Masako Togawa - The Lady Killer

He would drop the drunk off, and then go to the apartment of Sada, the cosmetics salesman.

It was on his way, anyhow.

The coffee shop, Dakko, was located at the end of a shopping arcade. It was a tiny place built on the corner of the row, having no more than two box seats; five customers would be enough to fill it, and tonight it was overfull with men wearing clogs and light cotton kimonos who seemed to have nowhere in particular to go. A glance at the towels and soap containers that they all were holding revealed that they were all on their way back home from the public bath. Amongst this group, one man stood out, for he was wearing a summer suit and was tall for a Japanese—at least five feet seven. When Shinji entered, he spotted him immediately, for he seemed to be talking to himself, moving his large limbs in an exaggerated manner the while. He seemed to be rehearsing a sales pitch, and his soft, well-modulated voice betrayed him for what he was—a cosmetics salesman who made his living from women. The moment Shinji opened the door, their eyes met. Sada came over to Shinji, glancing at him shrewdly, and they sat down together in a seat that had just become vacant. Sada bowed slightly.

“Hello. Sorry, but I forget your name.”

Shinji handed him a reporter’s card. “I went to your apartment, but your wife told me you would be here, so…”

“Yes, she phoned me and told me.” Sada proffered his card, his face set with his business smile.

“Thanks for coming,” he went on. “As you can see, I’m ready for business twenty-four hours a day.” He oozed politeness.

“Well, to be honest, it isn’t that. I came in search of facts on blood donation. Have you given recently?”

“Well, there’s been no call for it for quite some time. Rather a waste really—I’m a full-blooded fellow and have more than I need.” Sada laughed at his weak joke.

“What about the fifteenth of January last?” he said, mentioning the date of Mitsuko Kosugi’s murder. But Sada assured him that he had not given blood for at least a year. It seemed that Shinji’s visit was wasted, and he decided to leave. However, having come so far, perhaps he should question Sada a little on his private life. It seemed that Sada was a man who liked to talk, and he was awaiting Shinji’s further questions, moistening his underlip the while.

“The nature of your business must bring you into contact with all sorts of people. Have you got any interesting stories to tell me?”

“Not really. My life is pretty dull, really.”

“Honestly?”

“Yes. The life of a cosmetics salesman consists of wearing down shoe leather, no more. I know there are a lot of stories about us, but they are not true, at least not in my experience.”

“What about the jewelry business, then?” Shinji only said this in a spirit of light sarcasm, but it struck home. Sada’s slimy eyes, which bulged as if he suffered from Basedow’s disease, suddenly ceased their motion. He lowered his voice and leaned toward Shinji, plainly anxious not to be overheard.

“Detective, are you? I know what you are talking about, but we can’t speak here, so let’s move on somewhere else. There’s a sushi shop called ‘Kawagen’ a few doors up; go and wait for me there.” His tone was friendly but insistent.

Shinji decided to fall in with his plans. Leaving his coffee more or less untasted, he went out of Dakko.

He was sitting at the counter of Kawagen, wiping his hands with a cold flannel, when Sada came in. “Sorry to keep you waiting.” He gave a few orders to the cook behind the counter and turned to Shinji again. “I had quite a difficult time with the lady, and it really wasn’t my fault,” he began.

“Go on,” said Shinji, his curiosity aroused.

“Well, she rang me at home—must have got my number from another customer, I suppose. Anyway, she said she wanted to see some jewelry. Well, it’s only a side business of mine, you understand, but anything to oblige… Anyway, she said she wanted to see some jewelry and asked me to meet her at a coffee shop downtown. So, as I said, what the customer wants is always right, and I went to see a fellow I know who lets me have stock on consignment when I need it.”

At this point, he broke off and ordered a tuna sushi, offering one to Shinji, too.

“Well, I went to the coffee shop, but on the way I had second thoughts. I mean, I was carrying a small fortune in gems, and I didn’t know the woman from Adam. What if I was drugged and robbed? So I put my briefcase in a station locker and just took two pieces with me—the cheapest diamond in the batch and an opal. Why did I go at all in that case, you may ask. Well, there was something suggestive in the woman’s manner that attracted me. Anyway, I got to the coffee shop in Yurakucho and there she was, waiting for me, wearing a kimono. Quite a beauty, and immaculately turned out.

“I was going to show her the jewelry, but she said the coffee shop was too public. We ought to go somewhere very private, she said to me archly, and I began to feel I wouldn’t mind being cheated out of my jewelry if she would first give me a little bit of pleasure in return. As I say, she was beautiful. Anyway, we went to an inn in Sendagaya by taxi. When we got there, it was still before noon, but there were several other couples there already. It seems that those places have business twenty-four hours a day, you know. Makes you think, doesn’t it?”

He paused to wolf down two sushi; looking at him, Shinji reflected that here was a man whose mouth never stopped moving, either in eating or in speech.

“So we went into a bedroom and she asked to see the jewelry. She said she liked both pieces and asked how much they were. Well, I was a little confused, so I quoted her a good price and she bought them both on the spot—and paid cash there and then, too.” He laughed hollowly. “Well, we’d paid for the room for two hours, and it seemed a waste not to use it, if you see what I mean, and she was willing, it seemed. So we drank a little beer, and undressed, and then…”

“Yes?”

“And then nothing. I woke up and was lying on the bed all by myself. I called the front desk on the phone and they told me the lady had left an hour and a half before. That put the wind up in me, and I checked to see if anything was missing, but nothing was. Even the eighty thousand yen she had paid me for the jewelry was still there. It was just as if I had been possessed by a fairy or a ghost. But my head was strangely heavy and my throat dry, so I went back home and slept it off. Beer doesn’t normally affect me like that; if you ask me, it was drugged. Anyway, that wasn’t the end of it. The next day, when I returned the remainder of the jewelry to my friend, I discovered that the diamond I had sold her was a fake. Look, it’s only a sideline of mine, and I’m no expert. I assure you that I had no intention of cheating her. Please believe me.” He paused for a drink.

“Oh, yes, the money is quite intact—I’ve kept it in an envelope so as to give it back to her in due course. I’ve tried to track her down, but to no avail.” The story was at an end, and he rounded it off with a laugh that seemed to Shinji to be extremely studied.

Was he telling the truth? Perhaps he had seen the incident as a small, illicit affair with a married woman and had taken the money without any qualms. But perhaps the fraud had been deliberate, and he was now making up this story to cover up his deceit. In either case, how could this bizarre tale be related to the case of Ichiro Honda?

“And when did this take place?”

“Let me see—I can tell you exactly.” The salesman took a small notebook out of his breast pocket and examined it. “January fourteenth,” he said.