The detectives looked at each other. The 7 Section of the X Ministry was currently being investigated on charges of bribery and almost every day some item concerning the scandal appeared in the papers.
"Any last messages?" the chief asked.
"We've searched very carefully. There was nothing in any of his pockets. Less than ten thousand yen in cash, a handkerchief, a shoehorn, yesterday's newspaper, folded, and this crumpled receipt from a railway dining car-that was all we could find."
"A dining car receipt? What an odd thing to keep." The chief picked it up and carefully smoothed away the creases. It was crumpled as though carelessly left at the bottom of the pocket. "The receipt is dated January 14," the chief read. "The train number is 7 and it's punched for one person. The bill amounted to 340 yen. The receipt was issued by the Tokyo branch of the Japan Restaurant Co. But it doesn't say what he ordered."
"How about the woman?" someone asked. Her identity had also been established. In a folding pocketbook containing 8,000 yen were four or five business cards that read: "Tokyo, Akasaka, Restaurant Koyuki, Otoki."
"Otoki must be her name," the chief remarked. "She was probably a waitress at the Koyuki Restaurant in Akasaka. This looks like the love suicide of a government official and a restaurant waitress." He ordered telegrams sent to the addresses on both cards.
The bodies were examined further by the police doctor. There were no superficial wounds. The cause of the deaths was clearly from poisoning by potassium cyanide, and the presumed time of death was between nine and eleven o'clock of the previous night. "That means that they were walking on the beach at that hour, then committed suicide," said one of the detectives.
"They must have taken a long time saying goodbye," another one remarked pointedly. However, a medical examination showed no signs of intercourse prior to their death. This surprised the detectives. "They died remarkably innocent," one of them remarked cynically. Again it was confirmed that both deaths were from poisoning by potassium cyanide.
"They must have left Tokyo on the fourteenth," said the chief, checking the date on the dining car receipt. "Today is the twenty-first. Which means they left a week ago. I suppose they stopped off somewhere on the way, then came to Fukuoka to look for a place to die. Say, call the station and find out what this 'train number 7' means."
One of the detectives went to the telephone. He soon returned with the report. "The train is the super-express from Tokyo to Hakata. It's called the Asakaze."
"What, the super-express to Hakata?" The chief looked skeptical. "I wonder if they came directly to Hakata. If so, they either stayed the whole week in Hakata or visited other parts of Kyushu. They must have had some baggage; we must look into that. Take their pictures and check all the inns and hotels in the city. See if anyone recognizes them."
One of the men spoke up. "Chief, may I see that dining car receipt?" It was the thin, dark-skinned detective, the small man with the big eyes and the unshaven face. He had been in the original group that went to Kashii Bay when the bodies were discovered. His suit was as shabby as his overcoat, and his frayed necktie was askew. His name was Jūtarō Torigai and he was one of the senior detectives.
Torigai studied the receipt which he had unfolded with his bony and not very clean fingers. He was muttering to himself, "For one person, eh! I suppose he dined alone."
The chief overheard him. "The woman didn't accompany him to the dining car probably because she didn't care to eat."
"But…" objected Torigai.
"But what?" asked his superior.
"But chief, a woman likes to eat, you know. Even if she's not hungry she'll usually go along with her escort and have a cup of coffee or some dessert with him."
The chief laughed. "That's true," he said, "but maybe this time she was so full she couldn't manage even that."
Torigai looked as if he were about to say something, but he changed his mind. He put on his hat, a very old hat with a floppy brim that seemed to match his personality, and quietly walked away. He was wearing a pair of shoes that were down at the heels, and he dragged his feet as he walked.
When the detectives had left, the room regained its air of emptiness and futility. One or two of the younger men remained behind; they put more charcoal in the brazier and every once in a while filled the teacup on the chief's desk.
Later in the afternoon, as the sun's rays, filtering through the window, grew weaker, footsteps resounded outside and the room suddenly filled with people. These were not policemen but newspaper reporters.
"Chief! A certain Sayama, assistant section chief in a Tokyo ministry, died in a love suicide. We were just notified by our head office and rushed over." Their voices betrayed their excitement as they pushed their way into the room. The Tokyo newspapers had immediately assumed a connection between the political scandal and the suicides and had alerted their offices in Fukuoka.
The morning papers carried in big headlines the news of the love suicide of Kenichi Sayama, assistant section chief of X Ministry, and a restaurant waitress. In addition to the two newspapers that have the largest nationwide circulation, the important local papers reported the news in detail. It was not an ordinary case of double suicide. The deaths were linked with the bribery case in a government ministry. All the papers broadly hinted that Sayama's death was connected with the scandal. The Public Prosecutor's Office was quoted as saying that Sayama had not been summoned to appear; nevertheless, according to the stories in the press, it was certain that Sayama would have been called up as a witness and that he had committed suicide out of fear that the scandal would involve people higher up.
These newspapers were stacked on the chief's desk. The chief himself was looking over the contents of a small leather suitcase.
The suitcase had been discovered as a result of a thorough check, lasting through most of the night, of the inns in Fukuoka City. It had been found by a young detective at an inn called Tambaya. The inn reported that the man, identified by the picture the detective carried with him, had been a recent guest. In the register he was listed as Taizō Sugawara, 32, a businessman; address: 26 Minami Nakadōri, Fujisawa City. He had been alone from the night of the fifteenth until he departed on the night of the twentieth, after paying his bill. At that time, he had left the suitcase behind, saying that he would pick it up later.
The suitcase contained only such ordinary things as toilet articles, extra shirts and underwear and a few magazines that had probably been bought on the train. There was not even a notebook, let alone a letter or a farewell note.
When he finished examining the suitcase the chief turned to the young detective who had brought it to the station. "Did you say the man was alone?" he asked.
"Yes, he was alone."
"That's strange! What happened to the woman? I wonder where she was all that time. The fifteenth is when the Asakaze arrived from Tokyo. That whole week, from the fifteenth to the twentieth, did the man remain at the inn the entire time?"
"He didn't go out at all, apparently. He was alone at the inn."
"Didn't the woman show up at any time?"
"I was told that no one called on him."
While this conversation was taking place, Detective Torigai quietly left the room. Taking his old hat, he went out on tiptoe so as not to disturb anyone. Outside, he boarded a streetcar and sat down. He looked absentmindedly at the passing scenery through the window across the aisle. When the car reached a certain stop, he got off. His movements were as careful as those of an old man.
He turned many corners. His steps were very deliberate. Presently he came to a building which bore the sign "Tambaya." From the entrance he could see the well-polished hall and corridors. The hotel clerk greeted him with a low bow, straightening up rather quickly when he saw the police card.