TWENTY-NINE
At the Hari Cove police station, the investigative task force was meeting. An investigator from the local prefectural headquarters stood and opened his notebook. “We visited Mrs. Tsukahara last night at her home to ask if she’d noticed anything unusual about her husband’s behavior in the past few months. She repeated what we already have on file about movies he likes, books, and his occasional travel. She also mentioned that she couldn’t be entirely sure how he spent most of his days, because her job as a dressmaker kept her out of the house. We did confirm that there hadn’t been any altercations with anyone from his past or present, nor was the couple experiencing any financial difficulties. She also claims there was never any possibility of an affair.”
Section Chief Hozumi butted in with a chuckle. “Well, if his wife says so, it must be true.”
“Er, right,” the investigator continued, “we’re going to be checking on that with his former colleagues, of course. Regarding Hidetoshi Senba, she again confirmed what we already know, that Tsukahara tended to remember everyone he had ever caught, but rarely talked about them. Senba was no exception. We also checked the study, with the widow’s permission, but didn’t find any materials relating to past cases, Senba’s included. It’s worth noting that detectives from the Tokyo PD had spoken to her before we arrived, but she said she told them nothing she hadn’t told us, nor did they take any evidence with them.” The investigator gave a sort of half-bow to the room and took a seat.
The conference room was lined with desks. In the middle, with their backs to the wall, sat the detectives from the prefectural homicide division. Commissioner Tomita and Chief Okamoto from Hari sat near Hozumi. Neither man looked particularly comfortable surrounded by detectives from the prefectural police.
Facing them sat several dozen investigators, their desks neatly arranged side by side—the official task force for what they were calling the “Hari Cove abandoned body case.”
Nishiguchi sat toward the back of the room, listening to the proceedings and occasionally taking notes. It was his first time being involved in such a large-scale operation, and he hadn’t quite grasped yet how all the parts were supposed to work.
Sitting next to Hozumi, Isobe leaned forward in his chair and scanned the faces in the room. “Any results from East Hari?”
An investigator from prefectural homicide sitting next to Hashigami stood and related what Hashigami had told Nishiguchi the day before—that Senba’s late wife’s old neighbors didn’t have a bad word to say about the man. He also noted for the record that, though Senba’s sentence had been served, no one had seen him in East Hari after his arrest.
Isobe turned to Hozumi. “Well? Is Senba still important to our case?”
Hozumi made a sour face. “It’s hard to say. No one’s been able to track him down, right?”
“Not yet. He had some relatives down in Aichi, but they say they haven’t heard from him since he went to prison.”
“No doubt they want to keep it that way, too.” Hozumi tugged at his mustache. “From looking at the report, it doesn’t seem likely Senba bore a grudge against the victim. Still, just in case, we should probably do some questioning around Hari Cove in case anyone has seen someone matching Senba’s description.”
“Will do,” Isobe said, turning back to the room. “Any suspicious vehicles?”
Another investigator stood, but the report he gave was largely unhelpful. No one had spotted any unusual activity in the area, vehicular or otherwise. They’d compiled a list of people who said they had seen cars parked that evening, but nothing to link any of them to the murder.
Isobe groaned and turned back to Hozumi. “Well?”
Hozumi folded his arms across his chest. “Well, I suppose there’s not much to do but see if we can verify who all those cars belong to, one by one. If someone put him to sleep and poisoned him in a car, that could’ve been done a considerable distance away from where the body was found. We should probably widen the area of our search.”
“Got it,” Isobe said quickly.
Nishiguchi sighed and sunk lower in his chair. He had no idea which way the investigation was going to go, but it was a sure bet it wouldn’t involve him. At least he had something to show for the whole thing: his reunion with Narumi Kawahata. Once things settled down, he planned to invite her out to dinner. He’d already started wondering what restaurant he should pick.
THIRTY
By the time the Save the Cove group got to Hari Cove Harbor, the DESMEC undersea resources survey boat was already at the wharf. Narumi’s eyes widened. The boat was much bigger than she’d expected.
“That’s not a boat, that’s a ship,” Sawamura muttered.
Sawamura parked his truck next to the lone car already in the lot, and everyone got out and headed for the wharf. In addition to Narumi and Sawamura, there were five others in the group who’d been sitting in the back of the truck, among them the couple that had joined Narumi at the bar after the hearing.
The survey boat was even more impressive up close. Narumi guessed that it measured at least a hundred meters from bow to stern. Size-wise, it could easily compete with a luxury yacht, but from the dirt and wear on the hull of the ship, it was clear not much effort had been put into keeping up its appearances. This was a working ship, complete with a cargo crane sticking off of the deck.
“I’m impressed they got it into the harbor,” Narumi said.
“The harbor is naturally quite deep. I hear that’s one of the reasons DESMEC chose it,” Sawamura explained.
Two men walked over and greeted them. She recognized one of them as Kuwano, from DESMEC’s public outreach office, the emcee on the first day of the hearing. The other, slightly younger, turned out to be one of his subordinates.
“Thanks for coming today,” Kuwano said, smiling broadly. “We hope you’ll take this opportunity to get a good look at what we’re doing here.”
On board, they were first shown to the pilothouse, where Kuwano began rattling off facts about the boat’s size, tonnage, maximum speed, and range until Sawamura interrupted him, saying, “We really don’t need to know anything that’s not directly related to the undersea resource development you’re doing.”
“Right, of course,” Kuwano apologized.
They walked through the engine room, communications room, and chart room next. The only thing Sawamura showed interest in was a door marked “Salon,” which he specifically requested to see.
Inside, they found a table, a sofa, a large flat-screen TV, and a media cabinet. The room was large enough for a dozen people.
“This looks like an excellent use of our tax dollars,” Sawamura said.
“On long surveys, people might have to spend several months in cramped quarters,” Kuwano explained. “Without a little entertainment, well…” His voice trailed off.
Next, they were taken to the research rooms, five in all.
Kuwano stood in front of a row of monitors and control boards. “Room one contains controls for the various sonar systems on board, including our multibeam echo sounder, as well as a side-scan sonar, and the remote control for our winch,” Kuwano explained, a distinct gleam of pride in his eyes. “In order to mitigate the noise from water turbulence, all of the actual sonar equipment is in a special sonar dome positioned toward the center of the hull—”
“How many times do I have to tell you people?” a voice coming from behind a large jumble of machinery echoed loudly in the small room. Kuwano froze mid-explanation, his mouth hanging open. He blinked and looked around before finally closing his mouth again.