t was a little after seven in the evening by the time Matsumiya and Kaga

got back to Nihonbashi Precinct. In the incident room, a cluster of

detectives was standing in a circle around Ishigaki, giving him their latest

reports.

“We have managed to verify the victim’s movements. He was spotted

at a café not far from the crime scene,” said Nakase, the detective in charge

of the crime-scene vicinity.

“A café? He was inside it?”

“Yes.” Nakase unfolded a map on the table. “It’s one block to the west,

about two hundred meters from the crime scene. One of the staff recognized

Aoyagi from the photo, because he paid with a two-thousand-yen note.”

“A two-thousand-yen note? They’re pretty unusual these days.”

“According to the café, Aoyagi pulled out the note, grinned at him,

and said, ‘Don’t see too many of these now, do you?’ More important is that

the server said he couldn’t recall what the victim ordered, but he was sure

that he ordered two of them.”

“Two? He ordered two drinks?”

“That’s right. In other words, there was someone with him.

Unfortunately, the server didn’t see the other person.”

“When are we talking?”

“He’s not sure. The best he could add to it was somewhere between

seven and nine p.m.”

Ishigaki crossed his arms on his chest.

“If the person with Aoyagi was Yashima, then what? The girl who

lives with Yashima told us that he was going for a job interview. Have you found out where that interview was?”

Nakase shook his head.

“We’ve visited all the bars and restaurants in the vicinity of the crime

scene but haven’t yet found the place. We went through the call log on

Yashima’s cell, but there wasn’t anything that fit the bill there either.”

“Which could mean that this meeting with the victim in that café was

in fact a job interview?”

“It’s a possibility. According to the live-in girlfriend, his text said that

he’d found a lead on a job and he was going to see someone.”

Ishigaki turned and looked at Matsumiya and Kaga. “Have you found

out anything about possible links between Yashima and the victim?”

Matsumiya glanced over at Kaga. Kaga gave a slight nod as if to say,

Go on, you tell him.

“We can’t yet say with any assurance whether the two men were

acquainted. The victim spent most of his time in the Shinjuku head office

and seldom went to the factory in Kunitachi. I’m not saying never, though,

because there are regular shop floor inspections. We can’t rule out the

possibility that they had some sort of contact then.”

Ishigaki stroked his chin.

“If, hypothetically, the two of them did meet in the café, then it’s hard

to see money as the sole motive for the crime. And if it wasn’t money, then

what could the motive be?”

“I’ve my own ideas about that,” Matsumiya said. “We know from

Kaori Nakahara that Yashima wasn’t happy about the way Kaneseki Metals

terminated his contract. When we put that to the HR person at the head

office, he claimed that the contract had simply run its course and that there

wasn’t anything especially problematic about it.”

“You mean the two accounts don’t match up? The company could

have been laying off contract workers in a heavy-handed way. It’s hardly

unheard of, recently.”

“And Yashima’s response was to argue unfair dismissal and he was

meeting with Takeaki Aoyagi to ask for his job back—that seems a

plausible enough interpretation of events, don’t you think? Of course, this is

all predicated on there being some sort of connection between the two men

in the first place.”

“That scenario would certainly explain why they met—plus it

dovetails nicely with the text Yashima sent his girlfriend. What it fails to

account for is the knife. Why would Yashima be carrying a concealed

weapon?”

“To threaten Aoyagi would be my guess.” It was Kobayashi who said

that. “Yashima never intended to kill Aoyagi. He just brought the knife

along to make sure that he was taken seriously. When their discussion broke

down, something happened, Yashima snapped and stabbed the victim on

impulse. Or do you disagree?”

“Hmm.” Ishigaki emitted a pensive groan and looked at each of his

subordinates in turn. “Have you learned anything about the knife?”

Sakagami cleared his throat before he spoke.

“It’s a foreign-made knife. A fairly common model. We’ve visited all

the stores in Tokyo that stock it, but none of the employees recalls seeing

Yashima. These days, of course, you can buy anything online, so he may

have gotten it that way.”

“Kaori Nakahara told us that she’d never seen the knife before,” said

Matsumiya.

Sakagami snorted contemptuously. “What, and you believe her?”

“We need confirmation on this point,” Ishigaki said. “Things will get

complicated if Yashima regains consciousness and claims that the knife was

the victim’s, not his. We need to get our hands on objective evidence that

proves the knife belongs to Yashima, and we need to do so pronto. You

handle that, Sakagami.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ishigaki looked at his watch.

“Whether we like it or not, we’re just going to have to wait for

Yashima to come around. Let’s knock off for the day. Everyone, go home

and get a decent night’s sleep.”

“Yes, sir,” Ishigaki’s men chorused enthusiastically.

As Matsumiya was preparing to leave, Kaga began looking through

the file containing photographs of the evidence. He seemed to find the

contents of Takeaki Aoyagi’s briefcase particularly intriguing.

“Come across something interesting?” Matsumiya asked.

Kaga jabbed a finger at one of the pictures. It was of the eyeglasses

case. Made of cloth, the case was decorated with traditional comic masks of

a man and a woman along with some hiragana lettering.

“What’s so special about that?”

Without replying, Kaga reached for his phone and made a call.

“Hello? This is Inspector Kaga of the Nihonbashi police … Yes, that’s

right … It certainly has been a while. I’ve actually got something I want to

ask you. I was wondering if I could come around … Oh no, it’s nothing

terribly important. I just need you to confirm something for me … Oh,

really? Thanks very much. Appreciate it.” After ending the call, Kaga

slipped the photo of the eyeglasses case out of the file and stood up.

Matsumiya hastily got to his feet. “Where are you off to?”

“Just checking up on something. The chances are it’s not connected

with the case. Probably not worth your while tagging along.”

“No, I’m coming with you. ‘The more fool’s errands you go on, the

more cases you solve.’”

Kaga grinned wryly.

“That’s a saying I’ve heard before. You really like it, huh?”

Matsumiya asked.

“Yeah, well, you know.”

You’re the man’s son. You should be the one who quotes his one-liners,

not me, Matsumiya thought as he followed Kaga out of the room.

Kaga hailed a cab in front of the police station. “Amazaké Alley,” he

said to the driver. “Sorry it’s so close by.”

“Amazaké Alley? Why do you want to go there?” Matsumiya asked.

“You’ll see when we get there,” Kaga said, turning to look out the

window.

Matsumiya felt the urge to get back at his cousin.

“That reminds me, how’re things going with the service for the second

anniversary of your father’s death? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten?”

Kaga turned to face his cousin. He looked thoroughly fed up.

“No. I’m going to hold the service. Mainly because you and your

mother won’t stop going on about it. I saw Ms. Kanamori yesterday, and

she’s going to help me organize things. She and I were in the middle of

discussing it when I got called in for this case.”

“I’m very glad to hear it. Mom was worried sick. She thought you

couldn’t care less.”

“Personally, I don’t see the point of memorial services.”

“Because you’re looking at it all wrong. It’s not something you do just

for yourself. You’re not the only person in your father’s family, Kyo. If you

don’t organize the service, then we don’t get the chance to remember Uncle

Takamasa.”

“Okay, okay. I’m going to do it, so stop giving me a hard time.” Kaga

was waving an annoyed hand in front of his face.

The taxi turned onto Ningyocho Boulevard. Kaga instructed the driver

to stop just before Amazaké Alley.

“It’s a one-way street. We’ll walk from here.”

Kaga marched off down the alley and Matsumiya had to scuttle after him to catch up. Amazaké Alley was lined with small shops, most of which

were already closed.

There was a palpable atmosphere of old Edo. The shop signs with

ideograms for things like wicker baskets, shamisens, and wholesale tea

weren’t anywhere else in Tokyo.

It would be a thoroughly enjoyable place to visit in the daytime,

Matsumiya thought.

“The rice crackers at this place are truly something special.” Omakara,

the rice cracker shop, had its metal shutter down.

“I envy you. Getting to hang around places like this.”

“What can I say? One of the perks of the job.”

There had been a murder at Kodenmacho not long after Kaga had been

transferred to Nihonbashi. Although Matsumiya didn’t know the full story,

he’d heard that Kaga made a major contribution to solving it. Clearly, his

cousin was making this district his own.

Up ahead, light was streaming through the door of a store. The noren

half-curtain had been taken down. The sign said “Hozuki-ya” and the place

seemed to specialize in handmade crafts.

“This is the place,” said Kaga, pushing the door open.

“Well, hello there. How nice to see you. Been ages.” A woman came

to the front of the store, smiling broadly. Matsumiya put her in her fifties.

She had a round face and eyes that slanted downward at a slight angle from

her nose.

“Sorry to barge in so late like this,” Kaga said.

“Don’t worry. Not as if I’m run off my feet. Another crime?”

“Afraid so,” Kaga replied.

The woman grimaced. “How horrid! When and how did the world

become such a wicked place, eh?” she said as she turned to Matsumiya,

who had never met her before, for confirmation. He managed a half hearted

grunt.

“I’m here to see if you could have a look at this.” Kaga showed the

woman the photograph of the eyeglasses case.

She glanced at it, gave an emphatic nod, said, “Just wait a minute, will

you?” and headed into the back. The shop was narrow, but it went back a

long way. Woven fabric bags and pouches and little furry toys were all

crammed together on the shelves. There were also some beautifully painted

spinning tops along with other old-fashioned toys.

The woman came back. “Here you go,” she said, holding out a cloth

eyeglasses case. It was identical to the one in the photograph.

“So it did come from here. I knew I’d seen this pattern here more than

once, so I thought, Just maybe.”

“You were right. The pattern is quite unusual.”

The woman explained that the pattern on the cloth was known as jidai

komon and that, come to think of it, she had several other items in the shop

decorated with it.

Kaga then showed her a second photograph. This time it was a headand-

shoulders shot of Takeaki Aoyagi.

“Oh, I remember this gentleman,” she said, nodding her head up and

down. “He’s definitely been here.”

“When was that?”

“Let’s see…” Keeping hold of the photograph, she rolled her black

eyes up toward the ceiling. “I’d say probably a month or so back. And the

time before, it was definitely summer. I remember because it was

swelteringly hot.”

“Summer? So he was here more than once?”

“That’s right. I never forget the face of a repeat customer,” she said

breezily as she handed the photograph back to Kaga.

“Did you talk to him?”

“Not so much. I gave him the usual spiel about the products in the

store. You know, the same speech I gave you when you first came here.

That one.”

“Your impression of him?”

“Let me think. He seemed to enjoy hearing what I had to say as much

as anybody else. Who knows, perhaps all along he was thinking: ‘Why

won’t this old bat just shut up and leave me the heck alone!’” The woman

laughed uproariously.

Kaga and Matsumiya said their farewells and left Hozuki- ya. Rather

than retrace his steps, Kaga walked farther down Amazaké Alley. Realizing

that his cousin must have something else on his agenda, Matsumiya kept his

mouth shut and tagged along. Clearly, Kaga had been exploring the

district’s every nook and cranny since being posted there, hence his

immediate association between the pattern on an eyeglasses case and one

particular little local retailer. That must have been what prompted him to

ask the family about Takeaki Aoyagi’s links to Nihonbashi.

After crossing a wide road, they found themselves at the entrance of a

long, narrow park decorated with a statue of Benkei, the warrior monk.

Squeezed in between two roads, the park was more of an oversized median

strip than anything else. Kaga went in. A meandering path with leafless

trees on either side stretched into the distance.

Kaga stopped and dropped down onto a bench. Matsumiya remained

on his feet and looked around.

“Is this where I think it is?”

“It’s Hamacho Green Road,” said Kaga. “The place where Fuyuki

Yashima tried to hide.”

“He made it all the way here?”

“It’s not actually that far from the crime scene. Two kilometers at the

most is my guess. Cross Edobashi Bridge, keep going straight, and you’ll

end up here. Yashima must have been on the lookout for somewhere he

could lie low and ended up here.” Kaga pointed up the path. “The exit at the

other end of the park opens onto the road Yashima ran out into—straight

into the arms of a passing truck.”

Matsumiya nodded. He now understood how the different locations

fitted together.

“I wonder what Aoyagi was doing around here,” Kaga said. “I find it

hard to believe that he was only here to shop. If anything, I imagine he

probably dropped into the store while doing something else entirely. But

what was his main reason for being here.”

“The fact that he didn’t mention it to his family is certainly suspicious,

but does it actually have any connection to his murder?”

“No idea. There’s also the fact that his camera didn’t have a single

photograph saved on it.”

They left the park and headed back toward Amazaké Alley. A number

of empty taxis drove past; Kaga didn’t give them a second glance. On his

right, Matsumiya spotted the signboard of Tamahide, a restaurant famous

for its chicken and rice bowls. As they passed the restaurant, Matsumiya

finally realized what Kaga was doing: he was making his way to the crime

scene.

The elevated metropolitan expressway, which goes over Nihonbashi

Bridge, appeared in front of them. They soon reached Edobashi Bridge.

Crossing the street and heading straight would take them to the north end of

Nihonbashi Bridge. Instead, they went over Edobashi Bridge. Because that

underpass was at the far end of it.

They were following the route that Yashima was likely to have taken

for his escape, but in reverse.

The underpass had been reopened to the public. After they emerged

from it, Kaga paused, and, his back to Edobashi Bridge, pointed to the

south.

“The café Aoyagi went to was over that way, right?”

“That’s right. One street up from Showa Boulevard.”

Kaga just stood there, tilting his head to one side in puzzlement.

“Does that matter?” Matsumiya asked.

“I’m just wondering where on earth Aoyagi was heading. If he was

planning to go home, there’s an entrance to Nihonbashi Station right there

beside the café. He had no reason to go through this passage.”

Matsumiya looked along Showa Boulevard, then turned to look back

at Edobashi Bridge. Kaga was right.

“Maybe Yashima lured him down here. If he was planning to stab him,

then this underpass was about the only suitable place.”

“Yes, but what would he say to get him to come down here? ‘Fancy a

stroll around the neighborhood?’”

“I … I don’t know.”

Kaga resumed walking. Now he was heading in the direction of

Nihonbashi Bridge. Down the same street that Takeaki Aoyagi had walked,

fighting the agony of a stab wound.

“I wasn’t expecting to have to walk quite so much,” Matsumiya said.

“You don’t have to stick around.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Kaga came to an abrupt halt and directed a stern look at Matsumiya.

“I’ll only say this once. If Fuyuki Yashima doesn’t regain

consciousness, then I’m prepared to walk one hundred times as far as this.

If you don’t like it, have Ishigaki and Kobayashi assign you a different

partner.”

“You’re overreacting,” shot back Matsumiya. He was marching off

when his cell phone began vibrating in the inside pocket of his jacket. He

pulled it out to see who was calling. It was Kobayashi, their squad leader.

“On your way back home?” Kobayashi asked.

“No, we’re in the immediate vicinity of the crime scene.”

“Perfect. I want you to go to the hospital. The one Yashima’s in.”

“Why? Has he regained consciousness?”

“No such luck. It’s his girlfriend. She’s collapsed.”

“Kaori Nakahara?”

“They say it’s nothing serious, just anemia. Anyway, the hospital has

some news for us. I’m heading over there now, but I’d like you to join me

for the meeting.”

“Yes, sir. I’m on my way.”

Matsumiya ended the call and explained the situation to Kaga.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, Kyo, you’re better off going home and getting some rest. You’re

the one who’s planning to walk a hundred times as far, starting tomorrow.”

Matsumiya raised his hand and hailed an approaching taxi as he said this.

When Matsumiya reached the hospital, he found Kobayashi in

conversation with a uniformed policeman. He directed the two men to a

consulting room where a man in a white lab coat was sitting. It was a

different doctor from the one who had explained Fuyuki Yashima’s

condition to them that morning.

“How’s Ms. Nakahara doing,” Matsumiya asked.

“We’ve put her in an empty room to recuperate. It was a shock to hear

she’d collapsed in the waiting area,” the doctor said. “She hasn’t slept at all

since last night, apparently. I understand that she wants to be with her

boyfriend, but it’s a surefire route to total exhaustion. We’re going to have

to send her home.” The doctor lowered his voice. “In fact, she’s got a

condition of her own. She’s pregnant.”

Matsumiya’s eyes widened. “Are you sure?”

“I was worried she might have hit her head when she fell so I

recommended her to get x-rayed. She was violently opposed to the idea and

refused outright. That was when she told me. Apparently, she’s in her third

month.”

Matsumiya and Kobayashi exchanged a look. They weren’t sure how

to deal with this development.

“Since there are privacy issues at stake, it’s not the sort of thing I

would normally reveal to a third party. Given the situation, though,

withholding the information didn’t seem the smartest thing to do. I

discussed the matter with the hospital director, and we made a joint decision

to inform the police. I also told Ms. Nakahara what we were going to do,”

said the doctor, choosing his words with care.

“Can we have a word with her?” Kobayashi asked.

“That should be all right. She’s okay to get up now. I’d be grateful if

you could persuade her to go home.”

Kobayashi said nothing and pondered for a moment. “Let’s go see

her,” he said to Matsumiya.

“What about Yashima? Any change in his condition?” Matsumiya

asked the doctor.

“The doctor in charge thinks he’s out of the danger zone, but it’s still

very much touch and go.”

“Any idea when he might come to?”

“I can’t answer that,” came the brusque reply.

The doctor led them to the room where Kaori was. He went in alone,

leaving them to wait in the corridor. He reemerged a few minutes later.

“She’s made a good recovery. There’s nothing to worry about here.”

Matsumiya and Kobayashi stepped past the doctor and into the room.

Kaori Nakahara was sitting on the side of the bed. Her head was slumping

forward—possibly the result of the treatment—but her face was a far

healthier color than that morning.

“The doctor’s briefed us on the situation,” Matsumiya said. “You’ve

had a tough time of it. We’re glad the baby wasn’t harmed.”

Kaori nodded her head feebly. Her lips remained clamped shut.

“This morning when we asked you if there’d been any major changes

in your life recently, you said no. Why did you conceal the fact that you

were pregnant?”

She didn’t reply. She clasped her hands on her lap and started rubbing

one against the other.

“Your boyfriend … I assume he knows?” asked Kobayashi, speaking

gently.

Kaori stiffened convulsively, then gave a small nod.

“You aren’t yet married. Are you planning to file your marriage

papers?”

She stuck out the tip of her tongue and ran it over her lips. “We’re

going to do that,” she said. “I told Fuyuki we should do it before the baby

arrives.”

“Practically speaking, though, life isn’t easy for you, is it? For

example, we’ve heard that your boyfriend is struggling to find work.”

“No, life’s not … easy. Fuyuki’s always saying that once he gets his

health back, he’ll be able to work as hard as ever.”

“Oh, that’s right. I heard he was in poor health a couple of months ago.

What was the problem?”

“He … uhm … his neck.”

“His neck?”

“He’d had this problem with a stiff neck for a while, then, two months

ago, it suddenly got worse. He ended up losing all feeling and movement in

his left hand.”

“That’s worrying. What caused it?”

“We don’t know. Fuyuki won’t go to the hospital. Recently, though, it

was getting a lot better. That’s why he was going to start looking for a job

seriously. Then this…” She pressed her lips together. She was obviously

battling to keep her feelings in check.

“Having a baby costs money. Happy-go-lucky really won’t cut it.”

Kobayashi’s tone was deliberately callous. “I wonder what your boyfriend

was planning to do?”

Kaori took a deep breath and glowered at Kobayashi.

“Things will work out. Provided we stick together, we’ll figure

something out. That’s how it’s always been for us. We made a promise

when we moved down here to Tokyo: that we’d stick together through even

the toughest times.”

Which is why Fuyuki Yashima would never kill anyone for money—

that was what her defiant eyes seemed to be saying. Kobayashi nodded in

silence, anxious not to rile her further.

“Listen, we really think you’d be better off at home,” Matsumiya said.

“Doing what you’re doing isn’t good for your health. Or for your unborn

baby either. I’ll take you home.”

“I don’t want to be a bother.”

“One of our duties is to escort witnesses we’ve kept late back home,”

Kobayashi said. “Besides, staying here’s not going to help your boyfriend

get better.”

Harsh though the remark was, it was also true. Kaori must have known

that, because she nodded submissively.

Outside the hospital, Matsumiya wished Kobayashi good night. He

was going to see Kaori home. The two of them climbed into a taxi.

For a while, neither of them said anything. Eventually, Kaori

summoned up the courage to speak. “I heard that the man who died

managed to walk all the way to Nihonbashi Bridge—and that he had a knife

stuck in his chest the whole time.”

“That’s right.”

“Nihonbashi Bridge is the famous one, right? The starting point of all

the roads in Japan.”

“‘Kilometer zero’ … is the phrase, I think. Yes, that’s the one. Why do

you ask?”

Kaori took several shallow breaths, then peered sideways down at the

floor.

“That’s where we got out when we hitchhiked to Tokyo.”

“You hitchhiked here? When was this?”

There must have been something comical about Matsumiya’s surprise.

Kaori smiled.

“Funny, isn’t it? I mean, no one hitchhikes in the twenty-first century

anymore! We didn’t have any money, so we couldn’t think of anything else

to do. Luckily, there are some kind people out there, so we managed to get a

lift—several, in fact. When the people who picked us up asked us where in

Tokyo we wanted to go, we always gave them the same answer: ‘The place

where this road ends.’ The last fellow who gave us a lift, a truck driver, he

dropped us off at one end of Nihonbashi Bridge. We stood on the bridge and

cheered, ‘Yatta!’” She took a handkerchief out of her bag and pressed it

beneath her eyes. “Sorry.”

Not quite sure what to say, Matsumiya turned and looked straight

ahead.