‘Not a word. She was so busy asking us questions I could barely get a word in edgeways. She wanted to know how her father was doing, how her brother was doing – oh, she has one brother, he’s working in the United States.’
‘So, if she had never visited home,’ Kusanagi went on, ‘I guess you didn’t see much of Mr Mashiba?’
‘That’s true. We went to visit him at his home just before the wedding, but that was the last time we talked at any length. He invited us to visit any time, of course, but with Kazuhiro’s health not being so great, we never seemed to get the chance.’
‘I doubt we met him more than four times in all,’ Kazuhiro said, shrugging.
‘It sounds like they made the decision to get married rather quickly?’
‘I should say. Ayane was thirty, and we were just starting to worry whether she would ever find someone, when she gives us a call to say she’s tying the knot.’ Tokiko displayed a mother’s pout.
According to her parents, Ayane had left for Tokyo eight years earlier – and before that she had gone to a junior college for two years, and spent some time as an exchange student in the UK. Her interest in patchwork started during high school; by graduation she had already received some recognition at professional contests. Her popularity soared when, upon her return from England, she had published a book about patchwork quilting that caught on with a core group of enthusiasts.
‘She was so interested in her work, whenever we’d ask her when she was planning on getting married, she’d tell us she didn’t have any time to be someone’s wife,’ Tokiko said. ‘“I’m so busy, I want a wife of my own,” she’d tell us.’
‘Really.’ Kusanagi chuckled, a bit surprised. ‘She seemed quite good at managing the affairs of the house.’
Kazuhiro shook his head. ‘Being good at crafts doesn’t mean you’re good at housework. When she was still living here, I don’t think she did a single thing around the place, did she, Mama? I don’t think she even cooked for herself when she was living in Tokyo. Alone, I mean, before she got married.’
‘You don’t say?’
‘It’s true,’ Tokiko said. ‘We visited her there a few times, and I’ve never seen a stove that clean. I think she ate out or bought boxed lunches at the convenience stores.’
‘But according to their friends, they put on parties quite regularly, with your daughter cooking.’
‘We heard that, too. Ayane told us. I guess she went to a cooking school before she got married, and picked up a few tricks. We used to say, “I guess she must have found the right man, for her to pick up a pot and spoon.”’
‘And now he’s gone,’ Kazuhiro said, lowering his gaze.
‘Would it be all right for us to visit her?’ the mother asked. ‘We’d like to help out with the arrangements for the funeral and such.’
‘Of course, that’s no problem at all,’ Kusanagi told them. ‘However, I can’t say at this point when we will be able to release the body.’
‘Oh …’ Tokiko muttered.
‘Give Ayane a call and talk to her about it later on,’ Kazuhiro suggested to his wife.
Kusanagi thanked his hosts and prepared to leave. As he was putting on his shoes, he noticed a patchwork jacket hanging from a coat rack in the entryway. It was very long, long enough to reach the knees of an average adult.
‘She made it for us several years ago,’ Tokiko told him. ‘It’s for Kazuhiro to wear in the winter when he goes out to pick up the papers and the mail.’
‘I only wish she hadn’t felt the need to make it so bright,’ Kazuhiro said, though his pleasure was evident.
‘His mother went out once during the wintertime and fell so hard she broke her hip bone. Ayane remembered that story, so she sewed a cushion halfway down,’ Tokiko explained, showing them the inside of the long jacket.
Considerate as always, Kusanagi thought.
Leaving the Mita household behind, he made his way to Lucky Sushi. There was a ‘closed’ sign on the door, but the chef was inside, getting ready for the day. He was a man of about fifty with a crew cut, and he remembered Ayane’s recent visit.
‘It’s been a long time since I’ve seen her around, so I wanted to make it a special night for them. I think they were here until around ten o’clock …’ The chef raised an eyebrow at Kusanagi. ‘Did something happen?’
There was no point in telling the whole city what had happened, so Kusanagi shook his head and gave some vague excuses before leaving. He was scheduled to meet with Utsumi back in the lounge of the hotel by supper. He found her there, in the middle of writing something in her notebook.
‘Did you get anything?’ he asked, sitting down across from her.
‘Well, Ayane did stay at an inn in Jozankei Hot Springs. I talked to one of the caretakers there who said she and her friend seemed to have had a good time.’
‘And Ms Sakiko Motooka?’
‘Met her.’
‘Anything that didn’t fit with what Mrs Mashiba told us?’
Utsumi looked down at the floor for a moment before shaking her head. ‘Nothing at all. Everything happened just like she said.’
‘Same here. She didn’t have time to go to Tokyo and back.’
‘Ms Motooka said that she met up with Mrs Mashiba in the A.M. on Sunday. And her story also confirmed that Mrs Mashiba didn’t notice the message on her phone until later that night.’
‘Sounds pretty ironclad to me,’ Kusanagi said, leaning back in his chair with an eye on the junior detective. ‘Ayane Mashiba’s not our killer. It’s impossible. I know you’re not satisfied with that, but we have to look at the objective truth here.’
Utsumi looked away for a breath, then turned back to Kusanagi. ‘There were a few things that worried me about Ms Motooka’s story.’
‘Such as?’
‘She said it had been a very long time since she last saw Mrs Mashiba. Since at least before she was married.’
‘That fits with what her parents told us.’
‘She said she thought her friend had changed. Before she’d been energetic, edgy, even – but this time she seemed calm. Maybe even a little lacklustre.’
‘So?’ Kusanagi said. ‘It’s likely that Mrs Mashiba was aware of her husband’s infidelity. Maybe she came home to recuperate? I don’t see why any of that should be cause for worry. Like the chief said, we’re only here to find out whether her alibi holds or not, and it does. What else is there?’
‘One other thing,’ Utsumi said, her expression unchanging. ‘She said that she saw Mrs Mashiba turn on her mobile phone several times. She would check it for messages, then turn it right off again.’
‘Saving the batteries. I do that all the time.’
‘You think that’s what it was?’
‘You got another theory?’
‘Maybe she was expecting a call, but she didn’t want to answer it. She preferred to get a message, then call back.’
Kusanagi shook his head. This Utsumi’s a sharp cookie, he thought, but a little stubborn. He looked down at his watch and stood. ‘Let’s go. We’re going to miss our plane.’
NINE
The air in the building was cool down around her feet. The place seemed deserted; her footsteps sounded alarmingly loud despite her soft-soled trainers.
Climbing the stairs, she finally passed someone – a kid wearing glasses. He glanced at her with a look of mild surprise. Probably not a lot of strange women visiting here, Kaoru Utsumi reflected.
It’d already been several months since her previous visit, which had come just after she’d been assigned to the First Investigation Division at the department. They needed a tricky physics question answered to solve a case, and Kusanagi had sent her here for advice. She traced the path from memory.