The Gate of Sorrows

by Miyuki Miyabe

  “Come on. You must be popular.”

  Maeda was muscular and manly, but he just guffawed. Another island member looked up curiously from his monitor.

  “You can’t attract women just by going to the gym, okay? Still, I don’t have any problem shoveling snow. I was almost set to go to Sapporo myself, but I’m quitting. I’ll be here to the end. After that I think I’ll go back to my hometown and look for a job.”

  “Where’s home?”

  “Kobe. Great food. You should visit. Once I leave Tokyo, I don’t think I’ll be coming back.”

  Something seemed to occur to him suddenly. He sat up in his chair. “I must be getting senile. I’m babbling on and almost forgot to tell you the most important thing. Morinaga’s father is coming to Tokyo. He says he wants to meet you. You and Kenji were friends, right? The guys on School Island say you knew him even better than they did. His father’s been wanting to talk to you for a long time.”

  This was not good news. Kotaro didn’t want to meet Kenji’s father. He wanted to run away. I know what happened to your son. I know, but I have to pretend I don’t.

  “Oh … okay.”

  “How’s your schedule?”

  “I guess when I’m here in the afternoon would be best. Anytime is okay for me.”

  “Okay, I’ll tell Scheduling to fix it up. Sorry, gotta hit the head.” Maeda stood up and turned to go.

  “Can I ask you something?” Kotaro said. “Did you decide not to follow Seigo because you lost respect for him?”

  Maeda jerked back in surprise, as if he’d taken a slap to the cheek. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Well, like you said … I mean, if Ayuko wasn’t murdered by the Serial Amputator, if it wasn’t the work of some crazy person, but happened because of some kind of romantic conflict, Seigo would be partially responsible, so—”

  Maeda put a hard hand on the top of Kotaro’s head. “That’s enough.” Kotaro’s head was in a vice.

  “Too many sad things have happened. I don’t want to bring that baggage with me to Sapporo. Seigo’s doing a stellar job of running Kumar. Of course I still respect him.”

  He turned and left the room.

  On the way home, Kotaro took the train from Ochanomizu to Akihabara and switched to the Yamanote Line, looking for a station he’d never gotten off at before and probably wouldn’t use again.

  He chose Sugamo, the old folks’ Harajuku. He passed through the wicket and found a pay phone.

  THE SPECIAL INVESTIGATIONS UNIT, TOTSUKA POLICE STATION, KANAGAWA PREFECTURAL POLICE, IS LOOKING FOR INFORMATION CONCERNING THE MURDER OF SAEKO KOMIYA. IF YOU HAVE DETAILS CONCERNING THIS CASE, PLEASE CALL—

  Kotaro punched in the number on the printout. After two rings, a male voice came on the line.

  “I have information on the case.” The man started to talk, but Kotaro ignored him and plunged ahead. He wasn’t calling to answer questions. He spoke quickly and crisply.

  “The man you want is the gardener for her son’s nursery school. He owns a flower shop. His name is Kosuke Nakasono. You’ll find he’s been missing for a few days. He has a warehouse near his parents’ house in Totsuka. The victim’s leg is in that warehouse, in an oil drum. Match the DNA. He’s been slashing women around Totsuka too. You should be able to connect the dots.”

  He hung up. The man on the other end was shouting, but he didn’t pay attention.

  He’d thought the call would leave him feeling light and refreshed. Instead, he couldn’t stop shaking. His breathing was shallow and ragged.

  Please. You’ve got to help. I erased Kosuke Nakasono from this world, but if you trace the evidence, you’ll be able to prove he did it, won’t you? The truth will give the bereaved at least a little peace.

  Won’t it?

  I meted out final justice, Kosuke thought. He’s not in the world anymore.

  By the time he got home, he was feeling a bit better. Asako and Kazumi gave him a detailed rundown on Mika’s accident. Kazumi was furious about the slippers that students were required to wear in the classroom and corridors. They were old, and it was easy to slip in them. Mika was going to spend a night in the hospital under observation, but she’d be going home tomorrow.

  “Hospital food is awful. I feel sorry for her,” Kazumi added.

  “But they calculate the calories for you. It’s a good way to diet,” Asako put in.

  Their banter cheered Kotaro up. There was more to be cheerful about when he got a mail from Takako.

  Ko-chan, many thanks for today. You’re like a big brother to Mika. You helped us both.

  He fell asleep buoyed by this feeling. The next day he woke refreshed and rested for the first time in months.

  Downstairs, Asako was standing by the stove, eyes fixed on the TV in the living room. Smoke was pouring from the frying pan.

  “Hey Mom, the eggs are burning!”

  She hurriedly turned off the burner, waving the smoke away from her face.

  “It looks like they solved the Akita murder too. The perpetrators came forward and confessed,” she told Kotaro breathlessly.

  The perpetrators were a woman in her mid-fifties and her second daughter, twenty-five. The victim was the eldest daughter, who was twenty-six when she was killed.

  Mother and daughter had turned themselves in at a police box near their home—not in Akita, but in suburban Tokyo—and were being held at the nearest police station. Reporters from the news shows were clustered outside the station, microphones in hand.

  Kazumi had already left for team practice. Takayuki, Kotaro and Asako ate breakfast and watched the news. The killers were apparently cooperating fully with the police, though the details were still unclear. They had turned themselves in at around eight the previous evening.

  “It was supposed to be one of those Serial Amputator murders,” Takayuki said through a mouthful of buttered toast.

  “Right, the second murder. But I guess it’s not him.” Asako poked at her salad. “I’m starting to wonder if he even exists.”

  “But there are three other cases—” Takayuki broke off and looked sidelong at his son. “Are you all right, son?”

  “Gotta go,” Kotaro said and went upstairs.

  The textboards were boiling, naturally. Comments like Asako’s were all over. What the hell was going on? Was the killer’s statement a hoax? Had someone done it for kicks? People were begging the Serial Amputator to come forward and say something.

  Kotaro called Shigenori and got his answering service. He hung up without leaving a message and headed for Kumar.

  He ran into Narita at the first-floor elevator. He was carrying a plastic shopping bag from a convenience store. It was probably his breakfast. He’d pulled a night shift; his face was covered with stubble.

  “Hey, mornin’, Kotaro.”

  “Is Seigo here yet?”

  “Um, no, not yet.” He gave Kotaro a slap on the shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll let us know if he finds out anything about Akita from the cops.”

  “That’s why I’m here.”

  Kotaro wasn’t scheduled to work that day. Kaname wouldn’t be around until the afternoon. Narita knew that, but he wasn’t surprised to see Kotaro. “Just couldn’t stay away, huh? Head for the lounge, you’re not alone.”

  The lounge was crowded with off-duty employees glued to their devices. There was little talk, but people seemed to want company, like animals huddling together in the face of an approaching storm.

  It wasn’t long before Seigo arrived and asked everyone to report to the third floor. He was going to brief them in person this time.

  He looked thin and tired, as though he’d been up all night. Maybe he’d been working, or he just hadn’t been able to sleep. He was pale and unshaven. He didn’t look healthy.

  “Sorry to interrupt your day,” he said to the roo
m. His voice was weak. “As you know, the murder that everyone thought was the second by the Serial Amputator has been solved. The details haven’t been reported yet, but the case is definitely closed. The victim was killed by her mother and sister.

  “Apparently the murdered daughter was a wild child who’d been giving her mother and sister trouble for a long time. Of course, the deceased isn’t here to defend herself, so I can’t really say. Whatever the trouble was, it was enough to drive her mother and sister to kill her, mutilate her body, and dump it in Akita. The mother said they cut off one of her toes to make it look like the work of the Tomakomai killer.”

  The room started buzzing. Seigo must have gotten this from the special investigation unit, as he had with the inside information about the first murder.

  “At the time, no one was talking about Toe-Cutter Bill or the Serial Amputator. The Tomakomai case was unsolved. But mother and daughter were alert to the possibility that mutilating the body might put the police off the scent. I guess they were right. They convinced me too. Pulled the wool over my eyes completely.”

  He attempted a wry smile, which only made him look more pitiful. Kotaro remembered how convinced Seigo had been that a serial killer was on the loose.

  “Everything that might’ve been a clue to the victim’s identity was removed. Apparently the daughter was the one who handled that.”

  One of the employees raised her hand. “Nozaki, from BB Island,” she said. “I saw something on one of the boards that said the family used to live near where the body was found, maybe ten years ago.”

  Seigo nodded. “Interesting. That would explain why they chose that location. They were familiar with it.”

  “The husband—the victim’s father—was posted all around Japan by his employer. This is according to someone who went to high school with the victim in Akita.”

  “Thanks for that. Does anyone else have something?”

  Another person raised her hand. “The younger daughter’s SNS page says she’s a big fan of police procedurals. CSI, shows like that.”

  “TV’s getting a little too instructive.” Seigo smiled. Again, it just made him look more pathetic.

  A veteran of BB Island spoke up. “The victim was pretty well-known around the neighborhood for being a problem child. Seems she was emotionally unstable. She got married three years before and divorced immediately. After she went back to live with her mother and sister, she hardly came out of her room, but sometimes the neighbors could hear her and the mother having screaming matches. Once she put her mother in the hospital.

  “Early last year the father was killed in a traffic accident, and the family got a big insurance settlement. The fighting got worse after that.”

  “Where did you get that?” Seigo asked.

  “From someone who says she lives in the neighborhood. She’s been tweeting a lot of details.”

  “All right, that’s enough.” He held up a hand. “Concerning the murder of Ayuko Yamashina—”

  Everyone fell silent. This was what they’d been waiting for.

  “That had nothing to do with the Serial Amputator either. The statement sent by the killer was a hoax.”

  Someone sitting near Kotaro murmured, “I knew it.”

  “This is all I’m at liberty to say at the moment. I apologize.” He dipped his head. Kotaro fought the urge to close his right eye, and somehow won out. This isn’t the time or place. I might scream.

  “We’re forming another special team,” Seigo continued. “Let’s take a fresh look at all five cases, especially the two unsolved ones. We’ll gather the latest information and organize everything chronologically from the beginning. I’d like one volunteer from each island. Let’s dredge the textboards too. If you want to get in on that, let me know.”

  The meeting broke up. Someone tugged on Kotaro’s sleeve. It was Makoto.

  “They probably wanted to take the body all the way to Tomakomai.” He was talking about the Akita case. He had a pained expression, almost as though he had a toothache. “But it was too far, and they didn’t make it. They must’ve run out of emotional and physical energy. They would’ve taken the body up north in a car, which would’ve been horribly stressful.”

  As it happened, their choice of Akita to discard the body ended up complicating the investigation even more than if they’d gone as far as Hokkaido. Investigations across jurisdictional boundaries were never a strong point for Japan’s police forces, and just taking the body out of Tokyo would’ve made it much harder for local law enforcement to get traction.

  “It’s almost like you feel sorry for them,” Kotaro said.

  “Not almost. I do feel sorry for them. Family strife is something I know firsthand. So will you be dredging?”

  “Yeah, I’ll volunteer.”

  “Good luck, then.”

  Kotaro wondered what kind of strife Makoto meant. Of course, he was aware that when it came to murder, the killer and victim usually knew each other. They were almost always relatives, friends, or coworkers. Still, how could he feel sorry for them? No way should a mother who killed her daughter, a sister who killed her sister and mutilated the body, be allowed to plead for leniency because the victim was driving them crazy. Seigo was right. The dead can’t speak for themselves.

  But that afternoon, more information came to light that gave Kotaro second thoughts.

  The break in the Tomakomai case was one of the reasons mother and daughter had come forward. They’d begun to worry that it would be only a matter of time before their number came up. The unexpected resolution of the case hung heavy on their minds. But there was another reason, a more significant reason, for their confession.

  The dead daughter’s ghost was appearing to the mother, night after night. The daughter had tried to convince her it was just a bad dream, but eventually the mother reached the limits of her sanity.

  Kotaro understood. He knew the fear and terror of seeing something that was not of this world.

  In tears, the mother told her daughter she’d have to confess or commit suicide. This was why the pair had turned themselves in at eight in the evening. The weeping mother had told her daughter she couldn’t spend another night in the house. If she didn’t kill herself, her dead daughter would do it for her.

  The daughter, who was also at the end of her rope, brought her mother by the hand to the nearest police box. The killers were unmasked not by the authorities, not by the media or citizens of the web, but by the victim herself.

  lonelylonelylonelylonelylonelylonelylonely

  In his mind’s eye, Kotaro saw the apparition in white that he’d encountered in the tea caddy building. The ghost that stood by her mother’s bed must have whispered something similar. Lonely lonely lonely lonely.

  The two women had strangled the eldest daughter after she’d taken a sedative and was sound asleep. They had hidden the body in the house at first, wrapped in plastic sheeting, but after it began to decay, they knew they had to get rid it. As they were stripping the body of anything that would betray its identity, the daughter remembered the Tomakomai murder. If that case had been solved quickly, things would have played out differently. Perhaps the other murders would’ve drawn hardly any attention. Perhaps Ayuko would even be alive now.

  During the evening break, Kotaro checked his phone. There was a mail from Shigenori.

  I’m heading to the scene of the crime in Mishima.

  It was past ten when he finally got home. Kazumi was just out of the evening bath. As soon as she saw him, she exploded. “Where’ve you been? Mika was here tonight. She wanted to apologize for putting you out. She even brought a cake.”

  “Is she all right?”

  “Yeah. Well, she still has a Band-Aid on her forehead.”

  Kotaro went to his room and sent Mika a text. She answered instantly.

  Welcome home. Put your head out the win
dow.

  He followed instructions. Across the street, the second-floor window of the Sonoi house opened. Mika put her head through the gap in the curtains and waved. She was still wearing her team jersey. Kotaro waved back. She didn’t seem to have the Band-Aid now.

  This time he wasn’t tempted; he was worried. He closed his right eye.

  Nothing much changed. Mika seemed slightly blurred, as if she were surrounded by a thin mist. Her word body hadn’t had time to coalesce.

  She disappeared behind the curtains, catching them in the sliding glass window as she closed it. She opened it again and pulled the curtains inside.

  A black object the size of a baby’s head silently scurried up the side of the house and disappeared inside before she shut the window.

  Kotaro started with shock. For a moment he thought he was seeing something real—maybe a large rat.

  No—it was words, and they were not Mika’s. They were pursuing her, or at least trailing after her. And they were clearly malevolent. In fact, the object had moved like a huge spider. It had had six legs—no, maybe eight. Or ten?

  He hurried downstairs, dashed outside in his bare feet, and crossed the street to the Sonoi house. The creature had gone into Mika’s room, yet she wouldn’t even know it.

  “Galla!” He shouted out of fear before clapping a hand over his mouth. A silver thread crossed his left field of vision.

  When you seek me, I am here.

  He held his breath. He kept the Eye trained on Mika’s window.

  “I didn’t just imagine that, did I?”

  There was no answer.

  “Come on Galla, help me out. What should I do? I can’t let that thing hang out in Mika’s room. How do I get rid of it?” The soles of his feet were getting cold.

  She does not know.

  “So what should I do?”

  Ask her. That is what words are for.

  The silver thread disappeared.

  11