The Devotion of Suspect X

NINE

They had eaten the last of the shrimp, and the wine bottle was empty. Yasuko drank the last sip of wine from her glass and breathed a sigh of contentment. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been out for real Italian food.

“Something more to drink?” Kudo asked her, a line of red showing beneath his eyes.

“I’m fine, thanks. Why don’t you order something?”

“No, I’ll pass. Save it for dessert.” He smiled and dabbed at his mouth with a napkin.

Yasuko had gone out to dinner with Kudo several times back when she was a hostess. Whether the meal was French or Italian, he had never stopped at the first bottle of wine.

“Drinking less these days?”

Kudo nodded thoughtfully. “I suppose I am. Less than before, at any rate. Maybe I’m getting old.”

“There’s nothing wrong with moderation. You have to take care of yourself.”

“Thanks.” Kudo laughed.

He had called her cell phone earlier that day to ask her out to dinner. At first, she hesitated, but then she accepted. The murder investigation had given her pause. It felt wrong, somehow, to go out to dinner at a time like this. Wrong for her, and especially for her daughter, who was surely even more frightened by the whole thing than she was. There was also the matter of Ishigami, and his help in covering up Togashi’s death. She wondered how long his assistance would remain unconditional.

Then again, she thought, maybe it was precisely at times like these that she should do her best to act normal. If she didn’t have a particular reason not to go, wouldn’t it be “normal” to accept an old friend’s offer to go to dinner? It would be more unnatural for her to refuse, and if word of it reached Sayoko, then she might grow suspicious.

Whatever the line of reasoning she came up with to rationalize it to herself, Yasuko knew it was all a pretense. The real reason she had accepted Kudo’s offer was that she’d wanted to see him again.

She wasn’t sure if she had romantic feelings for him. In fact, before he had showed up the other day, she had scarcely thought of him in the last year. She was fond of him, that was true, but at present, it went no further.

Yet she couldn’t deny that after he had invited her out, she had felt elated—an elation very similar to what she remembered feeling when making a date to meet a lover. She had even felt her body warming. Heart aflutter, she had asked Sayoko if she could get out of work early.

It was possible that all she really wanted was an escape from the worrying that had become a constant in her life. Or perhaps she wanted once again to be treated like a woman, to feel those things she had not felt in so long.

Regardless of the reasons, Yasuko didn’t regret accepting Kudo’s invitation. Though she couldn’t help feeling like she was sneaking away from something else she should have been doing, it was undeniable that she was having fun.

“What did your daughter do for dinner tonight?” Kudo asked, taking a sip of coffee.

“I left her a message telling her she could order out. I’m guessing pizza—it’s her favorite by far.”

“Hmph. Poor girl. Eating pizza while we’re here with this feast.”

“I don’t know. I think she prefers watching TV and eating pizza to a place like this. She’s not fond of formal dining—or anything else where you have to act proper.”

Kudo nodded, frowning. He scratched at the side of his nose. “That may be, that may be. I doubt she’d like to share a meal with some strange old man, either. But maybe next time I could take the both of you out to something simpler. A sushi-go-round, perhaps?”

“Thanks. But you don’t have to worry on our account.”

“It’s not worrying. I’d like to meet her—your daughter.” Kudo raised his eyes shyly from his coffee.

When he had first invited her out, he’d insisted that she bring her daughter along. And Yasuko had been sure of his sincerity, which made her happy.

Yet she had known at once that she couldn’t bring Misato. It was true that the girl didn’t like places like the restaurant Kudo had chosen. That, and Yasuko didn’t want her daughter to have to deal with people at a time like this. If the conversation had chanced to drift to the murder, she didn’t know whether Misato would be able to keep her cool. She also didn’t want her daughter to see her mother as she was now—a single woman out with a man.

“What about you, Kudo? Is it all right for you to skip out on dinner with your family?”

“What about me, indeed.” Kudo set down his coffee cup and rested his elbows on the table. “Actually, one of the reasons I invited you out to dinner today was to talk about that.”

Yasuko lifted an eyebrow, looking into his eyes.

“That is to say—actually, I’m single now.”

Yasuko gasped out loud.

“My wife got cancer. Pancreatic. She had surgery, but it was too little, too late. She passed away last summer. She was young, but once it started it went quickly. It was over in blink of an eye.”

He spoke evenly, which had the effect of making his story sound almost unreal to Yasuko’s ears. For several seconds, she merely sat there, staring at him.

“Really?” she finally managed.

“I wouldn’t joke about something like that,” he replied with a wry smile.

“No, of course you wouldn’t. I just don’t know what to say—” She looked down at the table, then bit her lip before looking back up. “I … I’m sorry for your loss. It must have been difficult.”

“It was. But, like I said, it was over quickly. She went to the hospital complaining of a backache. Then I got a call from the doctor and she was admitted. She went into surgery. I came in to be with her—one thing after the other, like we were on a conveyor belt. I was hardly aware of the days passing, and then suddenly she was gone. It wasn’t hospital policy to tell patients about their cancer without family consent, so I’m not sure whether she ever knew what she had.” Kudo picked up a glass of water and drank.

“When did you first learn she had it?”

Kudo thought for a moment. “Around the end of the year before last … so, two years ago.”

“I was still at Marian then … you were still coming to the club.”

Kudo laughed quietly, his shoulders shaking. “Pretty insensitive, huh? Here my wife is on the brink of death, and I’m going out drinking.”

Yasuko froze. She didn’t know what to say. All she could remember was Kudo’s smiling face at the club.

“Well, if you want an excuse, let’s just say I was tired. I needed a break, I wanted to see you.” He scratched his head, frowning.

Yasuko thought back to when she had quit the club. On her last day, Kudo had brought her a bouquet.

Work hard and be happy—

What had he meant when he said those words? How had he felt? He must’ve been in far more pain than she, yet he had never let it show. He’d sent her on her way with good wishes and flowers.

“Well, sorry for killing the mood,” Kudo said, pulling out a cigarette. “What I was trying to say is, you needn’t worry about my family.”

“What about your son, then? He’s got exams coming up, doesn’t he?”

“My parents are taking care of him for the time being. They live closer to his high school, and I’m pretty useless around the house. Can’t even make the kid a proper dinner. I think my mother’s happy to have someone to look after.”

“So you’re living alone now?”

“If you call going back to the bedroom after work, falling on my face, and sleeping ‘living,’ then yeah, pretty much.”

“But you didn’t say anything about that the last time we met.”

“Didn’t think there was a need. I came to see you because I was worried about you, after all. But I figured if I asked you to dinner, you would worry about my family—and you certainly have a right to. So, that’s the story and here we are.”

“I had no idea…” Yasuko lowered her eyes.

Kudo’s intentions were clear now. He was letting her know that he wanted to see her more often. He wanted to date, officially this time. And dating with the possibility of a future together. No doubt that was why he wanted to meet Misato, too.

After that they left the restaurant, and Kudo gave her a ride home in a taxi just as he had the other night.

“Thanks for dinner,” Yasuko said before she got out.

“I hope it won’t be the last?”

There was a pause, then Yasuko smiled and said, “Yes.”

“Then, good night. My best to your daughter.”

“Good night,” she replied, but even as she spoke she was thinking about how difficult it would be to talk to Misato about her evening with Kudo. In the message on the answering machine, she had said she was going out to dinner with Sayoko and her husband.

She watched the taxi leave, then walked up the stairs to her apartment. Misato was sitting with her legs tucked under the kotatsu, watching television. An empty pizza box was on the table.

“Welcome back, Mom,” the girl said, looking up.

“Hi, honey. Sorry about tonight.”

Yasuko had trouble meeting her daughter’s eyes. She was afraid her guilt at having gone out to dinner with a man would show on her face.

“You get a call?” Misato asked.

“A call?”

“Yeah, from Mr. Ishigami next door?” Misato added, quietly. She meant the usual evening call.

“No, I had my phone off.”

“Oh,” Misato said glumly.

“Why, did something happen?”

“Nothing, just—” Misato’s eyes glanced toward the clock on the wall. “Ishigami’s been going in and out of his apartment all night. I watched him from the window, and it looked like he was going down to the street. I figured he was going out to call you.”

“Oh…”

He probably had been, Yasuko thought. She had been worried about that very possibility, even while she was eating dinner with Kudo. And she was worried even more about the fact that Ishigami had run into Kudo at Benten-tei. Of course, to Kudo, Ishigami was nothing more than another customer.

She wondered why Ishigami had come to the store at such a time—on this day, of all days. And with his “friend.” He never came with friends, and he never came after lunchtime.

Of course Ishigami would remember Kudo. He probably suspected something when he saw the same man who had dropped Yasuko off in a taxi the other day show up at Benten-tei. None of this made her look forward to Ishigami’s next call.

She was hanging her coat on the hanger when the doorbell rang. Yasuko froze and exchanged glances with Misato. For a moment, she thought it must be Ishigami. But then that didn’t make much sense; he would never risk coming to her apartment.

“Yes?” she called out toward the door.

“Sorry to bother you so late at night, ma’am. I was wondering if I could ask a few questions?” It was a man’s voice, but not one she remembered hearing before. Yasuko opened the door, leaving the chain on. Someone was standing outside the apartment. She recognized him even as he reached into his coat and pulled out a police badge.

“Detective Kishitani, Homicide, ma’am. I came by the other day with Detective Kusanagi?”

“Right, of course,” Yasuko said, remembering. She looked down the hallway but Kusanagi was nowhere in sight.

Yasuko closed the door and gave Misato a look. Misato got out from under the kotatsu and went silently into the back room. As soon as the sliding door was shut behind her, Yasuko undid the chain and opened the front door again. “Can I help you with something?”

Kishitani nodded. “Yes—it’s about that movie you went to see, again…”

Yasuko frowned despite herself. Ishigami had warned her the police would get on her case about the movie theater, and he was turning out to be more right than she had expected.

“What about the movie? I’ve already told you everything I know.”

“Yes, you’ve been very cooperative, ma’am. Thank you. I was just wondering if I could borrow those stubs?”

“Stubs? You mean the ticket stubs?”

“That’s right. I believe Detective Kusanagi asked you to keep them in a safe place the last time we were here?”

“Just a moment.”

Yasuko went to the kitchen cupboard and pulled out the drawer. She took out an envelope and from it removed two ticket stubs. She handed both of them—one for her and one for Misato, over to the detective. He thanked her and took them. She noticed he was wearing white gloves.

“I’m a suspect, aren’t I?” Yasuko asked suddenly.

Kishitani shook his head and waved his hands in front of his face. “Not at all, not at all. In fact, we’re having trouble finding a suspect. That’s why we have to do this: we go around eliminating all the people connected with the victim, even the ones that aren’t very suspicious.”

“How can those stubs help you do that?”

“Well, I can’t really say, but they might be of some use. The best thing would be if we could prove that you did go to the movies on the day you say you did … tell me, you haven’t thought of anything else, have you—anything unusual from that day?”

“No, nothing more than what I’ve already said.”

“Right, thank you,” Kishitani said, his eyes wandering around the room.

“Sure has been cold lately, hasn’t it? You use that electric kotatsu there every winter?”

“The kotatsu? I suppose…” Yasuko said, turning around to glance at the heated table, in part to hide her shock from the detective. He couldn’t have mentioned the kotatsu purely by accident.

“How long have you had that kotatsu for?”

“Oh, I don’t know … four, maybe five years. Is there something wrong?”

“No, not at all,” Kishitani said, shaking his head. “By the way, did you go someplace after work today? I noticed you came home late.”

Yasuko blinked, the question taking her by surprise. She realized that the police must have been waiting for her by her apartment. Which meant they had probably seen her getting out of the taxi.

I’d better not lie.

“I went out to dinner with a friend,” she answered, trying to keep her answer as vague as possible, but of course that wasn’t enough to satisfy the detective.

“The man who was with you in the taxi? Right. I was wondering, how do you know him? If you don’t mind me asking,” the detective said, almost bashfully.

“Do I have to tell you where I went to dinner, too?”

“If it’s not a problem, ma’am. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry into your personal affairs, but if I don’t ask about it then my boss will complain when I get back to the office, see?” Kishitani gave a sheepish grin. “Be assured, we wouldn’t think of troubling your friend—the man you were with. If you could just tell me where you went?”

Yasuko sighed deeply. “His name is Kudo. He was a regular at the club where I used to work. He knew I had been married to Togashi and he was worried about me with the case on the news and all. He came to my work to check in on me.”

“What does he do, this Mr. Kudo?”

“I heard he runs a printing company, but I don’t know much more than that.”

“Do you have a number where we could reach him?”

Yasuko furrowed her brow and frowned.

“Please understand,” Kishitani said, nodding apologetically, “we won’t contact him unless there is some dire need—and even if we do, we will be very discreet, I assure you.”

Yasuko took out her cell phone, not bothering to hide her displeasure, and quickly read off the number Kudo had given her. The detective hurriedly scribbled the number down.

Kishitani then asked her to tell him everything she knew about Kudo. All the while that they talked, even as he kept on prying, he maintained his sheepish demeanor. Eventually, Yasuko found herself telling him everything back to the first day when Kudo had appeared at Benten-tei.

After Kishitani left, Yasuko locked the door and sat down in the entranceway. She felt overwrought, her emotions dragged out to exhaustion.

Then she heard the sound of the sliding door as Misato emerged from the back room. “They still suspect something about the movie, don’t they?” the girl said. “Everything’s happening just like Ishigami said it would. It’s pretty incredible, you know.”

“I know.” Yasuko stood and brushed her fallen bangs out of her face.

“Mom. I thought you went out to eat with the people at Benten-tei?”

Yasuko looked up. Misato was frowning.

“You were listening?”

“Of course I was.”

“Oh…” Yasuko slid her legs under the kotatsu, her head hanging. She remembered the detective asking about the kotatsu.

“How could you go out to eat with someone at a time like this?”

“I couldn’t say no. He—the person I went to dinner with–was very good to me in the past. And he came to find me because he was worried about me—about us. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about it before.”

“No, Mom, I’m fine. It’s just—”

They heard the door to the next apartment open and shut. Then came the sound of footsteps, heading down the stairs. Yasuko and Misato exchanged glances.

“Mom, your cell.”

“It’s on.”

A few minutes later, Yasuko’s phone began to ring.

Ishigami used the same public phone he always did when he made his third call that evening. The first two times he hadn’t been able to get through to Yasuko’s cell phone. He was worried that something might have happened—he’d always gotten through to her before—but when she answered he realized immediately from her tone that his fears were misplaced.

Ishigami had heard the doorbell at the Hanaokas earlier—and as he’d suspected, it had been the police. Yasuko told him that the detective had asked her for the ticket stubs. Ishigami knew what they were after. They would try to match the stubs to their other halves, presumably in storage at the movie theater. If they found stubs that matched the ones they got from Yasuko, they would check the fingerprints. If Yasuko’s fingerprints were on them, that would prove that she and her daughter had at least been at the movie theater that night—whether they had actually seen the movie or not. If there were no fingerprints, the police suspicion of the Hanaokas would go up a notch.

And the detective had asked about the kotatsu. This, too, Ishigami had predicted.

“I think they’ve determined the murder weapon,” Ishigami said into the receiver.

“The murder weapon?”

“The kotatsu cord. That’s what you used, isn’t it?”

The phone went silent on the other end. Maybe Yasuko was remembering the moment it had happened, when she had strangled Togashi.

“In any strangulation, marks from the murder weapon remain on the skin of the neck,” Ishigami explained. It felt harsh to lay it out so plainly, but this was no time for euphemisms. “Forensics is quite advanced these days. They can usually tell the murder weapon used by looking at the marks it leaves.”

“So that’s why the detective asked about the kotatsu?”

“I’d assume so. But there’s no need to worry. I’ve already made arrangements.”

He had expected the police to identify the murder weapon. Which was why he had exchanged the Hanaokas’ kotatsu with his own. Their old kotatsu—the real murder weapon—was packed away in his closet. As luck would have it, the cord on his old kotatsu was different from the one on theirs. If the detectives came back and examined that cord, they would immediately realize it was a dead end.

“What else did the detective ask you?”

“What else…?” Yasuko’s voice faded into silence.

“Ms. Hanaoka? Hello?”

“Y-Yes?”

“Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing at all. I was just trying to remember what else he said. There wasn’t anything, I don’t think. He mentioned that if they could prove that I went to the movies then I would no longer be a suspect, or something to that effect.”

“Yes, the movie theater alibi is very important to them. That was part of my plan, of course. There’s really nothing to be worried about.”

“Thank you. It’s a great relief to hear you say that.”

Yasuko’s words lit a fire somewhere deep in Ishigami’s chest. For a brief moment, the tension he had been feeling pretty much around the clock eased a little.

It occurred to him then that he might ask about the man. The man who had dropped her off—the customer who had come into Benten-tei when he was there with Yukawa. Ishigami knew that he had given her a ride home tonight, too. He had seen them from his window.

“That’s about all I have to report. What about you, Mr. Ishigami? Is everything all right with you? Is something wrong?” Yasuko asked abruptly. Ishigami realized he hadn’t said anything for some time.

“No, nothing at all. Please, try to live life as normally as possible. I’m sure the police will be back with more questions, but what’s most important is that you don’t panic.”

“Yes, I understand.”

“Great. Please give my best to your daughter. Good night.”

He waited for her reply, then hung up the handset. The phone spit out his telephone card from the slot below the receiver.

When Mamiya heard Kusanagi’s report, the chief’s despair was written on his face. He rubbed his shoulders and rocked in his chair. “So this Kudo guy only met with Yasuko Hanaoka after the incident? You’re sure about that?”

“That’s what the couple at the lunch box store are saying. I don’t think they have any reason to lie, either. They said Yasuko was just as surprised as they were when Kudo first showed up at the shop. Of course, it could be an act.”

“She was a hostess at a nightclub. Acting would be second nature to her.” Mamiya looked up at Kusanagi. “Anyway, let’s look into this Kudo a bit more. I don’t like how he showed up right after all this happened.”

“Yeah,” said Kishitani, butting in, “but according to Ms. Hanaoka, Kudo came to see her because he heard about the murder. So, it’s not like it was a coincidence. And I hardly think they’d go meeting in public or having dinner together if they were coconspirators or something.”

“You never know. Could be a really gutsy diversion,” Kusanagi offered.

Kishitani frowned at his superior officer. “Well, yeah, but—”

“You want us to try talking directly to Kudo?” Kusanagi asked, turning to Mamiya.

“I think so. If he was involved, he might let something slip. Check it out.”

Kusanagi nodded, and he and Kishitani headed out.

“You gotta stop saying things like that based on these assumptions of yours,” Kusanagi warned Kishitani as they left. “The killers might be trying to use that against you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your comment about Kudo and Ms. Hanaoka. And the assumptions it’s based on. For all we actually know, Ms. Hanaoka and this Kudo might have been really close for years, but have been keeping it hidden. When it comes to committing this sort of crime, a hidden connection like that would be a big advantage. What better accomplice than someone no one else knows you have anything to do with?”

“Well, then why wouldn’t they continue to keep it hidden?”

“Lots of reasons. Relationships always come out eventually. Maybe they thought this was the perfect chance for them to stage a little reunion.”

Kishitani nodded, but his face said he wasn’t buying it.

They left the Edogawa police station and got into Kusanagi’s car. “Forensics thinks the murder weapon was some kind of electrical cord,” Kishitani said as he put on his seatbelt. “A ‘textile braided insulated cord,’ specifically.”

“Right. The ones they use on heating appliances. Like an electric kotatsu.”

“They picked up the thread pattern on the cord from the wound.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Well, I glanced at the kotatsu in the Hanaokas’ place. The cord wasn’t textile insulated. It was what they call a ‘round braided’ cord. Like a smooth tube of rubber.”

“Okay. So?”

“That’s all.”

“There are a lot of electrical appliances other than a kotatsu, Kishitani. And the murder weapon doesn’t have to be something the killer had around all the time. They might’ve picked up an electrical cord they found lying on the street.”

“Right…” Kishitani mumbled glumly.

Kusanagi and Kishitani had spent the previous day together, on stakeout, watching and tailing Yasuko Hanaoka. Their primary goal had been to watch everyone who crossed her path, looking for anyone who could possibly be an accomplice.

After she left work, from the time she had left the shop with a man in a taxi, they watched her every move. They had waited patiently for her to come out after the two went into a restaurant in Shiodome, near the harbor.

Eventually the couple had finished dinner and gotten back into the taxi. From there, they had gone straight back to Yasuko’s apartment. The taxi had stopped, but the man hadn’t gotten out. Kusanagi had sent Kishitani up to ask questions while he followed the taxi. Luckily, no one seemed to have noticed the tail.

The man lived in a large apartment in Osaki. Kusanagi had learned his name from the sign next to his door: “Kuniaki Kudo.”

Kusanagi had already accepted that even if Yasuko was involved with Togashi’s murder, she couldn’t have done it alone. She would have needed a male accomplice—or perhaps it would be better to call him the actual killer, whoever he was.

So, could this Mr. Kudo be the man? Even as Kusanagi described that possible scenario to Kishitani, he didn’t half believe it himself. To the contrary, he felt like they were once again barking up the wrong tree.

And something else had been tugging at Kusanagi’s brain: the two unexpected visitors he had seen while he was on stakeout outside Benten-tei. Manabu Yukawa and the math teacher who lived next door to Yasuko Hanaoka.