If there's a book you really want to read but it hasn't been written yet, then you must write it.
Toni Morrison
ePub
A4Chapter 13
M
atsumiya recognized the square face on the TV screen. It was Kotake, thefactory manager at Kaneseki’s plant. Whether it was nerves or the heat of
the lights for the TV cameras, his forehead was glistening with sweat. He
bowed repeatedly while dabbing at himself with a handkerchief.
“I didn’t think it was the right thing to do. Of course I didn’t. But he
kept going on and on about the reputational damage. In the end, I couldn’t
say no. I had to do what he ordered.”
Kotake was briefly replaced by text on a monochrome background. It
was a question: “Was Aoyagi responsible for covering up accidents at the
workplace?”
The image switched back to Kotake.
“Yes, he was. I got my orders from Aoyagi, the head of production. As
to whether he in turn was getting orders from someone higher up, that’s
something I cannot speak to,” Kotake said as a microphone was thrust in his
face.
The image switched to a close-up on the newsreader’s face.
“In view of the possibility that Kaneseki Metals carried out frequent
and egregious workplace accident cover-ups, the Tachikawa Labor
Standards Inspection Office has launched a formal inquiry. Now, moving on
to today’s stock market and foreign exchange news—”
Matsumiya looked away from the TV screen and sighed.
“The media certainly move fast. They’ve already sniffed out the
accident cover-up.”
Putting down his chopsticks, Kaga reached for his cup of tea.
“Oh, they didn’t sniff it out. It’s much more likely that the director or
the deputy commissioner leaked it to them. In this way, even if the worst
happens with Yashima, it’s easier to push the whole ‘suspect deceased’
angle.”
“You’re probably right.” Matsumiya resumed eating.
After finishing their meal, they looked around to verify that there were
no other diners, then called over the female manager. As per usual, Kaga
showed her a photograph of Takeaki Aoyagi. Had he ever been there? he
asked.
The manager, who looked around fifty, took the photograph.
Conflicting emotions appeared on her face. She was clearly reluctant to
verbalize whatever it was that had occurred to her.
“Is there something wrong?” Kaga asked.
“A bit, maybe … This man, it’s the man from the murder, isn’t it?” she
asked diffidently.
“He’s the victim in the Nihonbashi Bridge murder case. Do you know
him?”
“No, I haven’t seen him myself, but we had a customer in yesterday
who was talking about having seen…” Her voice trailed off.
“Having seen him? Did he say where?”
“At the O-Inari-san over there.”
“Sorry, the O-Inari-san?”
“You must know the place? The full name’s Kasama Inari.”
“Yes, it’s a shrine in Hamacho. You’re saying your customer saw the
victim there?”
“Says he was a frequent and enthusiastic visitor. That’s why he
remembered his face.”
“Does that customer come here often?”
“Off and on, yes. The thing is, I don’t know his name. I think he’s a
businessman. He usually brings along some of what look like junior staff
with him.”
Kaga nodded and extracted a business card from his breast pocket.
“I’d be grateful if you could contact me the next time he shows up. My
phone number’s on the back of the card. I guarantee we won’t cause any
inconvenience either to him or to your restaurant.”
The woman took his card, but there was still an expression of
uncertainty on her face.
“I’ll take your card, but I’ve got no idea when he might show up
next.”
Kaga smiled.
“Just do what you can.”
The manager grunted, smiled half heartedly, and nodded.
“The way she was carrying on, she’s bound to forget,” said Matsumiya
once they were out in the street. “She’s too laid-back, not a true Tokyoite at
all. I’m surprised to find someone like her here in Ningyocho.”
“Takes all sorts, you know. That business of Kasama Inari Shrine was
a surprise. Things are finally starting to line up.” Kaga nodded his head
several times with evident satisfaction.
“What is it? Come on, tell me.”
“Why don’t you just come with me?” Kaga grinned at him
meaningfully and stalked off.
They advanced eastward along Amazaké Alley until they got to
Hamacho Green Road, the little park to which Fuyuki Yashima had fled.
This time, however, they walked straight across it, then took a left at the
next corner.
A broad road appeared in front of them. Kaga stopped just short of it.
On the corner, there was a small but dignified-looking shrine behind a fence
and a torii gate. A number of vertical red banners with the words “Kasama
Inari Daimyojin Shrine” were dotted around.
Matsumiya followed Kaga into the shrine. As he looked around, he
was struck by the number of stone fox statues. They all had red cloth bibs
tied around their necks. There was a small table next to the shrine building,
on which a selection of amulets, good-luck talismans, and pamphlets were
displayed. It looked for all the world like a shoplifter’s dream—or was no
one foolhardy enough to steal from the gods?
“This is one of the three most important fox shrines of Japan,” Kaga
said. “The main shrine is in Ibaraki Prefecture and this is the Tokyo
branch.”
“So Aoyagi made a point of coming to worship here,” Matsumiya said
as he looked at the shrine building.
“My guess is that this wasn’t the only place.”
“What are you trying to say?”
Kaga picked up a pamphlet from the table.
“There’s a coffee shop right next door. I’ll explain over a cup.”
The coffee shop was an old-fashioned-looking place with rows of little
tables. After they had ordered a couple of coffees, Kaga opened the
pamphlet.
“As you know, Nihonbashi is full of shrines. There are almost too
many to count, if you include all the smaller branch shrines. Did you know
that there’s a miniature shrine just next to the Meijiza Theater? That’s yet
another branch shrine of the Kasama Inari,” said Kaga. He spoke with
complete authority about the area, despite having only been stationed there
for a couple of years.
“I know. But so what?”
Kaga pointed to the map in the pamphlet. On it, all the most important
shrines were marked. Kasama Inari Shrine was one of them.
“There’s something called the Seven Lucky Gods of Nihonbashi. It’s a
seasonal ritual: around New Year’s, people visit all the shrines in that
particular group. In baseball terms, it’s like the Major League of Shrines.
Now, the Seven Lucky Gods includes…”
Kaga finger darted around the map as he reeled off the names.
“There’s Koami Shrine, Chanoki Shrine, Suitengu Shrine, Matsushima
Shrine, Suehiro Shrine, Kasama Inari Shrine, Suginomori Shrine, and
Takarada Ebisu Shrine. That makes eight in all.”
“Eight? Even though it’s the Seven Lucky Gods?”
“Ebisu, the same god, is enshrined at both Suginomori Shrine and
Takarada Ebisu Shrine. I don’t know why they both make it onto the list.
Anyway, for our purposes, that’s neither here nor there. It’s the location of
those two shrines that’s the issue for us. They’re different from all the other
shrines. Take a good look.”
Matsumiya duly scrutinized the map. Their coffee was brought to the
table while he was doing so. He drank it black without bothering to look up.
Eventually, he gave a start. He had figured it out.
“This Takarada Ebisu Shrine, is it last night…?”
“Very good,” Kaga said approvingly, a self-satisfied look on his face.
“Takarada Ebisu is the shrine that’s closest to the Kobaian soba noodle
restaurant. Six of the eight shrines are relatively close to Amazaké Alley,
but the Suginomori and Takarada Ebisu Shrines are a ways away. That’s
particularly true of Takarada Ebisu Shrine. We couldn’t figure out why
Aoyagi was going to a soba noodle restaurant all the way over there. But if
he was doing the Seven Lucky Gods circuit, then we have our explanation.
When you think about it, the locations of the shops and restaurants where
Aoyagi was seen more or less correspond with the Seven Lucky Gods
route.”
Raising his face from the map, Matsumiya looked at Kaga and nodded
his head.
“Bull’s-eye. I think you’ve nailed it. This explains why Aoyagi was
coming to Nihonbashi. He was doing the Seven Lucky Gods pilgrimage.”
Without him being aware of it, Matsumiya’s voice had grown more strident.
“If we’re right about that, the next mystery is why he was doing the
shrine circuit in the first place. The tradition is to do it around New Year’s.
But to do the pilgrimage repeatedly during the year—he’s got to have had a
very special reason for that.”
“I’d guess that he was praying for something in particular. That’s the
only possible explanation for him doing the pilgrimage so fanatically.”
“You’re probably right.” Kaga picked up his coffee cup. “What would
you do, Shuhei? If there was something you wanted really badly, would it
occur to you to visit a shrine?”
“Let’s say it wouldn’t not occur to me. Like, when I had my university
entrance exams, I did actually make a shrine visit.”
“But I’ll bet you did it as part of your regular New Year’s shrine
visiting. Or did you make multiple visits to a specific shrine just for your
entrance exams?”
“Well, no, I didn’t…”
Kaga took a sip of coffee with a bemused look on his face, then put his
cup down.
“It’s always hard when you’re dealing with tastes and attitudes at the
individual level, but I wonder what percentage of people truly believe that
praying to the gods delivers benefits. I know some older folks are very
religious, but Aoyagi’s not of that generation.”
“That’s just your opinion, Kyo. There’s no shortage of young people
who believe the gods can do something for them. There was this one guy in
college who used to go to church every week.”
Kaga tipped his head to one side.
“Attending church regularly and doing the Seven Lucky Gods
pilgrimage strike me as two fundamentally different things.”
“Okay, then how would you explain why Aoyagi did what he did?
What other reason is there for going to a shrine than to pray for
something?”
Kaga knitted his brows and frowned down at the pamphlet. “Why
Nihonbashi?”
“Huh?”
“If he was praying for something, then why pick the Nihonbashi
Seven Lucky Gods? There’ve got to be plenty of other shrines much closer
to his house or his office. Maybe even shrines of the same Seven Lucky
Gods. So why did he come all this way across town?”
“Maybe … maybe because he thought these specific shrines would get
him what he was after?”
“You mean give him exactly what he asked for? He’d have to be very
religious to be so fussy.”
“Maybe he was.”
Kaga gulped down the last of his coffee and started folding up the
pamphlet. “Let’s get verification.”
They left the coffee shop and walked to the nearest train station. It
took them around thirty minutes to get to the station about ten minutes’
walk from the Aoyagi house. It was in a warren of small streets where a
single careless turn could leave you stuck in a dead end.
As they approached the house, they noticed a group of reporters on the
opposite side of the street. What a bore, Matsumiya thought. Kaga,
however, didn’t slow down, so Matsumiya followed along behind him.
Sure enough, as they reached the garden gate, one of the reporters
came rushing up to them. He was a weaselly-looking little man in glasses.
“Are you going in? What for, if you don’t mind my asking?”
Matsumiya held up one hand to keep the man back, while tapping his
own chest with the other. The implication was: I’ve got a police badge
under here. The message must have gotten across, as the reporter flinched
and stopped in his tracks.
Kaga pressed the doorbell on the intercom. Fumiko was in. “Come
through the gate and right up to the front door,” she said. She didn’t want to
let the media people see her, Matsumiya realized.
When they reached the front door, it was discreetly opened for them.
Fumiko’s slightly gaunt face appeared.
She was the only one at home. The children were back at school from
today, she explained.
“Things are still lively out front, I see,” Kaga said, lowering himself
onto the living room sofa.
“They’re out there in the morning too. I think they’re hoping I’ll go
out.” Fumiko had returned from the kitchen carrying a tray with teacups.
“They asked me via the intercom what I thought about the whole workplace
accident cover-up business. What do they expect me to say? I don’t know
anything and I can’t say anything. The first I heard about my husband’s
involvement was from watching the TV news.” She put one teacup in front
of Matsumiya and another in front of Kaga. The smell of roasted green tea
wafted through the air.
“You’ve already said that your husband didn’t talk about his work at
home, yes?”
Fumiko responded to Matsumiya with an emphatic nod and fixed him
with a pleading look.
“Do you think that what they’re saying on the news is true? Do you
think that a workplace accident cover-up is what got my husband killed?”
“Well, uhm…” Matsumiya shot Kaga a glance.
“We do seem to have a witness with regard to the accident cover-up,”
Kaga said. “We don’t yet know the nature of your husband’s involvement,
though. Nor has a link yet been established between the cover-up and the
murder.”
Fumiko’s shoulders slumped. “I see,” she whispered.
“We’re actually here today to ask you a very specific question. It’s
about your husband, of course,” Kaga said. “Would you describe him as a
religious man?”
Fumiko gasped and her eyes widened. The question had clearly
surprised her. “What exactly do you mean?”
“Let’s say that your husband wanted things to turn out a certain way or
was worried about something—did he turn to religion at such moments?
Did he believe in the power of prayer? Did he have a collection of
amulets?”
“No,” Fumiko said, slowly shaking her head. “If anything, I’d say he
didn’t take religion seriously at all. When the shrines were jam-packed with
people making their first visit of the year, he would make fun of them: ‘I
don’t know why they bother.’ Why do you ask?”
“No particular reason. We’re just checking up on something,” said
Kaga, darting a glance at Matsumiya. Now, apparently, wasn’t the time or
place to reveal that Takeaki Aoyagi had been doing the Seven Lucky Gods
pilgrimage on a regular basis.
Matsumiya put his cup on the table and rose to his feet. “Thank you
very much for your time.”
“Is that all?” Fumiko asked. She sounded confused.
“Yes, that’s all. Thanks for the tea,” Kaga said.
“Could you tell me…” Fumiko also stood up and looked from one
man to the other.
“Is covering up a workplace accident such a bad thing to do? Is it
something a person deserves to be despised and knifed to death for?”
Matsumiya looked at Kaga.
“Mrs. Aoyagi,” said Kaga quietly. “The cover-up of a workplace
accident is a crime. It’s definitely not a good thing to do. Still, there is
nobody—nobody at all—in this world of ours who deserves to be killed.”
Fumiko pressed her lips together and looked Kaga full in the face.
There were tears in her eyes.
“Let’s go,” Kaga said to Matsumiya.
