“Inspiration...?”
“Any idea what she might have meant? Why do you think your mother chose this neighborhood?”
Koki cocked his head to one side and sighed pensively. “I’m as surprised as anyone else. I never imagined that she was living so close by.”
“You live in Asakusabashi. Do you think it had anything to do with that?”
“The detective I spoke to yesterday asked me the same thing. I can’t imagine there’s any connection, though.” Koki’s rejection of the idea was emphatic. “She had no way of knowing that I was living in Asakusabashi. It had to be pure coincidence.”
“Is that so?”
“Do you think that there’s any link between my mother moving here and her murder?”
“It’s too early to say. The fact that none of the victim’s friends or family has any idea why she chose this area does bother me.”
“Did you go see her parents in Yokohama?”
“Someone else went. They didn’t get any helpful answers out of them.”
Koki could only cock his head in silence.
“Seen enough?” Kaga inquired.
“Yes.”
Koki stepped back out into the hallway. Kaga followed him out, locking the door behind him.
“Could I ask you something, Detective?”
Kaga turned his lined face to Koki. “Sure, what?”
“My mother is the last person in the world to have any enemies. I suppose that’s something the victim’s family always says, but in my mom’s case, it really is true.”
Kaga smiled, but there was a piercing gleam in his eyes that made Koki flinch.
“Except, of course, that you have no idea what your mother’s been up to for the last two years. Or am I wrong?”
“Yes, that’s true, but...”
Kaga’s expression softened as Koki’s voice trailed off.
“What you said just now will help with the investigation. Sadly, even people without enemies sometimes get murdered. We’ll catch the killer. I promise you that.”
Koki wasn’t sure why Kaga was so confident, but he took comfort from his words nonetheless. Koki bowed his head, as though to say, Please do that, Detective. I’m counting on you.
4
Five days had passed since the murder. Koki had no idea what sort of headway the police were making. He hadn’t been contacted either by the police or by his father.
The only person who did get in touch was his mother’s elder brother. This uncle called him to tell him that since the police had released the body, the family could finally hold the funeral. When it came to the investigation, however, his uncle was also in the dark.
“None of us knew what Mineko was doing with her life. She was always talking about wanting to make a fresh start, so we all thought it would be better if we stayed out of her hair.”
His uncle’s tone gave Koki the impression that he was trying to justify failing to stand by his divorced, lonely sister.
That same day, Detective Kaga dropped in to the theater company’s performance space. They’d just finished a run-through of several scenes and were taking a break.
Koki and Kaga went out into the lobby and sat down on an old bench.
“You actors are extraordinary: look at you, buckling down to rehearsals, despite what happened to your mother.”
“What else can I do? I’m going to my grandparents’ place in Yokohama to help with the wake and the funeral tomorrow.” Koki looked hard at the detective. “How is the investigation going? Have you found anything yet?”
“A certain amount. We now have a pretty good idea of what your mother did on the day she died,” said Kaga calmly. “One odd thing. Just before she was killed, your mother was writing an email that she never finished.”
Kaga flipped open his notebook.
“Here’s what it said: ‘I just got back. I went to the same old plaza as always. I stroked the puppy on the head and bumped into the clock shop man from Kobunacho. We had a good laugh about the way we always seem to go for our walks at the same time.’”
“What’s it mean?”
“I made a few inquiries and discovered something interesting: the puppy your mother says she stroked was a statue, not a real dog.”
“A statue?”
“Do you know Suitengu Shrine? It’s dedicated to conception and safe childbirth.”
“I’ve certainly heard of it.”
“There’s a statue of a mother dog and her puppy there. People believe that stroking the puppy’s head brings you good luck. This email suggests that Mineko Mitsui was a regular visitor to the shrine.”
“What would my mom be doing there...?”
“Remember that baby care magazine you spotted in her apartment? I think we’re justified in assuming that someone your mother knew is pregnant and that the two of them were probably very close. She wouldn’t have visited the shrine daily otherwise. The only problem is, I’ve looked everywhere, and I can’t find a woman who fits the bill. I asked your father, and he had no idea, either.”
“Well, can’t help you with that,” Koki said. “As I said, I hadn’t seen — or spoken to — my mother for two years.”
Kaga nodded despondently.
“Wouldn’t the person the email was addressed to be the best person to ask?”
“I did that, of course. It was addressed to the lawyer your mother used for her divorce. While the lawyer was aware of your mother’s habit of going for a daily walk, she didn’t know that she was going to the Suitengu Shrine. For some reason, your mother was deliberately vague, saying things like the ‘same old plaza as always.’ So, no, the lawyer didn’t know anything about a pregnant friend of Ms. Mitsui’s.”
“It’s all a bit... weird.”
What had Mineko been doing with her life? What had she been thinking? Koki again reproached himself for the indifference he’d shown to his own mother.
“I’ll try and dig up more some information. Sorry to bother you.” Kaga stood up off the bench.
The next day, Koki went out to his grandparents’ to help with the wake. When he peered into the coffin, Mineko looked normal, despite everything. There was a white scarf wrapped around her neck to conceal the strangulation marks.
Koki felt ashamed of himself in front of his mother’s family. He had failed to reach out to his mother when she had embarked on her new, independent life.
None of Mineko’s relations gave Koki a hard time, though. Instead they offered words of comfort for his loss. However, they seemed rather less charitably disposed toward his father.
Koki mentioned to several people that Mineko had some sort of association with a woman who was pregnant. Nobody had the faintest idea what he was talking about.
Somebody had to stay with the body overnight at the funeral hall, and Koki volunteered. His most important job was to ensure that the incense didn’t go out. Since it was a series of concentric rings, it would probably burn all night without his having to do anything.
After everyone left, Koki was alone in the funeral hall. He sat down on a folding metal chair and gazed up at the photograph of his mother on the altar. Mineko was smiling and looking straight at him. The photo, apparently, was from a vacation she’d gone on with a friend.
Suddenly, Koki felt something welling up inside him. There was a burning sensation behind his eyes. It was strange. The sight of his mother’s body hadn’t brought home the reality of her death, but now, looking at her photograph, he realized she was gone forever.
His cell phone rang in his pocket. Before answering, he tried to get his breathing under control. It was Ami.
“Nice timing. I was just about to ring you.”
Koki explained that he would be spending the night at the funeral home.