t was a little after eight p.m. when Matsumiya and Kaga got back to the

task force room. This time, however, there was no cluster of investigators

standing around Ishigaki. The unit chief was contemplating a number of

reports strewn over his desk, with a pensive and unhappy look on his face.

Work had begun to send the case to the public prosecutor as a “suspect

deceased” case, since that was what the top brass wanted. Ishigaki, highly

experienced chief inspector that he was, was far from satisfied with the

case.

Matsumiya reported their latest findings: that Kaori Nakahara hadn’t

known about Yashima having an electrician’s knife; and the truth about the

final phone call from Yashima.

“‘I’ve done something awful. Something terrible’s happened.’ That’s

it? Sounds a reasonable enough thing to say in the circumstances.” The

furrow above Ishigaki’s nose stayed firmly in place. “It’s circumstantial

evidence, sure, but it’s on the weak side. It’s not like he came straight out

and said, ‘I killed the guy.’”

“Well, no…”

“It’s weak,” repeated Ishigaki.

“There is one more thing,” Matsumiya said after turning to glance at

Kaga. “In the last text Fuyuki Yashima sent Kaori Nakahara, he said he was

going to a job interview. Everyone currently sees that as referring to

Yashima asking the victim for his old job back, but I wonder if that’s really

the case.”

“Huh? What are you getting at?”

“That rather than meeting the victim, perhaps Yashima went out

because he was going to have an interview at a bar or restaurant or some

other kind of business.”

Ishigaki looked skeptical.

“Don’t you pay any attention in the darn meetings? We’ve contacted

all the nearby establishments that were advertising for staff and didn’t find a

single one that Yashima had applied to or visited in person. There aren’t any

phone numbers of bars, restaurants, or other businesses in Yashima’s phone.

You can’t seriously believe that someone who was going in for an interview

wouldn’t have had any advance contact?”

“I’m quite sure he was in touch with them—just without using a

phone.”

“How’s he supposed to contact them without using his phone? There’s

nothing in his email or texts either.”

Matsumiya shook his head and looked at his boss’s narrow eyes.

“You can do it without calling, emailing, or texting. You just show up

in person.”

“Show up in person? Why would he do that?”

“It’s faster than using the phone. Imagine that Yashima saw a helpwanted

ad and the place that was hiring was right there in front of his eyes

—don’t you think he’d go in and try his luck?”

“In front of his eyes?” The expression on Ishigaki’s face had switched

from sullen to comprehending. “You think Yashima came across a helpwanted

flyer stuck up on a wall somewhere?”

“Exactly. The kind that businesses post on their own doors. The flyer

catches Yashima’s eye, so he goes in and asks about the job. The other party

comes back with, ‘Today, no can do, but come back for an interview

tomorrow.’ What do you think? In that scenario, there’s nothing strange

about the lack of a call record in the log.”

Ishigaki crossed his arms on his chest and looked up at Matsumiya.

“That certainly hangs together. Still, don’t you think Yashima would

have said something to his live-in girlfriend? Or did he keep quiet because

he didn’t want to count his chickens before they were hatched?”

“That’s a possibility—but I suspect he just forgot. The day prior to the

incident, Yashima and Kaori Nakahara went to a movie for the first time in

ages. Net result: they didn’t discuss work at all. Oh, and by the way, they

went to see their movie in the Ginza area and Yashima went for an

extensive ramble to kill time before they met. If he did stumble upon a job

advert, it would have happened then.”

His arms still crossed over his chest, Ishigaki puffed himself out.

“What triggered this?”

“Sir?”

“What set you on this train of thought? Was there a specific trigger?”

“Uhm, it was … his socks.”

“Yashima’s socks? Enlighten me.”

Matsumiya relayed what Kaori Nakahara had told them.

“The fact that Yashima went to so much trouble to find a pair of socks

without holes suggests that he knew he was going to have to take off his

shoes somewhere later. At a business in Ginza, for example. If the plan was

only to meet Aoyagi in a café, then the state of his socks would be neither

here nor there.”

Ishigaki sighed wearily. His eyes, which had been fixed on

Matsumiya, now moved past him. Matsumiya had a pretty good idea who

he was looking at now. Kaga must be standing behind him.

Kaga was the one who had come up with the theory Matsumiya had

just put forward. Matsumiya had absolutely no clue why Kaga was

questioning Kaori Nakahara about the day before the incident until he

explained his reasons.

“That’s some pretty impressive reasoning,” said Ishigaki. “Okay. We’ll

take your idea on board. I’ll instruct the detectives handling the

investigation of the crime scene environs accordingly. If Yashima was

planning to go to an interview, or if he really had one, that could change the

whole thrust of the investigation. Whether it’ll be a change for the better is

another matter.”

Something in Ishigaki’s tone suggested he was preparing himself for a

worst-case scenario where the whole investigation would be forced to go

back to square one.

Matsumiya was getting ready to leave for the day when Kaga came up

beside him.

“Ishigaki liked your idea.”

“It’s your idea, Kyo. You should have been the one to tell him. It’s not

like the chief doesn’t know who figured it all out anyway.”

“There’s a right and a wrong way of doing things,” Kaga said as he

pulled out his cell phone. He had an incoming call. “Hello … Yes, Kaga

here. Oh, thanks for calling … Oh, really? I see. Thank you very much for

letting me know … Yes, that’ll be fine. I’ll be there soon.” He spoke in a

jaunty tone and his face had brightened.

“Anything you want to share?” Matsumiya asked.

“It was the restaurant owner. The customer who saw Aoyagi at

Kasama Inari Shrine has just shown up at her place. He’s in there, drinking,

right now.”

The two of them hurried off to the prix fixe restaurant. They caught the

owner’s eye and nodded good evening.

A group of four typical businessmen were drinking at a table for six.

They had sashimi, a rolled Japanese-style omelet, and deep-fried chicken in

front of them.

The owner went to have a word with a fat man seated at the end of the

table nearest to the open passage area. Indicating Matsumiya and Kaga with

her eyes, she whispered something. Unsurprisingly, his three companions

stopped talking.

The fat man nodded his head. They could read his lips. “Sure, no

problem.”

The owner went over to Matsumiya and Kaga. “He’s happy to talk to

you.”

Kaga approached the men’s table, holding up his police badge. “Sorry

to disturb your meal, gentlemen.”

“It’s fine. It’s no big deal.” The fat man looked a little unsure.

Kaga asked for his details. His name was Iwai and he worked for a

company based in Yokohama.

“This is quite a surprise, I tell you. Never expected things to go this

far. Just mentioned the fellow in passing. It’s not like I really know

anything.”

“All I need you to do is tell me the facts. The person you say you saw,

is this him?”

Iwai inspected the photograph that Kaga produced, then nodded his

head. “Yes, that’s definitely him.”

“And when was it?”

“Uhm. A couple of months or so ago.”

“At Kasama Inari Shrine?”

“That’s right.”

Iwai’s mother had turned eighty this year. When she got sick, he had

started dropping into the shrine regularly on his way back from work.

Whether it was in answer to his prayers he couldn’t well say, but his mother

had staged a rapid recovery.

“When I pray, I’m more just going through the motions, but that guy

in the photo, he had brought some serious kit with him. That’s why I spoke

to him.”

“What do you mean by ‘serious kit’?”

“Cranes. Origami cranes on strings.” Iwai took a swig of beer. “He

didn’t have a thousand of the things, but I’d guess he had at least a hundred.

They were this lovely purple color. He put them on the offertory chest, then

pressed his palms together like this. You can see why I might want to talk to

him, can’t you?”

“Purple, you say? Normally, people make their thousand paper cranes

from different-colored paper, but his were all purple?”

Iwai frowned slightly.

“Don’t expect me to remember every little detail. I glanced at the

things and the impression I got was, ‘Wow, what a gorgeous purple.’ Maybe

there were some other colors in there. I’m not sure.”

“That’s not a problem. So what did you say to him?” Kaga asked.

“‘You’re very serious about this. You must have a real thing for this

shrine.’”

“What did he say?”

“The man looked rather embarrassed and started putting the cranes

away rather hastily. He told me that he was only there because he happened

to be nearby.”

“Happened to be nearby?”

“I thought it was an odd thing to say too. How could he seriously

claim he was only there by chance when he’d prepared so many paper

cranes? I guess that’s why I remembered the fellow. When I saw the news

about this case, his photo bugged me; it was a face I’d seen before. Then,

out of nowhere, it came to me and I started shooting my mouth off, here

among many other places. Sorry if I’ve been disturbing the peace.” Iwai’s

tone was glib. He was probably a little tipsy.

“You said that he quickly tidied away the cranes after finishing his

prayers. What exactly did he do?”

“What did he do? He put them away. Stuffed them into a paper carrier

bag he had on him. At least, I think he did. Sorry, the old memory’s a little

hazy.”

Kaga nodded. “I see. Well, my apologies for disturbing your meal.

We’re very grateful for your help.” He bowed in thanks.

“Isn’t the case closed?” Iwai said. “I mean, the guy who did it is dead.

At least, that’s what they’re saying on TV.”

There was a pause. Kaga grinned at the man.

“We’re just the rank and file. We don’t get to decide if a case is closed

or not. We just investigate what our superiors order us to investigate.”

“That’s how it goes, eh? Life’s hard, whatever your line of business.”

Iwai directed this final comment at his three companions.

“Let’s go,” Kaga said to Matsumiya. Matsumiya nodded goodbye to

the restaurant owner and pushed the door open.

“Surprised to hear about the origami cranes,” he said as they walked

along. “That’s not your run-of-the-mill praying. That’s serious stuff.”

“Yashima claimed to be there by chance; that his visit to Kasama Inari

Shrine was unplanned. My takeaway from that is that Kasama Inari wasn’t

the shrine where he really wanted to do his praying, but that, since the

opportunity had presented itself, he was visiting all the Seven Lucky Gods

shrines.”

“I agree. The question is: which of the shrines was his favorite.”

Kaga had turned and they were on a different street from their usual

route. Matsumiya followed, wondering where on earth his cousin was off to

now, when he suddenly noticed a small torii gate. It was half inside a small

modern office building, and seemed the last place where you would expect

to find a shrine, until you were right on top of it.

“Matsushima Shrine. One of the Seven Lucky Gods shrines,” said

Kaga, passing under the torii gate.

Matsumiya went in after him. At night, they must pull a fence across

to protect the shrine building. The offertory chest would be on the inside of

the fence too.

“The god of this shrine is Daikoku. Daikoku’s the god of agriculture

and trade. Aoyagi was a businessman, so it would be normal enough for

him to come here to pray for the success of his business, but that doesn’t fit

with what we’ve been told about the origami cranes. The thousand paper

cranes are used when praying for long life and recovery from illness.

Kasama Inari Shrine fits that bill perfectly.” Kaga extracted his notebook

from the inside breast pocket of his jacket. “Kasama Inari Shrine is

dedicated to Jurojin, the god of longevity. Now, how about the other

shrines?… Koami Shrine is similar. The god there is Fukurokuju; he’s a

symbol of longevity.”

“Is Koami far?”

“Not at all. Let’s go.”

They then headed west, past the old coffee shop that Takeaki Aoyagi

had visited.

The road snaked around the back of Nihonbashi Elementary School.

At one corner of a three-way intersection crowded with office buildings,

there was a small open area with greenery, inside which stood a modest torii

gate and shrine. Paper lanterns hung on either side of the gate.

“Wonder if this shrine was his favorite?” Matsumiya said.

Kaga looked unhappy.

“There’s any number of shrines dedicated to long life and good health.

There’s no reason for this to be his favorite.”

“Perhaps it had special associations for him. Maybe his prayers were

answered when he came here before.”

“Have you forgotten what his wife said? Aoyagi wasn’t a religious

man.”

“It’s all very well saying that, but he did come to pray at all these

shrines. That’s a fact. He even made those origami cranes.”

“That’s the real mystery. Why the origami cranes?”

“Nobody we’ve questioned has mentioned Aoyagi making paper

cranes. When did he make the things? It’s not like he made just one or two

of them.”

“Exactly,” Kaga said. “And where have all those paper cranes

disappeared to?”

“Search me.” Matsumiya shrugged.

“The man just now told us that he put the cranes away after having

placed them on the offertory box. Did he take them somewhere? Or did he

just throw them away?”

“I can’t see him treating origami cranes he’d made for prayer like

ordinary trash. So what would he do with them?” Kaga said. He was silent

for a while, then slowly he began nodding his head. There was a faint smile

on his lips. “Yep, I’ve got it. I think this will do it.”

“What? Why are you looking so smug?”

“I’ve figured out a way to find Aoyagi’s favorite shrine. The origami

cranes will reveal all,” Kaga said as he contemplated the shrine building

half-enveloped in darkness.