I thought a moment, then said, “A girl was waiting for me in my apartment. She was making dinner, but I was running late, so I needed to get home quickly,” I went on. But the man seemed uninterested in my story. His attitude surprised me, since he had been the one to ask me why I had been running.
“Ah, I see,” he said. “Well, then. That doesn’t really concern me. Not at all. There’s just one thing, perhaps you can tell me. I just can’t seem to get it off my mind. At the time, why were you running with your right hand in your pocket? Hardly anyone runs with their hands in their pockets, do they? And why were you so happy? That’s what the store clerk said. That you seemed extremely happy. Happy, and yet, sweating profusely.”
The man fell silent, and I realized that it was now my turn to speak.
“That’s no big deal, is it? I don’t really remember, but if I happened to think about something funny, that’s probably why I was laughing, and I always sweat when I run. I can’t really say. As for my hand being in my pocket, I don’t really remember that either, but there was probably something inside it—like my cell phone—that I didn’t want to fall out. I don’t know.”
The man took out a cigarette and lit it while I was saying this. I could tell that he intended for this conversation to go on for a while, so I said, “I’m busy right now.”
But he ignored me. As if to himself, he said, “Hmm, that’s interesting.” Then he said to me, “Look, uh, why talk about this here? Your neighbors can see us, right? Why don’t you let me inside for a minute—sorry, but it’s getting a little cold.”
“No, I’m sorry, but I don’t think so. It’s a mess, and I’m really not comfortable letting a complete stranger into my apartment. I don’t think that’s so unusual.”
“I’m a detective. I’m not going to steal anything.”
“No, it’s not that I suspect you would, but I simply prefer not to. And, if you’ll forgive me for saying so, it’s a pretty vague excuse for trying to invite yourself into my apartment. I think for most people, it’s normal not to want to be involved with the police, isn’t it? Would you please leave now? I’m starting to get angry.”
“Hey, take it easy, just another minute—please listen to what else I have to say,” he said, taking a drag on his cigarette. “In normal situations, at this point I usually just leave. When the person gets annoyed, it makes things difficult. But this time, I can’t do that. Because a gun is involved, there’s no time to lose. This can’t wait until tomorrow. In just one day, something terrible can happen. That’s the truth. I’ve seen these cases too many times. I don’t want to regret this later. You know about the Arakawa River incident, right?”
“What?”
“I’m talking about the man who was found murdered by the Arakawa River. You’re familiar with it, aren’t you?”
I could feel the man’s eyes on me as I tried to contain my growing nervousness. So I gazed back at him, first with a look as if I were trying to recall something, then with an expression conveying puzzlement at what he was saying.
“I saw it on television, but what is that about?”
“The bullet that man was shot in the head with and the bullet that was retrieved from the cat’s body are the same type.”
“Oh, is that so? You mean . . . No way, come on! You think someone murdered that cat?”
“Ah, well, listen to what I have to say. This won’t take much longer,” he said, stamping out the cigarette he had dropped on the ground and lighting a new one. I still had the feeling that, as he did so, he was gauging the state I was in. When he’d suddenly brought up the Arakawa murder just now, I suspected that had been his intention all along.
“Would you mind if we moved to a coffee shop or someplace? I doubt you would agree to come down for questioning voluntarily—and that wouldn’t really work for me, either. But if you refuse now, I’ll come back again tomorrow, and I’ll go to your school as well. So wouldn’t it be easier just to dispel any suspicion right here and now?”
He said this to me and then, without waiting for my response, he continued, “I’ll wait a few minutes while you get dressed.”
Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do but go with the man to the coffee shop. I felt an almost paroxysmal urge to shoot him with the gun, but I knew what it would mean for me if I did. I closed the door and put the gun in the back of the closet, in case something happened. If he came inside the apartment, I figured he would probably find it anyway, but I didn’t have much time. Then again, he still didn’t have any definitive proof that the gun was in my possession. And without evidence, there was no reason to think that he would be able to search my apartment. And, when I thought about it, there shouldn’t be any such evidence. If that scanty eyewitness testimony was the only thing they had against me, then I found it hard to imagine that it would lead them to me.
When we got to the coffee shop the man ordered two coffees, and with a slight smile on his face he lit a cigarette. There was something fundamentally irritating about this guy. Of course I would feel that way, in my situation, but even putting that aside, I doubted that I would enjoy his company.
“Uh, could I see your badge one more time?”
“Why? What for?”
“No, please forgive me but, it’s just to be sure you’re really a detective. At first, I wondered if you were a conman, or soliciting for something. Still, I never would have thought I’d be suspected of such things.”
He had been smiling, but now he looked a little impatient. I had said that so as not to give him the upper hand, and I felt like it might have worked. He opened his badge to where his photo was, and held it out for me to see. I asked the waitress who was passing by for a pen and paper, and wrote down the man’s name.
“Why are you doing that?”
“Oh, just in case, if anything happens. I’d hate if you were to take an unreasonable attitude.”
“. . . So that’s how it is,” he said with a slight frown, taking a drag on his cigarette. “Well, why don’t we get started? I’m going to speak frankly now. No use talking in circles,” he said, taking another drag.
I decided to look in the direction of the clock on the wall of the shop, with an uninterested expression.
“To begin with, we didn’t retrieve a bullet from the cat. I wanted to see what your reaction would be, so I made it up. But there was indeed a report that gunshots were heard. The cat’s body was found in a tragic state, and the eyewitness report about you—those parts were true. But we don’t know that the cat was shot with a gun. Unfortunately for us. The body has already been cremated by the shelter, so there won’t be any bullets coming from it. There’s no way to know. As for the Arakawa murder, well, when an incident like that happens, we set up a task force, and even though the one for this case is extremely small-scale, well, we’re investigating it as a homicide that’s related to organized crime. And actually, we already have several people in custody. I’m in charge of that investigation.”
“So what are you saying? I’m a student—this has absolutely nothing to do with me, does it?”
“Well, just listen,” he said, taking a sip of the coffee that the waitress had brought over. “You see, at first, I thought that this—the guy down by the Arakawa—I thought this case was a suicide. Of course, I happened to be the only one who thought so. The dead body, the way it was found . . . it struck me as unnatural for a homicide. Usually, gunshot murder victims are hit in the chest. Several shots to the chest. Well, most of the time. But this victim had one shot in the temple. A single bullet to the right temple. And, the guy died—well, the estimated time of death, anyway—between six and ten o’clock at night. By then it would already be dark around there. And what’s more, you can be sure that none of those small-time yakuza thugs have the skill to strike with a single shot to the temple. No way. But the task force isn’t stupid. Nope, and even if they were, they could figure that one o
ut. Yup, this was absolutely a murder. The killer held a gun to the terrified victim’s temple, and fired. That’s what they think happened. Of course, it’s certainly not an impossibility. Except these guys don’t kill people like they do on TV. I’ve never seen a dead body like that one. Shootings, you know, by their nature, they create horrific crime scenes. They shoot the hell out of each other, without hitting the vital organs, and they die agonizing deaths. You can tell from the evidence, the scene shows that they were writhing in pain. It’s never such a clean—well, it may be a strange thing to say but—such a clean crime scene. When someone is shot with a gun, they don’t die right away. It takes a long time before they breathe their last.”
The man had been watching me the entire time he was speaking. I had looked away, but still, his gaze made me anxious and there was nothing I could do about it. I was desperately trying to anticipate which direction his story would go next, and how it would be connected to me. Attempting to steady my fraying nerves, I drank my coffee and took a drag from my cigarette.
“There’s one more thing I have my suspicions about. There was blood spatter on the fingers of the man’s right hand. It was just trace amounts. Of course, it could have easily happened to get there. However, based on that, I had more or less decided that he had killed himself. Up to that point, it had been a hunch, but I could imagine him holding the gun in his right hand, pointing it at his temple. But once the police see any signs of organized crime, they are quick to make that connection. It’s just force of habit. Especially in a small-time case like this one, with a small task force—it’s all the more likely. But here’s how I saw it. This guy committed suicide, and then by chance, someone happened to come by the scene—right? Totally by accident, they happened to come by the scene, probably someone who was just going about their business as usual, and they made off with the gun that was left lying there—that’s what I think. The river runs between these two neighborhoods. I’ve been thinking that this person must be somewhere in one of these neighborhoods. And then, in the midst of all this, comes the report that gunshots were heard, along with the tragic discovery of the cat’s body in the same area. It was obvious that someone had killed the cat. It occurred to me that, if someone had found the gun, they might first use it on an animal. I became convinced. I knew that I was right about this. I must confess, I was even a little excited about it.”
He chuckled when he said this, and hearing the sudden sound of his laughter, I could feel a tremor deep within my body. I became aware that I was smoking cigarettes at a feverish pace, and realized that I was gulping down all of my coffee. Yet I couldn’t help it. The man seemed to still be watching me, but since I wasn’t looking at him, I wasn’t really sure.
“And then there’s the eyewitness testimony from that night. A young man—and I’d suspected that whoever found it would be a young man—this guy had been running, a smile on his face and with his right hand in his pocket. On top of that, the cat’s body was discovered in a nearby park at around the same time as the reported gunshots. This guy had been so stoic he didn’t show a trace of disappointment when the gift to his parents was broken. Now he was running by, smiling with apparent excitement. Right? What do you think? It’s not unreasonable that I would be so convinced, is it? I became interested. No, extremely interested.”
When I looked at the man, he was indeed staring right at me. I was waiting for what was going to come next, but he didn’t say anything. I pretended to look fed up, and with a half-amazed expression, I stubbed out my cigarette.
“That’s just arbitrary guesswork, isn’t it? Your own assumptions. This has gone far enough. You don’t have even a shred of proof, do you? That’s some nerve you’ve got, strong-arming me into coming here, when it’s all conjecture, isn’t it? Uh, may I go now? If you continue to harass me, it’ll be me calling the police on you.”
“Strong-arming you?” the man said, a smile on his face.
“That’s right.”
“But to solve a case you always start with guesswork.”
“But don’t you need evidence? In order to convince everyone. First of all, you don’t even know whether the cat was shot with a gun, do you? You’ve just made up your mind that it was. And then that report of the gunshots, someone could have easily been mistaken—it doesn’t prove anything. This is ridiculous. How can you suspect me like this, without any evidence? You must be crazy.”
“No, it’s just a general idea. All we need is conjecture. The evidence comes later. Anyway, we already have proof.”
“What?”
“We have proof.”
“So, please tell me what that might be.”
“Your own attitude. That’s right. You have the gun. I’m convinced of it.”
He laughed to himself in amusement.
“At first, I had imagined the person might be one of those shut-in types, like a hikikomori. Usually it’s those recluses who are really into guns, or so I thought. But you’re different. You care about what you wear. According to the clerk at the convenience store, you’re extremely polite, and you have lady friends—more than just one, even. And then—as I can tell from this very conversation—you assert yourself clearly. The way you tried to psych me out is impressive, but honestly, I think it just gives you away even more. Like someone who’d do something as stupid as killing a cat in a park. To tell you the truth—this will probably make you angry when I tell you—when I first went to your place, it was only to confirm what I already knew. I told you I had been convinced for a long time, but the fact is, I didn’t want to regret it later—my way of doing things is to take care of every last detail that bothers me. Of course, I had thought that someone had the gun, but I wasn’t sure that my deductions about you were entirely correct. As you so kindly pointed out, there were several flaws in my argument.”
“Can I go yet?
“No, wait a minute. But you know, you were extremely eager to hear about this case. You acted as if you weren’t interested, when all the while you really wanted to hear what I had to say. And when I told you I was a detective, that caught you off guard, didn’t it? You were totally flustered. I mean, sure, anyone would be upset to have the police at your door. But you were trying to hide your reaction. If you’ve done nothing wrong, there’s no need to hide your shock, is there? My first impression of you didn’t fit with what I expected, but since I’ve been talking to you like this, now I can believe that you would do something as daring as shoot a cat in a park. Call it a hunch, or maybe it’s just experience—whatever. But I’ve really hit the nail on the head with this one. You’re a strange one, all over the place. You must have shot that cat in the heat of the moment, huh? Even now, everything you say is so theoretical. But that stance, too—something about it seems superficial, just a bluff.”
Again, he laughed to himself as he said this, which only served to irritate me.
“But, you have no proof, do you? You can’t call any of that evidence.”
“That’s true, I must admit. I don’t have a single piece of evidence. Or should I say, evidence is difficult to come by, under these conditions. All you’ve been talking about for a while now is proof. It’s the guilty ones who are so interested in hearing about proof.”
The waitress approached and cleared away my coffee cup. She saw the ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts, and went to replace it with a fresh one. Almost all of the cigarette butts in the ashtray were mine. Without asking my opinion, the detective ordered two more coffees.
“The Arakawa investigation will probably be suspended. First of all, because it’s a suicide. And the people who are in custody, they will either be released for lack of evidence, or just rearrested for some other crime. If we’re lucky, we might even find out about another drug route. But now the problem is the gun you have. My theory is somewhat extreme, as you pointed out, so my boss won’t pay it too much mind. And the gunshot report, also like you say, they’ll pr
obably assume it was a mistake. It was the only report that came in, and anyway, the casualty is gone. There’s no way to search for a bullet. You know, bullets actually travel pretty far. Even if it went through the cat’s body, it could still have gone pretty far. To search for it, we’d need to stop traffic in the area and send out a bunch of officers. All of that takes a long time too. For something very small. Or a stray dog could have swallowed it, a kid could have picked it up and taken it somewhere—that would be the end of it. But I already have my sights on you. Unfortunately for you, I’m watching. It’s unlikely that we’ll find any evidence, so there won’t be a large-scale investigation, but I can’t just let it go. This is off the subject, but being a detective is a very demanding job. My life is busier than you can imagine. That’s why, really, the easiest thing for me would be to wait for you to give yourself away, but it’s too late for that. If there are bullets left—maybe one or two, at this point?—what comes next after shooting a cat is shooting a person. You will give yourself away when you shoot a person. And when that happens it will be too late. I have to do something before then. Am I right? It stands to reason that you are thinking about shooting a person next.”
“I beg your pardon?” My voice shook a little.
“That’s why you’re thinking about shooting a person next, aren’t you?”
He was looking at me when he said this, his expression the most serious it had been yet. I felt as if he had seen right through me, and I sensed my heart starting to race again.
“That’s why I say this, for your sake—right now, please hand over the gun. If you don’t want to do that, then get rid of it somewhere. If you shoot someone, we will definitely catch you. Here I am, right now—I will absolutely connect you to the murder, because the bullet will match the one from Arakawa. But, at any rate, you’re not going to hand it over—no one wants to be arrested. That’s why you should get rid of the gun as soon as possible. Someplace where nobody will find it. Like a garbage dumping area in a park. Take it apart, and throw it away with a bunch of other bits of junk. Do that, and that will be the end of it. You’re still young. I have no intention of giving you advice, but there’s no need to ruin everything just for a little fun, is there? Shoot someone and we’ll get you. Please, keep that in mind. And, one more thing—I don’t mean to lecture you about morality—but when you kill someone, they say that you lose your sense of reason. Of course, it depends on how you do it, but they say they have nightmares every night. You’re still young. There’s no need to do something terrible that will affect the rest of your life, just for the sake of it, is there . . . ? That’s all I want to say, for now at least. Well, I’ll be back.”
The Gun Page 9
