Journey Under the Midnight Sun

by Keigo Higashino

  The employee had directed him to another branch of the same shop in town, showing him the location on a map.

  ‘That’s right next to where I’m headed,’ Kirihara was reported to have said. ‘I wish I’d asked sooner.’

  The other Harmony in question was located in West Ōe 6. A visit confirmed that someone matching Kirihara’s description had come to the shop in the early evening on Friday. He’d purchased three Puddings à la Mode, but the employee wasn’t sure what for, or where he’d gone after that.

  The purchase revealed two things to the investigation team: one, Kirihara was going to meet someone, and two, that someone was most likely a woman. Finally, a name surfaced: Fumiyo Nishimoto – the only female customer on the ledger at Kirihara Pawnshop with an address near the cake shop.

  Sasagaki and Koga went to pay Fumiyo a visit.

  Her apartment building, a squat two-storey affair with a sign that read YOSHIDA HEIGHTS, stood in a cluster of small houses that looked as if they had been thrown together from corrugated tin siding and whatever lumber happened to be lying around at the time. Black splotches marked the building’s sooty grey walls and serpentine lines of concrete had been plastered over the many cracks.

  Fumiyo’s unit was listed in the ledger as No 103. The walkway leading down the line of ground floor apartments was dim and dank – open on one side to the air, but too close to the neighbours to get any sunlight. A rusted bicycle was parked at the corner of the building, half-blocking the entrance.

  Avoiding the washing machines that squatted outside each doorway, Sasagaki looked for Fumiyo’s unit. He found a piece of paper tacked to the wall beside the third door down, on which ‘Nishimoto’ had been written in permanent marker. He knocked.

  ‘Yes,’ came a girl’s voice from inside. The door didn’t open. ‘Who is it?’

  ‘Is your mom home?’ Sasagaki asked through the door.

  There was no answer until the voice said again, ‘Who is it?’

  Sasagaki looked at Koga and smiled wryly. Clearly the girl had been told not to open the door to strangers – a practice he normally would have applauded, except right now it was interfering with his investigation.

  Sasagaki kept his voice loud enough that the girl could hear, but hopefully not the neighbours. ‘We’re with the police. We have some questions for your mother.’

  Silence.

  By her voice, Sasagaki pegged her as a pre-teen, maybe in middle school or about to finish elementary school. He could imagine her freezing when she heard the word ‘police’.

  Then came the sound of the door being unlocked. It opened, but the chain was still on. Through the narrow gap he saw a girl’s face with wide eyes. Her skin was remarkably white and as smooth as porcelain.

  ‘My mother’s not home yet,’ she said, a tone in her voice that put Sasagaki in mind of words like ‘resolute’.

  ‘Out shopping, maybe?’

  ‘No, she’s at work.’

  ‘What time does she usually come home?’ Sasagaki asked, glancing at his watch. It was just past five.

  ‘Any time now,’ the girl told him.

  ‘Right,’ Sasagaki said. ‘We’ll just wait outside, then.’

  The girl nodded and shut the door. Sasagaki reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out his cigarettes. ‘Kid’s got a good head on her shoulders,’ he said in a low voice.

  ‘I’d agree,’ Koga said. ‘That, and —’

  He was about to say something else when the door opened again, this time without the chain.

  ‘Could you show me your police thingy?’ the girl asked.

  Sasagaki blinked. ‘Sorry, my what?’

  ‘Your badge.’

  ‘Oh, right.’ He smiled. ‘Here,’ he said, holding out his badge displayed in his wallet, next to a photo ID.

  The girl looked between the photograph and Sasagaki’s face for a moment before saying, ‘You can come in.’ She opened the door.

  ‘No, that’s OK,’ Sasagaki said, a little surprised. ‘We’re fine outside.’

  The girl shook her head. ‘The neighbours will wonder.’

  Sasagaki glanced at Koga. He resisted the urge to grin.

  The detectives stepped inside. As Sasagaki had guessed it was a small apartment for a family. The room beyond the door was a tiny kitchen-diner with a wooden floor and a small sink. Behind that was another room, only slightly larger, floored with tatami mats.

  The girl offered the detectives a seat at the simple table in the front room. There were only two chairs. The pink-and-white checked tablecloth was plastic, with cigarette burns near the edge.

  After the detectives had sat down the girl went into the back room and sat up against a closed closet door, where she began reading a book. There was a white label on the cover, indicating it was from a library.

  ‘What’re you reading?’ Koga asked. She held the book up so he could see. He smiled. ‘That’s quite the book for someone your age.’

  ‘What is it?’ Sasagaki asked him.

  ‘Gone With the Wind.’

  Sasagaki nodded, impressed. ‘I saw the movie.’

  ‘Me too,’ Koga said. ‘It was pretty good. Never even occurred to me to read the book.’

  ‘I don’t read much these days myself.’

  ‘You and me both. Not even manga, not since Ashita no Joe ended.’

  ‘What, Joe’s already done?’

  ‘Yeah, back in May. Now that Star of the Giants is done too I’m all out of reading material.’

  ‘It’s just as well. Grown men shouldn’t go around reading manga.’

  ‘I guess.’ Koga shrugged.

  The girl didn’t even look up from her book while the detectives chatted. It was as if she’d sensed that they were just saying whatever came to mind in order to fill the silence.

  The thought must have occurred to Koga, too, because he said nothing further. Presently he began rapping his fingers restlessly on the table but stopped at a withering glance from the girl.

  Sasagaki busied himself looking around the house. Furniture and appliances had been kept to a bare minimum. There was nothing that could be considered a luxury item in the place. There wasn’t even a desk for studying or bookshelves. A small television sat by the window, but it was incredibly old, with a little bunny-ear antenna on top. He imagined it was probably a black-and-white set, one of the ones where, even after you turned on the switch, it took forever for the picture to come on. When it did, there were jagged lines across everything.

  It wasn’t just the lack of material possessions. The place seemed unusually austere for a house with a little girl living in it. The fluorescent lights on the ceiling were old, but even that didn’t fully explain the bleak mood.

  Two cardboard boxes were stacked right next to where Sasagaki was sitting. He pried open the lid of the top box with his fingertips, taking a peek inside. It was filled to the brim with rubber frogs. They were the kind that had a little tail you could squeeze to make the legs inflate, making the frog ‘jump’. He’d seen them for sale at stalls during street festivals.

  ‘What’s your name, miss?’ Sasagaki asked the girl. Normally he wouldn’t use ‘miss’ when talking to a schoolchild, but for her it seemed appropriate.

  ‘Yukiho Nishimoto,’ the girl said, her eyes never leaving her book.

  ‘Yukiho? How do you write that?’

  ‘The characters for snow and ear, like an ear of rice.’

  ‘Nice,’ Sasagaki said. ‘That’s a nice name, isn’t it?’ He looked over at his partner.

  Koga nodded. The girl continued reading.

  ‘Have you ever heard of a shop called Kirihara?’ Sasagaki asked. ‘It’s a pawnshop.’

  Yukiho didn’t answer right away. Then she licked her lips and said, ‘My mom goes there sometimes.’

  ‘Have you ever met the man who runs the shop?’

  ‘I have.’

  ‘Has he ever come here?’

  Yukiho frowned. ‘I think so,’ she said.

&
nbsp; ‘But not when you were home, is that it?’

  ‘He might have. I don’t really remember.’

  ‘Any idea why he visited?’

  ‘No.’

  Sasagaki reconsidered questioning the girl right now. He had a feeling this would be only the first of many opportunities he would have to talk to her. He resumed looking around the room. He wasn’t looking for anything in particular, but his eyes widened a little when he saw the waste basket next to the refrigerator. It was filled to the brim, and perched on top was some packaging paper with a mark on it from Harmony, the cake shop.

  Sasagaki looked over at the girl. Their eyes met but she quickly went back to reading her book. He had the distinct impression that she’d been looking at the rubbish, too.

  A short while later the girl looked up again. Then she closed her book and walked past them towards the door.

  Sasagaki perked up his ears. He heard footsteps, sandals dragging across the ground. Koga’s mouth opened slightly.

  The footsteps approached the door and stopped. There was the sound of a key in the lock.

  ‘It’s open,’ Yukiho called out.

  ‘Why didn’t you lock it? It’s not safe,’ said a voice as the door opened. A woman wearing a turquoise blouse came in. She looked in her mid-thirties, with her hair in a bun behind her head.

  Fumiyo Nishimoto noticed the detectives immediately. She quickly looked between her daughter and the strange men in shock.

  ‘It’s OK, they’re police,’ the girl said.

  ‘Police?’ An unguarded look of fear washed over Fumiyo’s face.

  ‘Sasagaki, Osaka Police,’ Sasagaki said, standing. ‘This is my partner, Koga.’

  Fumiyo was noticeably taken aback. Her face had gone pale, and she was clearly unsure what to do. She stood with a paper bag in her hand, the door still hanging open behind her.

  ‘We’re investigating a case and had some questions to ask you, Mrs Nishimoto. Sorry to drop in when you were out.’

  ‘What sort of case?’

  ‘It’s about the guy from the pawnshop,’ Yukiho said.

  Fumiyo held her breath for a long moment. From the looks on their faces, Sasagaki ascertained that they both knew about Kirihara’s death and, furthermore, had discussed it together at some length.

  ‘Please, have a seat,’ Koga said, offering his chair to Fumiyo. Wringing her hands, she sat down at the table across from Sasagaki.

  A fine-featured woman, Sasagaki thought. A little soft under the eyes, but with make-up she’d definitely qualify as a looker. But hers was a cold beauty. The resemblance to her daughter was striking. Sasagaki could imagine any number of middle-aged men falling for her. With Kirihara at fifty-two, there could well have been something between them.

  ‘Pardon the intrusion, but are you married?’

  ‘My husband died seven years ago. He was working at a construction site, there was an accident…’

  ‘I see, I’m sorry. Where are you working now?’

  ‘At an udon shop in Imazato.’

  The name of the shop was Kikuya. Her hours there were from Monday to Saturday, eleven a.m. to four p.m.

  ‘The udon there any good?’ Koga asked with a smile, but Fumiyo’s face remained hard.

  ‘I suppose,’ was all she said.

  ‘I’m sure you’ve heard that Mr Yosuke Kirihara passed away?’ Sasagaki said, getting to the topic at hand.

  ‘Yes,’ she said in a small voice. ‘It was quite a shock.’

  Yukiho went around behind her mother into the back room, where she sat against the closet like before. Sasagaki watched her go before looking back at Fumiyo.

  ‘The things is, it’s very likely that Mr Kirihara was involved in an incident. We were trying to track down exactly where he went last Friday afternoon and heard that he might have visited you here.’

  ‘What, my house? No I —’ Fumiyo began, haltingly, when her daughter chimed in, ‘Isn’t he the one who brought the pudding?’

  Fumiyo’s bewilderment was almost painful to watch. She moved her thin lips for a moment before saying, ‘Yes, that’s right. Mr Kirihara did come here on Friday.’

  ‘Around what time?’

  ‘I think it was…’ Fumiyo looked past Sasagaki’s right shoulder to the small clock atop a two-door fridge. ‘A little before five, I think. Right after I got home.’

  ‘And what was the purpose of his visit?’

  ‘No reason in particular. He said he dropped in because he was in the area. He knows I’m a single mother and we’re having a rough time making ends meet. He always dropped by now and then to give advice.’

  ‘He said he was in the area? That’s a little odd,’ Sasagaki said, pointing at the wrapping paper from Harmony in the trash pail. ‘He brought that, didn’t he? Apparently he went all the way to the station to buy it. Not really in the area, is it?’

  ‘Well, that may be, but I’m just telling you what he told me. He said he was dropping in because he was in the area,’ Fumiyo said, her head drooping.

  ‘Right, well, let’s just leave that as that, then,’ Sasagaki offered. ‘Until when would you say he was here?’

  ‘He left just a little before six, I think.’

  ‘Just before six? Are you sure?’

  ‘I’m pretty sure.’

  ‘So that would mean he was here for about an hour? What did you discuss?’

  ‘Nothing in particular. Just life.’

  ‘That’s a fairly broad topic. Did you talk about the weather, money, anything specific?’

  ‘Well, he did mention the war…’

  ‘You mean the Pacific War?’

  Sasagaki had read in the files that Kirihara had served in World War II. But Fumiyo shook her head.

  ‘No, some war going on now, overseas. He was saying it was sure to drive up the price of oil again.’

  ‘Oh, right, the Middle East.’ That would be the Yom Kippur War that had just kicked off at the beginning of the month.

  ‘He was saying it would wreck the economy. And we might not be able to get oil or anything made from it. The world would descend into a fight to see who had the most money and power – that’s what he said.’

  Sasagaki nodded, watching Fumiyo’s downcast eyes as she spoke. It seemed to him that she was telling the truth. The question was why Kirihara had bothered to tell her that. Was he suggesting that he had money and power, so she should stick with him? According to the ledger at the pawnshop, Fumiyo Nishimoto had never once returned money to retrieve any collateral. She was destitute, and Sasagaki realised it was probably in the pawnshop’s best interests to keep her that way. There might have been an angle by which Kirihara benefited personally, too.

  He glanced over at Yukiho. ‘And where was your daughter at that time?’