Salvation of a Saint Page 4

  ‘My thought was that the shock of finding someone dead would be enough to make some people cry whether or not they knew them well. But to be crying now, hours later …’

  ‘Means she was feeling something other than shock at the fragility of life,’ Kusanagi finished. He smiled at her. ‘Not bad, Junior Detective Utsumi.’

  ‘Why thank you, Detective Kusanagi.’ Utsumi smiled and released the hand brake.

  The next morning, just past seven A.M., Kusanagi woke to the sound of the phone ringing. It was Chief Mamiya.

  ‘You’re early,’ Kusanagi grumbled into the receiver.

  ‘Be thankful you got to sleep at home. There’s a meeting this morning about the investigation, at the Meguro City Police Station. We’ll probably be moving in, so get ready to sleep there tonight.’

  ‘So you’re calling me at seven in the morning to remind me to bring my toothbrush?’

  ‘You should be so lucky. No, you’re going to Haneda this morning.’

  ‘Haneda? What’s in Haneda?’

  ‘The airport, stupid. Mrs Mashiba will be coming back from Sapporo, and I want you to meet her there and bring her back to the station.’

  ‘I assume she knows about this already?’

  ‘She should. I want you to go with Utsumi. She’ll be driving. The flight gets in at eight.’

  ‘Eight A.M.?’

  Kusanagi dropped the phone and jumped out of bed.

  As he hurried to get ready, his mobile phone rang. It was Kaoru Utsumi; she was already waiting in front of his apartment building. Kusanagi grabbed his wallet, put on his shoes, and ran out to meet her.

  Utsumi was waiting at the kerb. Kusanagi climbed into her Pajero and they headed off towards Haneda airport.

  ‘Looks like we pulled the short straw again. I’ll never get used to meeting the bereaved family,’ he said, putting on his seat belt.

  ‘But the chief says you’re the best at handling them.’

  ‘The old man said that?’

  ‘He said your face puts them at ease.’

  ‘Nice.’ Kusanagi snorted. ‘He’s just saying I look like an idiot.’

  They arrived at the airport at five minutes to eight and stood in the arrivals lobby, scanning the crowd for Ayane Mashiba while passengers streamed past. She was supposed to be wearing a beige coat and carrying a blue suitcase.

  ‘Think that could be her?’ Utsumi said, nodding towards an approaching figure.

  Kusanagi followed her gaze to find a woman who matched the description. Sorrow hung around her slightly downcast eyes; there was an air of something grave and stark about her – solemnity, perhaps.

  ‘That’s her all right,’ Kusanagi said, his voice suddenly hoarse.

  It was as if his heart had suddenly leapt into his throat. He stared, unable to take his eyes off her, completely at a loss as to why the sight of Ayane Mashiba should affect him so strongly.

  FOUR

  Once the detectives introduced themselves, the first thing Ayane Mashiba asked about was her husband’s body.

  ‘There’s been a court-ordered autopsy,’ Kusanagi explained. ‘I’m not sure exactly where the body is at this very moment, but I’ll check on it later today and let you know.’

  ‘So I won’t be able to see him.’ Ayane blinked. Her eyes were sunken, her skin rough; she was trying to hold back tears.

  I doubt she’s slept a wink since the call came. ‘Once they’re done, we’ll return the remains as quickly as possible.’ Kusanagi’s words sounded strangely leaden to his own ears. He was never completely relaxed when talking to the families, but somehow, this time felt different. Everything was harder than usual.

  ‘Thank you,’ Ayane replied.

  She had a deep voice for a woman – adjectives like sultry and bewitching came to his mind.

  ‘We’d like to talk to you a little at the Meguro City Police Station, if that’s all right?’

  ‘Yes. They told me that on the phone.’

  ‘That’s good. If you’re ready, we’ll take you to the car.’

  Kusanagi helped her into the back seat of Utsumi’s SUV, then climbed into the passenger seat.

  ‘They were having trouble locating you last night. Where did they reach you?’ he asked, turning to look back at her.

  ‘I was at a hot springs near my hometown – I went there with an old friend. I’m afraid I had turned off my mobile phone, so I couldn’t hear it ring. I picked up my messages just before going to bed.’ She paused, letting out a long breath. ‘I thought it was some kind of prank call at first – I mean, who expects a call from the police?’

  ‘These things happen without warning,’ Kusanagi agreed.

  ‘That’s just it,’ she said. ‘What sort of things happen? No one’s told me anything, except that he’s …’ Ayane’s voice faltered, and Kusanagi felt an ache in his gut. He knew that the question she most wanted to ask was also the question whose answer she most feared.

  ‘What did they tell you over the phone?’ he asked.

  ‘They told me that my husband was dead, and that there was some concern about the cause of death, so there would be a police investigation. That’s all.’

  Which was all the officer calling her would have been able to say. Kusanagi felt a tightness in his chest as he imagined again the night she must’ve spent after hearing the news, and what it must’ve been like for her getting on the plane that morning. ‘Your husband died at home,’ he told her. ‘The cause is still unknown, but there were no visible injuries. Hiromi Wakayama discovered him collapsed in the living room.’

  ‘Hiromi …’ Kusanagi sensed Ayane’s gasp more than heard it.

  Kusanagi glanced over at Utsumi in the driver’s seat. For just a moment, she glanced back and their eyes met.

  We’re both thinking the same thing, Kusanagi realized. It was less than twelve hours since they’d discussed the possibility of a relationship between Hiromi Wakayama and Yoshitaka Mashiba. Ms Wakayama was, by all accounts, Ayane’s favourite student. If they were in the habit of inviting her to parties at their house, she was a friend of the family, too. If she’d been sleeping with Ayane’s husband, it would be a classic case of the dog biting the hand that feeds it.

  The question was whether Ayane had been aware of what was going on. They couldn’t assume that, just because she was close to her apprentice, she would’ve known. In fact, Kusanagi had seen several cases where just the opposite was true, when people didn’t know because they were too close.

  ‘Was your husband suffering from any illnesses?’ he asked.

  Ayane shook her head. ‘Not that I knew of. He got regular checkups and there were no problems. He didn’t even drink that much.’

  ‘And he’s never collapsed before now?’

  ‘No. Nothing of the sort. I just can’t imagine it happening.’ Ayane put a hand to her forehead, as though trying to stave off a headache.

  Kusanagi decided it would be premature to bring up the idea of poison. In fact, until they had an autopsy report in hand, it was best not to mention the possibilities of suicide or murder at all.

  ‘Because of the unusual circumstances,’ he said,‘we have to record every aspect of the place where the body was found – whether it turns out to be a crime scene or not. We’ve already done a bit of this last night with Ms Wakayama’s help. We would have preferred it to be you, of course.’

  ‘Yes, they mentioned that on the phone as well.’

  ‘Do you go back to Sapporo often?’

  Ayane shook her head. ‘It was my first time since getting married.’

  ‘Your parents live there, correct? Is everything all right?’

  ‘My father isn’t doing as well as he could be, so I thought it was about time to visit. Of course, when I arrived he seemed to be doing much better than I’d been led to believe, thus the trip to the hot springs.’

  Kusanagi nodded. ‘And why did you leave your key with Ms Wakayama?’

  ‘I thought it would be prudent, in case somethin
g came up while I was away. She helps me a lot with my work, and I keep a lot of materials and finished pieces at home that she might need to use in class.’

  ‘Ms Wakayama tells us that she was concerned about your husband and, when he didn’t answer his phone, she went over to make sure everything was all right. I was wondering’ – the detective chose his words carefully – ‘had you at any point specifically asked her to check in on him?’

  Ayane gave a little frown. ‘I don’t think so, but maybe I did give her that impression. She’s always so thoughtful, and it was my first time leaving him on his own since we got married … Did I –’ She paused a moment before saying: ‘Was it wrong of me to leave my key with her?’

  ‘No, not at all. I just wanted to confirm what Ms Wakayama told us yesterday.’

  Ayane buried her face in her hands. ‘I just can’t believe it. He was fine, in perfect health. We just had some friends over on Friday night. He was … he was so happy.’ Her voice was trembling.

  ‘I know it’s hard,’ Kusanagi said as gently as possible. ‘And I’m sorry I have to ask these questions, but – this party on Friday … who were the friends?’

  ‘A college friend of my husband’s and his wife.’ She gave him the names of Tatsuhiko and Yukiko Ikai. Then, Ayane let her hands drop into her lap, a look of determination on her face. ‘I have a request.’

  ‘Sure,’ Kusanagi said. ‘Anything.’

  ‘Do we have to go straight to the Police Station?’

  ‘Is there something you need to do?’

  ‘I want to see the house first, if I can. I want to know where he was when … I want to know how he died. If that’s okay?’

  Kusanagi glanced at Utsumi again. This time, their eyes didn’t meet. The junior detective seemed focused intently on the road ahead.

  ‘I’ll have to ask the lead detective on the case,’ Kusanagi said, fishing his mobile phone out of his pocket.

  Mamiya answered, and Kusanagi relayed the request. He heard the chief groan for a moment, then: ‘Fine …

  ‘In fact, the situation’s changed a little bit. It might even be preferable to talk to her on site. We’ll see you at the house.’

  ‘How has the situation changed?’ Kusanagi asked.

  A pause. ‘I’ll fill you in later.’

  ‘Right.’ Kusanagi ended the call and turned back to look at Ayane. ‘We’ll be taking you home.’

  Under her breath, she said: ‘Thank you.’

  Kusanagi returned his gaze to the road. A moment later he heard Ayane calling someone on her mobile.

  ‘Hello, Hiromi? It’s me.’

  Kusanagi tensed. He hadn’t expected her to call anyone, much less Ms Wakayama – but he couldn’t just tell her to hang up.

  ‘… I know, I know,’ Ayane was saying. ‘I’m with the police now. We’re heading to the house. Oh, I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, Hiromi.’

  Kusanagi’s mind was racing as fast as his heart. For the life of him, he couldn’t imagine how Ms Wakayama was responding to the call. He envisioned her overcome with grief at losing her lover, perhaps even spilling the beans. If that were the case, he had a pretty good idea of how Ayane would react.

  ‘… That’s what they tell me. Are you okay? Please tell me you’re eating … Well, that’s good. You know, if it’s not too much trouble, do you think you could come over? I’d really like to talk.’

  Kusanagi hadn’t expected her to invite Ms Wakayama to the house, either. From this half of the conversation, it sounded like the younger woman was keeping her com -posure.

  ‘You’re sure it’s all right? Okay, see you soon … Yes, thanks. You take care of yourself, too.’ It sounded like the call was over. Kusanagi heard a sniffle from the back seat.

  ‘Will Ms Wakayama be joining us?’

  ‘Yes. Oh! I hope that’s all right?’

  ‘It’s fine. She was the one who found him, it might be best if you heard it straight from her,’ the detective said, inwardly growing excited. On the one hand, he was interested, out of pure curiosity, to see how the husband’s lover would go about describing the discovery of his body to the wife. On the other, he hoped that by carefully observing Ayane, he’d be able to determine whether she had known about her husband’s infidelity.

  They got off the highway onto the local road as they neared the Mashiba residence. Utsumi seemed to know the way without checking – maybe she had committed it to memory.

  They arrived at the house to find Chief Mamiya waiting for them. He was standing with Kishitani in front of the gate.

  They got out of the car and walked over to the other two detectives, and Kusanagi introduced Ayane.

  ‘I’m sorry for your loss,’ Mamiya told her. He turned to Kusanagi. ‘You’ve told her the particulars?’

  ‘For the most part.’

  Mamiya gave Ayane a sympathetic look. ‘As you might expect, we have a lot of questions we’d like to ask. I’m so sorry to put you through this just as you’ve returned home.’

  ‘I don’t mind.’

  ‘We should go inside. Kishitani, the key.’

  Kishitani pulled a key from his pocket and handed it to Ayane, who accepted it with a perplexed frown.

  She used the key to unlock the door, opened it, and stepped in. The others followed, with Kusanagi bringing up the rear, the widow’s suitcase in one hand.

  Inside, Ayane asked: ‘Where was he?’

  ‘This way,’ Mamiya said, walking down the hallway.

  The tape was still stuck to the floor in the living room. Ayane saw the outline and stopped, her hand over her mouth.

  ‘According to Ms Wakayama, he was lying here, on the floor when she came in,’ Mamiya explained.

  Ayane shook, then her legs buckled and she fell to her knees. Kusanagi saw her shoulders trembling, and a quick hiccuplike sob escaped her lips. She caught her breath and asked in a thin voice: ‘Around what time was it?’

  ‘Near eight when she found him,’ Mamiya answered.

  ‘Eight … What could he have been doing?’

  ‘Apparently, he was drinking coffee. We’ve cleaned it up, but there was a coffee cup on the floor, and a little coffee had spilled.’

  ‘Coffee …’ She looked up. ‘Did he make it himself?’

  ‘Excuse me?’ Kusanagi asked.

  Ayane shook her head. ‘It’s just, he doesn’t do that. I’ve never seen him make his own coffee.’

  Kusanagi noticed Mamiya’s eyebrows twitch.

  ‘He never made coffee?’ the chief asked.

  ‘Well, I know he used to before we got married. But he had a coffeemaker back then.’

  ‘And you don’t have one now?’

  ‘No. I didn’t need it so I threw it out. I use a single-cup dripper.’

  A hard light came into Mamiya’s eyes. He spoke: ‘Ma’am, I can’t say anything for sure without the autopsy results, but it’s likely that your husband was poisoned.’

  Ayane’s face went blank for a moment, then her eyes opened wide. ‘Poison? Like, food poisoning?’

  ‘No. A very potent poison was discovered in the coffee found at the scene – though we don’t yet know exactly what kind of poison it was. Which is to say that your husband’s death was not due to illness or a simple accident.’

  Ayane covered her mouth again, blinking repeatedly. Her eyes were growing redder by the moment.

  ‘Why would he … How could that happen?’

  ‘We don’t know. Which is why I wanted to ask if you had any ideas.’

  This, apparently, was what Mamiya had been talking about when he’d said that the situation had changed, Kusanagi thought. Now it made sense that the chief had showed up in person.

  Ayane pressed her fingers to her forehead and sat down on the nearest sofa. ‘No. No idea at all.’

  ‘When was the last time you spoke with your husband?’ Mamiya asked.

  ‘On Saturday morning. We left the house together on my way to the airport.’

  ‘Was there
anything unusual about him, or his behaviour, at that time? Even the smallest details can help.’

  Ayane sat still for a moment, as though searching inwardly; then she firmly shook her head. ‘No. I can’t think of anything.’

  No wonder, Kusanagi thought. Having to bear the shock of her husband’s death, knowing only that he’d died under suspicious circumstances – and then to learn that he’d been poisoned …

  ‘Maybe we should let her rest a bit, Chief,’ Kusanagi said. ‘She’s probably tired after the trip from Sapporo.’

  ‘Yeah, you’re probably right.’

  ‘No, I’m fine,’ Ayane said, straightening. ‘Only, if I could change, that would be nice. I’ve been in the same clothes since last night.’ She was wearing a dark-coloured suit.

  ‘Since last night?’ Kusanagi asked.

  ‘Yes, I was hoping to find a quicker way back to Tokyo, so I got dressed for the trip ahead of time.’

  ‘Then you haven’t slept at all?’

  ‘I couldn’t have even if I’d tried.’

  ‘Well, that won’t do,’ Mamiya said. ‘You should probably rest before we continue.’

  ‘No, I’m fine. I’ll change and come right back down,’ Ayane said, standing.

  Kusanagi watched her leave the room, then turned to Mamiya. ‘What do we know about the poison?’

  Mamiya nodded. ‘There were traces of arsenous acid in the coffee.’

  Kusanagi’s eyes opened wide. ‘Arsenous acid? Like in that school curry poisoning case?’

  ‘Forensics thinks the particular compound used here was sodium arsenite. From the concentration in the coffee, Mr Mashiba drank well over a lethal dose. We should have more accurate autopsy results by the afternoon, but arsenous acid poisoning fits with the condition that the body was found in.’

  Kusanagi nodded, sighing. The possibility of this being an accidental death was rapidly approaching zero.

  ‘But if it’s true that Mr Mashiba never made his own coffee, who made that cup?’ Mamiya said, half to himself, but loud enough that everyone could hear.

  Utsumi suddenly spoke up: ‘I think he did make his own coffee.’

  ‘How do you know that?’ Mamiya asked.

  ‘Because we have a witness who says he did,’ Utsumi continued, after a glance in Kusanagi’s direction. ‘Ms Waka yama.’