Lisa Atkinson - Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 131, No. 5. Whole No. 801, May 2008

What? Again?

She had heard it. The sound of the gas valve opening. Aiko was the only one who could hear it.

“It’s all right,” Kaise said softly.

Aiko turned her pale face back and put both of her hands on her chest to calm her breathing.

During the five years that his father had lived with them, it was Aiko who had battled: Gas valve. Medicines. Knives. Rope... Anything that could be used to commit suicide was under her supervision. Twenty-four hours a day. Three hundred sixty-five days a year. That was why his father was still alive. In exchange for Aiko’s cheerfulness and the sheen of her hair.

“Dear...”

“Hm?”

“You went today, didn’t you? To the hospital?”

“...”

“How was your father?”

“He seemed the same as usual.”

“I see... Next time I’ll go too.”

Kaise did not give her a response.

His father and Aiko had shared the illness. Their hearts still resonated with each other. If she saw him, she would be held captive. Aiko’s mind would not be able to slip out from the iron-barred hospital.

He now regretted that he had not talked it over with Aiko before committing his father to the hospital. Kaise had made the decision on his own, which had caused some ill feeling between the two of them. They were no longer a close couple. Those chilled feelings weighed heavily on Kaise’s heart whenever they spoke of his father.

After Aiko had gone to the bedroom, Kaise snuggled under the cover up to his chest and lay back, resting his head on his arms crossed under his head. He was exhausted.

He had gone to the hospital that morning, been informed of the theft of the IDs, and had taken the full brunt of the attacks at the department heads’ meeting. Going to U Station, he had endured — Owada’s shouting and had been treated high-handedly by Masukawa.

Is Masukawa guilty...?

He didn’t get it. It was certain that Masukawa didn’t think well of the Police Affairs Department. From his way of talking, it could be deduced that he harbored quite some animosity. Kaise also felt that Masukawa had a terribly twisted character. But, if pressed as to whether Masukawa was suspicious, he would be in a dilemma as to the answer. He wouldn’t put it past him to have done it, but if he had done it, he wouldn’t have been that calm. And the IDs were not in Masukawa’s car or belongings. The starting point for his suspicion of Masukawa was that he was the night-duty officer in charge, but Masukawa, who was unable to move away from his seat during his duty, was the most inconvenient person to take out the documents.

The most inconvenient, was it...?

Kaise sighed.

Most convenient. Most inconvenient. From the start, Kaise’s thinking had been along those lines. In the end, Masukawa was nothing more than a convenient suspect for Kaise.

If the culprit was from outside the agency, the collective storage system would go down in defeat along with its original promoter, Kaise. If, however, the culprit was on the inside and the crime had been committed by someone related to the Criminal Investigations Department because of resentment toward the Police Affairs Department, the situation was entirely different. What should be blamed would be neither the storage system nor Kaise. It would be the culprit. Criminal Investigations Department Head Yamanouchi could never again beat up on Kaise. Thus the theory that Masukawa was the culprit was a scenario born of Kaise’s wishes. He had designated Masukawa from among the countless suspects, including those outside the agency.

It was just a pipe dream, he began to see.

Even if Masukawa had done it, he seemed to be an opponent Kaise was unable to touch. He was a skilled detective who had dealt with all manner of criminals for more than twenty years. Kaise didn’t have any experience in investigations, and he was in management without any authority to investigate this matter. The outcome of this struggle was clear before it had even begun.

Let Internal Investigations deal with it.

Exhaling roughly, Kaise sat up. He reached for his briefcase.

He spread some writing paper on the table. He had to prepare a draft of the press announcement. This was the one duty assigned to Kaise in this case.

Thirty minutes... One hour...

His pen wouldn’t move.

Why the hell did he have to write this? Was this why he had become a police officer?

He was despondent.

He felt great respect for his father, who had been a lifelong policeman. Kaise had followed in his footsteps. He had never put much thought into promotions or advancements. All he had wanted was to be active on the front lines, whether it was as a beat cop, a detective, or a traffic cop. This was what he had repeatedly written in the journal assigned at the police school.

His environment had raised Kaise. The agency was overjoyed at the birth of a second-generation police officer. It had high expectations, just as parents do of their children. He was encouraged by many superiors who knew his father. Aim to be like your father. Go beyond your father.

He made efforts to fulfill those expectations. He worked hard at his duties and at passing the grade-promotion tests. But it was tough on him. He felt pressured. He felt that he was not being true to himself, that he was always reaching beyond his abilities as more demands were made on him.

Each time he was promoted, a voice inside whispered to him, This is enough, don’t go beyond this, this is about where it suits you best. He also felt that the number of stars designating his rank trampled on his father’s legacy. When his father became ill, he began to see the agency from a more distant perspective. Still, the higher-ups backed Kaise. Education Section. General Affairs Section. Police Affairs Section... He was assigned to numerous responsible posts as a young candidate for management positions.

And this is the pitiful result.

The organization that had raised Kaise and had pulled him up to superintendent had turned on him due to just one incident. It had forced Kaise to take all the responsibility, had convicted him, and had isolated him.

He flung the pen down. As if in response, he heard a cough from the children’s bedroom.

Kaise quietly opened the sliding door. Koaichi was curled up on his mattress. His covers had fallen onto the floor. It was the same for Yumiko. They were sleeping in the same posture. He replaced their covers and gazed at their sleeping faces. For a while he stayed that way.

He felt a warm glow in his heart.

The family ate dinner together. If that was impossible for him, he made every effort to return home before the children went to bed. He had tried to fulfill this promise to himself. He did what his own father had been unable to do in order to be a father himself.

But that would only be until next spring.

He would be ousted from headquarters. He would be sent off to a district office. He wouldn’t be able to return soon. It might be three years. It might be five years. Or he might have to go from one district post to another for a much longer time. It would be cruel to pull his children away from their friends. He would go alone, leaving his family here.

Kaise went back to the living room.

He put away the writing paper and took out the file from his briefcase. It was a copy of U Station’s night-duty report. He had been able to get ahold of this. What had been the scene in the station last night? He didn’t know how much significance there was in finding that out, but he had to try.

I’ll flail around as much as I can.

He looked through the copy.

6:23 p.m.: Injury traffic accident. Three officers sent out. Returned at 8:40. 7:10: Report of a fight. Two officers sent out, determined it was a false report. Returned at 7:58. 8:20: Traffic accident involving an object. Two officers. Returned at 10:05.