‘No, I’m fine,’ Ayane said, straightening. ‘Only, if I could change, that would be nice. I’ve been in the same clothes since last night.’ She was wearing a dark-coloured suit.
‘Since last night?’ Kusanagi asked.
‘Yes, I was hoping to find a quicker way back to Tokyo, so I got dressed for the trip ahead of time.’
‘Then you haven’t slept at all?’
‘I couldn’t have even if I’d tried.’
‘Well, that won’t do,’ Mamiya said. ‘You should probably rest before we continue.’
‘No, I’m fine. I’ll change and come right back down,’ Ayane said, standing.
Kusanagi watched her leave the room, then turned to Mamiya. ‘What do we know about the poison?’
Mamiya nodded. ‘There were traces of arsenous acid in the coffee.’
Kusanagi’s eyes opened wide. ‘Arsenous acid? Like in that school curry poisoning case?’
‘Forensics thinks the particular compound used here was sodium arsenite. From the concentration in the coffee, Mr Mashiba drank well over a lethal dose. We should have more accurate autopsy results by the afternoon, but arsenous acid poisoning fits with the condition that the body was found in.’
Kusanagi nodded, sighing. The possibility of this being an accidental death was rapidly approaching zero.
‘But if it’s true that Mr Mashiba never made his own coffee, who made that cup?’ Mamiya said, half to himself, but loud enough that everyone could hear.
Utsumi suddenly spoke up: ‘I think he did make his own coffee.’
‘How do you know that?’ Mamiya asked.
‘Because we have a witness who says he did,’ Utsumi continued, after a glance in Kusanagi’s direction. ‘Ms Waka yama.’
‘Oh yeah, what was she saying about the coffee?’ Kusan -agi thought back on their conversation the day before.
‘Remember the saucers? I asked her if Mr Mashiba wasn’t in the habit of using a saucer when he drank coffee. Ms Wakayama indicated that she didn’t think he did use a saucer when he was drinking alone.’
‘Now that you mention it, I overheard that conversation myself,’ Mamiya said, nodding. ‘The question now becomes, assuming Ms Wakayama wasn’t making things up, how does the wife’s apprentice know something about the husband that the wife does not?’
‘There’s probably something I should tell you,’ Kusanagi said, leaning over to whisper to him about their hunch that Hiromi Wakayama and Yoshitaka Mashiba had more than a passing acquaintance.
Mamiya’s glance flicked back and forth between his two subordinates, and he grinned. ‘You both think so, too?’
‘What, you knew about it, Chief?’ Kusanagi raised an eyebrow.
‘When you’ve been doing this as many years as I have, you notice things. I was pretty sure something was up yesterday.’ Mamiya tapped the side of his head with a finger.
‘Um, would someone mind explaining what’s going on?’ Kishitani asked.
‘I’ll tell you later,’ Mamiya said, turning back to Kusanagi. ‘Nobody says anything in front of the wife, agreed?’
Kusanagi and Utsumi nodded.
‘So the poison was in the coffee on the floor?’ Kusanagi asked.
‘And one other place as well.’
‘Do tell.’
‘The paper filter still in the dripper. Specifically, in the used coffee grounds.’
‘So they mixed the poison in with the coffee while they were making it?’ Kishitani asked.
‘That’s one possibility. There is one other possibility to consider, however,’ Mamiya said, raising a finger.
‘They could have mixed the poison in with the ground coffee beans ahead of time,’ Utsumi said.
Mamiya beamed at her. ‘Exactly. The ground coffee was in the refrigerator. Forensics couldn’t find anything in the bag, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t there. There could have been just enough poison on the top layer for him to scoop out with the coffee.’
‘So, when was the coffee poisoned?’ Kusanagi asked.
‘Don’t know. Forensics snagged a bunch of used filters out of the trash, but there wasn’t any poison in them. Not that I would expect to find any in them, because that would mean someone had already used a poisoned filter, and we’d have another body.’
‘There was an unwashed coffee cup in the sink,’ Utsumi said. ‘I’d like to know when that coffee was drunk. And who drank it, for that matter.’
Mamiya wet his lips. ‘We already know. Fingerprints got two matches. One was Yoshitaka Mashiba, the other was exactly who you think it was.’
Kusanagi and Utsumi exchanged glances. Apparently, their theory already had back-up evidence.
‘Chief, I should mention that we’re expecting Ms Wakayama to come here at any moment,’ Kusanagi said, and told him about the phone call in the car.
Long wrinkles formed in the space between Mamiya’s eyebrows. He nodded. ‘Sounds like an opportunity, then. You can ask her when she drank that coffee. And get specifics. None of this “Oh, the other day” stuff.’
‘On it,’ Kusanagi said.
The four fell silent at the sound of footsteps on the stairs.
‘Thanks for waiting,’ Ayane said as she reached the living room. She was wearing a light blue shirt over black trousers. She didn’t look quite as pale as she had on the way from the airport, though that may have been due to a little make-up retouch.
‘If you’re sure you’re not too tired, we’d like to ask a few more questions,’ Mamiya said.
‘Certainly. What else can I help you with?’
‘Please, take a seat.’ The chief waved in the direction of the sofa.
Ayane sat down, her gaze wandering to the garden beyond the sliding glass doors.
‘Look at them, all wilted,’ she said. ‘I asked my husband to water them, but he was never that interested in flowers. I should have known.’
Kusanagi joined her in looking at the garden. Flowers of various colours were blooming in pots and long planters.
‘I’m sorry,’ Ayane said, half standing from the sofa. ‘Could I water them? I don’t think I’ll be able to focus otherwise.’
Mamiya looked taken aback for a brief moment, then smiled. ‘Of course. We’re not in any hurry here.’
She rose and went not over to the glass doors, but into the kitchen. Kusanagi glanced in after her and saw that she was filling a large bucket with water from the tap.
‘No hose in the garden?’ he asked.
Ayane looked around and smiled. ‘This is for the flowers on the balcony,’ she said. ‘There’s no sink on the second floor.’
‘Oh, right.’ Kusanagi recalled how, the day before, he had seen Utsumi looking up at the potted plants on the second-floor balcony.
Full of water, the bucket looked rather heavy. Kusanagi offered to carry it.
‘It’s all right, I can manage.’
‘No, really, allow me,’ the detective insisted. ‘Up the stairs here, right?’
‘Thank you,’ Ayane said in a voice so quiet he almost didn’t hear her.
The master bedroom wasn’t quite as big as the living room downstairs, but it was still large. A wide patchwork tapestry hung over the bed. Kusanagi found his eyes drawn to the vivid bands of colour.
‘This one of yours?’
‘From a while back, yes.’
‘It’s really impressive. It’s probably just my own ignorance, but when I heard “patchwork” I was picturing something simple, like embroidery. But this, this is fine art.’
‘I like to think of it as a practical art. Patchwork is about making things that are of use in our daily lives. And why not make everyday items look beautiful?’
‘You have quite a talent. I can only imagine how much work it is.’
‘It does take a lot of time, and a certain amount of persistence. But it’s fun, making them. In fact, if you don’t have fun doing it, you wind up with something that isn’t fun to look at.’