Inspector Imanishi Investigates

by Seichō Matsumoto

  His stomach full, Imanishi lay back on the tatami. Perhaps his sleepiness still lingered, for when he lay down, he felt drowsy.

  “Why don’t you rest a bit before you leave?” Yoshiko brought him a pillow and covered him with a light blanket.

  He couldn’t fall asleep right away. A women’s magazine happened to by lying near the pillow. To take his mind off the case, he opened up the thick glossy magazine. He intended to skim it at random, but another smaller volume fell out of it. It was a supplement, a folded color map entitled “A Guide to Japan’s Famous Hot Spring Areas.” Imanishi lay down and held the map above his head, his attention drawn to the northeastern region of Japan. He was still mulling over the name Kameda. The map highlighted such famous resort areas as Matsushima, Hanamaki Hot Springs, Lake Tazawa, and Lake Towada. The names of the stations were crowded in along the train lines. Reading the unfamiliar station names seemed to conjure up images of the scenery of that area. On the left there was Hachirogata, beyond that, the Oga Peninsula. Noshiro, Koigawa, Oiwake, Akita, Shimohatma-these place names drifted before his eyes. Then he saw the name Ugo Kameda.

  He jumped up and started getting ready for work.

  “What happened?” Yoshiko hurried into the room from the kitchen and contemplated her husband hastily changing into his work clothes. “Can’t you sleep?”

  “This is no time to be sleeping,” Imanishi said. “Hurry up and shine my shoes, will you?”

  “But you don’t have to be there until eleven. It’s still early,” said Yoshiko, looking at the wall clock.

  “Never mind, just hurry. I have to leave right away,” he said loudly. He could feel his own excitement mounting.

  Imanishi walked quickly along the street. He waited for the bus impatiently.

  Investigation headquarters had been set up in a room in the Shinagawa precinct office. It was shortly after ten when Imanishi reached it.

  “Hey, you’re here early,” a colleague said, patting him on the back.

  “Is the chief in?”

  “Yeah, he just came in.”

  Imanishi entered the room with the sign “Kamata Railroad Yard Murder Case Investigation Headquarters” on the door. Behind a desk in the center of the room sat Police Inspector Kurozaki. Imanishi went directly to him.

  “Good morning, sir,” Imanishi said.

  “Morning,” Kurozaki nodded.

  “Chief, it’s about the Kameda matter,” Imanishi started off.

  Kurozaki’s hair was slightly frizzy, his eyes were narrow, and he had a double chin. He was a big man with a thick neck that was tucked into his shoulders. He looked up quickly and asked, “Have you found out anything?”

  “I don’t know if this is right, but about the name Kameda,” Imanishi began. “Could it be that it isn’t a person’s name but a place name?”

  “Is there such a place in the Tohoku region?”

  “Yes, there is. Actually, I found it on a map this morning.”

  “I didn’t think of that. That’s… of course… so that’s it,” Kurozaki answered, thinking it over. “Where is this Kameda?” he asked.

  “It’s in Akita Prefecture.”

  The chief yelled, “Hey, someone bring me a prefectural map.”

  A young detective rushed out of the room to borrow a map.

  “Boy, am I glad you noticed this,” the chief said.

  The detective returned with a folded map flapping in his hand. The chief opened it up at once. “Imanishi, where is it?”

  Imanishi went around the desk to stand beside the chief and peer at the small print. The map that Imanishi had seen that morning had been an inexact drawing. After a moment Imanishi found Akita City. Then, pointing with his little finger, he traced the Uetsu Line.

  “Let’s see.” The chief peered at the spot, “I see, Ugo Kameda. It’s there.” Just next to Ugo Kameda was a town called Iwaki.

  Chief Kurozaki gathered all the detectives together and announced Imanishi’s discovery. The majority opinion was now in favor of Kameda as a place name rather than a person’s name. All eyes in the room drifted toward Imanishi.

  “We’ll send the victim’s photo to the area and have the local police inquire as to whether anyone in that area knows the victim,” the chief said.

  The response came four days later. Chief Kurozaki took the call.

  “This is the investigation chief at the Iwaki station in Akita Prefecture,” the caller began.

  “This is Chief Inspector Kurozaki. Thank you very much for all the trouble you went to.”

  “About your inquiry…”

  “Yes?” Kurozaki, grasping the telephone receiver, became tense. “Were you able to find anything?”

  “We made inquiries in the Kameda area, but unfortunately were unable to come up with anyone fitting your description.”

  “Is that right?” Kurozaki said in disappointment.

  “We took the photograph you sent us and asked various people, but the residents of the Kameda area say they don’t know him.”

  “What is Kameda like?” Kurozaki asked.

  “The population of the Kameda area is at most three to four thousand. It is now part of Iwaki town. There is very little farmland, and most of the industry in this area centers on the production of dried noodles and weaving. The population seems to be declining year by year. If the man in the picture was from Kameda, people would have known immediately, but they all said they had never seen him.”

  “Is that so.” But the next words gave hope to the discouraged Kurozaki.

  “Though no one fits the description, something strange did happen here.”

  “Yes, what do you mean when you say ‘something strange’?”

  “Two days before we received your inquiry, that is, just a week ago, a stranger was seen wandering around the Kameda area. This man also stayed in the one inn in Kameda. Since it’s an area where it is unusual to see strangers, he attracted some attention, and one of our men heard about it.”

  “What kind of man was he?” the chief asked.

  “He was thirty-two or -three years old. At first impression he seemed to be a factory worker. We couldn’t figure out why he had come to Kameda. I wanted to inform you in case it might be of interest.”

  “Did anything happen while this man was there?”

  “No, nothing happened. He didn’t cause any trouble. But, as I told you, since he was a total stranger who appeared in the area, I thought it might have some bearing on your inquiry, so I just wanted to mention it.”

  “Thank you very much. Was there anything that the man did to attract the attention of the villagers?”

  “It’s a very small matter, but we can’t deny that something like that did occur,” the chief inspector of the Iwaki station continued. “This may be perfectly normal, but in a country area without any excitement, this man’s behavior did attract the attention of the villagers. It’s hard to explain in detail over the telephone…”

  It seemed that the chief inspector was suggesting that someone be sent to that area to continue the investigation.

  “Thank you so much. We may be sending someone from here to investigate. If we do, please cooperate with him.”

  “Yes, certainly.”

  That was the end of the telephone conversation. Chief Kurozaki lit a cigarette and stared at the ceiling as he exhaled. Then he put his elbows on his desk and thought for a while.

  An investigation meeting was called.

  “Is everyone here?” the chief asked the men assembled in the room. “Contrary to our initial expectation, this case is causing us enormous trouble. At this point, we have no knowledge of the movements of the victim. The man he was talking to at the Torys bar is the prime suspect, but we have nothing on him either. The only hope we have is the name Kameda.” The chief wearily drank some tea. Taking a breath, he continued, “According to the phone report I just received from Iwaki station, there was a man wandering around the Kameda area about two days before our inquiry reached them, mean
ing a week ago. We couldn’t get details over the telephone, but I think this Kameda is a very important lead at this point. The telephone call indicated that it would be beneficial if we sent one of our men to that area. What do you think?”

  All of those in attendance agreed. The investigation was currently at a standstill. They were willing to grasp at straws. It was decided that someone should be sent to Kameda.

  “Imanishi,” the chief said, “you were the one who found the place name. It’ll mean more work, but will you go?”

  The meeting room tables were arranged in a U shape. From about the center of one side, Imanishi nodded his head.

  “Good. And I’d like someone else to go along. Yoshimura?” the chief said, looking in the other direction.

  At the back, a young man stood up.

  “I’ll do as you ask,” replied the young detective, Yoshimura Hiroshi.

  TWO Kameda

  Imanishi Eitaro returned home at about six o’clock that evening.

  “You’re home awfully early,” his wife greeted him with surprise.

  “I’m not early. I have to go on a business trip. I’m leaving tonight, right away.”

  Imanishi flipped off his shoes and walked into the sitting room.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To the northeast, near Akita,” was all he said. Yoshiko was close-mouthed, but there was no guarantee that she might not let something slip out about her husband’s whereabouts. Imanishi was very cautious.

  “What time is your train?”

  “It leaves Ueno Station at nine p.m.”

  “Does this mean that you’ve discovered who the murderer is?” she asked.

  “Nothing like that. We haven’t even found a suspect.”

  “Then is it a stakeout?”

  “No, it’s not.” Imanishi became slightly irritated.

  “I’m glad, then,” Yoshiko said.

  “What are you glad about?”

  “I’d be worried if you were going on a stakeout or if you were picking up a suspect. If it’s just an investigation, it’s not dangerous, so I feel relieved,” she answered.

  Actually, Imanishi himself felt at ease about this trip. All he had to do was to go to the Kameda area and make some inquiries. But if he didn’t come up with results, he would lose face at investigation headquarters.

  “Who will be going with you?”

  Detectives never traveled alone. They were always paired up with a partner.

  “I’ll be going with Yoshimura,” Imanishi answered.

  “Oh, Yoshimura-san, the young man who came by last year at New Year’s. Will he be coming here?”

  “No. We’re getting on the train separately.”

  Imanishi reached Ueno Station at 8:40 p.m. The limited express train bound for Akita was already at the platform. Imanishi took a stealthy glance around. He didn’t see anyone who looked like a newspaper reporter. He continued to be cautious, going to the kiosk on the platform to buy a pack of cigarettes rather than entering the train right away. Yoshimura was nowhere to be seen. He smoked one of the cigarettes from the pack he had bought.

  He felt a tap on his shoulder. “Hey, Imanishi-san.”

  Imanishi turned around in surprise. Yamashita, a reporter, was smiling at him.

  “Where are you going so late at night?”

  “I have a bit of business in Niigata,” Imanishi answered.

  “Niigata?”

  It might have been his imagination, but to Imanishi it looked as though Yamashita’s eyes glittered.

  “Did something happen in Niigata?”

  “No, nothing.”

  “That’s strange. You’re busy with that railroad yard murder, aren’t you? For you to be going off to Niigata sounds fishy to me.”

  “There’s nothing fishy about it,” Imanishi retorted, acting annoyed. “My wife’s family lives in Niigata. Her father died, so I’m on my way there. I just got the telegram.”

  “Oh, really? My sympathies,” Yamashita said. “But I don’t see your wife anywhere.”

  Imanishi recovered his composure. “The telegram came about noon. So my wife went on ahead. I’m on my way now because I had some things to do first.”

  “What are you doing wandering around a place like this?” Imanishi asked Yamashita in return.

  “I’m here to meet someone arriving from Niigata.”

  “Well, that’s nice of you,” Imanishi said. He waved good-bye and started walking slowly down the platform.

  When Imanishi finally turned around, he could no longer see the newspaper reporter. He breathed a sigh of relief. Still taking precautions, he hid in the crowd and then jumped on the last car of the train. It was nearly full. Imanishi entered the second car. It was also packed. He moved to the next car, and spied Yoshimura who was saving a seat for him with his suitcase.

  “Did you get caught by a reporter?” Imanishi asked.

  “No, I was all right.”

  When the train’s departure bell rang Imanishi breathed another sigh of relief.

  “Have you ever been to the Tohoku region?” he asked.

  “No, never.”

  “It’s the first time for me, too. Say, Yoshimura, wouldn’t you like to take a relaxing trip with your family? We always take these trips for work, with no pleasure involved.”

  “Unlike you, I don’t have a wife.” Yoshimura laughed. “I think it’s more fun to travel alone. Any kind of trip is fine with me.”

  “I suppose so.”

  “You discovered Kameda, Imanishi-san. If we find out something, it’ll be a gold star for you.”

  “I don’t know if my theory is correct. I might get criticized by the chief for spouting off and making them waste money on this trip.”

  The two of them chatted for a while. It was hard to sleep. The lights from the scattered houses flowed past the dark window. They couldn’t see the scenery, but it seemed that they could already smell the Tohoku region.

  Daylight came. It was 6:30 when they reached Sakata. Imanishi woke early. Beside him Yoshimura was still asleep, leaning against the seat back with his arms crossed. After changing trains at Honjo they arrived at Kameda. It was close to ten o’clock.

  The station was empty. The houses in front of the station were all old but built in a sturdy manner. A mountain rose up behind the town. The eaves of the houses were very deep in this area of heavy snowfalls. For Imanishi and Yoshimura this sight was unusual.

  They went to a restaurant in front of the station. Only two or three customers were inside, and half of the space was taken by a souvenir shop. The second floor was an inn.

  Imanishi ordered some noodles. They ate sitting side by side.

  “Imanishi-san, this may sound strange, but I wonder how you feel about it,” Yoshimura said, wolfing down his tempura over rice. “We go on various business trips like this. And afterward, rather than the scenery or problems I might have encountered, what I remember is the food. Our expense allowance is so small we can only afford rice with curry, or some meat on top of a bowl of rice, food you can get anywhere. Yet the flavoring is always different. It’s the taste of each location that I remember first.”

  “Is that so?” Imanishi said, sipping his noodles. “After all, you’re young. I prefer to remember the scenery.”

  Yoshimura said, his chopsticks stilled for a moment, “I hear that you write poetry. That’s why you focus on scenery. Will you add to your haiku collection on this trip?”

  “My poems aren’t any good.” Imanishi laughed in self-deprecation.

  “By the way, what shall we do? Should we go to the police station right after we eat?”

  “Yes, let’s do that.”

  “Isn’t it strange? We’re here because you happened to look at the supplement in your wife’s magazine. If it hadn’t been for that, I wouldn’t have seen this place. One’s life can be changed by a chance happening,” Yoshimura said, pouring himself some tea. He’d polished off his bowl of rice leaving not a single grain behind.r />
  The Iwaki police station was housed in an old building.

  They entered and Imanishi presented his name card at the reception desk. A policeman looked at the card and led them into the station chief’s room immediately.

  The chief was seated, looking over some documents, but he stood up as soon as he saw the two visitors. He seemed to know who they were even before he had seen their cards.

  “Please. Please, sit down.”

  The heavy-set chief smiled at the visitors and had two chairs brought for them.

  “I’m Imanishi Eitaro of the Homicide Division of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Agency.”

  “Yoshimura Hiroshi from the same division.”

  “I appreciate your coming here,” the station chief said, urging them to be seated.

  Imanishi offered their thanks for the cooperation they had already received.

  “Not at all. I didn’t know if it would be of any help, but I thought I should report the matter, just in case.”

  A young staff member of the police station brought in some tea.

  “You must have had a tiring trip,” the chief said, offering them the cigarettes on the table. “Did you come to this station directly?”

  “No, we got off at Ugo Kameda to see what the area was like. Then we took a bus here.”

  “You’re the first visitors we’ve had at this station who have come from the Tokyo police,” the station chief said. “We’ve heard the outline of the case you are concerned with. But would you mind giving me more details?”

  Imanishi gave an account of the investigation into the Kamata railroad yard murder case.

  The chief listened intently. Then he started to explain. “Kameda was a castle town in the olden days. It was a small domain of about twenty thousand koku. You must have seen that three sides of the town are surrounded by mountains. There is very little land that can be cultivated, so the main products of this area are dried noodles and cloth. This cloth is called Kameda weave, and it was valued up until before the war. Now there isn’t that much production. Every year more and more young people leave town.”

  The station chief was using the words of standard Japanese, but his accent was thick.