Fallen Angel (9781101578810)

by Patrick, Jonelle

“Were you entertained by a hostess named Anna at the Sugar Club last January?”

  Matsuda fumbled in the sleeve pocket of his haori and drew out a small appointment book. He scrabbled through pages at the front. “Yes,” he admitted. “On the twenty-third.”

  “Did you take her home after spiking her drink with drugs?”

  “N-n-no! I m-m-mean yes, I asked her to c-c-come see my collection, bu-bu-but…”

  “Do you remember what happened after you got home with her?”

  Matsuda was silent.

  “Yes or no, Mr. Matsuda?”

  “I…I don’t remember.”

  “Did you assault her by cutting the character for ‘first’ above her left breast?”

  “N-n-no!”

  “I thought you said you don’t remember.”

  “I don’t. I drank a lot that n-n-night but I would n-n-never…” Matsuda took a few deep breaths to calm himself.

  “After you stopped seeing Anna, did you start a relationship with Cherry at Club Heaven?”

  Matsuda’s cheeks flushed. “Yes.”

  “Did you make a deal with her?”

  He hesitated. “Yes.”

  “Did you give her money? Jewelry?”

  “I…I g-g-gave her p-p-presents. But not money! I didn’t p-p-pay her! Cherry wasn’t a, a, a…”

  “What did she agree to let you do every time you saw her?”

  “She…she let m-m-m-me…” His face turned beet red and he was unable to continue.

  “She let you cut the character for ‘ignite’ on her chest, one stroke at a time?”

  “N-n-n-no!” Matsuda’s face registered shock.

  Mori shook his head. “Let me remind you, Matsuda-san—we have other ways of confirming what you did. It’s pointless to lie, and it’ll weigh against you when the prosecutor is deciding which sentence to recommend.”

  “Bu-bu-but…!”

  Mori flipped through Kita’s statement, creasing it open to page four. “Last Friday, after you drugged a hostess named Erika and cut one of the characters spelling out your name on her chest, did she wake up and sustain life-threatening wounds trying to fight you off?”

  “N-n-no! Where would I get drugs? I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

  The door opened to admit the assistant inspector who’d previously brought the dagger. He handed two crime lab reports to Mori. A smile spread across the inspector’s face.

  “You really ought not to lie about things that are so easily verified, Matsuda-san. We found a prescription pill bottle with your name on it at your house. But instead of Amoban, the bottle contained Rohypnol, the commonest way to illegally knock a woman out before raping her.”

  Kenji watched as disbelief suffused Matsuda’s face.

  “And that’s not all. The only fingerprints on this weapon—” He nodded toward the evidence bag on the table. “—are yours.”

  “Bu-bu-but…that’s impossible! I haven’t seen that tantō for m-m-months. I thought it was being restored. You can ask K-Kita-san—he told me it couldn’t be loaned for the Na-Na-National M-M-Museum show b-b-because he sent it to our master swordsmith in K-K-Kyoto for restoration last December.”

  Mori shook his head and said, “I’ll give you one last chance to admit what you did before asking the prosecutor to lock you up and throw away the key.”

  Matsuda shook his head helplessly as the inspector picked up Kita’s statement and shook it in Matsuda’s face. “Evidence. Doesn’t. Lie.”

  Matsuda flinched, then focused on his retainer’s statement. Mori allowed him to grab it and devour the parts highlighted in brilliant yellow, eyes widening in shock. Bowing his head, he refused to say anything more.

  Chapter 64

  Wednesday, November 20

  8:00 A.M.

  Kenji

  Fortunately, the battle-ax who’d thrown him out of Erika’s hospital room last week wasn’t on duty when Kenji showed up the next morning. Visiting hours wouldn’t start for an hour, but the head floor nurse’s dimples deepened in her plump cheeks as she smiled at Kenji and tucked a stray strand of hair back into its bobby pin with a hand minus a wedding ring. She said she’d check with the patient and see if Erika was awake and able to talk to him.

  A few minutes later, she ushered him into Erika’s room, early morning sunlight streaming through the window where she’d parted the curtains. The roses were gone. Erika’s bed had been cranked up to a sitting position and she was wrapped in her pink robe. She’d managed to pile her curls on top of her head with a clip and adorn them with few starry pins, and she’d put on enough makeup that she now looked more like the beautiful hostess he’d seen at the Queen of Hearts than the shocked victim of a madman.

  “Would you like some tea?” the nurse asked Erika, including Kenji in her smile.

  “If you don’t mind, instead of fetching tea, could you stay here while I talk to Erika-san?” Kenji asked. Erika’s transformation back into woman from victim reminded him that police regulations frowned on male officers interviewing female subjects without a witness.

  The nurse colored and self-consciously patted her hair again. “Well, if you think it will help…” She busied herself fetching a chair from next to the unoccupied bed, and seated herself next to Kenji.

  “How are you feeling today?” Kenji asked Erika.

  Her hand flew to the spot where she’d been cut, drawn by the reminder of the ugly wound under the fluffy pink robe.

  Her pretty red lips turned down at the corners. “I’m feeling better enough to be mad. I talked to the plastic surgeon Manager-san recommended. Do you have any idea much it’ll cost to have this scar removed?”

  “Will it make you feel better if we catch the guy who did it to you?”

  “When you do, will you let me return the favor? Only it won’t be his chest I’ll be aiming for…”

  Kenji laughed. “I’m afraid you’ll have to settle for him getting a nice long stay in Fuchu Prison.”

  He stood and wheeled the tray table to her bedside. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a stack of photographs and began to lay then out for her to look at. All of them were of balding men in their late thirties or early forties. Kato from the front desk at the Komagome Police Station. Mikimoto from Traffic Section. Kenji’s dad, twenty years ago. His uncle Junpei. A picture of Kita pulled from the CCTV camera in the interview room.

  Erika’s face suddenly paled beneath her makeup and her hand flew to her mouth.

  “That man!” Horror pulled her mouth open in shock as she picked up the picture of Kita and stared at it. “He was leaning over me when I woke up!”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I don’t know why I didn’t remember before! Those eyes. I’m sure it was him!”

  “Do you remember anything about where you were?”

  Confusion. In a tentative voice she said, “I know this sounds weird, but…there was a deer staring at me.”

  Chapter 65

  Wednesday, November 20

  9:00 A.M.

  Kenji

  Kenji returned to the squad room with his morning cup of tea and spotted Oki standing next to his own desk with his overcoat still on, shuffling through the papers that had been deposited in his Inbox. They both turned as the elevator doors parted and Inspector Mori strode into the squad room, followed by his elite entourage. The First Investigative Division team marched to the interview room and shut the door.

  “I stopped by to see Erika this morning,” Kenji told Oki, removing his jacket and draping it on the back of his chair. “When I showed her Kita’s picture, it shocked her into remembering that it was him, not Matsuda, standing over her when she woke up on the night she was attacked.”

  Oki’s eyebrows shot up. “She said it was Kita who assaulted her? Not Matsuda?”

  “And she remembered the stuffed deer heads in the entry hall of Matsuda’s house.”

  “I think they’re actually antelope,” said Oki. “But why would Kita cut Matsuda’s name
on three hostesses?”

  “I might have the answer to that,” Suzuki said, appearing with his laptop. He turned to Kenji. “Remember what you said last night after the interview with Matsuda? That his reaction to Kita’s statement was more like someone who was shocked at being betrayed than someone who was guilty?” Setting his computer on Kenji’s desk, he brought up the document Yumi had sent yesterday, then opened a new file.

  “You must have been up all night,” Kenji said, taking in the pages of text Suzuki had written, translating the old-style handwritten characters into modern usage.

  By the time his kohai returned with two cups of tea, Kenji was studying the family trees on the last page. Kenji looked up at the assistant detective and said, “Good work, Suzuki-san. If the Matsuda empire had passed to the ancestor’s son instead of his grandson, it would be Kita sitting behind the rosewood desk and Matsuda bringing him tea. That’s a hell of a motive.”

  He made copies of the evidence and knocked at the door of the interview room where Inspector Mori was closeted with his elite team.

  “Yes?” the inspector said, irritated at the intrusion.

  Kenji handed Mori the documents Yumi had sent and explained that he believed the investigation might need to change direction.

  “What?” Mori sputtered, shuffling through them, stopping at the family tree on the last page. “What does this have to do with anything?”

  “I’m only suggesting that you might want to take a hard look at Mr. Kita’s testimony because he stands to benefit if Mr. Matsuda is sent to prison.”

  Mori returned to the first page and read through the evidence, his scowl deepening. Finally he looked up and said, “You want me to believe that the man whose family served the Matsudas for sixteen generations executed an elaborate plot to abduct hostesses and carve his boss’s name on them, so he could play Lord of the Manor while his childhood friend is in jail?”

  “Not exactly,” Kenji said. “I think he planned for Matsuda to be sent to a psychiatric hospital so he’d never be released at all.”

  Mori stared at him, then he gave a derisive laugh and shook his head. “Thank you, Nakamura-san. If I want any more entertainment from recently promoted detectives, I’ll ask for it.”

  Chapter 66

  Wednesday, November 20

  10:30 A.M.

  Kenji

  Kenji passed the printouts of Yumi’s documents through the bars of the holding cell, hoping Mori wouldn’t drag the prisoner upstairs for another round of questioning before he’d had a chance to find out if he was right.

  An exhausted-looking Matsuda accepted the documents silently and sank to the tatami floor to read the letters from his ancestor to the pregnant young woman who had been his mistress. Matsuda’s futon and buckwheat-filled pillow were still hygienically plastic-wrapped in the corner of his cell, suggesting that he’d spent a sleepless night. Stripped of his samurai garb, today he was wearing a gray detention jumpsuit like all the other prisoners.

  When he finished, he looked bleakly at Kenji. “This is ancient history, D-D-Detective. Why d-did you show me this?”

  “Because a hundred and fourteen years ago, your ancestor married his pregnant mistress off to the Kita family’s eldest son, and the baby who was born six months later was the only boy he ever fathered. There are some who might argue that your retainer, Hiroshi Kita, is the rightful Matsuda family heir.”

  Matsuda shook his head, disbelieving. “That was all settled generations ago. There have always b-been rumors, but the K-Kita family never disputed that b-boy as their heir, even though he was b-born early. The Matsuda succession was p-passed through my three-times-great-grandfather’s daughter to her son.” He looked at Kenji with his sad eyes, and a note of pleading entered his voice. “The K-Kitas have served my family for five hundred years, D-Detective. Kita-san’s father even went to w-war with my father to protect him; they were the only two of their b-battalion who survived Guadalcanal. Even under fire, K-Kitas do not betray Matsudas.”

  “Well, your Kita has certainly betrayed you. Have you read his statement?”

  Matsuda was silent.

  “Who really assaulted those hostesses, Matsuda-san?”

  The tall, scarred prisoner turned and paced to the back of his cell to stare at the wall. Kenji’s phone vibrated in his pocket.

  Text from Oki and Suzuki:

  We’re here.

  Kenji texted back:

  Bring him in.

  “Matsuda-san?” Kenji said. “You’ve got a visitor.”

  Matsuda turned as Kita took Kenji’s place in front of the holding cell. Today the retainer wasn’t wearing a suit; his dark silk hakama and haori jacket bore his own family crest. Matsuda stared at Kita, their relationship as profoundly changed as their clothing. Kenji and his colleagues withdrew, to allow them the illusion of privacy.

  “K-Kita-san!” Matsuda cried, rushing to the cell door. “Why d-did you do it?” He grasped the bars, one white-knuckled hand normal, one stiff and grotesque. “I read what you t-told the p-police.”

  “I’m sorry,” the retainer said, his face serene. “I had to tell them the truth. I’m afraid you’re showing signs of the same illness your father suffered from.”

  “You know that’s n-not true. I’ve tried to protect you, bu-but—”

  Kita laughed bitterly. “You protect me? Matsudas don’t protect Kitas. They never have and they never will.”

  “How c-can you say that? Our f-families have fought side by side since the B-Battle of Sekigahara.”

  “Side by side? At the Battle of Sekigahara, my sixteen-times-great-grandfather switched helmets with your sixteen-times-great-grandfather, drawing the attack and sacrificing himself so your ancestor could live to fight another day. My three-times-great-grandfather was forced to marry your three-times-great-grandfather’s mistress and name her bastard his heir, to save your family from scandal. My father risked his life to protect your father in one of the most brutal battles of the Pacific War, and sacrificed his career to cover up for him at Matsuda Lumber until your father’s weakness pulled them both under.”

  Kita took a step toward Matsuda. “But I thought I was smarter than that. I went to Keio, planned to get a law degree, make my own connections. Even if the Matsuda family never acknowledged me as the rightful heir and never allowed me to run Matsuda Lumber, I’d make a career for myself, write my own ticket.”

  His voice filled with undisguised hatred. “I should have known it would be harder than that to escape sixteen generations of obligation. My father made me quit university to ‘help manage the Matsuda family collection’ when you dropped out after your first year. Your family needed a caretaker for the Matsuda legacy and they knew you were too weak to do it alone.”

  “But K-Kita-san, I thought—”

  “No, you didn’t.” The retainer’s eyes shone with anger. “You never thought of anyone but yourself. ‘Kita, can I see your notes?’ ‘Kita, demonstrate to our visitors how sharp this sword is.’ ‘Kita, find me a girl.’ But from now on, you’re going to have to get along without me, because I’m not coming with you to prison.”

  He turned and strode back down the hallway, demanding that Suzuki drive him home.

  Matsuda’s hands fell to his sides and his face filled with sadness.

  “Matsuda-san?” Kenji said, returning to the cell. He asked gently, “Please tell me. What really happened to those hostesses?”

  The prisoner stood there, stricken, while tears leaked down his scarred cheeks. Finally he whispered, “I saw him. After Erika ran away, I saw where he hid the other tantō.”

  Chapter 67

  Wednesday, November 20

  11:00 A.M.

  Kenji

  Kenji got into the elevator and punched 3. He’d been right. Kita was trying to frame Matsuda and he was very close to succeeding. But if Matsuda really could lead them to the dagger used to cut the hostesses, Inspector Mori would have to listen to him. Kenji hoped that Kita was so confident his d
ecoy dagger would be accepted as proof of Matsuda’s guilt that he’d neglected to wipe traces of himself from the one he actually used.

  1…2…3…Kenji stepped out of the elevator into the squad room and aimed for the room Mori was occupying with his team, then his steps slowed. He stopped. How could he tell Mori what he’d just learned without damaging his career? Mori already resented the role he’d played in catching the Shrine Killer last spring; he wouldn’t be enthusiastic about letting Kenji grab another commendation. If he wasn’t careful, Mori could kick his legs out from under him when he passed the Assistant Inspector’s Exam next year and applied for a transfer to the First Investigative Division. Was Mori smart enough that if he gave him the materials, he’d draw the right conclusion?

  His phone buzzed in his pocket.

  “Nakamura desu.”

  “Tommy Loud here. After you called, I went back and took a closer look at that dagger you found at Matsuda’s house. You were right. The prints are all Matsuda’s, except one.” When the crime tech finished explaining his findings, Kenji thanked him and ended the call.

  “Is Mori still in there?” he asked Oki, pointing to interview room 3. The big detective nodded as the door opened and two of Mori’s assistant inspectors emerged. They passed Kenji on the way to the elevator. Kenji caught the door before it closed.

  Inspector Mori sat at the table, case notes spread out before him.

  “Now what?” Mori asked.

  Kenji held up the voice recorder and explained, “Matsuda just told me something very interesting.”

  “What? Who gave you permission to talk to him?”

  “Listen.” Kenji set the recorder on the table and pushed Play. Matsuda’s voice whispered, “I saw him. After Erika ran away, I saw where he hid the other tantō.”

  “What other tantō”

  “He says he can lead us to the dagger Kita used to cut kanji characters on at least one of our victims.”

  “We don’t need another dagger. The one Matsuda hid in that room is at the lab right now, having all kinds of incriminating evidence pulled off it.”