“The precinct commissioner dines at Matsuya from time to time. Why, he was there with someone just the other day.”
“Oh, really? The commissioner at my last precinct was the same. Seems that precinct commissioners throughout Tokyo like nothing more than a good night out! If you want the lowdown on the best local restaurants, they’re a much better source than the internet.”
Yoriko laughed. “That was when the commissioner told me how he had brought in a rather ‘interesting’ new detective from another precinct. I asked him what exactly he meant by ‘interesting.’ He said that the detective in question was very sharp, very eccentric, and, to top it all off, very stubborn. I imagine he was talking about you, Detective Kaga?”
“Heaven only knows...”
The waiter placed a glass of Guinness in front of Kaga. “Today’s been another hard day,” he said, lifting the glass to his lips.
“Cheers,” said Yoriko, as she took a sip of her gin.
Kaga sighed contentedly.
“You look just as good in western clothes as you do in your kimono; either way, you’re every inch the sophisticated, grown-up lady.”
“Don’t tease me.”
“I’m not. All right, maybe I am being a touch ironic.”
Yoriko put her glass down on the counter. “What do you mean?”
“What I’m trying to say, I guess, is that you seem to have a slightly childish aspect to your character — an immature side that takes pleasure in silly practical jokes.”
“Detective Kaga.” Yoriko swung around to face the detective full on. “If you’ve got something you want to say, then come out and say it. Patience isn’t one of my virtues.”
“I beg your pardon. Shall we get down to brass tacks? I’m talking about the Kodenmacho murder, of course.”
“Are you’re implying that we have something to do with it?”
“Let me go through this in the proper order. As I said the other day, we found some traditional small cakes at the crime scene, but we don’t yet know who purchased them. There were three sets of fingerprints on the container: the victim’s; the store clerk’s; and a third, as yet unidentified, person’s.”
“Shuhei’s already told me. They weren’t his fingerprints either, were they?”
“No, they weren’t.”
“That’s what puzzles me. If they’re not his, then why come sniffing around our restaurant, Detective? Loads of people buy snack cakes from that shop. I bet Shuhei isn’t the only one to have bought a mixed selection. Wouldn’t it make more sense for you to start investigating other people?”
“That’s precisely why I want to talk to you. As you say, Shuhei wasn’t the only customer to order a mixed selection of cakes, nor were his prints on the container. That’s why the guys from the Metropolitan Police were so quick to cross him off their list. In fact, I got the impression that they never really thought the person who bought the cakes was our murderer.”
“What?” Yoriko’s mouth was half open.
“Several places in the victim’s apartment were wiped down,” said Kaga in a jocular tone, before taking another swig of beer.
“Which means?”
“Which means that the murderer was careful to wipe down anything that he remembered touching. Which means that if the murderer and the purchaser of the snack cakes were one and the same person, he would definitely not have forgotten about the fingerprints on the plastic container. However, we could find no evidence of the plastic container having been wiped down.”
“Aha, I see.”
Yoriko looked into Kaga’s swarthy face.
“In that case, Detective, why have you got such an almighty bee in your bonnet about the cakes? If they aren’t connected to the crime, then what does it matter who bought the things?”
“That’s not the how police investigations work. We have to sift through every little detail, asking ourselves why such and such a thing occurred. That will eventually lead us to the truth, even if all those individual things have no direct connection to one another.”
Yoriko’s glass was empty. She called the waiter and ordered a refill.
“Shuhei claims to have eaten all the cakes himself. It’s not very professional of him, ducking out of work to stuff himself with sweets,” Yoriko said.
“You really shouldn’t give him a hard time. He didn’t eat the cakes himself,” declared Kaga emphatically.
“How can you be so sure? This isn’t making any sense.”
“I almost think you mean it. But I’ll tell you what you really can’t make sense of: the fact that the cakes Shuhei bought ended up in the murdered woman’s apartment.”
Yoriko felt slightly alarmed. How had Kaga guessed her thoughts? She quickly regained her composure.
“Like I said before, if there’s something you want to say to me, then come right out and say it.”
Kaga slowly pulled himself upright on his stool and looked straight at her.
“Fine. Let’s start from the conclusion: the cakes at the crime scene were the ones Shuhei bought. How can I be so categorical about that? Because one of the cakes had something very distinctive about it. I think you know what I’m talking about?”
Yoriko swallowed and looked away.
Kaga giggled.
“It threw our forensics guys for a loop. They were like, what’s this all about? I was pretty surprised when they told me that one of the cakes was spiked with wasabi. Unbelievable!”
A second gin and bitters was placed in front of Yoriko. She picked it up and turned toward Kaga.
“This sounds like a most amusing story. I promise not to interrupt. Go ahead and talk me through it nice and slowly.”
“Would it be all right? For me to order another drink too, I mean?” Kaga plunked his empty glass down on the counter.
Yoriko took a cigarette and a lighter out of her handbag. This hotel bar was the only place she ever smoked. Since becoming the co-owner and manager of Matsuya, she was careful never to smoke in front of other people.
“One of the cakes at the crime scene was spiked with wasabi. Whoever did it didn’t just cut a slit to inject the wasabi — they went so far as to conceal the slit by filling it with starch paste. It’s hardly worth pointing out that wasabi-flavored cakes are not available at the store, meaning that someone must have tampered with it later. Was it the murder victim? Was it the person who gave the cakes to her? Or was it someone else entirely? We have some scientific data that should help us figure out the answer to that question. According to our forensics team’s analysis, the cake with the wasabi was a little older than the others — it was a little drier and a little harder, to be precise. Forensics reckon that it was baked at least a day before all the others. What does that tell us? That the perpetrator — I’m referring here to the crime of ‘wasabi spiking’ — didn’t add the wasabi to one of the freshly purchased snack cakes but prepared a doctored cake in advance, which they then swapped out for one of the newer ones. That means that cakes must have been purchased on two occasions on two successive days. I went to the shop to check up on this. When I inquired if any of the customers who’d bought the mixed snack cake selection on the day of the murder had also made a purchase on the previous day, the store clerk couldn’t think of anyone who fit the bill... but she did tell me something else rather intriguing.”
Another Guinness was placed in front of Kaga. He took a little sip, as if to wet the tip of his tongue. Wiping the foam from his lips with the back of his hand, he looked at Yoriko.
“She told me that the young apprentice from Matsuya came to the store only on the second day and that the owner had come the day before. As the owner of a famous old restaurant, everyone in the area knows and recognizes you.”