he expression on Ishigaki’s face was grim as he looked up from the CCTV

footage on the laptop. He groaned softly.

Matsumiya and Kaga stood facing him across the table. They were in

one of the smaller meeting rooms at Nihonbashi Police Station. The two

detectives had got Ishigaki to meet them there to avoid anyone else seeing

the footage.

“You’re up to your old tricks, I see.” Ishigaki fixed his eyes on Kaga.

“Anyway, that’s neither here nor there,” snorted Ishigaki, curling his lip.

“This footage is the important thing. He certainly looks like Yashima.

Looks like—and nothing more.”

“That’s why the fingerprints—”

Ishigaki lifted a hand to cut Matsumiya off. He crossed his thick arms,

shut his eyes, and sighed.

Matsumiya knew what his boss was thinking: that finding Yashima’s

fingerprints would completely overturn their current reading of the crime.

How could he explain that to his superiors? How could the investigation be

reconfigured on a new vector? There were no easy answers.

Ishigaki reopened his eyes. He glowered first at Matsumiya, then at

Kaga. “Let’s take this to Forensics. They won’t be thrilled about it coming

out of nowhere.”

Matsumiya exhaled with relief. “Thank you, sir.” He bobbed his head

gratefully.

“But there is one thing.” Ishigaki spread his hands on the table and

leaned toward them. “If Forensics doesn’t find any fingerprints, then we’ll

just forget all about this footage. Are you okay with that?”

Matsumiya darted a glance at Kaga.

“That’s fine,” replied Kaga. From his face, you could see that he had

been expecting Ishigaki’s response.

“You did a good job,” said Ishigaki. “Oh, I meant to tell you.” He had

clearly just remembered something. “The son was taken into Meguro Police

Station yesterday evening.”

“The son … what, you mean Yuto?” Matsumiya said. “Taken in?

Why? What did he do?”

“Bodily harm. He beat up an employee of Kaneseki Metals in the

street. A local resident reported them before the fight got underway. They

were already in a shouting match.”

“Who was the Kaneseki Metals guy?”

“The factory manager, I think.”

“Ah.” Matsumiya remembered him. Kotake. They had met once at the

factory. “I wonder why Yuto went for him.”

“According to the eyewitnesses, the boy was insisting that his father

was innocent. He was yelling that his father would never do anything mean

or sordid.”

Matsumiya and Kaga exchanged a surprised look.

“The family’s having a dreadful time of it, what with the sister’s

suicide attempt. The other party didn’t want to make things any worse, so

the boy was quickly sent home. Just thought I should let you know.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Matsumiya. He and Kaga left the room.

“I can hardly bear to think how the mother must be feeling,”

Matsumiya said. “Murder really is like a cancer cell—pain and misery

spreading unstoppably.”

“I agree. But there’s something not quite right here.”

“What?”

“Why was Yuto so angry on his father’s behalf? Didn’t he tell us last

time we saw him that his father got what he deserved?”

“I’d hazard that, in his heart of hearts, he believed in his father all

along. That aside, have we done all we can with the CCTV?”

“The footage by itself doesn’t have a great deal of evidentiary value,

so let’s hope we find some prints.” Kaga glanced at his watch. “Seven fifty?

I should make it by the skin of my teeth.”

“Got plans?”

“I’m meeting someone. You want to come?” As Kaga said this, he

marched off at high speed.

“Do you want me to come? Who are you seeing?”

“You’re the one who told me to get a move on and contact her.”

“What? Is it—?”

“Ms. Kanamori,” Kaga replied breezily. “We’re meeting at eight

regarding the memorial service for my father.”

“So you did get in touch with her, Kyo?”

“Yes, at the bookstore, while I was waiting for you to show up. I

thought eight would give me enough wiggle room, but we’re cutting it

pretty close.”

Being pressed for time, they jumped into a taxi outside the police

station. They got out in Ningyocho and soon found the restaurant. It was in

an old two-story house.

They went in and were escorted upstairs to a large room with rows of

low rectangular dining tables. They spotted Tokiko Kanamori right away.

She was at a table at the far end of the room with an open notebook in front

of her. She smiled when she caught sight of Matsumiya and Kaga.

“It’s been a while,” Matsumiya greeted her with a small bow before he

took his place. They sat cross-legged on flat cushions.

“It’s been too long. I’m glad to see you looking so well.” Tokiko

Kanamori grinned at Matsumiya. She was a little thinner than two years

ago, but her smiling face radiated good health. “Are you working this case

with Kaga too?”

“That’s how it turned out,” Matsumiya replied.

Kaga opened the menu. “The beef stew is what this place is famous

for. And the croquettes. I’m sure everything else is good too, though.”

“Why don’t you order for all of us, Kaga?”

After a minute or two’s reflection, Kaga summoned the waitress and

ordered a number of dishes. His familiarity with the menu suggested that

he’d been here several times before.

“So, how are things looking? Can you make time for the service?”

Kanamori asked Kaga after they had clinked their beer glasses.

Kaga took a swig of beer, then tilted his head to one side. “I can’t say.

At least, not until we’ve cleared up our current case.”

“I heard the Nihonbashi Bridge murder case was pretty much wrapped

up.”

“That’s just the media jumping to conclusions. We don’t have a single

piece of evidence proving that the young man who died in the hospital

actually did it.”

“Surprised to hear that. Still, hardly my area of expertise … Anyway,

what I’d like is for us to proceed according to the schedule we agreed on

earlier. Everyone’s okay with that, aren’t they?” Her voice was gentle but

firm.

“Yes, I suppose so,” Kaga concurred in the vaguest possible terms.

Matsumiya was rather enjoying the sight of his cousin’s discomfiture

at the hands of Kanamori.

Their food was brought to the table. The croquettes were fragrant and

went down easily with the beer. The deep-fried shrimp was crisp and

smelled delicious. The chunks of meat in the beef stew melted in the mouth.

Even while singing the praises of the food, Tokiko Kanamori never

lost sight of her goal for the evening. From time to time, she would put

down her chopsticks, open the notebook by her plate, and solicit Kaga’s

opinion on the program for the memorial service. There seemed to be a

great number of things that needed to be decided: how to contact relatives

and friends; what gifts to give to attendees; where to have the meal after the

service, and so on. Kaga’s responses, however, all took one of two forms:

either “Do the standard thing” or “You decide.”

“Listen, Kaga,” Kanamori said with a stern look on her face. “This

memorial service is for your father. Can’t you muster a bit more enthusiasm

and help me sort this stuff out?”

Kaga sipped his after-dinner coffee appreciatively and tilted his head

to one side. “As I’ve already told you, I personally don’t see any need for

this service. You were the one who said I should provide the opportunity to

memorialize my father to the people who wanted to do so—”

“You need it too, Kaga,” Kanamori said. “Why not remember your

father just once a year?”

“I’m not saying I don’t think about him. Just that for me, it’s all over

and done with.”

“‘Over and done with’? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That I’ve worked through all the problems I had with my dad. I don’t

need to keep looking back.”

“You’re wrong. You still have absolutely no idea.”

She spoke with such firmness that even Matsumiya, who wasn’t

directly involved in the conversation, started.

“What do I have no idea about?”

“How your father felt at the end. Have you given even a moment’s

thought to how he was feeling when he took his leave of this world?”

Kaga coolly put his coffee cup down on the table. “I daresay he felt all

sorts of things. But why do I need to think about it?”

“You need to think about it: about how desperate he was to see his son,

his only blood relative.”

Matsumiya started and looked at his cousin. Kaga just smiled

sardonically. “We’ve already discussed this. It was something Dad and I

agreed on a long time ago.”

“His ex-wife … your mother, she was alone when she died. She didn’t

get to see the face of her only child. So did your father also tell you, ‘I don’t

need you hanging around the place when it’s time for me to die’?”

“Yes, he did,” Kaga agreed. “We promised. One man to another.”

There was a mocking smile on Tokiko Kanamori’s lips. “Pathetic.”

“What did you just say?” Kaga’s voice dropped suddenly.

“I’m saying that promises you and your father made when he was

alive mean nothing. Have you ever watched someone die, Kaga?”

“Many times. Too often to count. It’s part of my job.”

Kanamori slowly shook her head. “No, what you’ve seen are corpses,

not people. I have watched people die. God only knows how many times.

People rediscover their real feelings when death is coming up on them.

They jettison their pride and stubbornness and finally open up to their true

hopes and desires. The living have a duty to listen to what they say then, to

their final message. You abandoned that duty, Kaga.”

To Matsumiya, her words felt like boulders that were sinking down

into and piling up in his heart. Wondering how Kaga would respond, he

stole a sideways glance at his cousin, but Kaga just sat there in brooding

silence. The pained look on his face wasn’t something Matsumiya had seen

many times before.

“I’m sorry,” Kanamori said gently. “I’ve no business getting on my

high horse like that. I’m sure there wasn’t anything wrong with the way you

and your father parted. All I’m asking you to do is … to try to imagine how

your father must have felt.”

Kaga frowned and ran his tongue over his lips. “Thank you,” he

murmured.

When they had finished their dinner, the three of them left the restaurant. With perfect timing, an empty taxi was coming along the street.

Kaga raised his hand and stopped it.

“Thank you for dinner. Good night,” Kanamori said as she climbed in.

They watched the taxi as it drove away, then Kaga started walking. He

obviously wasn’t interested in finding a cab for himself. Matsumiya fell in

step beside him.

“It’s not like you to be out-argued like that,” Matsumiya ventured.

Kaga said nothing and continued striding straight ahead. From his

expression, it was impossible to tell what he was thinking about so intently.

They were approaching Edobashi Bridge. Matsumiya wasn’t

surprised. Something in Kaga’s pace had suggested that the crime scene

rather than the police precinct was his destination.

Kaga crossed Edobashi Bridge and went through the underpass. He

stopped for a moment just outside it, then set off again in the direction of

Nihonbashi Bridge. He didn’t say a word the whole time.

They passed in front of the Nihonbashi Bridge local police station and

began to make their way across the bridge. Kaga stopped when they

reached the middle of the bridge. He was close to the two kirin statues

sitting back-to-back on their haunches. He stared up at them.

“The living have a duty to listen to the last message of the dying …

was that what she said?” Kaga’s eyes suddenly widened as he whispered the

words to himself. To Matsumiya, they seemed to glow with a brighter

luster.

Kaga strode off again. He was walking even faster than before.

Matsumiya scrambled to catch up. “Where to now?”

“Back to the station. I think I may have been seriously wrong about

something.”