Inspector Imanishi Investigates

by Seichō Matsumoto

  “Imanishi-san,” Yoshimura said, “you’ve done it.”

  “Hm,” Imanishi answered. “Finally.”

  He was thinking that he had taken many detours before he had been able to identify the face that had drawn Miki to Tokyo.

  Neither Imanishi nor Yoshimura mentioned the photograph again. The remaining task was how to solve the rest of the case.

  Imanishi had theorized from the start of this case that the murderer’s hideout was close to Kamata Station and that he had walked there to change his bloodstained clothes. So the murderer’s lover probably lived near Kamata. Naruse Rieko, who had destroyed the evidence, had been in close contact with the murderer.

  She had moved into an apartment in Imanishi’s neighborhood soon after the crime. Where had she lived before? He had asked the manager of the apartment building, but had been told that it was unclear where she had come from. Yoshimura had searched the area around Kamata thoroughly, carrying with him a photograph of Rieko. He had not been the only one. Many detectives had taken part and the local policemen also had searched the area, but to no avail.

  “Yoshimura,” Imanishi said. “We were wrong. Rieko was brokenhearted and committed suicide. There is no mistake in that. But we had the wrong lover.”

  “I guess so,” Yoshimura agreed.

  “Now that we know that, let’s try one more time to find Rieko’s address at the time of the murder. Your station still has her photo?”

  “Yes, we do.”

  “We did that investigation once, but there may be something we overlooked. She must have lived within a twenty-minute walk from Kamata. The murderer walked to this hideout after he committed his crime at the railroad yard. If he had walked for a long time, he would have risked being noticed.”

  “I agree.” Yoshimura nodded over and over. “I understand. I’ll check it out once more. This time we’ll keep it to an area within a twenty-minute walk from Kamata.”

  Three days later there was an interim report from Yoshimura. “My investigation section head was enthusiastic when I told him about your finding. He pulled together a special investigation team.”

  “That’s gratifying.” Imanishi was satisfied. No matter how he might have fretted about it, if the local police station was unenthusiastic, he could not hope for any success.

  “The newspaper reporters have started to suspect something, so it’s getting difficult.”

  “Make sure they don’t find out anything.”

  “Of course we’re doing all we can, but those fellows are quick to notice things. They won’t leave us alone. They’re after me to talk to them, and they’re really persistent.”

  “That’s a problem,” Imanishi said, his expression clouded.

  “We’re giving them various excuses. Imanishi-san, I’m afraid that we won’t have an answer for quite a while.”

  “I’m not expecting anything right away. How far has the investigation proceeded?”

  “We’ve practically finished the area a mile and a quarter around Kamata Station.”

  “That’s a lot of work for you.” Imanishi thought for a bit and said, “My hunch is that the areas to the north and west of Kamata Station are the most likely.”

  There was something else that Imanishi was looking into, but his best hope was that the Kamata police station would find Rieko’s former address. Imanishi became impatient. He wanted to go to each house, photo in hand, but his work schedule did not permit it.

  One morning, Imanishi came across the following report in the cultural section of the newspaper.

  Composer Waga Eiryo has announced that he will be visiting the United States by invitation of the Rockefeller Foundation. He will depart on November 30 from Haneda Airport for New York, where he will reside for a while. Mr. Waga’s stay in America will last approximately three months, during which time he will present performances of his electronic music compositions. Afterward, he plans to travel in Europe to observe developments regarding electronic music. He plans to return to Japan at the end of April. Soon after that, Mr. Waga will wed his fiancée, Tadokoro Sachiko, the daughter of Agriculture Minister Tadokoro Shigeyoshi.

  Imanishi read through this article twice.

  Arriving at headquarters in low spirits, Imanishi found Yoshimura waiting for him. “You’re awfully early.”

  “Yes, sir.” Yoshimura’s face showed fatigue, and Imanishi realized that the investigation had not been successful.

  “So, nothing’s been found?”

  “We’ve come up with nothing.” Yoshimura was dejected. “The section chief gave us all the support he could, but…”

  “How many days has it been since you started the search?”

  “Almost a week. We’ve searched everywhere we could.”

  “I see…” Imanishi placed his hand on the shoulder of his young colleague, “Thanks for all your efforts.”

  “I’m so sorry that we couldn’t come up with anything.”

  “Don’t let something like this get you down. Keep up the good work.”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ve given so much to this investigation. I’m sure there was no oversight. I feel that there must be something that we don’t see yet-a blind spot.”

  “Imanishi-san, it makes me relieved when I hear you say that. As you say, there may be something like a blind spot.”

  “Right, let’s think about it some more.”

  “Yes, I’ll think about it.” Yoshimura’s expression regained some of its energy.

  “Please give my best to your section chief.”

  “Yes, I will.”

  Imanishi saw his young colleague out to the front door of police headquarters. He watched as Yoshimura crossed the brightly lit avenue.

  That day Imanishi did not go home directly, but took the streetcar to the Avant-Garde Theater. It was dusk, but there was still a light shining in the office where three of the staff were putting posters and tickets in order. One of them recognized Imanishi.

  “Welcome.” The clerk guided Imanishi to the reception area.

  “Thanks so much for your help before,” Imanishi said, as he took off his raincoat and sat down.

  “Have you been able to find Naruse-san’s previous address?” the clerk asked, lighting a cigarette. He seemed to welcome a break from his work.

  “I’m afraid we haven’t been able to locate it yet.” Imanishi also lit a cigarette. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything here?”

  “Nothing at all,” he replied. “But I’ll keep my ears open.”

  Imanishi chatted for a while with the clerk. He had come to ask about Rieko’s previous address, but he felt he could not be so curt as to leave right away.

  “Why are the police still trying to find Naruse-san’s previous address?” the clerk asked with a puzzled expression. The theater company had no idea that there was some connection between Naruse Rieko and the Kamata railroad yard murder case.

  “We’re just looking into the circumstances.” Imanishi avoided a direct reply. “Naruse-san committed suicide, so we treat it as an unnatural death, not as a normal death from illness. That’s why we need to find out more about the circumstances.”

  “Oh, I see what you mean.” The clerk was impressed. “If the police are that careful about finding things out, one can’t commit suicide lightly, can one?”

  “I suppose not.” As they were talking, Imanishi heard shouting in the distance. “What is that?” Imanishi asked, straining his ears.

  “Oh, that? They’re rehearsing for our next production.”

  “Oh, I see.”

  “How about it? If you have the time, would you like to take a peek?”

  Imanishi had never seen a contemporary play. As its name indicated, the Avant-Garde Theater was currently noted for staging the most progressive dramas.

  “Well, perhaps I could take a look if I wouldn’t be in the way.”

  “That’s no problem. It’s a dress rehearsal. It’s really no different from seeing a regular performa
nce. You could sit there and not be noticed by anyone.”

  Opening the door of the theater office, the clerk walked ahead of Imanishi along a hallway. The clerk quietly opened the closed door at the end of the hallway, and Imanishi followed.

  Suddenly they could hear the voices on the stage where many people were moving about. The clerk showed Imanishi to a chair placed against a dark wall. There were four or five others sitting in the dark, watching the stage.

  The stage set seemed to be part of a factory in which were gathered about twenty people dressed as factory workers. They were surrounding one man, also dressed as a factory worker, and arguing with him.

  As Imanishi watched, the director, standing below the stage, occasionally corrected the delivery of the dialogue. Imanishi gazed at the stage. It was no different from watching a real stage performance. All of the actors were wearing workers’ uniforms. Imanishi thought that it must be quite a task to gather so many costumes. As he watched the progress of the play, his eyes began to shine. Soon he was merely following the action with his eyes while his thoughts were running elsewhere.

  He left quietly and returned to the office, where the three staff members were still preparing posters for mailing.

  “How was it?” the clerk who had shown Imanishi to the rehearsal hall asked.

  “It was very interesting,” Imanishi responded, smiling.

  “I’m glad you thought so. If you’d like, you’re welcome to watch until the end.”

  “Thank you.”

  “That’s a play that our troupe is premiering, so we’re putting all our efforts into it. The advance notices are very favorable.”

  “Is that so? They’re all putting a lot of spirit into their performances.” Imanishi went over to the clerk and said in a low voice,

  “I’d like to ask you something. I noticed that you need many costumes.”

  “Yes, we do. Just making those costumes takes quite a bit of money.”

  “Do you save the costumes after you finish with a performance?”

  “Yes, we usually save them.”

  “Then there must be someone who oversees the costumes?”

  “Yes, there is.”

  “I’m sorry to trouble you, but could I see that person?”

  “The wardrobe mistress?” The clerk looked at Imanishi’s face with a quizzical expression.

  “Yes, I’d like to ask her some questions.”

  “I see. Please wait a minute. I’ll see if she’s in.”

  Soon the clerk returned and led Imanishi toward the rear of the building. “This is our wardrobe mistress.” She was a plump woman of about thirty-five, wearing a coat and preparing to leave.

  “I’m sorry to hold you up just as you’re about to go home.” Imanishi bowed his head.

  “What is it you’d like to ask me?” The short woman looked up at Imanishi.

  “There must be an incredible number of costumes. Do you ever lose any?”

  “No, that hardly ever happens.”

  “Hardly ever?” Imanishi took that phrase as his cue. “Then that means that sometimes they do disappear?”

  “Yes. It almost never happens, but there are times when one or two pieces might be missing. But that’s only once every several years.”

  “I see. That must be because you’re careful about overseeing the costumes. But there must be forces beyond your control. No matter how careful you are, with so many items, there must be times when the numbers aren’t complete.”

  “Yes. Then it’s my responsibility.”

  “I see. Did a man’s costume disappear this past spring?”

  The wardrobe mistress looked surprised at Imanishi’s specific question.

  “Yes, one did.”

  “And when was that?”

  “We presented Flute by Kawamura Tomoyoshi-sensei in May. During that time a man’s raincoat disappeared, and we couldn’t find it.”

  “A raincoat?” Imanishi opened his eyes wide. “When was that?”

  “That play was on for the month of May, so I think it was around the middle of May that we lost it. Since we couldn’t find it anywhere, I rushed around and got another one to take its place.”

  “I’m sorry to ask you, but could you tell me the exact date?”

  “Please wait a moment. I’ll look in my work journal.”

  She hurried back to her own room.

  “I suppose things do go astray,” Imanishi said to the clerk. Despite his nonchalant manner, his heart was pounding with excitement.

  “I’ve found it,” the wardrobe mistress said, as she returned. “It was May twelfth that we lost it.”

  “You said May twelfth?” Imanishi thought, This is it!

  “That’s right. It was on the twelfth that I searched for another raincoat to take its place.”

  “What time did the previous performance end?”

  “It was at ten p.m. on May eleventh.”

  “The location?”

  “It was at the Toyoko Hall in Shibuya.”

  Imanishi’s heart pounded again. Shibuya was close to Gotanda. From Gotanda the Ikegami Line went to Kamata. Furthermore, Meguro was even closer to Shibuya. And from Meguro the Mekama Line went to Kamata.

  “What color was that raincoat?”

  “It was a darkish gray.” Having said this much, the wardrobe mistress’s expression became puzzled. “We didn’t report it as a burglary; was it wrong not to?”

  “No, that’s not a problem at all. This has nothing to do with any burglary report.” Imanishi smiled. “Was there a burglary?”

  “No, we don’t think so. But it is certain that it disappeared.”

  “Was it kept in the dressing room?”

  “Yes, it was. At the end of a play’s run, we store things in the costume warehouse, but during a run we leave them in the dressing rooms.”

  “That’s strange. Do you have burglars who steal from the dressing rooms?”

  “I can’t say we never do, but I can’t imagine that a burglar would take a worn-out raincoat. Although sometimes money has been stolen.”

  “It was the twelfth that you realized the raincoat was gone? That means the raincoat was there the evening of the eleventh and was used for the performance, but on the next day, the twelfth, you found that the raincoat had disappeared before the performance began.”

  “Yes, that’s the way it was. Since Miyata-san was tall, I had a hard time finding a raincoat that was long enough.”

  “What! It was Miyata-san?” Imanishi’s voice rose involuntarily. “That raincoat was for Miyata-san’s part?”

  “Yes, it was.” The woman was surprised at his loud voice.

  “You mean Miyata Kunio, of course?”

  “Yes.”

  Imanishi’s rapid breathing showed his excitement. “When he found out that the raincoat he was to wear was missing, what did Miyata-san say?”

  “He said ‘What shall I do?’ He asked me to find something quickly. He kept saying, ‘I know it was here last night.’ ”

  “Wait a minute. Was Miyata-san on stage until the last scene of that play?”

  “Yes, he wore that raincoat in the last scene.”

  Imanishi crossed his arms. The memory of Miyata Kunio’s death returned forcefully. “I’d like to ask you something else. There was a staff member named Naruse Rieko here, wasn’t there? The girl who committed suicide.”

  “Yes, I knew her well.”

  “It might be impolite of me to ask this, but were Miyata-san and Naruse-san on close terms?” Imanishi asked the wardrobe mistress.

  “I don’t think they were especially close, but Miyata-san seemed to like Naruse-san.”

  Imanishi had heard this before. He himself had seen Miyata standing under Rieko’s apartment window trying to draw her attention.

  “That night, did Miyata-san go straight home after the performance?”

  “I wouldn’t know about that.” The wardrobe mistress smiled. “Usually he seemed to go home alone after performances. He didn
’t drink much and didn’t seem to have many friends.”

  “What about Naruse-san?”

  “I don’t know about her either. Probably the other office people would know.” She turned to look at the clerk standing beside them.

  “I can’t be sure,” the clerk cocked his head in doubt. “I don’t remember if she went home right away on that particular day. Naruse-san was a very hard worker. She never left the office early.”

  “Do you have a time card system here?”

  “No, we don’t.”

  Imanishi wanted to find out whether Naruse Rieko had left the theater during work hours on May 11. “Was Naruse-san’s work the kind where she could have left for a while during her work hours?”

  “Well, if she had wanted to, she could have. Her responsibility was to make sure everything was orderly after the performance was over. During the performance, she wouldn’t have been that busy.” The clerk added, “But she never left the theater during a performance.”

  “You said on that occasion the theater was the Toyoko Hall. So naturally, Naruse-san was at Toyoko Hall as well?”

  “Yes. There’s no doubt about that.”

  “Sorry for asking such troublesome questions.” Imanishi bowed to the two theater employees.

  If the murderer had put the raincoat on over his bloodstained clothes, no one would have noticed. He could even have taken a taxi without difficulty. That raincoat was the one Miyata wore on stage. And Miyata had shown a special liking for Naruse Rieko. Rieko, in turn, was passionately in love with another man. A thread connected these figures.

  Imanishi recalled a passage from Rieko’s journal.

  Must love be a lonely thing?

  Our love has lasted for three years. Yet nothing has been built from this love… At night, despair haunts my dreams. And yet I must be strong. I must believe in him… This love always demands sacrifices of me. I must feel the joy of a martyr as I make sacrifices. Forever, he says. As long as I live, he will continue to demand that I sacrifice.

  The passage spoke of three years. Rieko had started to work at the Avant-Garde Theater four years ago. Her first move was one year later. That meant that for three years she had lived at an address she had kept secret from the theater.