Kusanagi flared his nostrils in a sort of triumphant display. ‘You seem to have forgotten that Mr Mashiba didn’t just make coffee on Sunday night. According to Ms Wakayama, he made his own coffee on Saturday night, too. That coffee was too strong, so she showed him how to make it the next morning, right? So we know that as late as Saturday night, there was no poison in that bottle.’
‘How do we know that Mr Mashiba used water from one of the bottles when he made coffee on Saturday night?’
Kusanagi leaned back in his chair and spread his arms wide. ‘Are you suggesting we throw out our assumption that Mr Mashiba demands bottled water for his coffee? His wife’s statement to that effect is the whole reason we’re talking about this at all.’
‘Not throw it out, exactly,’ Utsumi said, keeping her voice even. ‘I just think it’s dangerous to assume what she told us is an absolute. We don’t know how consistent Mr Mashiba was about only using bottled water. It could’ve been a preference, not something he insisted on or even practised with any kind of regularity. Maybe the whole bottled water thing started with an offhand comment that his wife took more seriously than he intended. Not to mention that it was the first time he had actually made coffee in a long while. I can imagine him using water from the tap without thinking about it. They did have a filtration system on their sink.’
Kusanagi shook his head. ‘Twist reality to fit your guesswork too much and you’ll break something, Detective.’
‘All I’m saying is, we have to judge the case based on objective facts.’ She turned to Mamiya. ‘As long as we don’t know who last drank bottled water from that fridge safely, or when, we won’t be able to determine when the poison was added.’
Mamiya grinned, rubbing his chin. ‘You know,’ he said, ‘I like this kind of open discussion. At first I was firmly on Kusanagi’s side, but as I listen to the two of you go on, I find myself slowly leaning towards the challenger’s position.’
‘Chief!’ Kusanagi looked a little wounded.
‘However.’ Mamiya turned a stern gaze towards Utsumi. ‘We’re not completely in the dark about the timing of the poisoning. You recall what took place on Friday night at the Mashiba house?’
‘Of course. A dinner party,’ Utsumi replied. ‘During which several people in the house likely drank bottled water.’
Mamiya raised his index finger. ‘So the water was poisoned after the party – or perhaps during it.’
‘I agree. However, I don’t believe either of the Ikais would have had a chance to poison the bottle. For one thing, they were the guests; it would be difficult for either of them to go into the kitchen at all – let alone do their work in there undisturbed.’
‘Which leaves the two ladies as our suspects.’
‘Now just wait a minute,’ Kusanagi broke in. ‘I understand suspecting Hiromi Wakayama, but Mrs Mashiba? She’s the one who told us the victim used bottled water for his coffee. Why would she go out of her way to give us information that could incriminate her?’
‘Because she knew we’d find out eventually?’ Utsumi said. ‘If she suspected that, given enough time, poison would be found in one of the bottles, she could have told us in advance to deflect suspicion.’
Kusanagi frowned. ‘Talking with you gives me a headache sometimes. Why are you so determined to make the wife the bad guy?’
‘It sounds pretty logical to me,’ Mamiya said. ‘Utsumi’s idea’s as good as any we’ve got going right now. And there are serious problems with the assumption that Ms Wakayama is the killer, most notably the fact that she didn’t dispose of the tainted kettle. As far as motivation goes, Ayane Mashiba is the most logical suspect.’
Kusanagi opened his mouth to protest, but Utsumi headed him off. ‘Speaking of motivation, I have some new information that strengthens the wife’s motive for killing her husband.’
‘From whom?’ Mamiya asked.
‘Hiromi Wakayama.’
Frowns became looks of complete astonishment as Utsumi began to explain.
TWELVE
‘Hold on –’ Tatsuhiko Ikai lowered his mobile and picked up the ringing phone on his desk, launching immediately into another conversation. ‘What? Yes. That’s why I want you to take care of it – all of it. I think that was made pretty clear in the second clause of the contract … Yes, I’ll handle that part, of course … Right. Thanks.’ He put down the receiver and lifted the mobile back to his ear. ‘Sorry. I just talked to them … Right. Just like we discussed at the meeting … Got it.’
At last the phones were silent. Ikai began scribbling a memo, still standing over his desk – the CEO’s desk – which until recently had belonged to Yoshitaka Mashiba.
Only when he had stuffed the memo in his pocket did Ikai look over at Kusanagi, who was sitting on a nearby sofa. ‘Sorry to keep you waiting.’
‘No problem. You seem pretty busy.’
‘It’s all details, really. Yes, we lost our CEO, but from the way they’re acting, you’d think all of our section directors had their heads cut off. I always had misgivings about Mashiba’s one-man-show style of management. I only wish we’d done something about it sooner,’ Ikai concluded as he joined Kusanagi on the sofa.
‘Will you continue as CEO?’
The lawyer waved the suggestion away. ‘I’m not fit for management. I’m a firm believer that everyone is born to do a specific job, and me – I’m at my best pulling the strings behind the scenes. I will happily leave that big desk to someone else.’ Ikai looked the detective in the eye. ‘Don’t think I killed Mashiba to take over his company, because, believe me, I don’t want it.’
Kusanagi’s eyes widened and Ikai laughed. ‘I’m sorry, that was a joke. Not very funny, I’m afraid. I’ve been too busy to let it sink in that he’s gone.’
‘I’m sorry to take up more of your time,’ Kusanagi said.
‘Don’t be. I’m interested in how the investigation is proceeding. Any new developments?’
‘Some things are coming into focus, I guess you could say. In particular, the route by which the poison got into the coffee.’
‘That’s interesting.’
‘Were you aware that Mr Mashiba was excessively health conscious to the point of not drinking tap water?’
Ikai raised an eyebrow. ‘I wouldn’t call that excessive. I don’t drink tap water, either. Haven’t for years.’
‘Oh?’ Kusanagi asked. Rich people. ‘Any particular reason?’
‘Not really, now that you mention it,’ Ikai said, his gaze wandering back to the desk. ‘I can’t even remember when I stopped. It wasn’t that tap water tastes bad. Maybe I’m the victim of some bottled water company’s advertising campaign? But once you fall into a pattern …’ He looked sharply back up. ‘The water was poisoned?’
‘We don’t have a definitive answer yet, but it’s a possibility. Did you drink any mineral water when you visited the Mashibas on Friday night?’
‘We did. Quite a bit of it. Poisoned water, huh?’
‘We’ve been led to understand that Mr Mashiba used bottled water when he made coffee. Were you aware of this?’
‘I suppose so.’ Ikai nodded. ‘So that’s how the poison got into the grounds.’
‘The question is: when exactly did the killer poison the water? I was wondering if you could think of anyone who might’ve visited the Mashibas over the weekend, possibly in secret?’
Ikai shot the detective a sharp look. ‘In secret?’
‘Yes. Unfortunately we haven’t been able to identify any visitors. But it’s probable that someone did visit during those two days – perhaps even with Mr Mashiba’s knowledge.’