his is all that’s left of him—that was the first thought that came into

Kaori’s head as she contemplated the little jumble of bone fragments. She

had cried herself dry. She seemed to have exhausted her capacity for grief.

Following the crematorium attendant’s instructions, she started

picking up the pieces of bone with the chopsticks. She struggled to

reconcile the bones, which looked like so many dried-up white twigs, with

the healthy Fuyuki.

She got the hospital to hold on to Fuyuki’s body for just one night

after his death. The next day, a female administrator at the hospital had

given her advice on the proper procedures to follow. If Kaori spoke to the

authorities, they would pay for the cremation. She went straight to the ward

office and explained the situation. The person in charge understood

immediately. Something in his manner gave Kaori the impression he had

heard about Fuyuki.

Everyone—the hospital administrators, the people at the ward office—

was so nice to her. Since arriving in Tokyo with Fuyuki, she had never felt

so grateful for the kindness of strangers.

By the time she left the crematorium, the sky was starting to redden. A

very special day was coming to an end, she felt. What would her life be like

tomorrow? The people at the ward office had encouraged her to apply for

welfare. She would be able to live, albeit very frugally. But simply staying

alive—how meaningful was that? Fuyuki was gone. All that was waiting

for her back in their apartment was cold, stale air.

As she got close to home, she noticed a couple of men loitering in

front of her little apartment block. She felt a pang of anxiety. Was it more

TV people? She appreciated the money, but she didn’t want to be on TV

again.

Taking a closer look, she realized that she knew them. One of them

was the detective called Matsumiya. Kaori relaxed a little. The man looked

tough, but his eyes were sweet and kind. She recognized the other detective,

the taller one too. He’d been at the hospital right after the accident. She

couldn’t recall his name; perhaps he had never told her.

As she walked toward them, the men spotted her and bowed their

heads in greeting.

“Cremation?” Matsumiya was looking at the bundle Kaori was

carrying.

“That’s right,” she replied.

“We’re sorry to bother you at a time like this. We just have a couple of

questions. Do you mind?”

“That’s fine. The apartment’s rather messy, I’m afraid.”

After they stepped inside, Kaori placed the box containing the urn

with Fuyuki’s ashes beside a framed photograph showing the two of them at

Tokyo Disneyland.

She sat herself down at the low table across from the two detectives.

The taller one reintroduced himself. His name was Kaga and he was based

at the Nihonbashi precinct. His gaze was more penetrating than his partner’s

and Kaori could hardly bring herself to make eye contact.

“I see you’ve had visitors,” Kaga commented. He was looking at a

paper carrier bag that was sitting in front of the refrigerator. It bore the logo

of a famous cake shop and contained a box of cookies.

“The TV people were in here the other day. They brought me that …

Oh, that reminds me, I didn’t offer you tea.” She started getting to her feet.

“We’re fine. Don’t worry about us,” Matsumiya said hastily. “We just have a couple of questions.”

Kaori straightened her back and shifted around to find a comfortable

position. “What do you want to know?”

“You’ve probably been asked this so often that you’re sick of it. Still, I

need to reconfirm something. It’s to do with the knife.”

“Again?” She felt the energy drain out of her. Another detective had

subjected her to exhaustive questioning about the exact same thing. She had

told the man that she had never seen a knife like that before in her life.

“Did Yashima previously own a knife, even one that wasn’t exactly the

same as the one we showed you? Maybe he was looking after a knife for

someone he knew? Could he have borrowed one?”

“No, no, and no.” Kaori shook her head, her eyes fastened on the floor.

She was mortified. She’d told them the same thing umpteen times. Why

wouldn’t they believe her?

Matsumiya took a photograph from the inside breast pocket of his

jacket and placed it on the low table. It was a picture of a knife: a folding

knife with a brown handle. It was different from the one she had been shown at her previous questioning.

“Do you recognize this?”

“No. I’ve never seen it before. What is it?”

“Yashima worked for a small building contractor after graduating high

school. Apparently, this is the knife he used at that time.”

“Fuyuki? No, I don’t think so.” She looked Matsumiya right in the

face. “It’s not true. He’s never owned anything like that, anything so

vicious.”

Matsumiya gave a wry smile.

“There’s nothing vicious about this. It’s a tool, nothing more.”

He explained that it something called a cable-stripping knife and was

used by professional electricians.

“A guy working at the same contractor bought a couple and gave

Yashima one of them. The knife in this photo is the other guy’s.”

“I didn’t know. What’s it supposed to mean?”

“We know for certain that Yashima owned this knife. You, however,

were unaware of that fact. That suggests that your knowledge of his things

is less than comprehensive. It’s possible that he kept dangerous objects—

knives and things like that—out of sight.”

“I don’t accept that. Okay, I’m prepared to admit I didn’t know about

that knife, but everything else I knew about: what he had and what he didn’t

have. Fuyuki was hopeless without me. He was clueless about where his

stuff was. On that day, he really struggled to find a pair of socks without

holes in them.”

“Knives and socks are not quite the same thing,” said Matsumiya,

tucking the picture away.

Kaori placed both her hands palms down on the tatami mat and leaned

forward into a bow.

“Please believe me, Detective. Fuyuki wasn’t capable of murder.

That’s just not the kind of person he was. This whole thing is some kind of

ghastly mistake. Maybe he did steal the man’s wallet on an impulse, but

there’s no way that he killed him.” Her voice echoed in the small room.

After that, the only sound was the buzz of the aging fluorescent light.

“I’m sorry,” she said in a muffled voice. “It doesn’t matter how many

times I tell you. You just won’t listen, will you?”

Kaga leaned toward her.

“You got a call from Yashima the night of the incident, didn’t you?

‘I’ll be back soon. Sorry to be so late,’ he said, then abruptly rang off. At

least, that’s what you told us. Are you quite sure that’s correct?”

“Yeah, uhm…”

“The phone records show that the call was made after the crime

occurred. Since Yashima ended up in possession of the victim’s wallet and

briefcase, he must have been aware of the crime in some form or other.

Despite that, he didn’t mention it to you—you, the one person in this world

he felt he could trust. Why do you think that is?”

“I … ah … I don’t know.”

“I’ll tell you what we think: we think it was so serious, he couldn’t

bring himself to talk about it. It wasn’t some piffling, low-level crime like

theft or common assault, this was murder and robbery—”

“You’re wrong!” Kaori half shouted. Startled and upset by the

loudness of her own voice, she burst into tears. She wiped her eyes with the

back of her hand.

“Ms. Nakahara,” Kaga addressed her, speaking in the gentlest tone he

could muster. “Please tell us the truth. Nothing good comes of lying. You

believe in your boyfriend. I know that.”

Kaori pressed a hand to her temples. She didn’t know what to do.

“He said he’d done something awful…,” she murmured.

“What?” Matsumiya seized on her words. “Repeat that, but clearly this

time.”

Kaori inhaled deeply.

“‘I’ve done something awful … Something terrible’s happened. I don’t

know what to do.’ Those were his exact words … He sounded hysterical.”

“That’s crucial information,” Matsumiya said in a whisper.

“I’m sorry. The first time you asked, I thought the best thing I could do

for Fuyuki was to cover for him. I thought the best thing wasn’t to say

anything that tied him to the crime.” She was crying uncontrollably now.

She wanted to collapse onto the table, but just managed to stop herself.

The two detectives waited in silence for Kaori to regain her

composure. She took a number of deep breaths, then nodded several times

in succession. “Sorry about that. I’m okay now.”

It was Kaga who spoke.

“You mentioned Fuyuki’s socks a moment ago. You said that on that

day he’d really struggled to find a pair of socks with no holes in them. By

‘that day,’ I assume you mean the day the incident took place?”

“Yes. When I got back that night, the drawer containing his socks and

underwear was sitting in the middle of the room … Fuyuki’s not a great one

for cutting his toenails, so he gets holes in the toes of his socks. Normally,

he’s quite happy to wear socks with holes.”

“I see.” Kaga looked thoughtful. “There’s one more thing I want to ask

you.” He held up an index finger. “You went to work on the day of the

incident. Did you and your boyfriend discuss anything before you left the

house?”

“On the day of the incident? No, we didn’t. He was usually still asleep

when I left for work. That day was no exception.”

“How about the day before? What did the two of you discuss, either

before you went to work or after you got back home?”

“You’re talking about the day before? In the morning, I think he was

asleep, like I said. Then, when I got back from work…” She rummaged

around in her memory. She always got home by around eight, but that day

had been different. “Of course. We went to see a movie.”

“A movie? The two of you?”

“Yes. I’d gotten a pair of tickets. I arranged to meet Fuyuki at a theater

in Ginza at eight o’clock, and we watched the movie together.” She gave

them the name of the theater and the movie.

“You’d been at work until that time. But what about Fuyuki? Where

was he? What had he been up to?”

“I’m not sure … Oh, I remember now. He arrived late.”

“He was late? He didn’t make it for eight?”

“He’d actually arrived early. He went for a wander around the

neighborhood and ended straying too far. We nearly missed the start of the

feature. I was getting panicked.”

“You went straight into the theater when he showed up?”

“Yes.”

“And after the movie?”

“We went straight home. We can’t afford to eat out.”

“You probably discussed the movie after getting home?”

“We certainly did. It was a pretty good film, so it was a lively chat.

Fuyuki opened up a canned cocktail…” The memory triggered a feeling of

heaviness in her chest. It was so recent, but it already felt like the remote

past; almost like a dream, in fact. “Sorry, but why are you asking me about

this? What does the day before the incident have to do with anything?”

“I’m just asking for reference purposes. Did you discuss anything

other than the movie that night?”

“Uhm, no, I don’t think we did. Fuyuki got a bit tipsy and went off to

bed. He looks like a little child when he’s asleep … Fun times.”

We’ll never have another day like that again, she thought, and the

tears welled up. She tried and failed to hold them back.

Kaori took the handkerchief that Matsumiya was holding out to her.