Кэйго Хигасино - A Midsummer’s Equation

“Did he have something to say about what happened?”

“Yes, would be my guess. I wasn’t there, but we showed him the scene, and then he started talking about having to see our commissioner right away. They were in there for about an hour, then the director and the widow went back to Tokyo with orders to send the remains back after them. Not for a funeral, either.”

“For what then?”

“An autopsy,” Nishiguchi said in a hushed voice.

Narumi swallowed.

“If it looks like murder, you know Tokyo’s going to get involved, even if it isn’t their jurisdiction. That’s got everyone at the station on tenterhooks. Which is why I’m trying to get everything squared away before the end of the day.” Nishiguchi leaned toward her and added, “And everything I just said, that’s just between old friends, okay? Don’t tell anyone else.”

“Yeah, sure. No problem. So, how can I help you?”

“Right, I almost forgot,” Nishiguchi said, straightening his back and clearing his throat. “Actually, there’s something I wanted to borrow from you, if I could? Your, er, guest ledger, I think it’s called? We need a record of people who stayed here.”

“What are you going to do with that?”

“Well, it’s a bit of a sensitive subject,” Nishiguchi began, glancing around before continuing, “but people were wondering why Tsukahara chose this place to stay.”

“You mean why’d he pick an old, rundown inn like ours?”

“I didn’t say that! I’m just saying, well, he might’ve had a specific reason. Like someone recommended it to him. That’s why we need to know who stayed here in the past.”

“Oh, I get it. How many years back do you want?”

“As many as you got.”

“Okay, I’ll ask my folks.” Narumi went back to the living room, mulling over what Nishiguchi had said. It was a good question. Why had Tsukahara chosen the Green Rock Inn?

Kyohei finished breakfast and was on his way back to his room when he spotted Yukawa in the lobby. He was sitting on the wicker bench, staring at the framed painting of the ocean on the wall.

“Did someone in your family paint this?” he asked as Kyohei was walking by.

“I dunno. Something wrong with it?”

Yukawa pointed at the painting. “You can’t get this view of the ocean from this inn, no matter where you stand. It made me wonder where it was painted from.”

Kyohei looked between the physicist’s face and the painting. He shrugged. “Does it matter?”

“Very much. This town prides itself on the beauty of its seascape, and this inn was built to cater to people lured here by its beauty. If we find a painting of the ocean in such a place, we would expect it to be a local scene. If the ocean in this painting were actually the ocean from an entirely different area, or something the painter just made up, well, that’s a kind of fraud, if you ask me.”

“Fraud sounds a little strong,” Kyohei said.

Yukawa stared at the painting a few moments longer, then turned to him. “What are your plans today?”

“Nothing.”

“Perfect,” Yukawa said, looking down at his watch. “It’s eight thirty now. Meet me here in half an hour.”

“Huh? Why?”

“I believe I mentioned I was working on a plan to show you the bottom of the sea. Well, my plans have taken shape, and I’d like to put them into action as soon as possible,” Yukawa said, standing.

Kyohei looked at the physicist in surprise. “I told you I don’t like boats.”

“And I heard you. We’re only talking about one hundred meters here. We don’t need a boat.” Yukawa made his hand in the shape of a pistol and pointed the barrel at the painting of the sea. “Let’s hope it works.”

Roughly thirty minutes later, Yukawa showed up in the lobby carrying two large paper bags. He handed one of the bags to Kyohei, but the top was folded shut and he couldn’t see inside. It wasn’t as heavy as he expected it to be, judging by the size. When he asked what was inside, all Yukawa said was, “Don’t get your hopes up. It’s not lunch.”

“By the way, did you bring your cell phone?” Yukawa asked as they were walking outside.

Kyohei fished the phone out of his shorts pocket and showed it to him. Yukawa nodded approvingly and started to walk.

The physicist wouldn’t tell him where they were going, so all Kyohei could do was follow. He thought they might be going to the place where the guest had fallen the night before, but Yukawa showed no signs of stopping as they passed by the rocky shore.

Past the harbor, they came to a breakwater extending out into the ocean. Yukawa began walking down it toward the end, his pace quickening.

“Are we going to do something at the end of the breakwater?”

“That’s why we’re here.”

“Well, what are we doing, then? Tell me already.”

“Don’t be impatient, you’ll see soon enough.”

Yukawa finally stopped when he reached the very end of the breakwater. “Open your bag,” he instructed, “and spread out its contents on the ground.”

Kyohei opened his bag, finding a plastic bucket, some plastic string, and what looked like a long tube made out of cut plastic bottles.

“We’re making a bottle rocket. Sometimes called a water rocket. Know what those are?”

“Yeah, we made them at school once. They shoot water out of the back, right?”

“They most certainly do.”

“Is it going to take a long time?”

“Don’t worry, it’s already nearly finished. I did most of the work last night in my room and then dismantled it to fit in the bags. It will be easy to reassemble.” Yukawa worked while he talked, sticking the various pieces together with practiced hands. Kyohei watched as the rocket gradually took shape. It was easily over a meter tall, considerably larger than the ones they’d made at school.

“You made this in your room?”

“It was the easiest solution to the problem, believe it or not. It should provide an interesting lesson in physics, too.”

“How is firing off a rocket going to let us see the ocean floor?”

Yukawa’s hands stopped their work. He pushed up his glasses with the tip of his finger. “Ever hear of Yuri Gagarin? He was an astronaut — the first man in outer space, and the first man to orbit the earth. He did that in a rocket. Without rockets, mankind would never have been able to see what the earth really looks like. We need a rocket.”

In the homicide division of the Tokyo Police Department, Detective Shunpei Kusanagi was in the middle of laboriously typing up a report when he sensed someone standing in front of his desk. He looked up to see Division Chief Mamiya glaring down at him.

“Don’t tell me you can’t touch type, Kusanagi.”

Kusanagi narrowed his eyes. “What about you, Chief?”

“You know I don’t have time for that crap,” Mamiya said. He glanced around the office and leaned in a little closer. “Speaking of which, got a moment?”

Kusanagi chuckled. “Didn’t you just tell me you needed this report done on the double?”

“It can wait. Come with me, Director Tatara’s waiting.”

“Tatara?” Kusanagi immediately began thinking back over the last couple of days, trying to figure out what he could’ve messed up badly enough to get the director’s attention.

“Don’t worry, he’s not going to chew us out. Come.”

Mamiya walked off without waiting for an answer. Kusanagi got up from his desk and hurried after him. They reached a small meeting room, where Mamiya knocked on the door. A voice from inside said, “Enter.”

The two detectives walked into the room to find Tatara, his jacket off, sitting in one of the chairs. He had spread several papers out on the conference table, along with some photographs. Kusanagi spotted a photocopy of a map, though it wasn’t an area he was familiar with.