Keigo Higashino: Salvation of a Saint

Kusanagi glanced towards the driver’s seat. His eyes met Utsumi’s in the rearview mirror.

‘We can’t really say,’ he told her. ‘Not without an autopsy report.’

‘But you’re in Homicide, right?’

‘True, but we’re only here because there’s a possibility of murder. I can’t say any more — which is to say, we really don’t know anything more than that.’

‘I see,’ Hiromi said in a small voice.

‘That reminds me,’ Kusanagi said as casually as possible, ‘I wanted to ask you, Ms Wakayama: if this was a homicide, do you have any idea who might have been responsible?’

He thought he sensed her holding her breath. His eyes went to her mouth.

‘No,’ she said, her voice soft and thin in the quiet interior of the car. ‘I really don’t know much more about Mr Mashiba other than that he’s the husband of my quilting teacher.’

‘Of course. Well, if anything does occur to you, I know we can count on you to let us know.’

Hiromi sat in silence, not even nodding.

They dropped her off in front of her apartment building, and Kusanagi moved to the passenger seat.

‘Well,’ he said, looking straight ahead at the road, ‘what do you think?’

‘She’s tough,’ Utsumi replied as she steered the car back into traffic.

‘You think?’

‘She didn’t cry once. At least, not in front of us.’

‘Maybe she just wasn’t that sad.’

‘No, she was crying before we got there. The entire time she was waiting for the ambulance, I’d say.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘Her make-up. I could tell that she’d had to fix it in a hurry.’

Kusanagi looked over at the junior detective. ‘Really?’

‘Without a doubt.’

‘I guess women notice different things — I mean that as praise, mind you.’

‘I know,’ she said with a smile. ‘What did you think of her, Detective Kusanagi?’

‘In a word, suspicious. I have my doubts about a young woman visiting a man’s house to “check up on him”, whether or not she was given a key.’

‘I agree. I certainly wouldn’t have.’

‘You think she and the deceased might’ve had something going on? Or am I reading too much into it?’

Utsumi almost snorted. ‘I wouldn’t call that reading too much into it. It’s hard to imagine that they didn’t have a thing. My guess is that they had plans to dine together tonight.’

Kusanagi slapped his knee. ‘The restaurant in Ebisu.’

‘They called because no one showed up, and the reservation was for two. Which means that not only Mr Mashiba but someone he was supposed to be dining with didn’t show up either.’

‘Which would make sense if that someone were Hiromi Wakayama,’ Kusanagi agreed.

‘If there was a deeper connection between them, we’ll have proof shortly.’

‘How’s that?’

‘The coffee cups. The ones in the sink might have been from when they drank coffee together, which means that her fingerprints will be on one of them.’

‘Right, right. But,’ Kusanagi lifted his finger, ‘just because they might’ve been having an affair isn’t sufficient grounds to treat her as a suspect.’

‘Of course not,’ Utsumi said. She pulled off the road and stopped the car. ‘Do you mind if I make a phone call? There’s something I’d like to check on.’

‘Who’re you calling?’

‘Why, Hiromi Wakayama, of course.’

Utsumi began pressing the keys on her phone as Detective Kusanagi looked on, open-mouthed. The call went through almost immediately.

‘Ms Wakayama? This is Utsumi from the police department. I’m sorry to bother you again so soon, but it occurred to me that I’ve forgotten to ask you about your schedule tomorrow.’ There was a pause while Hiromi spoke, before Utsumi said, ‘... I see. Thank you. Sorry for the trouble. Good night.’

She ended the call.

‘What did she say?’ Kusanagi asked.

‘She doesn’t have definite plans, but thinks she’ll be at home. She’s going to take the day off from the quilting school.’

‘Hmph.’ Kusanagi snorted.

Utsumi glanced sidelong at the detective. ‘I wasn’t calling to ask about her schedule, you know.’

‘Do tell.’

‘She was trying to hide it, but I could tell from her voice she’d been crying. It was quite obvious. In other words — as soon as she was alone in her room, the emotions she’d been holding back came spilling out.’

Kusanagi sat up in his seat. ‘That’s why you called her? To see if she’d been crying?’

‘My thought was that the shock of finding someone dead would be enough to make some people cry whether or not they knew them well. But to be crying now, hours later...’

‘Means she was feeling something other than shock at the fragility of life,’ Kusanagi finished. He smiled at her. ‘Not bad, Junior Detective Utsumi.’

‘Why thank you, Detective Kusanagi.’ Utsumi smiled and released the hand brake.

The next morning, just past seven A.M., Kusanagi woke to the sound of the phone ringing. It was Chief Mamiya.

‘You’re early,’ Kusanagi grumbled into the receiver.

‘Be thankful you got to sleep at home. There’s a meeting this morning about the investigation, at the Meguro City Police Station. We’ll probably be moving in, so get ready to sleep there tonight.’

‘So you’re calling me at seven in the morning to remind me to bring my toothbrush?’

‘You should be so lucky. No, you’re going to Haneda this morning.’

‘Haneda? What’s in Haneda?’

‘The airport, stupid. Mrs Mashiba will be coming back from Sapporo, and I want you to meet her there and bring her back to the station.’

‘I assume she knows about this already?’

‘She should. I want you to go with Utsumi. She’ll be driving. The flight gets in at eight.’

‘Eight A.M.?’

Kusanagi dropped the phone and jumped out of bed.

As he hurried to get ready, his mobile phone rang. It was Kaoru Utsumi; she was already waiting in front of his apartment building. Kusanagi grabbed his wallet, put on his shoes, and ran out to meet her.

Utsumi was waiting at the kerb. Kusanagi climbed into her Pajero and they headed off towards Haneda airport.

‘Looks like we pulled the short straw again. I’ll never get used to meeting the bereaved family,’ he said, putting on his seat belt.

‘But the chief says you’re the best at handling them.’

‘The old man said that?’

‘He said your face puts them at ease.’

‘Nice.’ Kusanagi snorted. ‘He’s just saying I look like an idiot.’

They arrived at the airport at five minutes to eight and stood in the arrivals lobby, scanning the crowd for Ayane Mashiba while passengers streamed past. She was supposed to be wearing a beige coat and carrying a blue suitcase.

‘Think that could be her?’ Utsumi said, nodding towards an approaching figure.

Kusanagi followed her gaze to find a woman who matched the description. Sorrow hung around her slightly downcast eyes; there was an air of something grave and stark about her — solemnity, perhaps.

‘That’s her all right,’ Kusanagi said, his voice suddenly hoarse.

It was as if his heart had suddenly leapt into his throat. He stared, unable to take his eyes off her, completely at a loss as to why the sight of Ayane Mashiba should affect him so strongly.

Once the detectives introduced themselves, the first thing Ayane Mashiba asked about was her husband’s body.

‘There’s been a court-ordered autopsy,’ Kusanagi explained. ‘I’m not sure exactly where the body is at this very moment, but I’ll check on it later today and let you know.’