lthough Itokawa was as defiant as ever, there was now a faint glint of

panic in his eyes. The clammy marks his hands left on the tabletop were

further proof. His palms were sweating.

Today’s face-off was taking place in one of the interview rooms at the

police station rather than at the school.

“That’s everything I can tell you about the accident at the pool. The

three boys will confirm it all.”

Itokawa’s statement matched the testimony of Yuto and his friends.

Nonetheless, the two detectives had their doubts about his motivation for

orchestrating the cover-up. Itokawa claimed to be “concerned about the

boys’ future,” but was that actually true?

“If word got out that the accident took place when all four members of

the relay team were training, it might have been seen as part of the swim

club’s official activities. You were worried that the school authorities might

come after you as the coach. Is that why you decided to sweep it all under

the carpet?”

Itokawa glowered at Kaga. “Spare me the insults. I’m not that sordid a

character.”

“Your actions were sordid enough.”

“What do you—?” Despite the look of loathing on Itokawa’s face, he

was reduced to silence.

“Someone told us that it was your brilliant idea to get the boys to train

by swimming with just their arms while someone held on to their legs. You

didn’t want anyone finding out about that, did you?”

Itokawa smacked the tabletop with the flats of his hands.

“Let’s move on to the next question,” Matsumiya said. “Takeaki

Aoyagi called you three days before he was killed. Previously, you told us

that he wanted to discuss his problematic relationship with his son with you.

Would you like to modify that statement? This will be used as evidence, so

think carefully before you reply.”

Itokawa’s breathing became labored. His chest rose and fell several

times, then he muttered, “Yeah, I’d like to change my statement.”

“Good. Give us an accurate account of your conversation.”

Itokawa ran the back of his hand over his mouth.

“Aoyagi asked me to tell him more about the accident at the pool. I got

the impression he suspected his son of being involved.”

“What did you say?”

“I simply said there wasn’t anything more to know. It had all been in

the papers.”

“Did Aoyagi buy that?”

Itokawa shook his head feebly. “Course not. He went for me. I had an

obligation to tell the truth, he said. It would be the best thing for his son.”

“What did you do?”

“I told him he couldn’t talk to me like that and hung up. I didn’t

actually have the time to talk when he called.

“And that’s everything,” Itokawa added in a quiet voice.

“Why didn’t you tell us this straight after Aoyagi’s murder?” Kaga

broke in. “If we’d known, we’d probably have handled the investigation

differently.”

“I don’t know what to say … I didn’t see any connection between the

accident and Aoyagi’s murder. And I thought I was doing what was best for

the boys.”

“‘Best for the boys’? How is lying meant to do them any good?”

“I couldn’t see the point of raking up an old story and causing the boys

any more emotional distress. Especially now that the three of them are back

to normal—”

Kaga sprang to his feet, reached out with his long arms, and grabbed

Itokawa by the collar.

“Don’t make me laugh! What’s this bullshit about not wanting to

cause emotional distress? You’ve no idea of all the harm you’ve caused,

have you? Why didn’t Sugino give himself up after he stabbed Aoyagi?

Because you’d taught him the worst possible lesson. If you do something

wrong, just cover it up and things will sort themselves out—that’s the lesson

you taught the three boys three years ago. That’s why Sugino went and did

the same thing all over again. All Aoyagi wanted to do was teach his son—

whom you misled so badly—what was right. If you can’t even understand

that, you shouldn’t be a teacher at all. You’ve no business teaching anyone

anything.”

Kaga pushed the other man away as if discarding a soiled article.

Itokawa’s face was pale.