‘What you were talking about earlier – you really think that Mrs Mashiba knows her husband was cheating on her?’ Kusanagi asked, picking up his cup of hot cocoa. He’d reached his limit on coffee for the day when they were talking to Ms Wakayama.
‘I just said that’s how it felt.’
‘But you do think she knows.’
Utsumi stared into her cup and didn’t reply.
‘If she did know, then why didn’t she confront her husband or Ms Wakayama? She even invited Hiromi to her dinner party. People don’t normally do that, do they?’
‘I’m sure your average woman would lose her head the moment she found out.’
‘But Mrs Mashiba isn’t your average woman?’
‘It’s too early to say, but I have a feeling she’s very smart. Not just that, but she’s patient too.’
‘Patient enough to endure a husband’s infidelity?’
‘I think she understands that she had nothing to gain by going on the offensive. In fact, she would lose two important things: a stable married life and a talented apprentice.’
‘Sure, but she couldn’t just put up with her husband’s lover hanging around forever. You think a marriage of pretences is that valuable?’
‘I think everyone’s idea of value is different. There’s no evidence of domestic violence, for one, and things were apparently smooth enough within their marriage – on the surface, at least – for them to host a party. She had no financial worries and she could spend all the time she wanted to on her patchwork – she’s not stupid enough to throw all that away on an impulse. Maybe she thought that, ultimately, it made more sense to wait for the affair between her husband and her student to run its course and end naturally.
‘At least – that’s what I imagine, anyway. I could be wrong.’
Kusanagi took a sip of his hot cocoa and grimaced. It was too sweet. He quickly chased it with a swig of water. ‘She doesn’t look like the calculating type.’
‘It’s not a calculation. It’s a smart woman’s instinct for self defence.’
Kusanagi wiped his mouth with one hand and looked at the junior detective. ‘Do you have those instincts, too, Utsumi?’
She chuckled and shook her head. ‘I’m afraid not. If my husband were cheating on me I’d probably go ballistic.’
‘I feel sorry for the guy already. Anyway, I don’t understand how anyone can go on living a regular married life when they know their partner’s unfaithful.’
He glanced at his watch. It had already been thirty minutes since his conversation with Yukiko Ikai.
The Ikai residence was as upper-class as the Mashibas’, with a large gate sporting decorative posts covered in brick-shaped tiles. Right next to the gate was an extra garage for visitors, which saved Utsumi the trouble of having to find parking.
Yukiko Ikai and her husband, Tatsuhiko, were waiting for their visitors inside. Apparently, she had called her husband after Kusanagi talked to her and he had hurried home.
‘Everything all right at the office?’ Kusanagi asked.
‘We’ve got a great team, so I’m not worried. I’m not looking forward to explaining this to our clients, though. Speaking of which …’ He looked up at the two detectives. ‘What did happen? What’s going on?’
‘Yoshitaka Mashiba passed away at home.’
‘I know that. But if the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department is involved, then this is something more than an accident or suicide, isn’t it?’
Kusanagi gave a little sigh, remembering that he was talking to a lawyer who likely wouldn’t settle for the usual vague explanations – and who, if he really wanted to, would have other ways of finding out what he wanted to know if they tried to stonewall him. After emphasizing that all facts pertaining to the case were to be kept secret, Kusanagi told the Ikais about the poisoning, and that arsenous acid had been found in the coffee Mr Mashiba had been drinking.
Yukiko, sitting next to Tatsuhiko on the sofa, put both hands to the sides of her round face. Her eyes were wide and a little red. She was somewhat on the plump side; Kusanagi wondered whether she had always been that way, or whether it was because she had just had a baby.
Tatsuhiko ran his hands back across his head. His hair was slightly curly, as though he had got a perm some time ago and it was beginning to fade. ‘Well, that explains that,’ he said. ‘When I heard that the police had been called, and there was going to be an autopsy, I thought something was up. That, and I couldn’t imagine him committing suicide.’
‘But you could imagine him being murdered?’
‘I don’t know what other people might think of him. Still, poison’s no way to go …’ He frowned and shook his head.
‘Is there anyone who might have had ill will for Mr Mashiba?’
‘If you’re asking me whether he ever butted heads with people, then I couldn’t say no. As far as I’m aware, though, what conflicts he had were strictly about business. I doubt he ever gave anyone reason to dislike him personally. Whenever there was trouble, it tended to be me they pushed out to the front line, not him,’ Tatsuhiko explained, jabbing his thumb towards his own chest.
‘What about outside the office? Did Mr Mashiba have any enemies in his personal life?’ Kusanagi asked.
Tatsuhiko leaned back on the sofa and crossed his legs. ‘I can’t say. He and I were close business partners, but we tended not to pry into each other’s private lives.’
‘But he did invite you to parties at his home.’
Tatsuhiko shook his head dismissively. ‘He invited us to his parties precisely because we don’t pry. It’s more convenient that way. These are the lengths to which we busy people have to go in order to attain some semblance of a normal life.’
In other words, he didn’t have time to lounge around with mere ‘friends’.
‘Did you notice anything out of the ordinary when you were at the Mashibas’ house on Friday night?’
‘If you mean did I expect something like this would happen, then the answer is no. It was a good party. We had fun.’ Tatsuhiko furrowed his brow. ‘Hard to believe that was only three days ago.’
‘Did Mr Mashiba mention any plans to meet with anyone over the weekend?’
‘Nothing I heard,’ Tatsuhiko said, looking over at his wife.
‘I didn’t hear anything, either. Just that Ayane was going back home …’
Kusanagi nodded, scratching his temple with the back of a ballpoint pen. He was growing increasingly certain he wasn’t going to get any useful information from the Ikais.
‘Did you go to parties with the Mashibas often?’ Utsumi asked.
‘Once every two or three months.’
‘Was it always at their house?’
‘We invited them here once, right after they got married. Since then, the parties were always at their house, with Yukiko being pregnant and all.’
‘Did you know Ayane before she married Mr Mashiba?’
‘Sure. I was there when they first met, actually.’
‘Where did they meet?’
‘Mashiba and I were at this little party that she happened to be at – they started dating after that.’
‘When was this?’
‘Well …’ Tatsuhiko scratched the back of his neck. ‘About a year and a half ago? No, maybe a little more recently.’
‘But they married a year ago,’ Kusanagi cut in. ‘That was fast.’
‘I suppose it was.’
‘Mr Mashiba wanted kids,’ Yukiko put in. ‘It took him a while to find the right person, and I think he was getting a little impatient.’