The Devotion Of Suspect X (27 page)

“Absolutely. I think I’ve said pretty much what I had to say, in any case.”

“It was interesting,” Ishigami said. “I recall you posing a question to me before. You asked which was more difficult, formulating an unsolvable problem, or solving that problem. Remember?”

“I do. And I have an answer for you. It’s more difficult to create the problem than to solve it. All the person trying to solve the problem has to do is always respect the problem’s creator.”

“I see. What about the P = NP problem, then? The question of whether or not it’s as easy to determine the accuracy of another person’s results as it is to solve the problem yourself.”

Yukawa favored him with a suspicious look, unsure of where Ishigami was leading.

“You’ve given me your answer,” Ishigami went on, pointing a finger at Yukawa’s chest. “Now it’s time for you to hear someone else’s solution.”

“Ishigami…”

“Good day.” The mathematician turned his back on Yukawa and strode into the school, tote bag clutched tightly in his arms.

It’s over,
he thought. The physicist had seen through everything.

Misato sat in uncomfortable silence, eating her apricot pudding. Yasuko wondered once again whether it would have been better just to have left her at home.

“You get enough to eat, Misato?” Kudo was asking. He had been fretting over her all evening.

Misato nodded, mechanically sticking the spoon into her mouth, without even a glance in his direction.

You can drag a teenager to a good restaurant, but you can’t make her enjoy it.

They had come to a Chinese place in Ginza for dinner. Kudo had insisted that Yasuko bring her daughter, and so she had dragged Misato along, despite the girl’s protests. In the end, Yasuko had convinced her to come by telling her that it would seem unnatural for them to avoid going out—that it might make the police suspicious.

But now that she saw how worried Kudo was, she regretted it. All through dinner, he had tried a variety of approaches to get the girl to talk, but he had failed to get more than a few terse words out of her all night.

Misato finished her dessert and turned to her mother. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Yasuko waited for Misato to leave, then turned to Kudo, clasping her hands together. “I’m so sorry.”

“Huh? About what?” He looked genuinely surprised, though Yasuko knew it was an act.

“She’s really shy, that’s all. And I think she has issues with older men.”

Kudo smiled. “Don’t worry. I didn’t imagine we’d be great friends by evening’s end. I was just like her when I was a teenager. I’m happy just to have gotten to meet her today.”

“Thanks, you’re too kind.”

Kudo nodded. He fished in the pocket of his jacket, which hung on the back of his chair, and pulled out a cigarette and lighter. He had refrained from smoking during dinner on account of Misato.

“Any developments since we last spoke?” he asked, taking a puff.

“Developments? With what?”

“That investigation.”

“Oh.” Yasuko lowered her eyes for a moment then looked back up at him. “No, nothing. Life’s been pretty normal, actually.”

“I’m glad to hear that. The detectives leaving you alone?”

“I haven’t seen them in a while. They haven’t been to the shop, either. How about you?”

“Nothing to report on my side. I think they’ve given up on me.” Kudo flicked some ashes into an ashtray. “Though there is something bothering me. I think it might be related.”

“What’s that?”

“Well…” Kudo mused for a moment before opening his mouth again. “It’s just, I’ve been getting these strange calls lately. The phone rings at my house, and I pick it up, but there’s no one on the other side.”

“Really? That sounds unpleasant.” Yasuko frowned.

“Yeah. And then there’s this—” After a moment’s hesitation, he pulled a piece of paper out of his coat pocket. “I found this in my mail the other day.”

Yasuko saw her name written on the paper and froze. The message read: “Keep away from Yasuko Hanaoka. She’ll never be happy with a man like you.”

The note had been written on a computer and printed out. There was nothing to indicate from whom it had come.

“Someone sent you this in the mail?”

“No, I think they put it in my mailbox by hand.”

“Do you have any idea who it might be?”

“Not a clue. I was hoping you might know.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine…” Yasuko reached down to her handbag, taking out a handkerchief. Her palms were beginning to sweat. “That’s all there was? Just this note?”

“No. There was a picture, too.”

“A photograph?”

“From the time I met you in Shinagawa. Whoever it was took a picture of me in the hotel parking lot. I had no idea.” Kudo shook his head.

Unconsciously, Yasuko’s eyes swept the room. Certainly no one was watching them here?

By then, Misato had returned, so they didn’t discuss the note anymore. A few minutes later they left the restaurant, said good-bye to Kudo, and climbed into a taxi.

“I told you the food would be good,” Yasuko ventured, but Misato frowned and said nothing. “I wish you hadn’t made that face the whole time.”

“Then you shouldn’t have taken me along. I told you I didn’t want to go.”

“But he invited you specifically.”

“He would have been happy with just you, Mom. I don’t care if he invites me again. I’m not going.”

Yasuko sighed. Kudo seemed to believe that, if he gave it enough time, Misato would warm to him. Yasuko doubted that was true.

“Are you going to marry him, Mom?” Misato asked suddenly.

Yasuko sat up in her seat. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m serious. You want to marry him, right?”

“No.”

“Really?”

“Of course not. We just go to dinner every once in a while.”

“Okay. Fine then.” Misato turned and looked out the window.

“Why did you ask me that, Misato? Is there … something you want to say?”

“Nope.” But Misato slowly turned back toward her mother. “I just thought maybe it’s not a good idea to betray that other guy.”

“That guy? Who?”

Misato stared Yasuko in the eye and said nothing, though it was clear she meant Mr. Ishigami. She wasn’t saying anything because she didn’t want the taxi driver to hear.

“Well, I don’t think that’s anything you need to be worrying about,” Yasuko said, leaning back in her seat.

“Hmph,” Misato grunted. She clearly disagreed.

Yasuko thought about Ishigami. She
was
worried about him, even without Misato’s reminder. And the note and the photograph left in Kudo’s mailbox disturbed her deeply.

As far as Yasuko knew, there was only one person who could have sent that message. She remembered the dark look that had appeared on Ishigami’s face when he spotted Kudo dropping her off at her apartment. The image was burned vividly in her mind.

It was more than possible that Ishigami had discovered her relationship with Kudo and was jealous. She already knew his attraction to her was more serious than a passing fancy—after all, that was the only reasonable explanation for both his willingness to help them cover up Togashi’s murder and his continued protection of them from the police.

It was probably Ishigami who had left the note and the photograph in Kudo’s mailbox. If that was true, then what
were
his plans for her? Would he use what he knew as leverage to try and control her life? Would he never let her see—let alone marry—another man?

Thanks to Ishigami, Yasuko had, so far, avoided arrest in the hunt for Togashi’s murderer. She was grateful for that. Yet what was the point if she could never live a free life? It was no better than when Togashi was alive. She was just dealing with a different man now, and this time, there truly was no escape.

The taxi arrived at their apartment. They got out and walked up the stairs. The lights were on in Ishigami’s room.

Yasuko went into her apartment and began to change. Moments later, she heard the door to the next apartment open and close.

“See?” Misato said. “He was waiting for us to get back.”

“I know that,” Yasuko shot back, her testiness showing in her voice.

A few minutes later, her cell phone rang.

“Yes?”

“It’s me,” came the familiar voice. “Can you talk?”

“Yes.”

“Anything to report today?”

“No, nothing.”

“I see. Good.” She could hear Ishigami slowly breathe out on the other side of the line. “Actually, there are some things I need to talk to you about. The first is, I have placed three envelopes containing letters in the mail slot on your front door. Please go get them after I hang up.”

“Letters?” Yasuko glanced toward the door.

“Please keep them safe. You’ll need them shortly. All right?”

“Okay.”

“I included a memo with the letters explaining how you are to use them. I hardly need tell you to destroy the memo when you’re done reading it. Understood?”

“I understand. Should I get them now?”

“No, afterward is fine. Also, there is something else I need to say. It’s very important.” Ishigami paused. Yasuko sensed reluctance in his voice.

“Yes?”

“This is…” he began, “this is the last time I will call you like this. I won’t be contacting you any further. Nor should you try to contact me. No matter what happens, you and your daughter are to remain bystanders. Don’t get involved. That’s the only way you’ll be safe.”

Yasuko’s heart began to race as she listened to him talk. “What are you saying, Mr. Ishigami? What is this all about?”

“You’ll see soon enough. I think it’s better not to tell you right now. Just, don’t forget what I said. All right?”

“No, it’s not all right. I need you to explain.”

Misato came over, noticing her mother’s consternation.

“There is no need to explain. Good-bye.”

“Wait—” she said, but he had already hung up.

Kusanagi was in the car with Kishitani when his phone began to ring. He was on the passenger side, resting, with the seat back lowered as far as it would go. He grabbed his cell and answered it while still lying down. “Kusanagi here.”

“It’s me—Mamiya,” came the division chief’s voice. “I need you to come down to Edogawa police station immediately.”

“What, did you find something?”

“Someone found us. There’s a man here who wants to talk to you.”

“Who?” Kusanagi asked, wondering if it was Yukawa.

“It’s Ishigami, the math teacher who lives next to Yasuko Hanaoka.”

“Ishigami? He wants to talk to me? Why didn’t he just call?”

“Uh, I think it’s more important than that,” Mamiya replied, his tone severe.

“Did he tell you what this is all about, Chief?”

“He says he won’t talk about the details to anyone but you. That’s why we need you here now.”

“Right, fine, I’m on my way.” Kusanagi put his hand over the receiver and tapped Kishitani on the shoulder. “Chief wants us down at Edogawa Station.”

Mamiya’s muffled voice came over the phone. “He says he did it.”

“Huh? What was that?”

“He says he killed Togashi. Ishigami’s turning himself in.”

“What the hell!?”

Kusanagi sat up so fast his seatbelt nearly left a bruise.

Ishigami, his face expressionless, was staring at Kusanagi.
Or maybe his eyes just happen to be pointing in my direction,
the detective thought.
Maybe he’s not seeing me at all.
The mathematician’s face was entirely devoid of emotion; it was as if his gaze was fixed on some faraway place and Kusanagi just happened to be sitting in that blank trajectory.

“The first time I saw him was on the tenth of March,” he was saying, his tone perfectly even. “He was loitering near her door when I returned home from school. I caught him putting his hand inside the mail slot in her doorway.”

“I’m sorry, this man—who was he, exactly?”

“Mr. Togashi. Though, of course, I didn’t know that at the time,” Ishigami answered.

Kusanagi and Kishitani were with him in the interrogation room. Kishitani sat off to one side, taking notes. Ishigami had asked that no one else be allowed in the room. He’d said he wouldn’t be able to tell them what he needed to say if a bunch of officers were there asking questions.

“I wondered what he was up to, so I called out to him. He looked surprised, and told me he had business with Yasuko Hanaoka. Said he was her estranged husband. That’s when I realized who he was, and I knew he was lying, but I pretended to go along with his story so as not to alarm him.”

“Wait a second, how did you know he wasn’t telling you the truth?” Kusanagi asked.

Ishigami took a short breath. “Because I know everything there is to know about Yasuko Hanaoka. I know she’s divorced, and I know she had been moving around, trying to escape her ex-husband.”

“How could you know all these things? I had heard that you hardly spoke to her, despite the fact that she’s your neighbor. That you only saw her because you frequented the lunch shop where she works.”

“That’s what we tell people, yes.”

“Excuse me?”

Ishigami straightened himself in his chair, puffing out his chest ever so slightly. “I am Yasuko Hanaoka’s bodyguard. It has been my duty to protect her from men with less than good intentions. And for obvious reasons, neither of us wanted people to know about it. I am a schoolteacher, too, after all.”

“But you told us you hardly talked to her at all when we first met,” Kusanagi pressed.

Ishigami sighed quietly. “You came to my apartment to ask questions about Togashi’s murder, didn’t you? Of course I couldn’t tell you the truth. You would have suspected something immediately.”

“Okay…” Kusanagi hesitated. “So now you’re telling me that you know everything about Yasuko Hanaoka … because you’re her bodyguard?”

“That’s correct.”

“So you’ve been close to her for some time. Since before this incident?”

“Yes. As I said before, our arrangement was a secret. We were very careful to keep our communication hidden. Not even her daughter knew about it.”

“How exactly did you do that?”