I explained that payments to and from his accounts had been reviewed as part of the original divorce settlement. Mineko’s answer was to suggest that perhaps Kiyose was using company money. It would be simple enough for him, as company president, to set up an account for her under a plausible-sounding name and direct money to it. That was totally out of the question, I countered. If he were doing anything like that, I’d be the first to know. I was the person who had to sign off on the accounts.
But Mineko wouldn’t listen. I was a friend of her ex-husband, she argued, so maybe I was covering for him? She wanted the company’s books to be audited. My guess is that she planned to hire another accountant to do the audit.
I started to get a bad feeling: it looked like things were heading south fast.
Sure enough, my worst fears came true when Mineko started talking about the shell company we had set up twenty-some years ago. She wanted someone to investigate its accounts for her. When the Kiyoses negotiated their divorce settlement, the shell company had been classified as a “tangible asset belonging to the main company.” As such, it was off the table.
I managed to keep a calm exterior, but inside I was in a state of complete panic. Things were going on with that shell company that I didn’t want anyone else finding out about.
I’d been helping myself to money from the CEO account — the one in Mineko’s name — for several years. But that wasn’t the half of it. Kiyose had signed over control of all the shell company’s accounts to me. Taking advantage of that, I’d diverted monies way in excess of what he owed me for handling his taxes to my own company’s account. It was probably around thirty million yen, all told.
All the money I embezzled went to pay off my debts. Not only was my accounting business doing poorly, I’d also dug myself into a major hole with my gambling habit. I always hoped I could repay the money before anyone noticed it was gone. I couldn’t, though.
Anyway, Mineko and I went our separate ways, after arranging to meet at the same café in a week’s time. I was insane with worry. I’d advised her not to mention her plans to anyone for the time being, but I knew that if I didn’t take action, she would eventually get herself a lawyer and approach Kiyose directly. I knew him. Since he had nothing to hide, he would be quite happy to let her poke around all she wanted. That would mean exposure and ruin for me.
The week went by, and I still had no idea what I was going to do. As agreed, Mineko and I met for a second time. She was getting impatient. It was obvious that if I didn’t help her, she’d get in touch with Kiyose herself. Panicking, I promised to have a report ready for her within the next couple of days. In fact, I had no idea what I was really going to do.
I couldn’t catch a wink of sleep that night. I was obsessing over how to deal with Mineko, but still I couldn’t come up with a plan. Time seemed to pass much faster than normal.
I don’t know when the solution came to me. All I can say is that by the time I left my office the next day, I knew exactly what I had to do. The fact that I called my son’s place to say I’d be there at eight is proof of that. I wanted to be sure I had an alibi. Yes, that’s right. The solution that had come to me was that Mineko had to die. It was evil, I know, but what other option did I have?
I set out for Kodenmacho, briefcase in hand. I was already on the subway when I realized my mistake. I didn’t have anything to kill her with. Maybe a strong man can throttle someone bare-handed, but me? No way. I couldn’t expect to chance upon the perfect murder weapon in her apartment, either.
I got off the train and began wandering around looking for a knife. There were all sorts of shops. After a few minutes, I stopped outside a place called Kisamiya. It’s a cutlery shop that’s been in business since the Edo period. They had all these handmade carving knives on display.
The things in Kisamiya were all so sinister and menacing. They freaked me out. There were these monstrous shears that doubled as a sashimi knife. The sight of them made me physically flinch.
I realized that I could never do it with a knife. I needed to kill her quickly, so she wouldn’t be able to run away. Even if I managed to do that with a knife, blood spatter would be a big risk. Disposing of the weapon wouldn’t be easy, either. Above all, buying a knife in a place like that would probably come out during the police investigation.
If knives were out, what weapon should I look for? Strangling seemed like the best option; it would prevent her from crying out and eliminate the risk of blood spatter. I started looking for string. I didn’t want to use my own necktie. I was worried that it might leave fibers on the neck that the police could trace back to me.
String is something you can buy anywhere. I went into a convenience store to buy a roll, but changed my mind when I saw the CCTV cameras. The police were sure to send someone around there when they figured out what kind of string had been used. Quantity was another problem. I needed a meter at most; how was I supposed to get rid of all the string I didn’t use?
Leaving the convenience store, I resumed my wandering, looking for a place that sold string more suited to my purpose. I came across a fabric store that had a wide selection of string and cord. Still, a man like me buying a length of cord and nothing else at a shop was sure to strike people as odd. The clerk would definitely remember me. I went into a few places that sold belts and ties, but my nerve failed. I was convinced that the store clerks would remember me, no matter what I bought or where I bought it.
That was when the tops caught my eye. There was this shop — I didn’t notice its name — with all these wooden toys displayed outside. The tops were there along with everything else.
I was lucky. There was no one near me in the street and no one in the shop, as far as I could tell. I grabbed one of the tops, shoved it into my suit pocket, and hightailed it out of the area. I’d never stolen anything from a shop in my life, and my heart was pounding away for quite a while after.
Once I’d put some distance between myself and the shop, I pulled the string off the top and put the top into my briefcase. The string felt strong enough to strangle someone with. I put it in my pocket and went over to a nearby pay phone. I didn’t use my cell, in order to avoid my number coming up on Mineko’s phone.
Mineko picked up fast. When she expressed surprise about my calling from a pay phone, I lied and told her my cell phone was broken.
She’d been out, she explained, but would be back home in a minute or two.
I asked her if we could meet up at her place. That would be fine, she said, provided we finish up by eight, when a friend of hers was coming over. I assured her that I was already close by and that our business wouldn’t take long at all.
It was probably a little past seven when, doing my best not to be noticed, I slipped into her building, walked up to her apartment, and rang her doorbell. By this point, I’d taken the string out of my pocket and was holding it bunched up in my right hand.
Mineko didn’t suspect a thing. She invited me in. It was just the two of us.
The minute she turned her back on me, I threw the string over her head and pulled it tight, crossing my hands at the back of her neck.
Mineko had no idea what hit her. She hardly even fought back. It must have been a good ten seconds before she began thrashing with her arms and legs. She really struggled, flinging herself this way and that, jerking her head around. She never made so much as a peep, though; perhaps she couldn’t.
Eventually, she just sort of crumpled and collapsed and stopped moving entirely. Doing my best not to look at the body, I unwound the string from around her throat. I opened the front door a crack and peeped into the hallway. There was nobody there, so I slipped out. Using my handkerchief, I wiped my fingerprints off the doorknob and the doorbell.