Кэйго Хигасино - A Midsummer’s Equation

Around that time, Setsuko had come back from town, having shown one of their other guests to a local bar.

Narumi explained about Sawamura and about running into their mother in front of the bar.

“Mr. Sawamura said he wanted to say hello to my husband, so he came in, but when he found my husband worrying about his missing guest, he offered to help look,” Setsuko said, continuing the story. “While he and Mr. Sawamura were driving around in the pickup, I took a look around the inn.”

“Of course, in these parts after nine, it’s pretty dark, so unless he was walking on the road or standing someplace out in plain sight, we didn’t have much of a chance of finding him,” Shigehiro added.

Nishiguchi nodded. There were no streetlamps anywhere along the hill up from the station.

Hashigami took his cell phone out of his pocket and stepped outside to phone in a report.

“Still, I never imagined he’d turn up like this,” Shigehiro said, putting a hand on his head. “Where was he found?”

“The seawall right around where the Headland Restaurant used to be,” Nishiguchi said, referring to a place that had closed three years earlier.

“With all the rocks around there, that would be a pretty nasty place to fall,” Shigehiro said.

“I wonder why he was down there in the first place,” Narumi said.

“Out for a walk, most likely. Maybe wanted to see the ocean at night. Or maybe he just wanted to walk off dinner and the drinks.”

“So he climbed up on to the seawall and then fell off?”

“I suppose so.”

Narumi’s eyes went to her old classmate. “Is that what happened?”

Nishiguchi shrugged. “We can’t say for sure. The investigation’s only just started.”

Narumi grunted, unimpressed.

Hashigami returned from outside and whispered, “The bags,” into Nishiguchi’s ear.

“If you don’t mind, we’d like to check Mr. Tsukahara’s belongings. Could you show me to his room?” Nishiguchi asked.

“Happy to,” Setsuko offered.

The two detectives got on the elevator with her. Nishigami pulled on his gloves while they were riding up.

There were eight guest rooms on each floor, each with its own name. Masatsugu Tsukahara had been staying in one called the Rainbow Room. The room was large, with a low table and floor cushions pushed off into one corner and a futon laid out on the tatami mats. There was a strip of hardwood flooring over by the window with a chair and another smaller table.

“Who spread out his futon and when?” Nishiguchi asked.

“It was a little after seven, I think. I came up while Mr. Tsukahara was at dinner. My husband doesn’t do the futons anymore on account of his knee, so when we don’t have any part-time staff around, me and Narumi handle things.”

The futon looked untouched. Tsukahara must have left the room right after coming back from dinner.

His luggage was a single, old traveling bag. Hashigami examined the contents, finding a cell phone. It was a simple one with only a few basic functions, designed for elderly users.

His clothes had been neatly folded and placed in a corner of the room: an open-collar shirt and gray slacks. Nishiguchi fished in the pockets and found his wallet, with a decent amount of cash inside.

He checked the driver’s license. Both the name and the address were the same as in the ledger downstairs. Then he pulled another card from the wallet.

“Uh-oh,” Nishiguchi said.

“What you got?” Hashigami asked.

“A union member’s card. To our union. He’s a cop.”

Kyohei woke up from a dream of someone shouting. He looked around. The ceiling and the walls were unfamiliar.

It took him a moment to remember he was staying at his aunt’s. The train ride down, the fireworks with his uncle the night before — the events of the day before came filtering back slowly. But this room wasn’t the one they had brought him to when he arrived. He didn’t see his backpack anywhere, either.

Then he remembered his uncle suggesting they go eat watermelon. This room was his uncle’s living room, then. He had been eating watermelon, and his uncle left to call one of the guests. He remembered starting to watch TV, but nothing after that.

Kyohei got up and looked around. The table he had been eating his watermelon on had been pushed into the corner. He was wearing the same T-shirt and shorts from the night before. I must’ve fallen asleep watching TV.

There was a clock on the television stand that read 9:20.

Kyohei opened the sliding door and went out into the hall. He heard voices from the lobby and went out to find two men standing there. One was middle-aged, short, and heavyset. The other one was younger and looked pretty fit. Uncle Shigehiro was out on the wicker bench, talking to them.

“Hey there, Kyohei. You just get up?” his uncle said.

The man looked in his direction, and Kyohei stopped abruptly.

“This your nephew?” the middle-aged man asked his uncle.

“Yes, my wife’s brother’s kid. He’s here for summer vacation.”

The man nodded at that. Behind him, the younger man was writing something down on a notepad.

“Anyway, if you wouldn’t mind leaving the room exactly as it is?” the man asked.

“No problem,” Shigehiro replied. “I’m sure we won’t need it with summer break gone. It’s not like people are breaking down the doors to get reservations,” he added with a chuckle.

Kyohei wondered what had happened and what room they were talking about.

“Uncle Shigehiro?” he asked. “Can I go to my room?”

Shigehiro looked at the middle-aged man. “He’s on the second floor. That’s not a problem, right?”

“Of course, not at all,” the man said, smiling at Kyohei. “Think I can ask you to stay off the fourth floor, though? There’s something up there we have to check out.”

“They’re the police,” his uncle said, and Kyohei’s eyes widened.

“The police? What happened?”

“Well, that’s probably best left for another time,” his uncle said, nodding his head toward the men.

Kyohei knew this particular routine well. It was just another case of grown-ups keeping secrets from kids for absolutely no reason whatsoever.

It used to annoy him so much that he would start asking questions, but he’d given up trying. Instead, he grunted and headed back to the elevator.

He was about to press the button when he had a thought and glanced toward the dining rooms. There were slippers in front of one of them.

Walking quietly, Kyohei approached the room. The sliding doors were wide open. He peeked in and saw Yukawa sitting exactly where he had the night before. He was stirring something on his tray, but his hand stopped abruptly, and he said, “Do you like peeking in on other people eating?”

Kyohei reflexively drew back from the door, then gave up and walked out into the open. Yukawa was draping sticky beans over his morning rice. He hadn’t even looked in Kyohei’s direction.

“I was just wondering who was in here,” Kyohei said.

Yukawa answered that with a snort and a slightly derisive smile. “That was a waste of your time. If you’d thought about it, you would’ve realized that this is a dining room expressly for the use of guests. Which makes it likely anyone in here was a guest. Given that there are only two guests staying in this entire inn, and that one of them is no longer with us, that leaves only one person it could’ve been. Namely, myself.”

“What do you mean, ‘no longer with us’? Did the other guy leave?”

Yukawa’s chopsticks stopped in midair. His eyes met Kyohei’s for the first time. “Oh,” he said. “You haven’t heard.”