“That seems a reasonable assumption, yes.”
“Which means...” Uesugi thought a moment. “That things would get really interesting if we could locate the shop where Kishida got the braided string.”
“That’s why I’ve been trying to find the place,” rejoined Kaga.
“Did you succeed?”
“Perhaps.” Kaga nodded a couple of times. “We should know for sure in two or three days.”
5
The hands of the clock stood at half past six.
Uesugi and several other investigators were sitting in a car parked at the curb, keeping an eye on the lobby of the building next to them. Kishida’s office was in the building, and Kishida was inside. Another team had the back door under surveillance.
An arrest warrant for Kishida hadn’t yet been issued. The plan today was to bring him in for voluntary questioning. Once in custody, Uesugi was convinced, it would only be a matter of time before the man confessed.
Kaga had come across a new batch of tops in Ningyocho. They came in three sizes: small, medium, and large, and he’d brought the shop’s whole stock, boxes and all. He found them on display in the street outside a traditional Japanese handicrafts store. All the tops at this shop had braided string.
“Finding just the string for a top isn’t easy. My guess was that Kishida bought a brand-new top just for the string that came with it. Since he’d be reluctant to buy a second top from the shop where he stole the first one, I tried hunting down another place that sold wooden spinning tops.”
As the string that came with each size of top was different, Kaga speculated that Kishida must have examined a number of them in an effort to find the one with the best string to go with his original top.
Kaga’s hunch was right. When forensics checked the boxes, they found fingerprints that matched the prints that had been lifted from Kishida’s business card on many of them.
The last question that needed to be cleared up was why Kishida felt compelled to give the top to his grandson and had gone to such lengths to do so. Kaga had a theory about that, too.
“Something must have happened involving the top when Kishida went over to his son and daughter-in-law’s place on June tenth. He would never have gone to such lengths otherwise.”
But what could that “something” be? Kaga was currently at Katsuya Kishida’s apartment doing his best to get an answer. He was pretty confident that he’d be able to extract the necessary information from the wife, Reiko.
A call came in to Uesugi’s cell phone at 6:30 on the dot.
“Uesugi here,” Uesugi said.
“Hi, this is Kaga. I’ve just left Katsuya Kishida’s apartment.”
“Did the wife tell you what you needed to know?”
“Sure did. I was right. Yosaku Kishida had a spinning top in his briefcase on the evening of the tenth, the same kind of top that was shoplifted. His grandson found it when he was digging around inside.”
Although Kaga delivered this explanation at breakneck speed, Uesugi managed to follow.
“Okay. So he was forced into a corner: he had to give the top to his grandson.”
“I discreetly let Reiko Kishida know that the string was different and Kishida’s alibi meaningless. I’m prepared to bet that she’s on the phone right now, either to her father-in-law or her husband.”
“Got it. Leave the rest to me.”
Uesugi hung up.
It was about ten minutes later that Yosaku Kishida emerged from the building. He was looking tense. The shadows cast by the low evening sun only deepened the lines on his face.
Uesugi signaled to his crew. All the detectives got out of the car and marched over to Kishida.
He did not respond when they blocked his way. He glanced up at Uesugi vaguely, as if his mind was somewhere else. Eventually the detective’s presence registered: Kishida’s eyes widened, but he still said nothing.
“Mr. Kishida?” said Uesugi. “We’d like to ask you a few questions. Could you come with us, please?”
Kishida’s jaw fell, and his eyes goggled. With his haggard, sunken cheeks, he looked more like a death’s-head than a human being.
A moment later his whole body sagged. He buckled at the knees and crashed wordlessly to the ground.
6
The Statement of Yosaku Kishida
It was twenty-seven years ago that Naohiro Kiyose first contacted me. We’d gone to college together, though he was in the year before me. He was setting up a cleaning company and wanted my help. I had only just started my own accounting practice; as business was still in short supply, I accepted his offer without a second thought. Knowing his character and his abilities, I was pretty confident that any business Kiyose launched was likely to succeed.
His business did succeed and on a scale beyond my wildest dreams. I hadn’t realized how much demand there was for a cleaning service. His company expanded very rapidly.
Soon after Kiyose’s marriage, we decided to set up a second company, a dummy company, as a tax shelter. He appointed Mineko, his wife, as nominal CEO of this new entity. She had to be paid a salary, of course. I opened a special bank account: it was in her name, but I was the one who managed it. The plan was to keep it as a source of emergency funds.
Twenty years passed. The Kiyoses and I remained on friendly terms. If there was any change, it was on their side. As you are aware, the Kiyoses ended up getting divorced. I don’t know much about the reasons. After the divorce, Kiyose hired a former bar hostess called Yuri Miyamoto as his personal secretary, but I’m pretty sure that she wasn’t what caused the divorce.
The two of them got divorced by mutual consent. Mineko hired a lawyer and demanded a fair settlement of assets. Both sides provided the details of their various personal bank accounts for the negotiations. I was there, of course, but largely kept quiet.
I believe that Mineko got a fair settlement. There was no evidence of Mr. Kiyose making any unaccounted-for withdrawals, and Mineko accepted the proposed settlement. So, as far as possible, their divorce was easy. I thought that it was all over and done with, at least as far as money matters were concerned.
I was wrong. Early this month, Mineko called my office. She wanted to get me to check up on something for her. She was adamant that I had to keep it a secret from Kiyose. I had no idea what the whole thing was about.
We met in a café close to Tokyo Station. Mineko seemed lively, far more animated than when she’d been married. It was nice to think that she was finally getting what she wanted out of life.
After a bit of a small talk, Mineko broached the topic she wanted to discuss. It was Yuri Miyamoto. She’d heard rumors about the president’s new secretary and the kind of woman she was. She asked if I thought she was Kiyose’s lover. Earlier I said I didn’t think Yuri Miyamoto was the reason they got divorced. That was because of this conversation: obviously, at the time of the divorce Mineko was unaware of Yuri Miyamoto’s existence.
I said that I didn’t know if they were lovers. And that’s God’s own truth. I still don’t know. With her background as the boss’s favorite hostess, chances are that something was going on, but Kiyose himself never said anything about it to me.
Mineko wasn’t worried about Yuri Miyamoto being her ex-husband’s lover; all she cared about was when their relationship had started. That was when I realized that she planned to sue for compensatory damages if Kiyose had been unfaithful during their marriage.
I reiterated that I knew nothing about Kiyose and Yuri Miyamoto’s relationship. Mineko proposed that we examine the movement of money in his accounts. If the two of them were lovers, she guessed that he’d have been giving her cash and buying her all sorts of expensive things.