Nguồn gốc của thiên tài là nguồn gốc của nhiệt huyết.
Benjamin Disraeli
ePub
A4Chapter 29
M
atsumiya and Kaga caught the bullet train. It left Tokyo Station at ninetwenty and was due to reach Karuizawa at ten thirty-two.
“It’ll probably be freezing up there. Are you ready?” Kaga put his
rolled-up coat on the luggage rack and took his seat. Matsumiya had a bag
with him, but Kaga, as usual, was traveling light.
“I think of Karuizawa as a place people go to escape the summer heat.
When you come to think of it, some people must live there year-round,”
Matsumiya said. “She told me that they’re living in what used to be their
old holiday home.”
The “she” Matsumiya was referring to was the mother of Tomoyuki
Yoshinaga. Matsumiya had phoned her the night before to tell her that they
would be coming today. He kept the real reason for their visit under wraps,
simply saying that they wanted to ask her a few questions about her son.
They got permission to make the trip to Karuizawa much more easily
than expected. The theory of Yashima being the culprit had been shaken to
its foundations.
The discovery of Yashima’s fingerprints on the books in the bookstore
proved that the person Takeaki Aoyagi met in the café wasn’t Yashima but
someone else, completely subverting the original scenario.
But it didn’t completely eliminate the possibility of Yashima being
guilty. The case could still be made that Yashima had bumped into Aoyagi
after leaving the bookstore and made a spur-of-the-moment decision to rob
him. That interpretation begged the question why whoever had actually
been in the café with Aoyagi wasn’t coming forward. Were they staying
quiet just because they didn’t want to get involved?
“The line you two are pursuing may well be the right one,” Ishigaki
had said. There was the subtlest hint of menace in his eyes. I’ve let you
march to the beat of your own drum. Now I need you to show me some
results, they seemed to say.
In fact, neither of them had any idea of what kind of secret lay
concealed behind the accident at the swimming pool three years ago. After
questioning Yuto Aoyagi the day before, Matsumiya and Kaga had talked to
a couple of other swim team members from the same year. Neither of them
gave the impression that they were hiding anything or entertained any
suspicions of their own about the accident.
“I thought Yoshinaga was crazy, sneaking into the pool by himself like
that. He had a very high opinion of himself. The volunteer assistant coach,
an alumnus of the swim team, always praised his swimming to the skies—
so the outcome of the meet must have come as a big shock to him,” one of
the young men said with emotion in his voice.
The idea that the accident had occurred during a swim team training
session simply wasn’t credible. It would be too hard for everybody to get
their stories to match, and someone was sure to have let the cat out of the
bag in the end.
As Matsumiya was fuzzily rehashing the case in his head, the train
pulled into Karuizawa Station. The two detectives had hardly said a word to
one another during the journey. Kaga stood up, stretched his arms, and
rolled his head on his shoulders. He must have been asleep.
They found a cab waiting outside the station and gave the driver their
destination.
The taxi rolled through the leafy landscape. Although the ground
wasn’t yet covered in snow, you could feel the chill of the winter air inside
the vehicle. Everyone in the street was dressed for seriously cold weather.
The taxi stopped at a cluster of holiday homes. “Should be somewhere
around here,” the taxi driver said. Matsumiya got out and inspected the
gatepost of the nearest house. There was a wooden plaque on which the
name Yoshinaga was engraved.
“This is the place,” he said to Kaga, who was still in the backseat.
Kaga paid the driver and slid out. “God, it’s cold.” He began to do up
the buttons of his coat.
As there was no intercom, they pushed the gate open and went in. The
garden was a decent size and a longish path led up to the house.
The house itself was a mostly brown structure that exuded tranquility.
There were shutters on the windows and the front door was a little above
ground level, presumably to stop it getting blocked by snow.
There was an intercom on one side of the front door. Matsumiya pressed the bell. “Yes, hello,” came the swift response. It was a woman’s
voice.
“I am from the Tokyo Metropolitan Police. We spoke yesterday.”
“Of course.”
A few seconds later, they heard the lock turning and the door opened.
A small woman with a small head was standing there. She was wearing
jeans and a sweater and must have been around fifty. Her hair, which was
flecked with gray, was tied at the back of her head. Matsumiya knew that
her first name was Mieko from their phone conversation.
The two detectives introduced themselves and she invited them inside.
The house was warm with a faint scent of flowers.
“Where’s Tomoyuki?” Kaga asked after taking off his shoes and
putting on the slippers she offered them.
Mieko Yoshinaga clasped her hands lightly and looked at the two
detectives one after the other. “He’s in the living room.”
She led them along a passage. There was a door at the far end. “In
here,” she said, and they went inside. It was an expansive two-story living
room with a kitchen and dining area. There were some solid-looking sofas
and tables dotted about and a rocking chair near the window. In that rocking
chair—
A young man was seated. His upper body was wrapped in a blanket
and he had sneakers on his feet. He was facing them, but his eyes were shut
tight. He was emaciated and his skin was as white as porcelain. His fringe
was cut in a neat line just above his eyebrows.
Matsumiya slowly walked over and examined the boy. The boy didn’t
move a muscle. He was as inert as a corpse.
“He can breathe for himself,” Mieko Yoshinaga said with evident
pride. “On a good day, his expression even changes.”
“Does he ever open his eyes?”
Kaga was taken aback at the bright smile Mieko gave him. “He’s
sleeping, so, no, he doesn’t open his eyes. He’s just asleep. That’s all.”
She seemed keen to emphasize that her boy was fine and that there
was absolutely nothing wrong with him. She was probably saying it more
for her own benefit than for theirs.
“Please, sit down,” she said. The two of them went over to one of the
sofas.
Mieko made some tea, which she served in bone china cups.
“When did you move here?” Kaga asked.
“It must have been the year after the accident. My husband retired, so
we took the opportunity to sell our house in Tokyo and move out here, all
three of us. We wanted to look after Tomoyuki in a place with good, clean
air.”
“Where is your husband today?”
“He’s in Tokyo. Even though he’s officially retired, he works as an
adviser to a number of companies, so he has to go into the city from time to
time,” she replied with a cheerful smile.
It’s lucky they’re so well-off, Matsumiya thought. The cost of
Tomoyuki’s care would probably be too much for an ordinary family.
“What do you want to talk to me about?”
Kaga leaned forward slightly. “It’s about your son. Our records show
that you didn’t initiate legal proceedings of any kind. Does that mean you
didn’t have any questions or doubts about the accident?”
Mieko gave a small shake of the head. “To be quite honest, I have
nothing but questions. I simply don’t believe that Tomoyuki snuck into the
pool all by himself. The same with him drowning. He’d been going to
swimming lessons since he was a little boy; he was completely at home in
the water, but he also knew that you have to treat it with respect.”
“You nonetheless accepted the explanation the school gave you?”
“We had no choice. The police told us they hadn’t found anything
suspicious. Besides, our top priority was always taking care of our son. The
question of responsibility was far less important.” Mieko glanced over at
the rocking chair. “I was prepared to believe that yes, maybe things did
happen that way. He was always a serious and responsible kid…”
“What are you getting at?”
“Tomoyuki was really anxious in the days leading up to the swim
meet. He said over and over, ‘What if I let my teammates down?’”
“Let them down?”
“He was selected for the relay team. The other boys in it were all third
years; he was the only second year. He didn’t want to disappoint his older
teammates.”
“So he was in the relay, was he?”
“Excuse me,” said Mieko. “But exactly what sort of investigation is
this? Why are you making inquiries about his accident now?”
It was a perfectly legitimate question.
“There was recently a murder in Tokyo,” Kaga said. “That’s what
we’re investigating.”
“A murder?” Mieko’s expression darkened uneasily.
“Don’t worry. There’s no question of anyone in your family being
involved. However, we believe that there may be a link between your son’s
accident and certain behaviors of the murder victim. That’s why we are here
to see you.”
“Who was the victim?”
“A man by the name of Aoyagi. Takeaki Aoyagi. Do you recognize
the name?”
“Aoyagi … It sounds familiar, but no, sorry, I don’t think I know
him.”
If she had heard the name, it would have to be through Tomoyuki,
thought Matsumiya. Tomoyuki must have talked about the older boys on the
swim team at home.
Kaga, however, was adamant that they should not volunteer the
information that Takeaki Aoyagi was the father of a boy in the year above
Tomoyuki.
“Do you know Suitengu, the shrine in the Nihonbashi area? It’s
famous as a place people go to pray for safe childbirth; it’s also known for
protecting people from drowning.”
Mieko blinked at Kaga’s question. “Yes, I know the place.”
“We have reason to believe that Mr. Aoyagi was a regular visitor to
Suitengu Shrine. Offering up origami cranes, one hundred at a time. Does
that ring any bells with—”
Kaga broke off in the middle of his sentence. Matsumiya could see
why. The expression on Mieko’s face had undergone a visible change. Her
eyes had opened wide and she was gasping for air.
“Obviously, it does,” Kaga answered his own question.
Mieko Yoshinaga was nodding her head frantically. “It certainly does.
He must be ‘Tokyo Hanako.’”
“Hanako?”
“Bear with me a minute.” Mieko left the room as she said this.
Matsumiya caught Kaga’s eye. Brilliant detective though his cousin
was, Kaga seemed to have no idea what was going on either, but the sense
that they were about to get their hands on an important clue had brought a
gleam to his eye.
Mieko came back into the room. She was holding a laptop.
“I actually have my own blog. When I started, it was a journal about
me taking care of my son, but over time, people started sending me all sorts
of supportive messages.” Mieko switched on her computer while she was
talking.
“And Tokyo Hanako is one of those people?”
Mieko nodded in response to Kaga’s question. “At some point,
Hanako and I started exchanging emails. The thought occurred to me she
might be a man. Gosh. Are you saying that’s who was murdered?”
“You know about the hundred origami cranes?”
“Yes. Tokyo Hanako broke up the traditional one thousand cranes into
ten sets of a hundred to offer at the shrines. You can read all about it on my
blog.” Mieko swiveled her computer around so that the two detectives
could see the screen. “This is a bit embarrassing.”
On the screen there was the top page of a blog. It was dotted with
colorful illustrations.
“Look!” Kaga jabbed a finger at the top of the page. Matsumiya
squinted at the screen and gave a start.
The name of the blog was The Wings of the Kirin.
