He was heading to the kitchen when the restaurant telephone rang. Who could be calling at this time of night?
He picked up the receiver. “Good evening, Namiki-ya restaurant,” he said.
“Am I speaking to a Mr. Yutaro Namiki?” inquired a soft male voice.
“That’s right. Who is this?”
“I’m with the Shizuoka Prefectural Police,” the man said.
2
He took a deep breath, then knocked on the meeting room door.
“Who’s there?” barked a gruff voice.
“It’s Kusanagi.”
“Come in.”
He opened the door, ducked his head in greeting, then looked up. Director Mamiya was sitting on the far side of the big table. He had his jacket off and his shirtsleeves rolled up. The table was littered with documents and files.
Kusanagi was feeling nervous but it had nothing to do with Mamiya, the former chief of his team, and everything to do with the man who was standing by the window with his back to him. Kusanagi recognized him by his extraordinary head of slicked-back silver hair.
Mamiya looked over Kusanagi’s shoulder and grinned. “I see you’ve brought your shadow along with you.”
“She was the only person who was free.” Kusanagi grimaced. Kaoru Utsumi, one of the detectives on his team, was standing behind him looking rather uncomfortable.
“I know that your hands must be full with that robbery-murder case and I apologize for calling you in like this.” Mamiya waved his palm at the seat across from him. “Come on. Sit.”
“Yes, sir,” Kusanagi said, but found himself unable to pull out a chair. He was still staring at the man by the window.
“Commissioner,” said Mamiya, slightly raising his voice. “Chief Inspector Kusanagi is here.”
The silver-haired figure swung around and lowered himself into a nearby chair without uttering a word. It was Tatara, Mamiya’s predecessor, who had just been promoted to commissioner of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department.
With a look, Mamiya indicated for Kusanagi to sit down. He pulled out a chair. His female companion, however, stayed on her feet.
“Detective Utsumi, why not grab a seat, too?” Tatara finally broke his silence, with a voice so deep that Kusanagi could feel it rumble in his guts.
“Oh, I’m fine here, I don’t—”
“This will probably take a while,” Mamiya interrupted. “If you insist on standing, all you’ll do is make the rest of us uncomfortable. Sit down.”
“Yes, sir.” Utsumi sat down beside her superior officer.
“Okay,” said Mamiya, looking directly at Kusanagi. “Chief Inspector, we know that you and your team are busy with another case. Still, there’s a case we want you — you, specifically — and your team to handle.”
Kusanagi tensed. This had to be something major. Normally, when a crime occurred, it automatically became the responsibility of whichever team was on duty at the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department headquarters. Approaching a team that was already part of an active investigation was highly unusual.
“I’ll explain why we chose you later. First, just listen.”
Mamiya picked up the file closest to him on the desk and launched in.
“Two weeks ago, there was a fire in a small town in Shizuoka prefecture. The fire destroyed one of those so-called trash houses — a house so overflowing with junk that it becomes a local landmark and eyesore. The cause of the fire remains unknown. It was speculated that one of the neighbors, fed up with all the mess, started it; that, however, wasn’t why it has become a big news story.
“After the fire was extinguished, an inspection of the ruined building turned up human remains. There were, in fact, two bodies. Neither of which were recently deceased.
“One of the bodies appeared to belong to the old woman who had lived alone in the filthy house; the identity of the other one was a mystery.
“Based on the height of the corpse and the accessories that had survived the fire, the Shizuoka Prefectural Police guessed that the body might be that of a young woman. They sent out an inquiry to the regional police forces all around Japan and they got one promising response: information about a young woman who had gone missing three years ago in Kikuno, a suburb of Tokyo. Because the cross pendant that she had been wearing at the time of her disappearance bore a resemblance to one found in the ashes of the building, they conducted a DNA test. The upshot was that the young woman in the fire and the young woman from Kikuno were unquestionably the same person. There was, however, no connection whatsoever between the girl and the burned-down house. According to the girl’s family, she never even set foot in Shizuoka prefecture when she was alive.”
Mamiya placed a document with a photograph clipped to it on the desk in front of Kusanagi. It listed the girl’s name, address, date of birth, and other details.
“The young woman’s name is Saori Namiki. She was nineteen years old when she went missing.”
Kusanagi picked up the document. The photograph showed a teenage girl smiling as she held up two fingers in the V peace sign. Her eyes were big and bright, her chin elegantly sculpted, and her lips a little on the fleshy, sensuous side.
“She’s very pretty,” Utsumi murmured, as she scrutinized the picture. “Looks like a singer from a girl group.”
“You’re right on the money there.” Mamiya shot a grave look at Utsumi. “Apparently, she was trying to become a professional singer.”
Kusanagi gave a grunt of surprise. From what Mamiya had said, he could tell that this case was going to be a tricky one. Why wouldn’t the bosses ever give him something nice and easy?
“What about the other set of bones?” Kusanagi asked. “How sure are we that they belonged to the house’s occupant?”
“They compared the DNA from the bones with DNA found on clothing and other items retrieved from the burned house. The answer is a definite yes. The people living nearby said that none of them had seen the occupant of the house for six years. Since she didn’t have regular social contact with any of them, none of them gave it a second thought. According to the family register in the local municipal office, six years ago, she was already north of eighty. The Shizuoka Prefectural Police are sure that she died of natural causes, probably not long after she was last seen. She was old and she died alone — one of those ‘lonely deaths’ you hear about nowadays.”
“Six years ago?” Kusanagi jabbed a finger at the photograph of the teenage girl. “Meaning that the old woman had nothing to do with the death of our aspiring singer here?”
“It seems not, no.”
“Do we have a cause of death for Saori Namiki?”
Mamiya sucked air through his closed teeth with a hissing sound.
“An examination of the bones established depressed skull fracture as the cause of death.” Mamiya solemnly crossed his arms on his chest before going on. “We don’t know how the skull was fractured. All we know is that doesn’t seem to have been caused by the fire.”
“So what you’re saying,” said Kusanagi, looking hard at his superior, “is that we currently have no evidence that she was murdered.”
“For now at least, no,” said Mamiya, glancing at Tatara beside him.
“I know what you’re thinking: that you’re being landed with a lousy and rather problematic case.” Tatara’s eyes glinted behind his metal-rimmed glasses. To the casual observer, he looked sophisticated, even gentlemanly. Back when he was much younger and working the street, though, he was known as a tough guy with a hair-trigger temper.