Narumi shook her head, surprised at her own thoughts. It was Yukawa’s fault she’d even started down this path. Then she remembered what he’d said when they met on the boat, about her not looking like the type to choose the ocean over the city. What did he mean by that?
“So, have you given any thought to what I said the other day?” Sawamura said, after they had driven a while in silence.
“Sorry?” Narumi said. She knew what he was talking about but played dumb.
“About you being my assistant at the home office. Did you think about it?”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she apologized. “It’s just been so busy, I haven’t really had time to sit down and mull it over. Could you wait just a little longer?”
“That’s fine by me. It’s not like I’m going to be asking anyone else. I don’t see the point if it’s not you.”
There he goes again, saying things that can be taken two ways, Narumi thought. Sometimes she wished he could be a little more straightforward, like Yukawa.
They crested the hill, and the Green Rock Inn came into sight.
“What are they up to?” Sawamura muttered.
Out in front of the inn, Yukawa and Kyohei were using sticks to draw something in the dirt. Kyohei looked up when he heard the car approach. “Hey, Narumi!” he called out.
Yukawa looked up, his eyes even colder than usual.
Sawamura pulled the car up and stopped right beside them, opening his window. “How’s it going?” he called out.
“Did you see what you wanted to see on the boat?” Yukawa asked.
“And more. Now I’m even more convinced we need to keep a close eye on them.”
“Probably a good idea,” Yukawa agreed. Then he lifted an eyebrow. “New car?” he asked.
“Old one, why?”
“Oh, nothing much, I just thought you drove a truck.”
“Yeah, that belongs to the shop. My folks run an electronics store.”
“I see. That pickup was the truck you used when you went to look for Mr. Tsukahara, wasn’t it?”
“Uh huh,” Sawamura said, his voice low. “What about it?”
“Nothing, I was just wondering what you had planned to do if you found him that night.”
“What do you mean? I planned to take him back to the inn.”
“How?” Yukawa asked. “Only two people can sit in the truck, and Mr. Kawahata was sitting in your passenger seat, wasn’t he?”
“Well, yeah, but what else was I supposed to do?” Sawamura protested. “I had to take him with me or I wouldn’t have known what the guy looked like, and the truck was the only vehicle I had.”
“They have a van at the inn. I just got a ride in it. You could’ve used that,” Yukawa suggested.
“Well, thanks for the advice, buddy. I guess I just didn’t think of it at the time. Okay? I’m sure I could’ve figured out something if we’d found him, which we didn’t. Mr. Kawahata could’ve gotten out and waited while I took them back one at a time, if it came to it.”
Yukawa nodded, though by his expression he wasn’t convinced. “That’s true, I suppose there were options. You could always have put someone in the flatbed, too.”
Sawamura looked up at him through the window. “If you have a point, I suggest you get to it. I haven’t had the best day.”
“No, no, sorry to trouble you,” the physicist said. “Nice chatting. Now I need to get back to teaching my young assistant.” He walked back over to Kyohei. Sawamura glared after him.
“Sawamura?” Narumi said. “What’s wrong?”
“Huh?” He turned back to her. “Oh, nothing. Is he always like that?”
“He’s a little eccentric. I wouldn’t pay him too much mind.”
“Yeah, probably good advice. Anyway, good work today. Let’s get together soon and write up that report.”
“Absolutely. Thanks for the lift,” she said, getting out of the car.
Yukawa and Kyohei were standing around a design Yukawa had drawn in the dirt, deep in discussion. Narumi waited until Sawamura had driven off, then walked over to them. “Mr. Yukawa,” she said, “if there’s something you want to say to Mr. Sawamura, you should just come out and say it.”
“Don’t step on that,” he said.
“What?”
“The diagram. Don’t step on it. I’m showing Kyohei why the area of a circle is the radius times the circumference.” Yukawa pointed at Narumi’s feet. A large circle had been drawn in the dirt, with thin lines that radiated out from the center, dividing it into sections.
“I totally didn’t ask him to teach me this,” Kyohei said, looking put out.
“Simply plugging numbers into a formula is just mindless calculation. What we’re doing here? This? This is geometry.”
“Why were you asking him about his car?” Narumi asked. “You don’t think he’s involved with what happened to Mr. Tsukahara?”
“I said nothing of the sort. I was just asking a few simple questions.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Don’t worry. He—Mr. Sawamura, was that his name? He had nothing to do with Mr. Tsukahara’s death. He has an alibi, doesn’t he? He was with you when Mr. Tsukahara went missing from the inn.”
“Well, he was, but—”
Yukawa looked down at his watch, then turned to Kyohei. “I just remembered something I have to do. We’ll resume after dinner.”
“What do you have to do?”
“There’s someplace I have to go while there’s still light. If I can get a taxi—” Yukawa plucked his jacket off the handles of a nearby bicycle and got on. “I’ll eat dinner at six thirty,” he said to Narumi, before wheeling off down the road.
THIRTY-FOUR
“Did you say Kawahara?”
“Kawahata, ma’am,” Kusanagi repeated. He was speaking to a woman in her midforties.
“Oh, Kawahata. No, sorry, doesn’t ring a bell.” She frowned a little and put a hand to her cheek.
“This would’ve been about fifteen or sixteen years ago. I believe you were living here at the time?” Kusanagi asked.
“Yes, that’s right. This is our seventeenth year. You know, I think that makes us the longest tenants left! But I’m sorry, I don’t know any Kawahata.”
“They were in apartment 305. Does that sound familiar?”
“Three oh five? No wonder I don’t know them. We hardly ever see the people on the different floors unless they’re on the same staircase, and that unit’s on the other side of the building.”
The woman had been thrilled at first when she heard Kusanagi was a detective, but over the course of the questioning, she’d rapidly lost interest.
“Thank you for your time,” Kusanagi said. He started to bow, but the door was already closing in his face.
The Arima Engines company housing was an old apartment building on a small, lightly trafficked street. It was four stories high, without an elevator, and just over thirty units in total.
Kusanagi and Utsumi had split up to ask at each of the apartments whether anyone knew Shigehiro Kawahata or his family, but the results so far were anemic. Most of the people who had lived here at the same time as the Kawahatas had already moved on.
Kusanagi was making his way down the staircase, scratching the back of his head with his pen, when Utsumi called out from the sidewalk below him. “Kusanagi!”
“Hey. You find something?” he asked, his tone making it clear he wasn’t expecting that she had. He walked down to the bottom of the stairs so they could talk without shouting.
“Well, I found the current address of the people who used to live in apartment 206 from the woman who lives in 106. They built a house and moved out eight years ago. The name’s Kajimoto, and they live near Ekota Station.”
“Over in Nerima? You know when the Kajimotos moved into the apartments?”
“Not exactly, but when they moved out, they had mentioned that they’d been here for almost twenty years.”
“Well, then they overlapped with the Kawahatas for sure, and 206 is on their stairwell,” Kusanagi said, snapping his fingers. “Okay, let’s get to Ekota.”
Kusanagi hailed a cab. They had only just pulled away from the curb when Utsumi’s cell phone rang.
“Hello,” she answered, “Utsumi speaking. Yes, thanks for this morning. What, you found someone? Could you put me on the phone with them?” There was a pause. “Okay, I’ll call back again later. Thank you so much for your help.” She hung up and turned to Kusanagi. Her face was a little flushed.
“Who is that?”
“A volunteer group with offices in Shinjuku. They run a few soup kitchens and homeless shelters. I stopped by there on my way to Arima Engines and left a copy of Hidetoshi Senba’s photograph so they could show it to their staff.”
“And?” Kusanagi prompted, hope stirring in his chest.
“Well, one of the women who works for them said she’d seen Senba several times at one of the soup kitchens.”
“Around when?”
“She said the last time was over a year ago. I didn’t get to speak with her directly—she was out. Back in an hour or so.”
“Can you stop the car?” Kusanagi said to the driver. The driver hurriedly pressed down on the brake and pulled over to the side of the road.
“What’s wrong?” Utsumi asked.
“Nothing’s wrong. This is our best lead yet. I want you to go to that office right now and wait for this woman to get back. Driver, open the door. She’s getting out.”