hey were almost at the hospital when Fumiko, who was in the backseat of

the cab, started rummaging around noisily. She had to be looking for

something in her bag. Her agitation communicated itself to Yuto, who was

in the front seat next to the driver.

“What’s the problem?” Haruka asked.

“Think I left it at home,” Fumiko replied in a small voice.

“What is it? Your wallet?”

“Yes.”

Haruka gasped. Yuto couldn’t stop himself clicking his tongue.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“It’s not my fault. I was in a hurry.”

Yes, but even so, Yuto wanted to say—but he stopped himself. This

wasn’t the first time for his mother to make a mess of things in an

emergency.

The driver must have overheard their discussion. “Did you leave

something at home?”

“I’m afraid I did,” Fumiko answered. She sounded embarrassed.

“Should we turn around?”

“No need. I’ve got cash on me.” Yuto glanced at the taxi’s meter. Yuto

pulled out his wallet and checked his money. “We should be fine.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” said Fumiko, her voice a feeble murmur. She

wasn’t really concerned about her wallet.

They had driven at high speed all the way from their home in Meguro.

Although it was almost eleven o’clock at night, the roads were still busy.

There seemed to be a particularly large number of police cars. “I wonder if something’s going on,” the cab driver said. Feeling he couldn’t just ignore

him, Yuto gave a noncommittal reply. “Yeah, I wonder.”

They finally reached the hospital. They got out of the taxi at the main

entrance, but the lobby was pitch-black and the automatic glass doors

refused to open.

“That’s odd. Wonder how we’re meant to get in?” Fumiko peered

around nervously.

“When they called you, didn’t they say something about the nighttime

entrance, Mom?”

Fumiko clapped her hand to her mouth when Haruka pointed this out.

“Yes, you’re right. The man from the police did say that.”

Yuto clicked his tongue again. “What’s wrong with you? Get a grip.”

The three of them went around to the side of the building to look for

the nighttime entrance. As soon as they turned the corner, they were

confronted by a stocky man with a flashlight. “Are you the Aoyagis?”

“Yes, we are,” Fumiko replied.

The man switched off his flashlight, walked up to them, and showed

them a Tokyo Metropolitan Police badge. “I’ve been expecting you.”

He was a detective from the Nihonbashi precinct.

“So, my husband…,” Fumiko asked. “How’s he doing?”

The detective looked uncomfortable. He was evidently shocked to

discover that they were still in the dark. It was at that moment that Yuto

intuited what had happened.

“I’m truly sorry,” said the detective. “Uhm … I’m truly sorry, but your

husband was declared dead shortly after he got to the hospital.”

Yuto listened with a sense of detachment as the detective stumbled

over his words. There was a confused tangle of emotions in his mind: a

refusal to accept the reality along with the sense that he’d been expecting

this all along.

Haruka clapped both her hands over her mouth. Her eyes were open

wide and she stood rooted to the spot.

“No, I can’t believe it!” shrieked Fumiko. “It’s simply not true. Why?

Why? Why should anyone want to kill him?”

Yuto grabbed his mother by the arm as she flung herself, shouting, at

the detective. Fumiko’s legs gave way and she crumpled to the ground,

where she started wailing.

Haruka stood there and began to sob. The cries of the two women

echoed around the place.

“Dad’s … my father’s body … where is it?” Yuto asked the detective.

“It’s this way. I’ll take you to him.”

“Come on, Mom. Haruka. There’s no point crying out here.” Yuto

helped Fumiko back to her feet and herded them both inside.

Takeaki’s face looked much better than Yuto had imagined it would. The

suntan he’d had from playing golf was still intact, and—aside from the fact

that he wasn’t breathing—his face looked more or less the same as it did

when he was asleep. If anything, his expression was untypically serene.

“Oh, my darling!” said Fumiko, kneeling and touching her dead husband’s face. “Why? Why?” she repeated. Haruka buried her face in the

side of the mattress. Her back shook, and now and then you could hear the

sound of a sob.

The detective had been tactful enough to leave the three of them alone

in the room. Confronted with his father’s dead body, Yuto had no idea how

to behave. On a rational level, he knew that he was supposed to grieve, but

he didn’t feel the slightest trace of sadness. As he looked at his sniveling

mother and sister, he was thinking coldly to himself, When all you two ever

did was bitch about him behind his back!

There was the sound of a knock and the door opened. The detective

peered in.

“May I come in? I’d like to ask you a couple of questions, if you don’t

mind.”

Yuto glanced down at his mother. “What do you want to do?”

Fumiko nodded, wiped away her tears with a handkerchief, and pulled

herself to her feet.

“It’s okay. I’ve got a lot of questions myself.”

“I’m sure you do,” the detective said. “Please follow me.”

The three of them trooped after the detective to a room on the same

floor marked “Lounge”.

“You all know Nihonbashi?” the detective asked. “I’m not talking

about the whole Nihonbashi area, I mean the actual Nihonbashi Bridge

itself.”

“The one near the Mitsukoshi department store?”

“That’s right.” The detective nodded.

“Your husband was found on the bridge at around nine o’clock this

evening. He’d been stabbed. The person who found him was the officer

stationed at one end of the bridge.

“He was stabbed, however, at another location and Mr. Aoyagi

managed to drag himself to Nihonbashi Bridge. As soon as we found him,

he was brought in here by ambulance.”

“Was my husband still alive?”

“We think so. But his condition was already extremely serious. We

won’t know more until we get the results of the autopsy.”

The word autopsy made Yuto acutely aware that this was a serious

crime and that he and his family were directly involved.

“Uh … but who stabbed my husband?” Fumiko asked. “Did you catch

the person who did it?”

“No, the perpetrator is still at large. And we currently have no clue as

to their identity. Since we can’t locate your husband’s wallet, it’s possible

that this was a random attack by someone who was after his money.

Everyone—not just the local Nihonbashi police but the officers from all the

nearby precincts—has been mobilized and is combing the area, hunting for

the attacker. The Tokyo Metropolitan Police’s mobile unit has also been

sent in. I imagine you saw quite a few police cars and motorbikes on your way here?”

We certainly did. Yuto nodded, but said nothing.

“The attacker can’t have got far. We’ll find him soon enough.”

The detective sounded very confident. Yuto managed to stop himself

asking, “And then what?” His father was dead. Even if they caught and

executed the killer, that wouldn’t bring his father back to life. From

tomorrow on, Yuto’s existence was going to become a nightmare,

physically and emotionally. The darkness of the future he saw stretching

before him almost made him dizzy with despair.

The dizziness was suddenly replaced with fury. What right did a

complete stranger have to so totally screw up his life?

The detective started asking them basic questions about Takeaki: his

date and place of birth, his job and his career, as well as his everyday

routine. He also threw in some questions about who he socialized with,

whether he had quarreled with anybody, and whether he had been

experiencing any problems at work or in his private life. None of the three

could provide a decent answer to any but the simplest questions. The truth

was, Takeaki almost never discussed his work at home and, if they were honest, none of them were really all that interested.

The detective looked a little put out as he reviewed his notebook. He

had been jotting down all their replies, but Yuto got the impression that

nothing they’d said was likely to be much help in the investigation. He

wondered if the detective was getting irritated with them for being so

useless.

A buzzing noise came from the detective’s chest pocket. “Excuse me a

moment,” he said and left the room.

Fumiko gave a deep sigh. She pressed her fingers to her temples as if

to quell a headache.

“Why, though? Why did this have to happen to us?”

“Can you think of a reason, Mom?”

“No, not a one. Who says there even has to be a reason? Ah … how

are we going to get by? Will your father’s company look after us?”

Fumiko seemed to be worried about the financial side of things. She

may have only just lost her husband, but Yuto didn’t feel he had the right to

criticize her. In one corner of his mind, he was worrying about exactly the

same thing. How would their lives be affected? Would he be able to go to

college?

The detective came back into the room. He looked tenser, more

animated.

“I just got an important update. We’ve found a suspicious person.”

Yuto swallowed.

“Is it the killer?” Fumiko asked.

“We don’t yet know. It’s a young man, I’m told. There are some things

we need to discuss with you in connection with him. Do you feel up to

accompanying me to Nihonbashi Precinct?”

“What, will we get to see him?” Fumiko replied. There was a hint of

desperation in her voice. “The man who killed my husband?”

The detective waved away the idea.

“No, definitely not. There are some things we need you to verify.

Besides, we don’t know for sure that the young man really is the culprit.

Can you come with me?”

Fumiko turned to look at Yuto. He couldn’t think of any reason not to

go. “We’re happy to,” he said.

Around half an hour later, the police car containing Yuto, his mother,

and his sister arrived at Nihonbashi Police Station. There was a cluster of

what looked like TV trucks parked outside. Yuto was worried they would

get bombarded with questions, but no one came running over when the

three of them got out of the car. Perhaps the media didn’t yet know who

they were.

On the outside, the police station looked as sleek and featureless as

any ordinary office building, but the atmosphere changed completely the

moment you stepped inside. The first thing that struck Yuto was the grand

staircase in the front lobby, with its massive, ponderous, and elaborately

carved handrail. The old-fashioned reception counter was made of marble,

and the light fixtures hanging from the ceiling were clearly vintage. The

detective explained that the plan to demolish the original, beautiful old

police station had provoked such an outcry that parts of the original

structure had been incorporated into the new building.

He took the three of them into a small meeting room. When he asked

them if they wanted anything to drink, they all said no. Nonetheless, a

policewoman came in with some green tea a few minutes later.

Fumiko took a sip. “So it was a young man…,” she murmured.

“Any idea who it could be?” Yuto asked.

“I don’t know.” Fumiko gave a feeble shake of the head. “I suppose

there are loads of young men working in your father’s company.”

Yuto had even less interest in Takeaki’s job than Fumiko. All he knew

was that his dad worked for a firm that made building components and that

he was in quite a senior position.

The detective finally reappeared after a little under an hour.

“Very sorry to have kept you waiting. Could you come with me?”

The detective took them to still another meeting room. Several men

were standing around a very large table. Some wore suits and others were in

uniform. Their faces were so stern and the mood so tense that Yuto couldn’t

bring himself to make eye contact with any of them.

The detective introduced the three of them to the group. The men said

nothing and nodded in their general direction. That’s their idea of offering

condolences, Yuto thought to himself.

“I am going to get the family members of the deceased to identify the

articles in question,” the detective announced in a loud voice, before

gesturing for them to approach the table.

A number of transparent plastic pouches with objects inside were

arranged on the tabletop. Yuto squinted at them. He had a pretty good idea

what they were.

“Earlier this evening, I informed you that we had located a suspicious

person,” the detective said. “That person had a wallet in his possession.

Since the wallet contained a driver’s license and other similar items, all

belonging to Takeaki Aoyagi, we concluded that the wallet was Mr.

Aoyagi’s property and confiscated it. We also found Mr. Aoyagi’s briefcase

in the place where the suspicious person had been hiding. What you can see

here on the table are the wallet, the briefcase, and their respective contents.

Could you start by examining the wallet? You can handle the articles

through the plastic. Feel free to pick them up and have a good look at

them.”

Fumiko picked up the wallet while Yuto and Haruka watched her. The

wallet was made of black leather and long and slim in shape. It was old, and

the part where the owner’s thumb rubbed up against it was quite heavily

worn.

“That’s Dad’s,” Haruka said in a murmur.

Yuto found himself picturing the way that Takeaki would pluck the

wallet from inside his suit and whip out a ten-thousand-yen note like a

magician when the time came to pay the check at a restaurant. Recently,

though, they’d stopped eating out as a family.

“This is definitely my husband’s,” Fumiko said.

The detective nodded curtly and pointed at another cluster of plastic

pouches.

“What about the contents of the wallet? I’d like you to tell us if

anything that should be there is missing, or if there’s anything in there that

strikes you as suspicious.”

There was cash, a driver’s license, a variety of credit cards, an

insurance card, and some receipts. The individual items had been put into

separate plastic pouches. The money, which had been divided into notes and

coins, came to a total of 114,850 yen. Someone had jotted the number down

on a piece of paper and stuck it to the pouch.

“What do you think? Is this the sort of sum your husband would normally have on him? Or did he normally carry more cash?”

Fumiko responded to the detective’s question by tilting her head to one

side. “I think this is about normal for him,” she answered. “I leave money

matters completely in his hands, so I can’t really say…”

“What about the other items? Is anything missing?”

When the detective pressed her further, Fumiko said nothing. She had

probably never seen the contents of her husband’s wallet before. The same

was true for Yuto. While he knew what his father’s wallet looked like on the

outside, he had no idea what he’d kept inside it. Nor did he care.

Among all the different cards, only one caught his attention. It was a

membership card for an internet café. His father had a computer at home

and he would definitely have one at his office, so why would he need to

sign up at a place like that? Yuto didn’t, however, put his concern into

words.

“I’ll take that to mean that nothing strikes you as out of the ordinary,

then,” said the detective, as if making doubly sure. “Shall we now turn our

attention to the briefcase?”

Fumiko picked up the large plastic pouch containing the briefcase. It

was dark brown with a zip along the top that was protected by a flap. It had

buckles at either end, but the shoulder strap that went with them had been

removed.

“This is my husband’s,” Fumiko said. “I’m sure of that. He had me

buy it for him.”

The detective nodded and pointed to another set of plastic pouches.

“What about the briefcase contents?”

Yuto shifted his gaze. The next set of plastic pouches, which were

arranged in a neat row, contained some documents, a notebook, an

eyeglasses case, a business card case, a few pens and pencils, and a

paperback, among other things. Yuto, who was seeing all these items for the

first time, had nothing to say about them.

There was one item that caught his eye. A digital camera. Fumiko

must have felt the same way, as she reached out and picked it up.

“Is there something unusual about it?” the detective asked.

Cocking her head to one side, Fumiko showed the camera to Yuto and

Haruka. “Have either of you seen this before?”

“No,” Yuto replied. Haruka shook her head.

“Your husband didn’t use a camera at work or as a hobby?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think he was interested in photography…”

Fumiko put the camera back down on the table.

That was when it happened. “May I?” a voice said. The speaker was a

tall man in a dark gray suit. He had strong features and intelligent-looking

eyes. He stretched out one long arm and picked up one of the plastic

pouches. It contained a pair of eyeglasses and a case for them. “Are you

sure this belongs to your husband?” he asked. He was looking fixedly into

Fumiko’s face as if he wanted to peer into her mind.

“I know for a fact the glasses are his.”

“What about the case? Did you buy it, Mrs. Aoyagi?”

“No. I’ve never seen it before. My husband must have bought it for

himself.”

The case was decorated with a traditional Japanese motif. Yuto hadn’t

seen it before either.

“I see,” said the tall detective as he replaced the pouch on the table.

“Is there something special about that case?” Fumiko asked. The

detective shook his head. “No, nothing special,” he said.

As he watched this exchange, Yuto could no longer contain himself.

“Uh … could I ask you something?”

Everyone turned in his direction. With all eyes upon him, he started to

speak.

“What’s the point of all this? You arrested a suspicious guy, right?

What does he have to say for himself? Has he admitted to stabbing my

father and stealing his wallet and briefcase?”

The detectives looked disconcerted. After a moment or two, a man in

an ash-gray suit who seemed to be the most senior person there fixed Yuto

with an earnest look.

“There’s nothing we’d like to do more than question him, but

unfortunately, we cannot.”

“Why can’t you just ask him?” Yuto asked.

“We can ask all the questions we want, but he’s in no fit state to reply.

He’s in a coma and his condition is critical.”