheaded, and smart, she thought. How else could he have accurately reconstructed such an elaborate scenario after only a glance through her front door? At the same time, Yasuko felt relieved. If he hadn’t heard her conversations, he didn’t know the details of what had happened.

“He was my ex-husband,” she said. “We’ve been divorced for several years, but he kept coming around. He wouldn’t leave unless I gave him money … that’s what he came for today, too. I couldn’t take it anymore, and I guess I just snapped…” Yasuko lowered her eyes. She wasn’t going to tell him everything that had happened. She had to keep Misato’s involvement out of this.

“Are you going to turn yourself in?”

“I think that’s the only way. I hate to do this to Misato, though. She doesn’t deserve this.” She would have said more, but she heard the sliding door of the back room fly open. Misato, furious, stepped into the room.

“No, Mom, you can’t! I won’t let you.”

“Misato, be quiet!”

“I won’t. I said I won’t. Listen, Mr. Ishigami? I’ll tell you who killed that man—”

“Misato!” Yasuko raised her voice.

Misato’s mouth snapped shut and she glared daggers at her mother. Her eyes were completely red.

“Ms. Hanaoka,” Ishigami said evenly, “you don’t have to hide it from me.”

“I’m not hiding anything—”

“I know you didn’t kill him by yourself. Your daughter must have helped you.”

Yasuko shook her head. “No, that’s not true. I did do it myself. She only just came home—she came home right after I killed him. She had nothing to do with it.”

It was clear Ishigami wasn’t believing a thing she said. He sighed and looked at Misato. “I think hiding it is only making it harder on your daughter.”

“I’m not lying. You have to believe me!” Yasuko laid her hand on Ishigami’s knee.

Ishigami stared at her hand for a moment, then looked back at the corpse. Then he tilted his head. “What matters is how the police see things. I’m afraid they’ll not be fooled so easily.”

“Why not?” Yasuko asked, before realizing that she had as good as admitted her lie.

Ishigami pointed to the corpse’s right hand. “There’s bruising on the wrist and the back of his hand. I think I can even make out finger marks. I’m guessing he was strangled from behind, and naturally tried to protect his throat. These marks came from someone stopping him from doing so. The evidence is plain to see.”

“It was me,” Yasuko insisted. “I did that, too.”

“Ms. Hanaoka, that’s impossible.”

“Why?”

“You strangled him from behind, right? How could you pull his hands forward at the same time? It’s impossible. You’d need four arms.”

Yasuko had nothing more to say. She felt trapped in a tunnel from which there was no exit. She lowered her head, her shoulders sagging. If Ishigami could tell all this with just a glance, the police would surely see even more.

“I just don’t want to get Misato involved. I have to help her…”

“I don’t want you to go to prison, either, Mom,” Misato said, her voice choked with tears.

Yasuko covered her face with her hands. “I just don’t know what to do.”

She felt the air growing heavier around her. It felt like she would be crushed where she sat.

“Mister,” Misato spoke. “You came here to tell Mom she should turn herself in, right?”

There was a beat before Ishigami replied. “I called thinking I could help you and your mother in some way. If you want to turn yourselves in, that’s fine, I won’t argue with you. But, if you weren’t going to turn yourselves in, I thought it might be hard managing with just the two of you.”

Yasuko let her hands fall away from her face. She remembered something odd Ishigami had said over the phone. How a woman couldn’t dispose of a body by herself—

“Is there some way we don’t have to turn ourselves in?” Misato asked.

Yasuko looked up. Ishigami tilted his head, thinking. His face betrayed no emotion.

“It seems to me that you have two options: hide the fact that anything happened, or hide the fact that you had anything to do with it. Either way, you have to get rid of the body.”

“Can we?”

“Misato,” Yasuko said sternly. “We’re not doing anything of the sort.”

“Please, Mom.” She turned back to Ishigami. “You really think we can?”

“It will be difficult, but not impossible,” Ishigami replied, his voice calmly mechanical. To Yasuko, this lack of emotion made everything he said sound somehow more logical than her own rattled thoughts.

“Mom,” Misato was saying, “let’s let him help us. It’s the only way!”

“But I couldn’t—” Yasuko looked at Ishigami.

His narrow eyes were fixed on the floor. He was waiting for them to decide.

Yasuko remembered what Sayoko had told her, that the math teacher had a crush on her. That he only came to buy lunch at the shop when she was there.

Now she was glad Sayoko had said so, or she would have seriously doubted Ishigami’s sanity. Why else would someone go so far out of his way to help a neighbor to whom he had barely even spoken? He had already risked arrest just by coming into the room.

“Wouldn’t somebody find the body? If we hid it, that is,” Yasuko asked.

“We haven’t decided whether we will hide the body yet or not,” Ishigami replied. “Sometimes it’s best not to conceal anything. We’ll decide what to do with the body once we have all the information at hand. The only thing we know now for certain is that we can’t leave him lying here like this.”

“What information?”

“Information about this man,” Ishigami explained, looking down at the corpse. “About his life. I need to know his full name, address, age, occupation. The reason he came here. Where he was planning to go afterward. Does he have family? Please tell me all that you know.”

“Well, I—”

“No, actually,” Ishigami cut her off, “before that, let’s move the body. We should clean up this room as quickly as possible. I’m sure there are mountains of evidence here as it is now.” Before he had even finished talking, Ishigami set about lifting the head and torso of the corpse.

“Move it? To where?”

“To my place,” Ishigami said, with a look that indicated this was the obvious choice; and he hoisted the body over his shoulder. He was surprisingly strong. Yasuko noticed the words Judo club embroidered in white thread on his navy windbreaker. Stepping out the door, Ishigami quickly made his way into the neighboring apartment, with Yasuko and Misato anxiously following. The teacher’s apartment was a mess, with piles of mathematic books and journals scattered about the front room. Still carrying the body, Ishigami kicked a few piles aside to clear a space on the tatami mats. Then he casually lowered his burden to the floor. The body fell in a heap, and the dead man’s eyes, frozen open, stared into the room.

Ishigami turned back to the mother and daughter, who stood at the open apartment door. “Ms. Hanaoka, I want you to stay here. Your daughter should go next door and start cleaning. Use the vacuum, and get it as clean as possible.”

Misato nodded, her face pale, and after a quick glance at her mother she vanished from the entryway.

“Close the door,” Ishigami said to Yasuko.

“Oh … okay.” Yasuko did as she was told, then stood in hesitation.

“You might as well come in. It’s not as clean as your place, I’m afraid.”

Ishigami pulled a small cushion off a chair and placed it on the floor next to the body. Yasuko stepped into the room, but she did not sit on the cushion. Instead, she sat with her back against one wall, turning her face away from the body. Ishigami belatedly realized she was afraid of it.

“Er, sorry about that.” He picked up the cushion and offered it to her. “Please, use this.”

“No, it’s all right,” she said, looking down, with a light shake of her head.

Ishigami returned the cushion to the chair and then sat next to the body.

A reddish-black welt had risen around the corpse’s neck.

“The electrical cord, was it?”

“What?”

“When you strangled him. You used an electrical cord?”

“Yes—that’s right. The kotatsu cord.”

“Of course, the kotatsu,” Ishigami said, recalling the pattern of the kotatsu quilt. “You might consider getting rid of that. Actually, never mind, I’ll handle that myself later. Incidentally—” Ishigami looked back to the corpse. “Had you planned on meeting him today?”

Yasuko shook her head. “No, not at all. He just walked into the shop around noon, unexpectedly. Then in the evening, I met him at a family restaurant nearby. It was the only way I could get him to leave the shop. After that, I thought I’d gotten away from him. Then he showed up at my apartment.”

“A family restaurant, huh?”

That rules out the possibility of there being no witnesses, Ishigami thought. He put his hand into the corpse’s jacket pocket. A rolled-up ten-thousand-yen bill came out, then another.

“That’s the money I—”

“You gave him this?”

She nodded, and Ishigami offered her the money. Yasuko didn’t reach for it.

Ishigami went to where his suit hung on the wall nearby and pulled his wallet from the pocket. Removing twenty thousand yen he replaced it with the bills from the dead man’s jacket.

“I can appreciate why you wouldn’t want his,” Ishigami said, handing the money he had taken from his own wallet to Yasuko.

She made a show of hesitating for moment, then took the money with a quiet “Thank you.”

“Well then,” Ishigami said, searching the corpse’s pockets again. He found Togashi’s wallet. There was a little money inside, a driver’s license, and a few receipts.

“Shinji Togashi … West Shinjuku, Shinjuku Ward. Do you think that’s where he was living now?” he asked Yasuko, after looking at the license.

She frowned and shook her head. “I’m not sure, but I don’t think so. I know he lived in Nishi-Shinjuku a while back, but he said something—it sounded like he’d gotten thrown out because he couldn’t pay the rent.”

“It looks like the driver’s license was renewed a year ago, which means he must have kept the papers for his old location while finding another place to actually live.”

“I’m pretty sure he moved around a lot. He didn’t have a steady job, so he wouldn’t have been able to rent anything long-term.”

“That would seem to be the case,” Ishigami remarked, his eyes falling on one of the receipts.

It read “Rental Room Ogiya.” The price had been ¥5,880 for two nights, paid up front, it seemed. Ishigami calculated the tax in his head and came up with a price of ¥2,800 per night.

He showed the receipts to Yasuko. “I think this is where he was staying now. And if he doesn’t check out, someone there will empty out his room. If he left anything behind, they might wonder, and call the police. Of course, they might not want the trouble and just do nothing at all. They probably have people skip out on them all the time, which is why they make them pay up front. Still, it’s unwise to be too optimistic.”

Ishigami resumed searching the corpse’s pockets. He found the key. There was a round tag on it with the number 305.

In a daze, Yasuko looked at the key. She looked like she didn’t have the faintest idea what she should do.

The muffled sound of a vacuum cleaner bumping against the walls came from next door. Misato was in there, cleaning every nook and cranny with the desperation of someone who doesn’t know what she should do, and so pours everything into doing what little she can.

I have to protect them, thought Ishigami. He would never be this close to so beautiful a woman ever again in his life. He was sure of that. He had to summon every last bit of his strength and knowledge to prevent any calamity from happening to her.

Ishigami looked at the face of the dead man. Whatever expression he’d been wearing had already faded. He looked more like a lump of clay than a person. Still, it was possible to see that this man had been a real looker in his youth. Though he had clearly gained a little bit of weight in recent years, his was the kind of face women found easy to like.

And Yasuko fell in love with him. When Ishigami thought this, it was like a little bubble popped inside him and envy spread through his chest. He shook his head, embarrassed at his own capacity to have such feelings at a time like this.

“Is there anyone he kept in contact with, anyone close that you know of?” Ishigami resumed his questions.

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him for years.”

“Did you hear what he was planning to do tomorrow? Did he say if he was going to meet anyone?”

“No,” Yasuko said, her head sagging. “He didn’t tell me anything like that. I’m sorry. I know I’m not much help.”

“No, I just had to ask. Of course you wouldn’t know any of those things. Please don’t worry about it.” Ishigami reached out with a gloved hand and pushed open the dead man’s lips, looking inside his mouth. He could see a gold crown on one of the molars. “He’ll have dental records, then.”

“He went to the dentist regularly when we were married.”

“How long ago was that?”

“We were divorced five years ago.”

“Five years?” That was too recent for any reasonable hope that they had thrown out his charts. “Does he have a criminal record?”

“I don’t think so. Of course, I don’t know what he’s been doing since we broke up.”

“So it’s a possibility, then.”

“I suppose…”

Even if the man hadn’t committed any major crimes, he could easily have been fingerprinted for some minor traffic violation. Ishigami didn’t know whether police forensics bothered comparing fingerprints with traffic records, but it wouldn’t hurt to consider the possibility.

So, no matter how they disposed of the body, its identity would eventually come to light if it was found. They would have to resign themselves to that. Still, they needed time. Leaving fingerprints or teeth behind could hurt their chances.

Yasuko sighed. To Ishigami it sounded sexual, almost like a moan, and his heart fluttered. I won’t let you down, he thought, steeling his resolve anew.

The situation wasn’t easy, for sure. Once they discovered the identity of the body, the police would almost surely come calling on Yasuko. Ishigami wasn’t sure she or her daughter would be able to withstand tough questioning from the city detectives. Preparing a weak cover story wouldn’t be enough. As soon as the detectives found an inconsistency, the whole thing would fall apart, and the Hanaokas would likely just blurt out the truth.

What they needed was a perfect defense based on perfect logic.

Whatever you do, don’t panic, he told himself. Panicking wouldn’t help them reach a solution. And he was sure their problem had a solution. Every problem had one.

Ishigami closed his eyes. It was a habit he had developed when confronting particularly ornery mathematical challenges—all he had to do was shut out all information from the outside world, and the formulas would begin to take shape. Except this time, it wasn’t formulas that filled his head.

After a time, he opened his eyes. First, he looked at the alarm clock sitting on the table. It was eight thirty. Next he looked at Yasuko. She swallowed and drew back.

“Help me undress him.”

Yasuko blinked. “What?”

“We have to take off his clothes. Not just his jacket, but his sweater and pants, too. And we’d better do it quick, before rigor mortis sets in.” Ishigami reached for the man’s jacket while he talked.

“Yes, right,” Yasuko said. She leaned forward to help, but her fingers trembled with revulsion.

Ishigami paused. “Actually, never mind. I’ll do this. You go help your daughter.”

“I’m sorry,” Yasuko said, nodding, then stood slowly.

“Ms. Hanaoka,” Ishigami called to her turned back. She looked around. “You’ll need an alibi.”

“An alibi? But I don’t have an alibi.”

“That’s why we have to create one,” Ishigami said. He drew on the jacket he had just taken from the body. “Trust me. Logical thinking will get us through this.”