Seichō Matsumoto - Inspector Imanishi Investigates

“There’s nothing definite, though, is there?” Yoshimura looked disappointed. “The name he used in the inn register is an alias, of course?” Yoshimura asked.

“Of course.”

Imanishi stated this so definitely that Yoshimura took the bait. “How can you tell?”

“You saw the penmanship on that register, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did. It was very poor writing.”

“Of course it was poor, since he wrote it with his left hand on purpose.” Imanishi fished his notebook out of his pocket and took out the carefully folded sheet from the inn register. “Look at this closely. See, there’s no flow in the writing at all. No one writes such awkward characters. Remember what the maid said at the inn? He didn’t fill in the register in front of the maid. She brought the register and left it in the room. When she came back later, it was filled in. The guest filled it in using his left hand to hide his handwriting while the maid was out of the room. So we can assume that the name and address are false.”

“But where did this fellow go from ten at night to one o’clock in the morning?” Yoshimura asked. “From his behavior during the day, he didn’t seem to have any pressing business.”

“That’s it. I was just thinking about that myself.” Imanishi stood in the grass with both his hands stuck into the pockets of his slacks. Ripples spread in the river in front of his eyes. The sun shone on the mountains and cast deep shadows.

“This is a strange trip. The results are kind of disappointing, aren’t they? Imanishi- san , what shall we do now?” Yoshimura asked.

“Since we don’t have any more leads, shall we go home?”

“Don’t we have to find out where else the man went?”

“I don’t think we’ll be able to. He was probably here in Kameda for only that one day.”

“Then what did he come here for?”

“I can’t tell. Though he seemed like a drifting laborer, there’s no evidence that he came to ask for work. But maybe we should make inquiries in the nearby towns just to be sure. After all, we’ve come all this way. Come on, cheer up,” Imanishi said, looking at Yoshimura’s dejected face.

The following afternoon, Imanishi and Yoshimura visited the office of the Iwaki police chief once again.

“Thank you for everything you’ve done for us,” Imanishi said.

“You’re very welcome. Were you able to discover anything?”

“Thanks to you we were able to get a concrete picture of what went on. It seems that the man didn’t make an appearance in any other villages. Just Kameda. He must have gotten on a train at Kameda Station and gone to another area.”

“I see. That’s too bad. But it seems strange that he got off the train only at Kameda.”

“That’s true. So maybe this incident holds some promise.”

The two detectives chatted for a while with the station chief. After an appropriate length of time they took their leave.

They walked toward the train station by the deep eaved houses of the snow country.

They entered the small station and found the train schedule displayed above the wicket. The two men looked up to read the schedule.

At that moment they heard a commotion behind them. When Imanishi turned around, he saw four young men with suitcases surrounded by several men who looked like newspaper reporters. Some had cameras and were taking photographs.

Imanishi gazed at the four, wondering why the local newsmen were making a fuss over them. He could tell at first glance that the four were not from this region, that they had come from Tokyo. Although they were dressed casually, a closer look revealed that each item of their clothing had been carefully chosen. They were “casually fashionable.” They wore their hair rather long, and seemed to be around thirty years of age. The youngest of the four men had a pale face and thin eyebrows, and was wearing a gray suit with the collar of his black sports shirt out. He was saying, “I think it will be some time before Japan will be able to launch a rocket.”

“What are they ?” Yoshimura asked Imanishi.

Imanishi had no idea who they might be. They seemed to him to be awfully young to have attained such importance.

The local people waiting for the train in the waiting room of this lonely country station were also watching this group. Some young girls went up to the four men and stuck out a notebook. One of the men took out a pen and wrote in it. The girl bowed and went to the next young man. He also scribbled something with a pen. It was clear that the girl was asking for their autographs.

“Could they be movie stars?” Yoshimura asked.

“I have no idea.”

“But I don’t recognize their faces, and what they’re saying doesn’t fit.” Yoshimura pondered.

“I can’t recognize the faces of the new movie actors,” Imanishi stated. “They keep creating more and more new stars. Young girls know a lot more about that kind of thing.”

After a while, the group of young men went through the gate, toward the train bound for Aomori, in the opposite direction from the way Imanishi and Yoshimura were headed. The newspaper reporters bowed their farewell and left the station.

“Shall I ask them?” Yoshimura said, his curiosity aroused.

“No, don’t bother,” Imanishi stopped him.

“But I’d like to know who they are.” Yoshimura approached the young girl with the autograph book.

He bent over and asked her something. The girl answered, blushing slightly. Yoshimura nodded and returned to where Imanishi was seated.

“I’ve got it,” he said, smiling self-consciously.

“Who were they?”

“They are intellectuals from Tokyo. They are members of the Nouveau group. They often appear in newspapers and magazines.”

“What is this Nouveau group?”

“You might say it’s made up of members of the younger generation who have progressive opinions: composers, academics, novelists, playwrights, musicians, filmmakers, journalists, poets – all types.”

“You’re really up on all this, aren’t you.”

“Well, I do read the papers and the magazines,” Yoshimura said, somewhat embarrassed.

“So those four are members of this group?”

“Yes. I just asked that girl. The one in the black shirt was Waga Eiryo, the composer. Next to him was the playwright Takebe Toyoichiro; then Sekigawa Shigeo, the critic; and the painter Katazawa Mutsuo.“

When he heard these names, Imanishi realized that they were vaguely familiar.

“Why did they come all the way out here?”

“She said that a university rocket research center is located here in Iwaki. They’re on their way back from taking a tour of the center.”

“A rocket research center in this backwater?”

“When she told me, I remembered that I’d read about it somewhere.”

“A strange location for such a modern facility.”

“It sure is. They’ve finished their tour and are going on to see Lake Towada before they go home. The local press was all over them because they’re mass media stars-opinion leaders. The spotlight of the new generation is on them.”

Imanishi was indifferent to them. The generation gap distanced him from this group. He yawned and said, “Have you found us a train?”

“Yes. There’s a limited express at seven forty-four p.m.”

“What time does it reach Ueno?”

“At six-forty tomorrow morning.”

“That early? Well, I guess it’s all right. We can go home and sleep a bit before reporting to headquarters,” Imanishi said, and then added, “There’s no need to hurry; we’re not going back with a breakthrough.”

“True. Imanishi- san , since we’ve come all this way, how about taking a look at the Japan Sea? We still have plenty of time.”