Кэйго Хигасино - A Midsummer’s Equation

Kusanagi crossed his arms behind his head and leaned back in his chair. “Seems pretty clear-cut. Nothing too newsworthy there. Did he go on the lam or something?”

“No. They arrested him two nights later.”

The report of a woman found lying on the street in a residential area of Ogikubo had come in at around ten o’clock on the night of March 10. By the time the police arrived, she was already dead. She had multiple stab wounds to the chest. She was carrying a driver’s license, making identification easy. Some simple canvassing revealed that she’d been drinking the night before at one of her usual hangouts with a middle-aged man who hadn’t been there in several years. That was Senba.

They discovered an old business card of his upon searching the victim’s apartment. Apparently, he’d been a regular back when she was a hostess. After suffering some business losses, he’d moved back to his wife’s hometown for a period of time before returning to Tokyo. His residence at the time was a two-story apartment on the east side of Tokyo.

The detective who’d paid Senba a visit noticed something odd about his behavior and asked if he might look inside his apartment. Senba refused, so the detective left, but lingered nearby in order to keep an eye on Senba’s apartment.

Eventually, Senba emerged with a small bag in his hand. The detective followed him, and when Senba paused by a nearby river and looked around, the detective approached and called out to him. Senba immediately broke into a run. Though it was close, in the end the detective caught up to him, and he was put under arrest.

A bloody knife was found inside Senba’s bag, and it didn’t take long for the labs to confirm that it was a match for the one that killed Nobuko Miyake.

“The detective that caught Senba by the river that day was none other than the late Masatsugu Tsukahara, the subject of our current investigation.”

Kusanagi shrugged. “Any detective who was refused entry to someone’s apartment would suspect something was up. So, was Tsukahara in charge of the interrogation, too?”

“Yes, according to the record.”

“An eight-year sentence... which means he’s out by now. The real question is why Tsukahara went to his old house.”

The call had come from a Detective Nishiguchi in Hari about an hour earlier. Nishiguchi found out about the house and its former occupant, but they had no files for the case in their local offices, thus the request.

“You think he just stopped in on his way?” Utsumi wondered out loud.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, maybe he was on his way to the hearing in Hari Cove, and just decided to take a little detour to see where the man he’d once arrested used to live?”

Kusanagi groaned. “It’s a bit of a stretch. I can understand if the man was living there, or maybe his family, but an empty house? That, and it was already for sale at the time of the murder. Hardly seems worth a visit.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Utsumi agreed, letting go of the theory with uncharacteristic ease.

“Anyway, send those files on to them, and let’s get that address.”

“Hidetoshi Senba’s current address, I take it?”

“You’re on the ball, Detective.”

Kusanagi’s phone rang. It was an unregistered number. He answered.

“It’s Tatara. Got a moment?”

“Sure, of course,” he said, straightening a little in his chair.

“I got a call from the lab. They found a cause of death.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re going to be surprised. It was carbon monoxide poisoning.”

Kusanagi gasped, despite himself.

“Apparently, it was really hard to pin down, so they ran every blood test in the book. That’s when they discovered levels of carboxyhemoglobin well above the lethal amount. It would’ve taken him only about fifteen minutes to die after he hit saturation. Also, they found traces of sleeping pills.”

This fit a common suicide profile, of course, except people who committed suicide by carbon monoxide poisoning rarely then jumped off of a seawall.

“I’ll inform the guys at the Shizuoka PD. And I’ve had them send a copy of the report to the locals, too. If anyone calls, be sure to tell them,” Tatara said quickly. Kusanagi could hear the sound of people in the background — the buzz of another police station, perhaps.

“Can I ask a question, Director?”

“Sure. Make it quick.”

“You were in the same division with Tsukahara sixteen years ago, correct?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Do you happen to remember a murderer you picked up around then, a man by the name of Senba?”

“Hidetoshi Senba?”

Kusanagi was startled by the director’s quick response. Of all the cases he must’ve seen in the intervening time, something about this one must’ve stuck in his memory.

“Yes, he killed a former hostess.”

“What about him?”

Kusanagi related what he had heard from Nishiguchi. Tatara was silent for a moment. “Listen,” he said, “I’m over at the Shinagawa Police Department. You mind coming down here?”

Narumi was getting the dining room ready for Yukawa’s dinner when Kyohei showed up.

“Can I eat out here too?”

“In the dining room?” Narumi turned to face her cousin. “You want to eat with Mr. Yukawa?”

“He said he didn’t mind. And I’ll carry out my own food.”

“Well, I guess it would be okay.”

She’d heard the two had been out somewhere playing together most of the day, and they both had bad sunburns to prove it.

She’d just finished putting out Yukawa’s trays when he showed up with a plastic bag filled with fireworks.

“Looks delicious,” he said, looking at the cold vegetables with shrimp. He sat down at the table.

“I’m sorry we don’t have more to offer.”

“Don’t be silly. I’m starting to think I might need to go on a diet after this trip.” The physicist smiled.

Kyohei arrived, carrying his own tray with some egg over a ball of rice. He carefully set it down on the table across from Yukawa.

“That looks pretty good too,” the physicist remarked.

The front desk buzzer sounded, so Narumi said, “Enjoy your meal,” and excused herself.

Nishiguchi was in the lobby. He raised a hand in greeting, though he didn’t smile.

“Something more about Mr. Tsukahara?” Narumi asked.

“Something I need your help with, actually,” Nishiguchi said, licking his lips before continuing. “I was hoping I could look inside the building a bit?”

“You want to see Mr. Tsukahara’s room?”

“Er, no, actually, the entire building.”

“What for?” Narumi asked, a wrinkle forming between her eyebrows.

Nishiguchi grimaced and glanced outside. Her eyes followed him out to the front and she stiffened. There was a line of men outside in dark blue police uniforms.

“Who are they?” she asked, her voice a little quieter.

“The forensics team from the prefectural police. I’m sorry, I can’t go into any more detail about this. If now doesn’t work, I can’t force you to let us in, but we’d just be back later with a warrant. But if we could just get this finished with now...”

Nishiguchi was clearly uncomfortable. Narumi gave him another look, then said, “I’ll go talk to my parents. Hang on.” She disappeared into the back.

Shigehiro and Setsuko were just sitting down to dinner in the living room. Their chopsticks stopped in midair when Narumi told them what was going on.

“What’s left to see? Weren’t they all over the place yesterday?” Shigehiro asked, disgruntled.

“He won’t tell me. What should I say?”

Shigehiro looked at his wife, then got to his feet.