“Were you here at the time?”
“Yes, me and Grandma — I mean, my grandmother — were minding the store.”
Kaga nodded.
“A couple of detectives from the Tokyo Metropolitan Police would like to talk to you about his visit. Would it be all right if I called them in?”
The words Tokyo Metropolitan Police evoked a twinge of fear. The Tokyo Metropolitan Police were the municipal police, and they were in charge of more serious crimes.
“I... uhm...” Naho glanced across at her father.
“Yes, of course. Has something happened?” asked Fumitaka.
“Just something we need to check up on. Won’t take a moment.”
“I see. Fine, go ahead. Shall I call my mother?”
“You mean this young woman’s grandmother?” said Kaga, darting a look in Naho’s direction. “That would be very helpful, yes.”
“Got you,” said Fumitaka, disappearing into the room at the back of the store.
Kaga gestured at the two men waiting outside. They had tough, weather-beaten faces. Naho had no idea what sort of age they were. If she had to classify them, she’d have to go with “geezer.” They had geezer hair and geezer clothes, with big, fat faces and beer bellies to top it all off. They introduced themselves to Naho, but their names went in one ear and out the other.
The older-looking of the two detectives began asking questions as soon as Fumitaka reappeared with Satoko.
“We have been informed that this gentleman paid you a visit yesterday. Can you confirm that is correct?” asked the detective, holding out a photograph. It showed Takura with a meek expression on his face.
“Yes, that’s correct,” said Naho and Satoko in chorus.
“Around what time was that?” asked the detective.
“What time do you think it was?” asked Satoko, turning to Naho.
“Six or six thirty — something like that.”
“You’re sure it wasn’t before six?” asked the detective.
“Oh, maybe you’re right.” Naho clapped her hand to her mouth. “I’m really not sure. It was still light outside, I think.”
“It stays light until around seven at this time of year,” the detective said. “Anyway, I take it you’re not sure about the exact time?”
“Down to the exact minute and the hour... no,” said Satoko dubiously.
“And what was Mr. Takura here for?”
“It was with regard to the paperwork necessary to file a claim for my recent hospitalization. He needed my medical certificate, apparently, so I gave it to him.”
“And how long did he stay here?”
“Let’s see.” Satoko thought for a moment. “Ten minutes or so, I reckon.”
Naho silently nodded her agreement. She was watching Kaga, who was inspecting the rice crackers in the glass display case and appeared to have no interest in the conversation.
“Did he say where he was going next?” the geezer detective went on.
“Back to the office. To take care of the paperwork for my claim, he said.”
“That makes sense.” The detective nodded. “How did he look?”
“What do you mean?”
“Did Mr. Takura look any different from normal?”
“He didn’t, did he?” Satoko glanced at Naho for confirmation.
“He had on a different suit,” Naho ventured. “The time before his suit was navy blue, but yesterday it was gray. It suited him better. That’s why I remember it.”
“I’m not talking about his clothes. Was he on edge? Did you get the impression he was in a hurry? Anything like that?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
Despite seeming a little disappointed at Naho’s responses, the detective squeezed out a smile in an effort to keep things friendly.
“So to sum up, you don’t recall the precise time when Mr. Takura was here. It could have been before six, and it could have been after six. Can I safely say, ‘sometime between five thirty and six thirty’?”
“That sounds reasonable,” replied Naho, looking at her grandmother.
“Good. Thank you very much for making time to talk to us.”
“Excuse my asking, but is Mr. Takura all right?” Naho asked.
“Let’s just say that this is an ongoing inquiry and leave it at that.” The detective jerked his eyebrows at Kaga, who thanked the family and bowed at them.
The three men left the store.
“I hope this hasn’t got anything to do with what happened at Kodenmacho,” blurted out her father.
“What do you mean?” Naho asked.
“Haven’t you seen the papers?” Fumitaka frowned. “A good barber should always read the papers.”
“I’m not going to be a barber, Dad,” protested Naho. She darted back into the living quarters and opened the newspaper.
The crime Fumitaka had referred to was featured on the local news page. The body of a forty-five-year-old woman who lived alone had been found in her apartment in the Kodenmacho area. She’d been strangled. The fact that the room showed no signs of a struggle suggested that she knew her attacker. The local police and Tokyo Metropolitan Police were treating the incident as a homicide.
“There’s no way that Mr. Takura was involved in that. The man’s a true-born Tokyoite with our natural dislike for anything underhand,” Satoko said. She was standing next to Naho, reading the paper over her shoulder.
“From the questions the detective was asking just now, my guess is he was checking up on Mr. Takura’s alibi. Doesn’t that mean he’s a suspect?”
“Oh, come off it. It doesn’t matter what the police think. By testifying that Mr. Takura was here yesterday, we cleared him.”
“But remember how insistent they were about the exact time he was here. That has to be important.”
“Can you really not remember the precise time?” said Fumitaka, sticking his face through the door from the shop.
“We only know that it was sometime between half past five and half past six. We can’t be any more precise than that.”
“You’re useless, you two.”
“That’s not fair. I mean, it’s not like you know what you’re doing every minute of every day either, Dad.”
Eager to avoid a confrontation, Fumitaka pulled his head back out of the doorway.
“Well, I, for one, am very worried.” Satoko knit her brows. “I just hope they can clear Mr. Takura very soon.”
After dinner, Naho went to close the electric-operated roller shutter in the front of the store. It was about halfway down when she noticed a man standing on the other side of it. She automatically pressed the stop button.
The man bent down and peered up from under the shutter. It was Detective Kaga. Their eyes met, and he grinned and ducked under the shutter and into the store.
“Can you spare a minute?”
“Uh... yes. Shall I call my father?”
“No, just you is fine. There’s one thing I need to double-check.”
“What?”
“It’s about what Mr. Takura was wearing — you said he had a suit on, right?”
“Yes. A gray suit. And the time before it was dark blue.”
Kaga smiled sheepishly and waved her remark away.
“I don’t care about the color. Do you remember if he had his suit jacket on when he was here?”
“He did, yes.”
“Really? I thought as much from what you said about him looking good in it.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Not quite sure myself yet, but thanks anyway.” Kaga plucked a packet of rice crackers off the shelf. “These look nice. I’ll take them.” He handed Naho 630 yen.
“Thanks.”
“Right. Good night, then.” Kaga ducked back under the shutter and out onto the street.
Naho just stood there blankly for a while, then walked over to the shutter switch. Before pressing it again, she squatted down and surveyed the street outside.