“So he does have a girlfriend?” Imanishi leaned forward.
“I think he does.”
“Doesn’t Sekigawa-san bring this woman to his house?”
“No, he’s never done that.”
“Then how do you know he has a girlfriend?”
“He gets telephone calls occasionally.”
“Have you listened to these calls?”
“There are two telephones, and the calls can be switched over to his study. I’ve heard calls that have come from her. She seems to be young and has a nice voice.”
“I see, and her name?”
“She never gives her name. She says Sekigawa-san will know who she is. That’s why I think she’s more than a casual acquaintance.”
“I see. And have there been calls recently from this woman?”
“No, I haven’t taken any. Now that you mention it, there haven’t been any for a while. Of course, these calls don’t come that often. I’d say, maybe two or three in a month’s time.”
“That’s not many at all. Have you ever heard Sekigawa-san talking on the phone with this woman?”
“No, I haven’t. He always takes those calls in his study.”
“But can’t you tell something from the way he behaves? For example, if they are on intimate terms, or if she is just a friend?”
“I think they must be on very intimate terms. But this is just my guess. I can’t be sure about it.”
“Is she the only woman who telephones him?”
“No, she’s not the only one. There are several others, but those seem to be work-related, and he talks to them in front of me. The only one he talks to in his study is that one woman. Of course, I don’t know about his previous relationships. Would this sort of thing hinder his marriage prospects?” Toyo began to worry.
“I’ll make sure that it’s presented to my client in the right way. His relationship with that woman is probably over.” Imanishi unthinkingly let this slip out.
“How do you know that?” Toyo asked, surprised.
“I just feel somehow that it is. Oh, yes, I’d like to ask you one more thing,” Imanishi said, as he drank his tea. “This month on the evening of the sixth, was Sekigawa-san at home, or was he out?”
“The sixth, you say. That’s five days ago. I wonder… After all, I leave his house at eight o’clock,” Toyo responded, “so I wouldn’t know about after that time. But I think on the sixth he went out about two hours before I left.”
“How can you be sure? Do you have that date, the sixth, fixed in your mind?”
“That day my daughter-in-law’s parents came for a visit. I remember because my son and his wife asked me to be home early that evening.”
“Ah, I see. Then Sekigawa-san had definitely left the house by six p.m. on the sixth?”
“Yes. Is that kind of information also necessary for your investigation?” Toyo became quite suspicious.
“No, there was just something I was concerned about, so I asked you. But it’s nothing, really. By the way,” Imanishi changed the subject, “you said that there was only one woman’s calls that Sekigawa-san takes in his study. You also said you didn’t know about his previous relationships.”
“Yes.”
“Isn’t there more than one woman whose calls he takes in his study? How about it?”
The woman thought for a bit. “Since we’re talking about an auspicious occasion like marriage, it probably wouldn’t be good for Sekigawa-san if I say anything that wouldn’t be advantageous.”
“No, please tell me everything without any hesitation. I’ll separate out what I think will be good to tell my client and what I should leave out.”
“You will? Actually, it’s just as you suspect,” she admitted. “But there haven’t been any calls from that woman for a while.”
“When was it that those calls stopped?” Imanishi asked.
“I’d say it’s been over a month.”
Imanishi heard this with a start. That was just about the time that Naruse Rieko had committed suicide. “Do you know what that woman’s name was?”
“I don’t know. She just asked to speak to Sekigawa-san. I think, though, that she was a bar hostess.”
“A bar hostess?” This was not the answer Imanishi had expected.
Toyo continued, “Her way of speaking was very common. And the words she used were quite rough.”
This did not fit. Why would Naruse Rieko have used such language? Yet the time frame fit. Imanishi reconsidered, thinking that the way Toyo had heard Rieko’s voice over the telephone might have misled her.
“You’re quite sure that the calls from that woman stopped about a month ago?”
“Yes. Recently, it’s just been the woman with the nice voice, as I said before.”
A silence fell over the table. Toyo stared at Imanishi while he appeared to be deep in thought.
“Does Sekigawa-san have friends over to his house to entertain them?” Imanishi resumed his questions.
“No, he doesn’t do that sort of thing. I don’t know why, but he seems to be the antisocial type. He hardly ever has any friends over. The only guests are editors from the magazines.”
“I see. But he must go out a lot. I suppose he often comes home late at night?”
Toyo responded, “I’m only there until eight o’clock, so I don’t know anything about after that time. But apparently he does come home late at night. The people in the neighborhood say they’ve heard the sound of a car stopping at about one o’clock in the morning.”
“He is young, after all. By the way, I’m changing the subject again, but do you know where he was born?”
“He really doesn’t tell me much about himself,” Toyo answered, a bit miffed. “Can’t you get that kind of information from his family register?”
“Yes, we can. I did get a copy of it. It lists Meguro in Tokyo as his registered domicile.”
“Tokyo, you say?” The woman thought for a bit. “I wonder. I don’t think he was born in Tokyo. I was born in downtown Tokyo, so I don’t know much about the countryside, but his accent isn’t that of a Tokyo native.”
“Then where do you think he’s from?”
“I can’t tell. It really says on his family register that his place of origin is Tokyo?”
“Yes, it does.” Imanishi already knew that Sekigawa had not been born in Tokyo. He had gone to the Meguro Ward office and had seen his family register, which had noted that the registered domicile had been transferred from elsewhere. “Thank you so much for your time.” Imanishi bowed politely to Toyo.
“Not at all. Thank you for the snack.”
Parting from her, Imanishi walked up the slope leading to the streetcar stop. The wind swirled dust around his feet. Imanishi walked away with his shoulders hunched and his head down.
Four days went by. Imanishi returned to police headquarters to find two letters on his desk. One was from the Yokote city hall, and the other from the Yokote police station. Imanishi opened the one from the city hall.
This is in response to your inquiry about Sekigawa Shigeo’s registered domicile.
In 1957, Sekigawa Shigeo transferred his registered domicile from Number 1361, Aza Yamauchi, Yokote City, to Number 1028, Kakinokizaka, Meguro Ward, Tokyo.
This confirmed the reported transfer of registered domicile recorded in the family register at the Meguro Ward office. Next he opened the one from the police station.
Regarding your inquiry, our response is as follows:
In investigating Number 1361, Aza Yamauchi, Yokote City, we ascertained that the residence is now owned and occupied by Yamada Shotaro (age 51), a distributor of agricultural machinery.
When we inquired of Yamada-san about Sekigawa Shigeo, and said person’s father Sekigawa Tetsutaro and mother Shigeko, he responded that he had no knowledge of these three persons.
According to Yamada-san, he came to this address, which was owned at that time by Sakurai Hideo, general goods merchant, in 1943, and he knows nothing
about the previous owners or residents.
Investigating said Sakurai Hideo, we have found that he has moved to the Osaka area. Should you require further investigation regarding Sakurai Hideo, please contact him at Number xx, Sumiyoshi, Higashinari Ward, Osaka City.
Regarding the Sekigawa family, we inquired of several citizens, but found no one who knew of them, and thus terminated the investigation.
Imanishi Eitaro was disappointed. With this response, the investigation into Sekigawa Shigeo’s past in Yokote City, Akita Prefecture had reached a dead-end. Yet Imanishi made one more effort. The merchant Sakurai, who had moved to Osaka, might have known Sekigawa Shigeo’s father Tetsutaro. Imanishi determined to follow this thread as far as it would lead. He took out stationery and carbon paper and began to write yet another inquiry.
He had finished writing and was addressing the envelope when a young detective came over.
“Imanishi-san, a package has come for you.”
“Oh, thanks.”
The package was a thin rectangle. On the address label were the words “Imanishi Eitaro, c/o Homicide Division, Tokyo Metropolitan Police” and on the reverse side was printed “Kamedake Abacus Company, Nita Town, Nita County, Shimane Prefecture” with the name Kirihara Kojuro written in brush ink alongside.
Imanishi opened the package at once. Inside was an abacus in a case. On the cover of the case were the words “Unshu Specialty Kamedake Abacus.” Imanishi took out the abacus. It was a comfortable size. The frame was made of ebony, and the counter beads were slick and heavy. The entire piece had a shiny black gloss. Imanishi tested the counters with his fingers and found that they glided beautifully.
Kirihara Kojuro was the old gentleman Imanishi had met the previous summer when he went to Kamedake to hear the Izumo dialect. Imanishi had forgotten about Kirihara, but the old gentleman had not forgotten Imanishi. He had no idea why Kirihara had sent him such a gift at this time. There seemed to be no letter enclosed, so he could not be sure of the old man’s intentions. But as he was putting the abacus back into its case, a folded piece of paper fell out. Imanishi unfolded the letter. It was written in the old-fashioned, polite language of a bygone era.
My Dear Imanishi-san,
Greetings. I wonder how you have been faring since our meeting last summer. I have been keeping myself quiet in the mountains of Unshu, as usual. We have manufactured a new model of abacus at our factory. It is slightly smaller than previous abacuses, and has been redesigned with office use in mind. My son has given me one of the test models, and I hope that you will not consider it too impolite of me to present it to you. If it might remind you of your visit here this past summer, it would please me greatly.
The palm of the hand holding the abacus
feels the autumn village cold
Kojuro
Imanishi recalled the garden of the tearoom-style house in Kamedake. A haiku aficionado himself, Imanishi was touched by the old man’s letter.
He had gone all that distance and returned without accomplishing anything. But as a by-product, he had become acquainted with the old gentleman. He recalled the zu-zu dialect, which had been hard to understand and had been the cause of much confusion. Putting the Kamedake abacus carefully in his drawer, Imanishi rested his chin on his hand.
Sekigawa seemed to have been born in the Tohoku area, famous for its zu-zu dialect. As a child, Sekigawa Shigeo had been put in the care of Takada Tomijiro, who lived in Meguro. In Sekigawa’s school records, Takada was listed as a relative, but this was not noted in the family register. Checking to see if Takada Tomijiro was from the Tohoku region, Imanishi had found that his original registered domicile was Tokyo. Unlike Sekigawa’s, this was not a transferred registration. What was the connection between Takada Tomijiro, who had been born in Tokyo, and Sekigawa, who had been born in Yokote City, Akita Prefecture?
If only someone in Yokote had known Sekigawa’s father, he might be able to find out about this family. But the reply from the Yokote police station had betrayed that hope. The only remaining chance, and it was a slim one, was that Sakurai Hideo, who had lived in Sekigawa Tetsutaro’s house after him, knew something. He might provide a clue. Yet given the outcome of the investigation so far, Imanishi was not optimistic.
TWELVE Bewilderment
Imanishi had established several circumstantial facts involving Sekigawa Shigeo.
The prime suspect, the man who was seen with Miki Ken’ichi before his murder, had a slight northeastern accent. Sekigawa was born in Yokote, Akita Prefecture, in northeastern Japan.
The murderer probably lived not too far from Kamata. Perhaps he murdered Miki in the railroad yard because he was familiar with that area. Sekigawa lived at Number 2103, Nakameguro,Meguro Ward. From Meguro, he could easily take the Mekama Line to Kamata.
The murderer must have been covered with blood after he killed Miki. If so, he probably did not take a train afterward. The murderer might have taken a taxi without attracting the attention of the driver, particularly since it was dark. It was also possible that he could have used a private car. Sekigawa did not own a car, but he had a driver’s license.
The murderer had to dispose of his bloodstained clothes. Naruse Rieko had cut a bloodstained shirt into bits and scattered the squares out the window of a night train. She must have had some connection with the murderer. So far nothing tied Rieko to Sekigawa. Yet since she was a quiet person who wasn’t gossiped about, one couldn’t be certain there was nothing between them. It was conceivable that Sekigawa and Rieko had met because the Nouveau group was a supporter of the Avant-Garde Theater. They could have been seeing each other without anyone knowing about it. Could her suicide have been caused by guilt over her cooperation with the murderer, and not by grief over a love affair?
Sekigawa had been involved with Miura Emiko, who had been four months’ pregnant when she died. Perhaps Rieko’s despair began when she found out about Emiko.
Miyata seemed to have been attracted to Rieko. He may have suspected that there was something between Rieko and Sekigawa. Miyata had wanted to tell Imanishi something, and it seemed to be so important that he had asked for twenty-four hours to think it over. Then he had died suddenly in a lonely place in Kasuya-cho, Setagaya Ward. It was only twenty minutes by taxi from Sekigawa’s house to the place where Miyata had collapsed.
There was no way to corroborate Sekigawa’s alibi for the night Miki was murdered in the Kamata railroad yard. Five months had passed, and everyone’s memory was hazy. But according to the statement from Sekigawa’s housekeeper, he was not at home when Emiko died.
The next problem was Emiko herself. She left her apartment in Imanishi’s sister’s building in Kawaguchi late in the afternoon and arrived at her new place in Soshigaya at about eight o’clock. But her landlord had just assumed that Emiko had arrived when they heard her belongings being delivered. They hadn’t actually seen Emiko in person.
It was about eleven o’clock the following night when a mysterious telephone call from a man summoned the doctor. By then, Emiko was already dying. It was conceivable that only her belongings had arrived at eight o’clock and not Emiko herself. If this were the case, where had she gone after she left the Kawaguchi apartment and stopped by the bar to inform the madam that she was quitting?
The coroner’s examination revealed that Emiko died from loss of blood after a miscarriage, and that she had suffered a fall. Where had she fallen? The coroner told Imanishi that she had fallen against something like a round boulder. But he had seen nothing like that at the Kubota cottage.
The more Imanishi thought, the more confused the situation seemed. As he tapped his chin with his pencil, he realized with a shock that he was obsessively reconstructing a death that wasn’t even a murder. His mood changed. He grabbed the telephone on his desk and dialed a number.
“Is this Yoshimura?” he asked.
“Yes, it is. Oh, Imanishi-san? How have you been? I’m sorry that I’ve neglected to call you.” Yoshimura’s voice was fr
iendly.
“How about getting together on the way home from work tonight?”
“I’d be glad to. At the usual place?”
“Good.” Imanishi put the receiver down.
When his shift at headquarters was over, Imanishi headed straight for the small oden bar in Shibuya. At six-thirty the area around the station was full of people, but the oden shop was not crowded.
“Welcome.” The woman who owned the shop smiled at Imanishi. She recognized the faces of these two who always dropped by as a pair. “He’s waiting for you.”
“Over here,” Yoshimura smiled, waving from the corner.
Imanishi took the seat next to him.
“It’s been a long time,” Yoshimura began.
“It certainly has. Could you warm some sake for us, ma’am?”
Imanishi turned toward Yoshimura and said, “How’s it going?” Then in a much lower voice, “Anything new on the railroad yard case?”
Imanishi didn’t like to talk about their work in this kind of environment, but when he saw Yoshimura’s face, he couldn’t help asking. He had been thinking about the case incessantly.
Yoshimura shook his head slightly. “Nothing has turned up. I’m trying to follow up leads in my spare time.”
Imanishi touched his sake glass to Yoshimura’s. The two lapsed into silence for a while.
“How’s it going from your side?” Yoshimura asked.
“I’m doing a bit here and there. But like you, I’m not making much progress.”
He intended to confide in Yoshimura eventually. It felt good to be drinking with this young colleague with whom he was on familiar terms. The brooding feelings he had were lightened during their time together.
“It’s been five months since we took that trip to the northeast, hasn’t it?” Yoshimura broke the silence.
“That’s right. It was almost June…”
“I remember it being quite warm. I thought the northeast would be cooler, so I wore winter underwear.”
“Time goes by quickly.” Imanishi sipped his sake.
Just then a young man tapped Yoshimura on the shoulder.
Inspector Imanishi Investigates Page 21
