Soul Cage--A Mystery

by Tetsuya Honda

  Kikuta nodded wordlessly.

  “The real problem is that Himekawa can’t explain the judgment calls she makes,” Kusaka continued. “If she took the time to sit down and think it all through, there might turn out to be perfectly sound logic underpinning her thought process. She won’t accept that she has any responsibility to explain herself. Her view is that results are the only thing that counts. That’s the thing about her I find hard to stomach. I dislike her approach—and I wish she’d change it.”

  They had already walked past several cafés. Apparently, Kusaka hadn’t even noticed them.

  “Have you got any ideas about what underpins Lieutenant Himekawa’s thought process?” Kikuta asked.

  Kusaka shook his head.

  “I don’t think I do. You know how she always stares into the middle distance before coming out with one of her theories? One minute she’s all glassy-eyed and gazing into space, the next she’s sprung to her feet and is propounding some wild idea. You ask her to explain herself, and she comes back at you with, ‘That’s what I think, so that’s what I think.’ For her, that’s good enough. I simply can’t follow. It drives me crazy.”

  “Do you think it’s something psychic? You know, ‘Lieutenant Reiko and her reiki powers.’”

  “Spare me the silly puns, please.”

  Kikuta apologized, but he really wanted to shoot back that that sort of brusqueness was exactly what Reiko loathed in Kusaka.

  They walked past yet another coffee shop.

  “Tell me, Lieutenant,” asked Kikuta. “Why did you bring this matter up with me today?”

  Kusaka frowned.

  “Probably because you made such an ass of yourself in there.”

  Kikuta gasped. He felt as though he’d been sucker punched.

  An ass of myself!

  A cyclist was approaching Kikuta at speed on the sidewalk. It gave him an excuse to duck behind Kusaka and conceal the fact that his face had turned beetroot red.

  “Are you two seeing each other? If you are, then I recommend that you get married sooner rather than later. Otherwise, it could have a negative impact on your career—and hers.”

  “No. I mean, that’s not—”

  “What are you babbling about, Sergeant Kikuta? You trying to tell me that it’s hard for a sergeant like you to propose to a lieutenant like her?”

  Go right ahead, Lieutenant! Who needs tact or delicacy? It’s not like this is a difficult subject for me.

  “You need to pull yourself together, Kikuta. If you’re seeing her, then being upfront about it is the least you can do.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “What, man? Don’t tell me you haven’t got around to telling her how you feel about her? Is that it?”

  “Uhm, uh … that’s right, sir.”

  Kusaka sighed with disgust.

  “Oh, for God’s sake! A great hulking fellow on the outside and such a little wimp on the inside—Kikuta, I’m disappointed in you.”

  Disappointed in me! What am I supposed to do?

  * * *

  In the end, they didn’t go to a café. They bought a couple of cans of coffee from a convenience store and drank it on the street.

  As he gulped down the hot, sweet liquid, Kikuta felt himself relax a little. He decided to ask Kusaka a question.

  “Being married, Lieutenant. What’s it like?”

  Kusaka looked at the sky and exhaled with a hiss.

  “Let’s see.… Imagine you’ve got two balls of different colored clay that you knead together to form another bigger ball.”

  Kikuta felt he sort of understood what Kusaka was getting at. Or maybe he didn’t.

  “The different colors represent the husband and the wife. What will happen when they’re kneaded together? The colors could mix; they could divide neatly down the middle; one color could completely overwhelm the other—whatever happens, the two smaller balls are going to smash together and recreate themselves as a one, slightly bigger ball. That’s my take on marriage.”

  “What about kids?”

  “Well, a child is like a third, smaller ball that appears as part of the big one. You’ve no way of knowing what color it will be.”

  “How old is your son, Lieutenant?” Kikuta asked.

  “He’s fourteen. Second year in junior high.”

  Kusaka gulped down the last of his coffee.

  “Kids become independent, so I guess the role of parents is to make their kids as well-rounded as possible, so they can roll off successfully on their own.”

  Kusaka was gazing off into the middle distance as he spoke, rather like Reiko when she was having one of her inspirations. Kikuta felt that he had gotten a glimpse of the true face of Mamoru Kusaka—a face that the man almost never revealed to anyone at work.

  5

  Reiko and Ioka had been assigned to the surveillance of Michiko Nakagawa.

  Michiko was studying at Kawasaki Beauty College. The college was only a three-minute walk from her house, while the Royal Diner, where she worked in the evenings, was just five minutes’ walk away. The Kawasaki Station area, where she did most of her shopping, was a little over a kilometer away. With everything so close, she almost never took public transport. As a subject, she was extraordinarily easy to keep tabs on.

  She’d only met up with Kosuke Mishima once since the task force put her under twenty-four-hour surveillance.

  On Thursday, December 18, Michiko followed her usual routine. When she left her apartment in the morning and headed for school, Reiko followed at a discreet distance. The girl wasn’t a suspect, so there was no point in panicking her by making their presence felt. She was wearing a black down jacket with a fur collar. Luckily for them, the fur of her collar was white, and she was easy to pick out.

  “Are you going to ask her about Tobe today?” Ioka asked Reiko.

  “If we can. We do need to talk to her about that.”

  They’d have to talk to her after school ended at 4:40 and before she went to work in the evening.

  Reiko and Ioka caught up with her as she was walking home.

  “Miss Nakagawa?”

  Michiko turned. She didn’t seem surprised to see them.

  “Yes.”

  “Can you spare us a minute?”

  “Sure.”

  Reiko was planning to do the interview at a coffee shop along the way, but when Michiko suggested they come back to her place, she was happy to go along.

  “I just need a minute to tidy up.”

  She kept them waiting outside for a minute or two, then let them into her apartment.

  The room was just as tidy—or, if you wanted to be uncharitable, just as dreary—as on their last visit.

  They all sat down in the same places, and Michiko prepared some tea. She seemed more relaxed: perhaps having a couple of detectives drop by for a chat was no longer such a big deal the second time it happened.

  “We’re here today because we wanted to ask you a few questions about your late father,” began Reiko, when everyone was comfortable.

  Michiko, who was peering into her teacup, raised her head and looked first at Reiko and then at Ioka.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Last time we spoke, you told us that your father died in an accident while working at one of Kinoshita Construction’s construction sites. After the accident, did a Kinoshita employee by the name of Makio Tobe contact you to talk about insurance?”

  She was calm. Quite abnormally so.

  “Yes, he did. And he kindly helped to arrange my move to this new apartment. Is there a problem?”

  She sounded like she was reading from a script.

  “Am I right in thinking that Kinoshita Construction had an insurance policy on your father that listed themselves as beneficiary in the event of his death, and that a proportion of the payout they received made its way through them back to you?”

  Michiko was looking at her blankly. No wonder. Reiko knew her question had been long-winded and hard to understand. She tried ag
ain.

  “Did Kinoshita Construction give you money from your father’s life insurance to help you move?”

  “Yes. At least, I think that’s where the money came from.”

  “And you met with Makio Tobe?”

  “Yes,” Michiko said, no longer looking confused. “I met him several times.”

  “Where?”

  The girl’s eyes froze.

  Was she scrambling to come up with an answer?

  “At a café in Kawasaki.”

  Really? Or did you come up with that just now?

  “Which café?”

  A pause.

  “I think it was a chain, probably a Doutor.”

  “Doutor’s got five or six stores in the Kawasaki station area. Which one was it?”

  I think she’s floundering.

  “The one near Marui department store … I think.”

  “When did you meet him?”

  “Very soon after my father died.”

  “What sort of man was he?”

  The girl’s eyes went momentarily blank.

  Does that mean…?

  Reiko remembered what Saito, the manager at the Royal Diner, had told her. Michiko had been behaving strangely on the night of the third. She was nervous and distracted, and loud noises made her jump.

  That was typical behavior of someone who’d just been the victim of violence. Reiko knew all about post-traumatic stress from her own sexual assault: she’d been acutely sensitive to loud noises or anything even slightly reminiscent of conflict or violence.

  Was Tobe responsible for Michiko’s behavior on the third?

  According to Kusaka’s reports, Tobe was an indiscriminate chaser after women. It was hard to imagine that he wouldn’t have tried his luck with a frail and good-looking girl like Michiko.

  Michiko said that Tobe had arranged for her to move to this apartment. So he knew her address. If Tobe had assaulted her, likely as not this place was ground zero.

  “Scratch that. Let me ask you something quite different. Did or did not Tobe come here on the evening of December third?”

  Michiko shook her head furiously from side to side.

  Reiko knew exactly what that meant.

  * * *

  When Yuda and his partner took over surveillance duties at 6:30 p.m., Reiko and Ioka headed back to Kamata Police Station.

  “I feel so sorry for that kid,” Ioka kept muttering as they made for the main street. His words stirred something in Reiko’s memory: how as a girl she had been knocked down and pressed against the hard, dank earth in the park.

  That’s over and done with. It’s my past. It’s finished.

  “According to Kusaka, Tobe dropped into the offices of Kinoshita Construction briefly on the afternoon of the third, then played the slots until early evening. Do you think he went around to the girl’s place after that?”

  “Yes. The scumbag.”

  “And you think he went to Middle Rokugo after that?”

  “Yes. But I don’t want you to say anything about any of this at tonight’s meeting, okay?”

  Ioka’s brows shot up, and he groaned with frustration.

  “I’m reasonably confident that we can clear up this case without needing to bring up the question of what, if anything, happened between Michiko and Tobe.”

  Ioka groaned again, but Reiko wasn’t interested in his objections.

  “If we arrest Tobe and he makes a confession, there’s nothing we can do. From our side, though, I don’t want to make the girl a key figure in the case. Tobe’s our murderer, and Takaoka’s our victim. Anything else, we should let sleeping dogs lie. I don’t want to put the spotlight on the girl any more than we have already. Tell me you’re on board with that, Ioka. Please.”

  “Uh, okay, boss,” Ioka stammered. “Sure.”

  They found a taxi as soon as they reached the main boulevard. Throughout the short journey to the station, Ioka kept his mouth uncharacteristically shut.

  * * *

  In her report, Reiko noted Michiko’s movements and the fact that she and Ioka had interviewed her and established that she’d met Makio Tobe.

  With many of the investigators out on surveillance duties, the turnout for the meeting was low. The most important topic was the search of Tobe’s apartment. Tobe’s girlfriend, Mikako Kobayashi, had been arrested for the possession and use of controlled substances. Tests confirmed that the .32-caliber handgun found in the futon closet—it was a Colt Pocket—had never been fired. The gun wasn’t loaded, and nine rounds of ammunition were found in a separate place. Mikako Kobayashi had given a statement in which she denied knowing anything about the gun.

  Forensics also reported that fingerprints found in Tobe’s apartment matched the prints found on the pole-hook in the Middle Rokugo.

  Kusaka took it from there.

  “From the way that the prints on the pole-hook overlap, it is clear that Tobe handled it just prior to the dismembering of the body. While that by no means constitutes proof that Tobe murdered Takaoka, we can say that he very probably did visit the garage on the day of the crime. There is another point I would like to bring to your attention: Tobe was in possession of a handgun, but he didn’t take it with him when he left the apartment. If Tobe is the perpetrator, he must have acted on impulse. That brings my report for today to an end.”

  Reiko felt that Kusaka was both on and off target.

  “Any questions?” asked Captain Imaizumi.

  No hands went up.

  That evening’s meeting ended relatively early.

  * * *

  A full two weeks had passed since the setting up of the task force in Kamata, and many of the investigators were starting to look worn out. Even Kusaka dashed out as soon as the executive meeting came to an end, explaining that he had to nip back home. He lived way out in suburban Saitama and Reiko wondered if he’d get to the station in time to make his train.

  She looked at her watch. It was 10:37. It would take just under an hour to make it to her parents’ place in Minami-Urawa.

  “Think I’ll go home today too.”

  Kikuta half got up.

  “Right, well I’ll … uh.…”

  Reiko waited for him to finish his sentence. She wasn’t expecting him to offer to see her all the way home. He’d not be able to make it back this late, and she could hardly offer him a bed at her parents’ house.

  “I’ll go with you … as far as the station.”

  That’s about as good as it’s going to get.

  “Great,” said Reiko with a smile. “Thanks.”

  It was lucky that Ioka wasn’t nearby. Had he popped out to the convenience store? Or was he in the bathroom? Either way, they needed to make tracks before he spotted them.

  * * *

  It was 11:00 p.m. The area around the station, with all the bars and restaurants, was still bustling.

  Kikuta was walking to Reiko’s right. He hadn’t said anything, but Reiko was getting the feeling that he wanted to talk about their recent kiss. Was it going to be the start of something new? Or was it a meaningless one-off?

  Reiko genuinely liked Kikuta. She felt closer to him than anyone else, and she trusted him implicitly. It was too early to think about going out with him. That was nothing to do with him; it was a personal issue. She needed to feel a little more secure in her identity as a detective on the force before she could take the next step.

  They walked into the station and came to a halt just outside the ticket barrier. When they realized they were getting in the way, they edged off to the side.

  “Thanks for walking me here.”

  Kikuta’s face turned scarlet. Reiko had a flashback to the guardian deities outside the temple in Asakusa. She wondered if the other people in the station were getting the wrong idea: they probably thought he was angry with her.

  “Lieutenant, I…”

  “Yes?”

  She knew Kikuta was hopeless at expressing himself. Putting any pressure on him would only be counterp
roductive. She needed to be patient; give him space.

  “Lieutenant, I think you know how…”

  Hurry up or I’ll fall into a goddamn coma. Spit it out while I’m sugar and spice.

  “I mean, I…”

  Things weren’t looking good. Reiko could feel her expression changing. Now she was frowning.

  Come on, girl. Be patient. Be nice.

  She looked at Kikuta’s stubble-covered jaw. At his puckered lips, the texture and color of a sweet potato.

  “You see, I really li—I really li—”

  You really like me, right? I know you do. But I still want to hear you say it. Come on, spit it out! I want to hear it from you. That’s why I’m waiting here. Are you going to make it worth my while? Will you finally come out and tell me today? How much longer do I need to wait, for God’s sake?

  It was not to be.

  “Ah, Lieutenant Reiko, found you at last!”

  Oh shit!

  “Good night,” she said.

  She didn’t look around but pushed past Kikuta and headed for the ticket gate.

  His broad shoulders seemed to be shaking. Real men don’t cry, she thought to herself, but maybe red-faced guardian deities shed man-tears now and again.

  “Hey, Lieutenant Reiko!”

  The voice rang out again behind her. That man was the bane of her life!

  “Kaz Kikuta, my man! What are you doing here … with her?”

  There was a thump, then a yelp.

  She got on the escalator and went up to the platform without looking back.

  * * *

  It was a little after midnight when she finally made it to her parents’ home. The hallway was dark, but the light in the living room was still on.

  “Hi, it’s me.”

  She dumped her bag, bulging with a change of clothes, in the hall, and stuck her head into the living room. Her father was sitting on the sofa.

  “Oh, hi there,” he said, swiveling around to face her. “You should have called. I could have picked you up.”

  “No problem, Dad. Our meeting ended earlier than normal today, so I thought, why not pop home? It was very spur of the moment. Where’s Mom? Asleep already?”