Salvation of a Saint Read online

  Hiromi looked back up, startled.

  ‘We’ve already made certain assumptions about your relationship with Yoshitaka Mashiba,’ the younger detective continued, with all the indifference of a government official explaining how to fill out a form. ‘You can deny it if you like. At which point, we will have to start asking more questions in order to determine the truth. When we set our minds to it, we can usually bring the truth to light … but as part of that process, we have to talk to a lot of people. You understand?

  ‘I’d like you to give what I just said some thought. If you can be completely honest with us now, we may be able to be a bit more circumspect with our investigation. Say, for instance, if you wanted to tell us something that you’d rather we didn’t repeat to anyone else outside of our office.’

  Utsumi glanced towards Kusanagi, nodding her head slightly.

  Was that her idea of an apology for speaking out of turn? Kusanagi wondered.

  Her advice seemed to have a remarkable effect on Hir -omi, however. Perhaps it was easier hearing it from a woman. She hung her head for a moment, then looked up again, blinked slowly, and took a breath. ‘You promise to keep it a secret?’

  ‘As long as it isn’t directly related to the case, we keep all personal information private. It’s standard procedure,’ Kusanagi explained.

  Hiromi nodded. ‘Then … as you suspect, Mr Mashiba and I did have a … special relationship. That, and I visited him earlier over the weekend.’

  ‘Exactly when was this?’

  ‘Saturday night. A little after nine o’clock, I think.’

  A rendezvous while the wife was away, then.

  ‘Had this been arranged in advance?’

  ‘No. He called me at work – I was teaching a patchwork class. He called right about when the class was finishing. He invited me over.’

  ‘So you went, and what happened next?’

  Hiromi thought for a moment, then with growing determination, she looked back at Kusanagi. ‘I spent the night and left the next morning.’

  Utsumi had begun taking notes. Kusanagi glanced at her but couldn’t read anything from her expression. She’s on to something, he thought, resolving to ask her about it later.

  ‘When did you drink coffee together?’

  ‘In the morning. I made it. Oh, but we also had coffee the night before.’

  ‘On Saturday night? So you had coffee twice?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did you make the coffee the night before as well?’

  ‘No. Mr Mashiba had already made it when I arrived. He poured a cup for both of us,’ Hiromi continued, looking down at the table. ‘It was the first time I’d ever seen him make his own coffee. “It’s been a while,” he said.’

  ‘But you didn’t use saucers that evening?’ Utsumi asked, looking up from her notebook.

  ‘No,’ Hiromi confirmed.

  ‘But you made the coffee the next morning – yesterday morning?’ Kusanagi asked.

  ‘Mr Mashiba’s coffee was a little too strong, so he asked me to make it in the morning. He stood there watching me while I did it.’ She looked up at Utsumi. ‘We used saucers with our cups that time. Those were the ones in the sink.’

  Kusanagi nodded. So far, her story was checking out. ‘Just to be certain, I should ask whether the coffee you drank on Saturday night and Sunday morning was made from the ground beans at his house?’

  ‘I think so. At least when I made it, I used the coffee in the refrigerator. I don’t know about the coffee Mr Mashiba drank on Saturday night. But I don’t see why he would’ve used anything different. There was plenty left.’

  ‘Have you ever made coffee at the Mashibas’ before this weekend?’

  ‘Only rarely, when Ayane asked me to. She was the one who showed me how to make it without a coffeemaker. That’s how I knew what to do yesterday.’

  ‘Did you notice anything different when you were making the coffee? Was the bag in a different place than usual? Was it the same brand?’

  Hiromi let her eyelids fall closed and gave her head a shake. ‘I don’t remember anything different. It was the same as always.’ When she opened her eyes again they had a gleam of curiosity in them. ‘But I don’t see why it should matter how anything was when I made the coffee.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘Well, because …’ She lowered her face, eyes looking up at them. ‘There wasn’t any poison in the coffee when I made it, right? If someone poisoned the coffee, it would’ve had to have been after I used it.’

  ‘That’s true, unless there was a trick to it, one that involved doing something to the coffee earlier.’

  ‘A trick?’ Hiromi didn’t look convinced. ‘Well, I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.’

  ‘You drank coffee that morning. What next?’

  ‘I left. I teach a patchwork class at an arts school in Ikebukuro.’

  ‘What time does the class run?’

  ‘Well, there’s one in the morning, which goes from nine to eleven, and one in the afternoon, which goes from three to six.’

  ‘What do you do between classes?’

  ‘Mostly clean up from the first class, eat lunch, and get ready for the next class.’

  ‘Do you bring a lunch?’

  ‘Not usually. Yesterday I went out and ate at a noodle place in a department store that’s nearby …’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘I think I was away from the school building for about an hour. I wouldn’t have been able to go to the Mashibas’ and back in that amount of time.’

  Kusanagi chuckled, waving a hand. ‘Don’t worry, we’re not checking your alibi. According to what you told us yesterday, you gave Mr Mashiba a call as soon as your class was finished. Would you care to amend that statement in any way?’

  Hiromi frowned and looked away. ‘I did call him. That’s true enough. But my reason was a little different from what I said.’

  ‘I believe you told us that you were worried about how he was getting along without his wife there?’

  ‘Actually, when I left that morning, he asked me to call him when I was through with class.’

  Kusanagi stared at her. ‘He invited you out to dinner, didn’t he?’

  ‘I think that was the plan, yes.’

  ‘Well, honestly, that makes a lot more sense. It would take an extremely devoted student to worry that much about her teacher’s husband, and a champion worrier to go to someone’s house just because they didn’t answer the phone.’

  Hiromi’s shoulders sagged. ‘I was afraid it sounded suspicious. But I couldn’t think of what else to say.’

  ‘Mr Mashiba didn’t answer the phone, so you went to his house – any adjustments that need making there?’

  ‘No. Everything else happened just like I said it did. I’m sorry I lied.’

  Next to Kusanagi, Utsumi was furiously taking notes. He glanced over at her before returning to Hiromi. Everything in her story thus far made sense. All of the doubts they’d had the night before had been largely defused. Not that this was reason enough to trust her completely.

  ‘Like I said, we’re fairly certain that this is a homicide. I believe I asked you last night if you had any suspicions as to who might have been responsible. You told me you didn’t – that you knew nothing about the deceased other than that he was your teacher’s husband. I wonder if you might be able to elaborate now that we know about your connection with him?’

  Hiromi raised her eyebrows. ‘I really don’t know who it could have been. I can’t believe anyone would want to kill Yoshitaka.’

  Kusanagi mentally noted her shift from ‘Mr Mashiba’ to ‘Yoshitaka.’

  ‘Try to recall any recent conversations. If this was a homicide, then it was clearly premeditated. That means that there will be a definite motive, and in most cases, the victim is well aware of it. Even if he was trying to keep it from you, he may have said something inadvertently.’

  Hiromi rubbed her temples with her fingers and shook her head. ‘I don’t kn
ow. Work seemed to be going fine, he didn’t have any big worries, and he never spoke ill of anyone.’

  ‘Please, take a moment now to think it over again.’

  She looked at Kusanagi with sad, defiant eyes. ‘I did think about it. I cried all night thinking about it, wondering how this could’ve happened. I thought about everything we said to each other, everything we did, over and over again. I still have no idea. Detective, I want to know why he was killed, too. More than anything else, I want to know.’

  Kusanagi noticed a redness in her eyes, a pink blush in the skin around them.

  She really loved him, Kusanagi thought. Or if this is just an act, she’s really good.

  ‘When did your relationship with Mr Mashiba begin?’

  Hiromi opened her reddening eyes wide. ‘Does this have something to do with the case?’

  ‘It’s not for you to decide whether it does or whether it doesn’t. It’s for us to decide. Again, we won’t mention it to anyone; and, once we’re satisfied it has nothing to do with the case, we won’t pry any further.’

  Her lips formed a tight line and she took a deep breath. She reached out and took a sip of her surely-cold-by-now tea.

  ‘About three months ago.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Kusanagi looked down, wondering how to broach the topic of how the affair had started. ‘Does anyone else know?’

  ‘Not that I’m aware of.’

  ‘But you’d gone out to eat together before? Somebody might’ve seen.’

  ‘We were very careful. We never ate at the same place together twice. And Yoshitaka often ate with women he’d met through business, or hostesses at bars, so I don’t think anyone would have thought twice, even if they did see us together.’

  So Yoshitaka Mashiba had been something of a playboy. Kusanagi considered the possibility that he’d had other lovers in addition to Ms Wakayama. Which, of course, would provide the woman sitting across the table from him with a motive.

  Utsumi’s pen stopped on the page and she looked up. ‘Did you ever rendezvous at hotels?’ she asked coolly. Kusanagi gave her a sidelong glance. He’d been meaning to ask the same question, but hadn’t been able to bring himself to be so direct.

  Hiromi looked displeased. ‘Is that really necessary for your investigation?’

  Utsumi’s expression remained blank. ‘Of course it’s necessary. In order for us to solve this case, we’ll need to know everything about Yoshitaka Mashiba’s daily life. We need to know what he was doing, when, and with whom, in as much detail as possible. If we ask enough people, we may be able to fill most of it in, but there will certainly be blanks remaining. I don’t need to know what you did there, but I do need to know if you went to any hotels.’

  Why don’t you go ahead and ask her what they did while you’re at it, Kusanagi wanted to interject, but restrained himself.

  Hiromi’s lips curled downward. ‘Yes. But mostly regular hotels. Not those cheap places people use for …’ Her voice trailed off.

  ‘Did you always go to the same hotel?’

  ‘We went to three different places. But you won’t be able to find him on the registers. He always used a false name.’

  ‘Just in case, could you tell me the names of the hotels?’ Utsumi asked, pen held at the ready.

  Her face wilting, Hiromi gave the names of three hotels. They were all first-class places in the city, and large hotels at that. Unless the trysting couple had gone there every day, none of the people on staff were likely to remember their faces.

  ‘Did you meet on predetermined days?’ Utsumi continued.

  ‘No – we figured out what would work over e-mail.’

  ‘How often did you meet?’

  Hiromi shrugged. ‘Once a week or thereabouts.’

  Utsumi finished writing and gave Kusanagi a quick nod.

  ‘Well,’ he said, ‘thanks for your time. We don’t have any more questions for you today.’

  ‘I doubt I have anything else I could tell you even if you did,’ Hiromi said gloomily.

  Kusanagi smiled at her and picked up the bill.

  The three left the restaurant and were headed towards the car park when Hiromi suddenly stopped.

  ‘Umm …’

  ‘Something wrong?’ Kusanagi turned to look at her.

  ‘Can I go home?’

  The detective blinked. ‘Didn’t Mrs Mashiba ask you over?’

  ‘Yes, but I’m really tired, and honestly, I don’t feel very good. Could you tell her that for me?’

  ‘Sure. It’s fine by us.’

  ‘Would you like a lift?’ Utsumi asked.

  ‘No, thanks. I’ll get a cab.’

  Hiromi turned and walked away. A taxi rounded the corner; she hailed it and got inside. Kusanagi stood watching as the car rejoined the flow of traffic.

  ‘Do you think she thought we were going to tell Mrs Mashiba about their affair?’

  ‘I can’t say,’ Utsumi replied, ‘but after she told us all that, she probably didn’t want to be seen talking to the wife as if nothing had happened.’

  ‘Hmm. Good point.’

  ‘Still, I wonder if she really hasn’t noticed.’

  ‘If who hasn’t noticed?’

  ‘Mrs Mashiba. Do you really think she doesn’t know what was going on?’

  ‘I’m guessing no.’

  ‘Why do you think that?’

  ‘From the way she acted earlier. Practically the first thing she did when she saw Ms Wakayama was burst into tears and hug her.’

  ‘I guess.’ Utsumi looked down.

  ‘What? If you’ve got something to say, say it.’

  She looked back up, straight at Kusanagi. ‘Something occurred to me when I saw the two of them in front of the house. I thought, what if she wants us to see her crying like that? Crying in front of the last person in the world she wanted to cry with.’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Sorry, never mind. I’ll get the car.’

  Dumbfounded, Kusanagi watched Utsumi dash off.

  SIX

  Back at the Mashiba residence, Mamiya had already finished questioning Ayane. Kusanagi informed the widow that Ms Wakayama had been feeling out of sorts and had gone home.

  ‘I understand,’ Ayane said. ‘I’m sure she’s in as much shock as I am.’ She was holding a teacup in both hands, a far-off look in her eyes. She was still frowning, but as she sat on the sofa there was a certain poise to her posture, a rigidity in her spine that spoke of inner strength.

  A mobile phone rang in the handbag that lay beside her. She took it out and glanced towards Mamiya, seeking his approval.

  He nodded.

  She checked the display on the phone before answering.

  ‘Yes? … Yes, I’m fine … The police are here right now. They’re not sure yet. They found him lying in the living room … Of course, I’ll tell you as soon as I know. And tell Dad not to worry. Yeah. Bye.’ She hung up and informed Mamiya that the call had been from her mother.

  ‘Have you told her what happened?’ Kusanagi asked.

  ‘Only that he died suddenly. She wanted to know why, but I wasn’t sure what to say.’ Ayane put a hand to her forehead.

  ‘Have you told your husband’s office?’

  ‘Yes. I told the legal consultant this morning before leaving Sapporo. That’s the Mr Ikai I told you about.’

  ‘The one at the dinner party on Friday?’

  ‘Yes. Their office is a mess with the CEO gone … I only wish there was more I could do to help.’ A pained look came over Ayane’s face; she stared at nothing, eyes focused on a single point in space. She’s trying to appear strong, Kusanagi thought. But I can see the tension in her. The façade might crumble at any moment. He felt impelled to help her.

  ‘Maybe you should have a relative or another friend come to keep you company until Ms Wakayama’s feeling better? Even simple day-to-day things can seem overwhelming at times like these.’

  ‘I’m all right. And you probably don’t want a lot of
people tromping around just yet, do you?’

  Mamiya turned to Kusanagi, a discomfited look on his face. ‘Forensics is coming in again this afternoon – we have Mrs Mashiba’s okay.’

  So she wouldn’t even be given a chance to mourn in peace. Kusanagi lowered his head to the widow in silence.

  Mamiya stood. ‘Sorry to take up so much of your time this morning, Mrs Mashiba. Kishitani will be staying behind, so if you need something – chores, anything – just let him know.’

  Ayane thanked him in a small voice, as Mamiya and Kusanagi took their leave.

  ‘So how’d it go?’ Mamiya asked Kusanagi as soon as they were outside.

  ‘Ms Wakayama confirmed that she was in a relationship with the deceased, starting about three months ago. She says no one knew.’

  Mamiya’s nostrils flared. ‘And the coffee cup in the sink?’

  ‘Was from when they had coffee Sunday morning – made by Ms Wakayama, apparently. She said nothing seemed out of the ordinary.’

  ‘So the coffee was poisoned after that,’ Mamiya concluded with a scratch at the stubble on his chin.

  ‘Get anything from Mrs Mashiba?’

  A sour look came over the chief’s face and he shook his head. ‘Nothing good. I don’t even know if she was aware he was having an affair. I asked her pretty directly if there were any other women, but she denied it, and looked pretty surprised that I’d asked. No indecision, no wandering eyes. It didn’t look like an act. If it was, she’s a pro.’

  Kusanagi stole a sidelong glance at Utsumi, who clearly was of the opinion that Ayane’s tearful embrace with Hiromi Wakayama had been a performance. She’d said she wanted to ask the chief what he thought, but now the young detective seemed intent only on taking notes.

  ‘Think we should tell Mrs Mashiba her husband was cheating on her?’

  Mamiya immediately shook his head. ‘No need for us to let that particular cat out of the bag. I can’t see how it would help the investigation. I’m guessing you two will be seeing a lot more of her in the coming days, so be careful what you say.’

  ‘So we hide it.’

  ‘No, we just don’t go out of our way to tell her. If she figures something out on her own, well, there’s nothing we can do about that. Assuming she doesn’t know already.’ Mamiya pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and glanced at it. ‘I want you to go to this address.’