"Eh? Oh, yes. I know. I know.” Masukawa shook his head with obvious feigned innocence.
"Sorry to bother you when you're tired, but I'd like to ask you some questions.” Kaise spoke humbly. He was two grades higher, but Masukawa had entered the agency a year earlier. Moreover, it was practically the first time they had met.
"I spoke to the investigator. Plenty."
"I realize that. But..."
"Oh, yes. Superintendent, it was your idea, the collective storage or whatever, wasn't it?” Masukawa snickered, yet his eyes were not smiling as he searched for Kaise's reaction.
Kaise clenched his fists in anger. “I won't take up much of your time. Let me ask you—"
Masukawa rolled his neck in a circle, looking fatigued.
"Too bad. The investigators have forbidden it. I'm not supposed to say anything to anyone."
"Hasn't your questioning ended?"
"They're going to continue tomorrow. So, I'll be leaving now. Excuse me."
Pushing the back door open, Masukawa headed for the parking area in the cold wind.
Crap! Kaise kicked the floor with the heel of his shoe.
Masukawa turned toward Kaise and, without bowing his head, got into his car. A navy-blue four-door sedan. Suddenly Kaise was overtaken with misgiving.
Had the investigating officer checked the car?
Masukawa had been in the station all night as officer in charge. And, it was this morning at 7:45 that —Owada had opened the storage safe. That meant that the station was still in night-duty mode when the theft of the IDs was disclosed. The night-duty staff had not been allowed to go home and had been confined in the exercise room. If Masukawa was the culprit, he would have had no chance to take the stolen documents out of the station.
His body advanced of its own accord. He jumped in front of Masukawa's moving car. The brakes squealed.
"That's damn dangerous!"
"Sorry—could you let me look inside the trunk?"
Anger drained from Masukawa's face. “Why is that?"
"To confirm, just to make sure."
"Is that an order?"
Just open it up! Kaise's eyes burned with what he felt in his gut.
Masukawa nodded slightly and flipped the switch. The trunk slowly opened up. Kaise scurried to the back of the car. He peered inside. Some tools. Chains. Rags. A brush....
"The investigating officer checked it first thing this morning."
Kaise raised his face as if he had been hit. Masukawa was looking at him out the driver's-side window. A triumphant smile played on his boastful face.
—Bastard!
"They also searched my belongings. They're treating me like a suspect."
"..."
"Are you finished?"
"Yeah."
"Yeah?” Masukawa echoed softly.
Glaring at him, Kaise pulled in his chin slightly. “Sorry for stopping you."
Suddenly the engine roared. Its sound could have been Masukawa's shouts or his laughter.
* * * *
6.
When he returned to the living room from looking in on K—oichi's and Yumiko's sleeping faces, Aiko was pouring tea.
"Were they asleep?"
"Yeah, fast asleep."
Aiko handed him a teacup and continued what she had been telling him.
"What do you think he did—the kid who spilled the paint on the floor?"
"What did he do?” So asking, Kaise sat down and tucked his legs into the covers under the table, warming them in the brazier.
"He overturned the bucket of water kept in the classroom in case of fire, so the paint would wash off. The floor was all wet, and K—o-chan's socks got soaked."
"That's extreme."
"He's only in fourth grade. It's a bit scary. There's all this talk about disruptions in classrooms these days."
On days when he came home late, he heard about the children's school from Aiko. This was a daily routine that Kaise had asked for, but tonight he was so tired it was hard to give attentive responses.
"Oh, yes, I forgot to tell you. We received a box of apples from Mr. Fuwatari."
Kaise turned his eyes to the wall clock. It was after ten o'clock.
"I'll call to thank him tomorrow,” he said.
"Please do. He sends them each year....” So saying, Aiko turned her head toward the kitchen. Her eyes widened.
What? Again?
She had heard it. The sound of the gas valve opening. Aiko was the only one who could hear it.
"It's all right,” Kaise said softly.
Aiko turned her pale face back and put both of her hands on her chest to calm her breathing.
During the five years that his father had lived with them, it was Aiko who had battled: Gas valve. Medicines. Knives. Rope.... Anything that could be used to commit suicide was under her supervision. Twenty-four hours a day. Three hundred sixty-five days a year. That was why his father was still alive. In exchange for Aiko's cheerfulness and the sheen of her hair.
"Dear..."
"Hm?"
"You went today, didn't you? To the hospital?"
"..."
"How was your father?"
"He seemed the same as usual."
"I see.... Next time I'll go too."
Kaise did not give her a response.
His father and Aiko had shared the illness. Their hearts still resonated with each other. If she saw him, she would be held captive. Aiko's mind would not be able to slip out from the iron-barred hospital.
He now regretted that he had not talked it over with Aiko before committing his father to the hospital. Kaise had made the decision on his own, which had caused some ill feeling between the two of them. They were no longer a close couple. Those chilled feelings weighed heavily on Kaise's heart whenever they spoke of his father.
After Aiko had gone to the bedroom, Kaise snuggled under the cover up to his chest and lay back, resting his head on his arms crossed under his head. He was exhausted.
He had gone to the hospital that morning, been informed of the theft of the IDs, and had taken the full brunt of the attacks at the department heads’ meeting. Going to U Station, he had endured —Owada's shouting and had been treated high-handedly by Masukawa.
Is Masukawa guilty...?
He didn't get it. It was certain that Masukawa didn't think well of the Police Affairs Department. From his way of talking, it could be deduced that he harbored quite some animosity. Kaise also felt that Masukawa had a terribly twisted character. But, if pressed as to whether Masukawa was suspicious, he would be in a dilemma as to the answer. He wouldn't put it past him to have done it, but if he had done it, he wouldn't have been that calm. And the IDs were not in Masukawa's car or belongings. The starting point for his suspicion of Masukawa was that he was the night-duty officer in charge, but Masukawa, who was unable to move away from his seat during his duty, was the most inconvenient person to take out the documents.
The most inconvenient, was it...?
Kaise sighed.
Most convenient. Most inconvenient. From the start, Kaise's thinking had been along those lines. In the end, Masukawa was nothing more than a convenient suspect for Kaise.
If the culprit was from outside the agency, the collective storage system would go down in defeat along with its original promoter, Kaise. If, however, the culprit was on the inside and the crime had been committed by someone related to the Criminal Investigations Department because of resentment toward the Police Affairs Department, the situation was entirely different. What should be blamed would be neither the storage system nor Kaise. It would be the culprit. Criminal Investigations Department Head Yamanouchi could never again beat up on Kaise. Thus the theory that Masukawa was the culprit was a scenario born of Kaise's wishes. He had designated Masukawa from among the countless suspects, including those outside the agency.
It was just a pipe dream, he began to see.
Even if Masukawa had done it, he seemed to be an opponent Kaise was una
ble to touch. He was a skilled detective who had dealt with all manner of criminals for more than twenty years. Kaise didn't have any experience in investigations, and he was in management without any authority to investigate this matter. The outcome of this struggle was clear before it had even begun.
Let Internal Investigations deal with it.
Exhaling roughly, Kaise sat up. He reached for his briefcase.
He spread some writing paper on the table. He had to prepare a draft of the press announcement. This was the one duty assigned to Kaise in this case.
Thirty minutes.... One hour....
His pen wouldn't move.
Why the hell did he have to write this? Was this why he had become a police officer?
He was despondent.
He felt great respect for his father, who had been a lifelong policeman. Kaise had followed in his footsteps. He had never put much thought into promotions or advancements. All he had wanted was to be active on the front lines, whether it was as a beat cop, a detective, or a traffic cop. This was what he had repeatedly written in the journal assigned at the police school.
His environment had raised Kaise. The agency was overjoyed at the birth of a second-generation police officer. It had high expectations, just as parents do of their children. He was encouraged by many superiors who knew his father. Aim to be like your father. Go beyond your father.
He made efforts to fulfill those expectations. He worked hard at his duties and at passing the grade-promotion tests. But it was tough on him. He felt pressured. He felt that he was not being true to himself, that he was always reaching beyond his abilities as more demands were made on him.
Each time he was promoted, a voice inside whispered to him, This is enough, don't go beyond this, this is about where it suits you best. He also felt that the number of stars designating his rank trampled on his father's legacy. When his father became ill, he began to see the agency from a more distant perspective. Still, the higher-ups backed Kaise. Education Section. General Affairs Section. Police Affairs Section.... He was assigned to numerous responsible posts as a young candidate for management positions.
And this is the pitiful result.
The organization that had raised Kaise and had pulled him up to superintendent had turned on him due to just one incident. It had forced Kaise to take all the responsibility, had convicted him, and had isolated him.
He flung the pen down. As if in response, he heard a cough from the children's bedroom.
Kaise quietly opened the sliding door. Koaichi was curled up on his mattress. His covers had fallen onto the floor. It was the same for Yumiko. They were sleeping in the same posture. He replaced their covers and gazed at their sleeping faces. For a while he stayed that way.
He felt a warm glow in his heart.
The family ate dinner together. If that was impossible for him, he made every effort to return home before the children went to bed. He had tried to fulfill this promise to himself. He did what his own father had been unable to do in order to be a father himself.
But that would only be until next spring.
He would be ousted from headquarters. He would be sent off to a district office. He wouldn't be able to return soon. It might be three years. It might be five years. Or he might have to go from one district post to another for a much longer time. It would be cruel to pull his children away from their friends. He would go alone, leaving his family here.
Kaise went back to the living room.
He put away the writing paper and took out the file from his briefcase. It was a copy of U Station's night-duty report. He had been able to get ahold of this. What had been the scene in the station last night? He didn't know how much significance there was in finding that out, but he had to try.
I'll flail around as much as I can.
He looked through the copy.
6:23 p.m.: Injury traffic accident. Three officers sent out. Returned at 8:40. 7:10: Report of a fight. Two officers sent out, determined it was a false report. Returned at 7:58. 8:20: Traffic accident involving an object. Two officers. Returned at 10:05.
He checked the names of the night-duty officers and the times they were out of the station according to each incident and accident. It was more complicated than he had expected. It was more than he could keep straight in his mind.
Kaise used scissors to cut the writing paper to make thirteen rectangles. He filled in the name of each night-duty officer on each piece of paper. He set the right side of the table as “inside U Station,” the left side as “outside station” and “sleeping quarters,” and reenacted the events in the night-duty report.
He spent two hours working on the puzzle-like task. He was still in the midst of it when his hand stopped.
For twenty-three minutes, from midnight on, there were only two slips of paper, “Masukawa” and “Totsuka,” in U Station.
Totsuka K—oichir—o. First Criminal Investigations Section, Burglary Section Police Officer. Age 25. He was directly subordinate to Masukawa.
An accomplice...
If that were the case, it would explain why the IDs were not with Masukawa. He had ordered Totsuka to take them out of the station.
Three a.m. Calming down his excitement, Kaise went to the bedroom. He crept in quietly, but, as always, Aiko opened her eyes.
* * * *
7.
"I'll be a little late.” Kaise put in his call to his section first thing in the morning. Flustered, Subsection Chief Ioka transferred the call to the section chief. Section Chief Kosuga didn't ask the reason for Kaise's tardiness. He told him perfunctorily to hurry up and hand in the draft for the press conference. It would be held the next day at one p.m.
I still have a day.
Nine a.m. Kaise visited the singles dormitory for U Station. Announcing himself to the dormitory caretaker, he went up to the second floor.
Room 203. Just as he expected, Totsuka K—oichir—o was dead asleep in his bed. The time allowed for sleep by night-duty officers was only four hours. His day off, yesterday, was taken up with questioning by Internal Investigation, so he was sleeping as long as he could today.
"Officer Totsuka, please get up.” Kaise shook his body. Mumbling a few senseless words, Totsuka opened his eyes halfway, then suddenly sprang up.
"Good morning, sir!"
He had been posted to U Station after police-box work and had spent one year as guard of the holding cell. It was from this spring that he had joined the burglary group. He was in the midst of a three-year training period to become a detective. His round face and buzz cut reminded one of a potato. But looking close, Kaise saw narrow eyes that looked unyielding and a mouth clamped shut in a straight line.
"I'm being questioned by Internal Investigations in the afternoon. I cannot reply to your questions.” Sitting formally on the floor with his legs tucked under him, Totsuka refused point-blank.
"You don't have to be so hard-headed. All I want to know is what the station was like night before last."
He got no replies no matter what he asked. Totsuka kept repeating that he couldn't answer. Although it was impossible to make a seasoned detective like Masukawa talk, Kaise had hoped that he might make a greenhorn give something up. It seemed, however, that the blood of the Criminal Investigation Department flowed all the way to the nerves of the lowest-ranking officers.
Show me your real feelings, Kaise thought in frustration.
"Then let me hear your opinion. This isn't an interrogation."
"..."
"Do you think this crime was committed by an outsider?"
"No, sir, I don't,” Totsuka's firm voice answered immediately.
"Why is that?"
"We were on night duty. We didn't let anyone in, not even a cat."
"So that means it was an inside job?"
"That, I wouldn't know."
"If it wasn't an outside job, then it would have to be an inside job, wouldn't it?"
"I wouldn't know."
Kaise's leading que
stions also reached a dead end.
He put his final question to Totsuka. “What do you think of the collective storage of IDs?"
"Well...” There was a pause. “I wouldn't know about that."
Kaise stood up. “Sorry to bother you. Go back to sleep."
"Sir...” Totsuka started. His face was flushed red.
"What is it?"
"I think the collective storage of the IDs leads to a significant decline in police-officer morale."
Kaise gazed at Totsuka as if looking at something that was too bright, then he looked around the room. The thirty IDs might have been here for a while. Just outside the window was the U Station building with the national flag fluttering in the wind.
Kaise went to the Headquarters Police Affairs Department. Totsuka hadn't leaked any information. But this was a course he had embarked on, so he would confront Masukawa again this evening. As he was so thinking, he received a telephone call from Masukawa himself, saying he wanted to talk to him.
What had made him do that?
With a sense of caution, Kaise climbed the stairs of U Station.
The third floor. First Criminal Investigation Section. His hand on the door, he hesitated a moment. He had never entered this section, even when he was posted at U Station.
So what?
Opening the door, he was surrounded by a particular scent and heaviness to the air inside the room. The overlapping faces of the detectives. Their eyes. Their way of breathing.
"Thank you for coming over.” A voice sounded from a seat deep inside the room, and Masukawa came forward. His loping movement was the same as the night before, but his face looked entirely different. The dullness of the night before was replaced by a sharp light from eyes that dominated his entire face.
Masukawa opened the door to the interrogation room. “Let's do it in here."
Masukawa sat his large frame down on the flimsy chair readied for the suspect on the other side of the steel desk. He crossed his legs with an exaggerated motion.
"Why don't you start off first? The Internal Investigations questioning has finished. So I can reply to any of your questions."
What is he up to? Kaise was troubled by the phrase “start off first.” But Masukawa had also said he would answer any question he had. He would be foolish to let this opportunity pass. Sitting down in the chair, Kaise promptly began.
EQMM, May 2008 Page 9
