Keigo Higashino: Salvation of a Saint

Was it true? She had to know. She felt the love and the hatred in her heart tearing her in two, and realized that she would kill for the truth. And so she decided — she would go through with it. She would become this man’s wife, always by his side, holding his fate in her hands, delaying the time of his punishment. She would give him a chance to earn her forgiveness.

She was nervous when she put the arsenous acid into the filtration system, knowing that it meant she could never allow anyone else to be alone in the kitchen. Yet, at the same time, she felt the unmistakable elation of being entirely in control of another’s life.

Whenever Yoshitaka was home, she stayed on the sofa. She even carefully timed her trips to the toilet and bath to times when he was least likely to need anything in the kitchen.

He was kind to her after their wedding, and she had no complaints. As long as his affections for her remained the same, Ayane was determined to not let him near the water filter. Though she hadn’t forgotten what he did to Junko, as long as he never did the same to her, she intended to let him live. For Ayane, marriage meant offering daily salvation to a man standing on the gallows.

Yet a part of her knew that Yoshitaka wouldn’t abandon his desire for children. When she noticed the way he looked at Hiromi, she knew the time had come.

On the night they invited the Ikais over to their house, Yoshitaka had declared his intention to divorce her, his tone businesslike throughout.

‘As I’m sure you realize, we’re almost out of time. I’d like you to get ready to leave.’

Ayane smiled. ‘Then, I have a request first.’

He asked her what it was, and she looked him in the eye and said, ‘I’d like to leave the house for two or three days. I hope you’ll be all right by yourself.’

He shrugged with a smile. ‘That’s not much of a request. Of course I’ll be all right.’

‘Of course,’ Ayane echoed, nodding. Her days of salvation were over.

The wine bar was in a basement, at the bottom of a long flight of stairs. Utsumi opened the door to see a bar counter and three tables at the back. Kusanagi and Yukawa were sitting at the table on the left.

‘Sorry I’m late,’ the junior detective said, taking a seat next to Kusanagi.

‘What’s the word?’ Kusanagi asked her.

She nodded. ‘Good news. They found traces with the exact same composition.’

‘No kidding,’ Kusanagi breathed.

They had sent the empty can from Junko Tsukui’s mother’s house to Spring-8 for testing, and the lab had detected trace amounts of the exact arsenous acid that was used to kill Yoshitaka Mashiba. This backed up Ayane Mashiba’s confession that she had put the poison Junko sent her through the mail into the water-filtration system.

‘Sounds like the case is closed,’ Yukawa said.

‘That it is,’ Kusanagi agreed. ‘Well, since we’re all here now, how about a toast?’ He called over the waiter and ordered champagne. ‘I have to admit, you really saved my ass this time, Yukawa. Tonight’s on me. Drink all you like.’

Yukawa raised an eyebrow. ‘“This time”? Don’t you mean “again”? And I was under the impression that it was Ms Utsumi I was helping, not you.’

‘Details, details. Hey, here’s the champagne.’

The three brought their glasses together in time with Kusanagi’s shout of ‘Kanpai!’

‘What impressed me most was that you held onto that thing,’ Yukawa said after they had all taken a drink.

‘What thing?’ Kusanagi asked.

‘The empty can Mrs Mashiba had been using to water her flowers.’

‘Oh, that,’ Kusanagi said, a sour look coming over his face. He dropped his gaze to the table.

‘I knew you offered to water her plants for her, but I hadn’t heard about the big new watering can. Regardless, why did you hold onto the old one? Utsumi tells me you had it in your desk drawer.’

Kusanagi glared at the junior detective, but she looked away.

‘Well... I guess you could call it intuition,’ he said at last.

‘Ah, the famous detective’s intuition?’

‘That’s right. Besides, you never know what might become evidence, so you don’t throw away anything until the case is closed. That’s standard operating procedure.’

‘Standard procedure, right,’ Yukawa said with a shrug, taking another sip of his champagne. ‘I’d assumed you held onto it as some kind of keepsake.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Nothing. Forget about it.’

‘Actually,’ Utsumi joined in, ‘I had a question I wanted to ask you, Professor.’

‘By all means.’

‘How did you figure out what trick she used? Did it just come to you at some point?’

Yukawa gave a soft sigh. ‘Things don’t just “come” to me. The idea occurred after I made several observations, and gave it a great deal of thought. The first thing that tipped me off was the condition of the water filter. I saw it with my own eyes, and it was exceedingly clear that no one had touched it for quite some time.’

‘Right, which is why we couldn’t figure out how she had got the poison in there.’

‘Yes; except I started to wonder exactly why the outside of the filter was so dusty. From what you told me, Mrs Mashiba sounded like a fairly fastidious person. Wasn’t it her failure to put away her champagne flutes that first made you suspect her, Utsumi? If your assessment was accurate, then I would expect a woman like that to keep things pretty neat and tidy, even under the sink.’

Utsumi’s eyes widened. It seemed like an obvious observation after the fact.

‘It got me thinking. What if she had left it that way, covered with dust, on purpose? And if so, why? That’s when my idea occurred to me.’

Utsumi stared at the physicist’s face, shaking her head. ‘Well, I’m impressed.’

‘There’s nothing to be impressed with — unless you mean you’re impressed with Mrs Mashiba. Only a woman could come up with a trick so illogical, so full of contradictions, and so perfect.’

‘Speaking of contradictions, Hiromi Wakayama apparently decided to keep her child.’

Yukawa shot Utsumi a suspicious look. ‘Isn’t that straightforward maternal instinct?’

‘Yes, but it was Ayane Mashiba who told her she should.’

The physicist’s expression froze for a moment. Then he slowly shook his head. ‘That... is a contradiction. I don’t understand.’

‘That’s a woman for you,’ Utsumi offered.

‘I see. Then I’d have to say that it’s nothing less than a miracle we were able to solve this case rationally. Don’t you think—’ Yukawa turned to Kusanagi, and cut himself off.

Utsumi glanced at the detective beside her. His head was hanging. He was sound asleep.

‘No wonder he’s exhausted,’ Yukawa said quietly, with a look at Utsumi. ‘With the unravelling of the perfect crime came the unravelling of his affection. Let’s let him sleep it off.’

He raised his glass.