Each nugget of information was brief and inconspicuous, and none contained enough to know where the witness had been located. There were no photos. “I can see it from my office window.” “I was on the roof of the school when I noticed it.” Comments like this made it easy to deduce the general age of the witness, but little more. People were seeing the statue move, yet it wasn’t generating excitement.
Somehow the mystery was eluding his grasp. These were sites where fans of urban legends gathered, forums where they discussed the mysterious and bizarre. For regular visitors, Shigenori realized with surprise, a story about a moving gargoyle on the roof of an empty building caused hardly a ripple of interest.
Urban legends had a stronger flavor of the bizarre. They were fascinating. Moving statue stories, on the other hand, were a dime a dozen. The statue not only had to move, it had to talk, or attack people, or put a curse on someone that turned the victim to stone. Shigenori found version after version. The tea caddy building’s story was so simple it was boring. There had to be more—something that triggered the gargoyle’s movement, or something it did when it moved. The story had to have a logical flow.
But give it time. Even a few reports could trigger the embellishing process. That was how urban legends got started. Shigenori was well aware of this from his years as a cop. Simple movement wasn’t very interesting, but add something more, such as the statue suddenly acquiring an object it hadn’t possessed before, and public interest might soar. Once that happened, it would be impossible to tell the difference between corroborating evidence and fabrication.
He needed to be up and doing. He knew there were multiple witnesses besides Tae Chigusa. He needed to hear unembellished stories before the information was contaminated by imagination and rumors. He decided to use his proven technique: shoe leather and face-to-face interviews. If his leg started to go again, well, he’d be having that operation soon enough. Until then he wanted to do as much as he could.
Just as he settled on this plan, the phone rang. It was Shigeru. After a formulaic exchange of New Year greetings, Shigeru said: “So how are you feeling? Can you make it today?”
“What’s happening today?”
“The party with the Ida District Association. Would you be up to it?”
Shigenori looked at the calendar on the wall next to him. There it was, in his own handwriting, for January 4: NY party, Ida Assn. office, 2 p.m.
“No worries, I’m fine. Looking forward to it.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
“Listen, Shigeru—has there been any new information about the tea caddy building?”
“Not a thing. Aren’t we done with that?” He sounded fed up with the topic. “I told Tae not to worry, someone’s just screwing around.” Which was not exactly untrue, but left out a lot.
“That kid—what was his name, Aizawa? Nice guy, but he’s probably too junior to know what his bosses are up to. We can drop it. The statue and the sickle aren’t going anywhere, right? No danger of anything falling into the street?”
“It’s all right, I checked.”
No new information. Shigeru had moved on. Well, Shigenori could apologize for digging around for witnesses when Shigeru found out. And he would definitely find out.
Shigenori took up his cane and walked over to the Ida association office. Low tables were spread with simple fare: beer, sake, snacks, and cooked food from the nearby supermarket. After a toast and brief, formal greetings from the association bigwigs, the party got under way. Tae Chigusa was there, sitting next to Shigeru. Shigenori wanted to hear the story directly from her, but he didn’t want to be the one to bring it up.
Shigenori was not a member of the Ida District Association. He’d been invited to the party because of his friendship with Shigeru and the respect accorded him as a former police detective. Glass in hand, he visited each table, chatting with people he knew and refilling their drinks. The captain of the crime prevention patrol, pleasantly inebriated, made a show of humility at having his glass refilled by a real detective. After the first toast, Shigenori switched from beer to oolong tea.
Shigeru was in fine form, enjoying his sake. Shigenori tried his best to relax and enjoy himself, though he didn’t feel entirely at home. He did make a point of staying alert, hoping the topic of the tea caddy building might come up naturally.
After the party had been going for about an hour, the knot of women looking after the food supply near the entrance turned to look curiously toward the door. One said “Coming!” and went to open it. She stood there talking to someone for a few moments, then turned and called out, “Excuse me, we have a visitor.”
A young man in a black down jacket, jeans and sneakers, wearing black-frame glasses, stepped inside. Shigenori put him at around five feet eight inches, maybe a hundred and fifty pounds. Probably a student. Twenty, twenty-one. Pale skin, slight build under the big down coat. Not an athlete.
“Sorry to disturb you.”
The young man bobbed his head apologetically. Definitely not an athlete. His voice betrayed a lack of guts. His mouth was twitching with nervousness or perhaps embarrassment.
“Who are you, anyway?” Shigeru called out from his place at the table. Even in this relaxed atmosphere, Shigeru was alert. He got right to the point.
“My name is Kenji Morinaga.” The young man bowed again. “Sorry to drop in like this. I was walking by and saw the flier on the notice board. It said there was a party for the association today.”
And? thought Shigenori.
“That’s right. As you see,” the head of the association said. His speech was already a bit slurred. “What do you want?”
The young man swallowed nervously. Yes, um, it’s. … Is the chairman of the Hyakunin association here? I’ve been looking for him. There’s something I wanted to ask him.”
People exchanged glances. Shigeru spoke up.
“Look, I’m sorry, this is the Ida association. You want to talk to the Hyakunin association, go look them up.”
Kenji’s face was blank. “Then, you mean. …”
“I told you, he’s not here. If it’s about Hyakunin, you’re in the wrong place.”
Shigenori stood with effort and approached the entrance with Shigeru close behind, holding his vending-machine portion of sake.
“Maybe I can help you,” Shigenori said. He took a closer look at the visitor, who was blinking continuously but did not have the characteristic smell of the bad egg.
“Mr. Morinaga, was it? You don’t live around here, do you?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Why are you looking for the head of the Hyakunin association?”
“I’m—” The young man looked from Shigenori to Shigeru. Behind them, the party got going again. Obviously things were being handled.
Perhaps because Shigenori—unlike Shigeru—seemed completely sober, the youth turned to him. “There’s an apartment house in Hyakunin. It’s called Asahi House. It’s pretty run-down, actually.”
“I know it,” Shigeru said. He nodded to Shigenori. “Built right after the war. All-wood construction.”
The young man became excited. “Do you know the landlord? I talked to some of the residents but I couldn’t get anything out of them. I don’t know why.”
“It’s full of old people,” Shigeru said. “They keep to themselves. They wouldn’t answer questions from a stranger.”
Shigenori peered levelly at the youth. “Why do you need to see the landlord?”
“Um, I. …”
Shigenori’s gaze still had the power to box people in. The young man’s nervousness increased.
“I’m looking for someone who lives there. His name is Kozaburo Ino. He’s seventy-two. He’s been missing since December 5. I thought his landlord might know something about it.”
Shigeru frowned suspiciously and set his sake on a t
able. “That’s Cart Man. Are you a relative of his?”
“Shigeru, do you know this person?” asked Shigenori, startled.
“Yeah. He’s this old guy who collects cans and old newspapers and loads them onto a cart he hauls around. Right?” He looked at Kenji.
Kenji nodded vigorously. “That’s the one.”
“He’s old, but I’m even older,” Shigeru said with a chuckle. “I’ve seen him myself and heard about him from my customers. He goes around the neighborhood and collects anything he can sell for recycling. He’s not shy about taking what he wants, either. There’ve been complaints.” Shigeru frowned. “You say he’s missing?”
“It’s been a month already. His landlord must be worried.”
“Of course. The rent.”
“Hold on,” Shigenori broke in. “You haven’t answered my question, Mr. Morinaga. Are you a relative of his?”
Shigenori’s voice was quiet. The voice of a detective. The young man flinched. “Y-yes. I’m a relative. That’s why I’m worried.”
He’s lying, thought Shigenori.
“Well, of course you would be,” Shigeru said gently. “But you won’t get any information about Asahi House from the people here. As far as I know, the landlord doesn’t live in the neighborhood. The head of the Hyakunin association chairs the residents’ committee in that big condominium, I forget what it’s called. He probably wouldn’t know anything about a run-down apartment house. But listen, I know someone who sees Cart Man more often than I do. He runs a liquor store. You should ask him. He might be able to help.”
Shigeru explained how to find the store. The young man kept nodding and saying, “Okay, okay.” He avoided eye contact with Shigenori, whose eyes never left him.
“Thank you,” the young man said finally and left in a hurry. The door banged shut.
“What was all that about?” murmured Shigeru. “Why would Cart Man disappear?”
Something else bothered Shigenori more. Why would a rank amateur search for an old man and leave a trail of transparent lies?
If it isn’t one thing, it’s something else.
What was this feeling? Why was his heart pounding?
2
For the elderly living alone, money makes all the difference. Tae Chigusa lived very comfortably. That was immediately obvious.
“Sorry to drop by on such short notice,” Shigenori said.
Tae ushered him into an immaculate living room. She chatted about the party the day before, moved on to the topic of her son, whose elite trading-company employer had posted him to Bangladesh, and followed up with a round of complaints about her daughter, who was disturbingly headstrong. Shigenori sat drinking her aromatic green tea and listening as she covered her current events before bringing the topic around to the gargoyle next door.
“I have to thank you. Shigeru told me the two of you checked the building.”
“I thought there might be others who saw the statue move. After we visited the building, I did a little research. You’re not the only one.”
The fourth floor and the roof of the tea caddy building dominated the view from the large bay window. From this distance, the gargoyle crouching on the roof was about the size of Shigenori’s palm.
“It moved again this morning.”
“What did you notice that was different?”
“It’s about four inches to the left of where it was yesterday.”
The gargoyle faced away from the window. Tae was very confident about this new development, though given the distance it was hard to say if such a small movement would be visible even to someone next to the statue.
“Shigeru thinks I’m seeing things, doesn’t he? You told him people’s eyes often deceive them.”
“That’s true. Still, I’m not completely comfortable that’s the case here. I’m sorry to bring it up again. Let’s not mention this to Shigeru. It’s just a little preoccupation of mine.”
“That’s fine with me.” Tae didn’t seem to have any reservations. “Shigeru is a kind man, but he’s also a businessman. He’s a realist. He doesn’t pay attention to things that aren’t concrete. Still, there’s no one else nearby to consult. I could tell the woman from home nursing care, but she’d think I was getting senile.”
Tae had little to add to what she’d already told Shigeru. The decorative wall surrounding the roof had kept her from noticing the scattered fragments of the previous gargoyle. Still, her memory of when she first noticed something out of place was as clear as ever.
“There was a huge storm the night of December 4. I noticed that the gargoyle was different the next day, though not until late afternoon. After I consulted Shigeru, I felt hesitant to look at it too often. It seemed like it might be bad luck. I usually keep these curtains drawn, but I happened to look outside. That statue has always seemed sinister to me. Ominous.”
“Well, it’s a statue of a monster. Not exactly cheerful.”
She gazed at the statue. “I don’t know why, but when the New Year came, my feelings changed, somehow. Now it seems more lonely than sinister.
“The weather’s been so nice, as it always is this time of year. The sky is so blue. The skyscrapers near Shinjuku Station seem close enough to touch. They’re lit up at night. It’s almost too bright, really. But the tea caddy building is always dark, with that monster on the roof. I thought, ‘You’re all alone.’ ”
Somehow Shigenori wasn’t surprised. No matter how comfortably she lived or how successful her son was, Tae was an elderly woman who had to spend the New Year holidays by herself.
“After that the statue didn’t seem ominous anymore. Now I greet him every morning and say goodnight to him before I go to bed.”
Something about this bothered Shigenori. “So you never look at the statue at night?”
“No. I close the curtains after sunset. If I left them open, people in the neighborhood could see right into this living room. I don’t need to advertise that there’s an older woman living here alone.”
“True. Keeping them closed is a good idea, for your security as well as your privacy. But then you haven’t seen the statue at night? Not once?”
“Should I be watching it? If it will help your investigation, I will.”
“Oh no, this isn’t an investigation. Nothing so serious. It’s just—if the statue can actually move, it seems to me it would be more likely to do so under cover of darkness.”
For a fleeting moment, Shigenori pictured the monster spreading its wings and rising to its full height, holding the Reaper’s scythe.
“I see. All right, then I should take a look at the statue when it’s dark. In the middle of the night?”
“That would be perfect, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“I’ll set the alarm to wake me.”
Tae seemed very game. Daily life probably didn’t offer much variety. Something different would be welcome.
As Shigenori was leaving, she remembered something suddenly. “By the way, that young man said that Cart Man is missing.”
“Yes. The circumstances aren’t clear. So you heard us talking at the party?”
“Shigeru told me afterward.”
“You haven’t met him yourself, have you? This Mr. Ino?”
“I only saw him now and then. But he was living alone too, I hear. For someone like that to suddenly vanish hits close to home.”
Tae’s earnest tone suddenly made Shigenori sad. “Don’t worry about a thing, Mrs. Chigusa. You have a lot of friends in the neighborhood, especially Shigeru. If it would make you feel better, I’ll give you my mobile number. We’ll be speaking about the gargoyle too.”
“Let me get my phone,” she said excitedly. “It’s easier that way.” The two of them donned reading glasses and swapped contact information by infrared link.
“I almost never have a chance to do this,”
she said. “Now we’re mail friends.” She seemed genuinely happy.
Shigenori went home and sat at his computer to rest his leg. He’d already sent feelers by email and through the forums to witnesses of the gargoyle.
I live near the building in question. I’ve always been interested in strange tales and urban legends, and I’m collecting information. Would anyone be willing to share their story in a bit more detail? I would prefer to interview you in person if possible.
The responses were all over the map, including no response at all. “It’s not really important enough to talk about.” “Sorry, I actually heard about it from a friend.” “It’s just a rumor going around the office.” Others made pointless comments like “Are you a writing a book?” or “Aren’t you actually _____, the urban legend researcher?”
Then there was the person, apparently a middle school student, who wrote back, “If we meet, will you pay me an interview fee?” That was the kind of thing people thought of first.
No one seemed willing to just come forward and tell his story. People seemed to think Shigenori was making too much of something minor, or perhaps his polite tone had put people on their guard. It was a problem he understood well. Dealing with people at a distance is difficult.
There were no notable responses today either. The Internet had already been well established when Shigenori retired from his work as a detective, but bloggers and social media services like Twitter were much more prevalent now. The police still failed to pay much attention to activities that were limited to the web. His impression from his colleagues was that the web was an incubator for drug dealing and child pornography. But then how in the world did people trust each other enough to deal with others whom they’d never met?
Maybe the only way to catch a thief was to use a thief. Shigenori glanced at his watch. Noon. He has to be out of bed by now, he thought.
The Gate of Sorrows Page 12
