Yukawa’s expression did not change as he continued. ‘When multiple possibilities exist, the most logical course of action is to use a process of elimination. Forensics tells us that nothing was amiss with the water line or the filtration system, but I like seeing things for myself. Thus my expedition under the sink here. If you were going to do anything to the water line, that’s where you would have to do it.’
‘Find anything?’
Yukawa slowly shook his head. ‘No signs of anything unusual on the water line, the connector for the filtration system, or the filter itself. It might be worthwhile to take the whole thing apart and examine the inside, but I’m guessing we would still come up empty-handed. This leads me to conclude that if the water was poisoned before the coffee was made, it was water from a bottle.’
‘But no poison was found in any of the empty bottles.’
‘We’re still waiting on a further report from the lab,’ Utsumi reminded him.
‘They won’t find anything. Our Forensics unit does good work,’ Kusanagi said, uncrossing his arms and putting his hands on his hips. He looked at Yukawa. ‘What’s your conclusion, then? For all your effort, leaving your ivory tower and trekking all the way out here, you’ve got precious little to show.’
‘We’ve covered the water; next comes the kettle. Didn’t I just say the poison could have been put directly into the kettle?’
‘That’s what I’ve been saying,’ Kusanagi replied. ‘But we know that there was nothing in the kettle as of Sunday morning. If we’re to believe Hiromi Wakayama’s testimony.’
Without answering, Yukawa reached out and picked up a kettle that sat beside the sink.
‘What’s that?’ Kusanagi asked. ‘You brought your own kettle?’
‘This is the same brand of kettle as the one Mr Mashiba used. Ms Utsumi requisitioned it at my request.’ Yukawa poured hot water from the tap into the kettle, which he then emptied into the sink. ‘Nothing special, no tricks, just a regular kettle.’
He refilled the vessel with water and lit the gas stove.
‘What are you doing now?’
‘Watch and learn,’ Yukawa said, leaning nonchalantly on the edge of the sink. ‘So: you’re thinking our killer came here on Sunday and put poison into the kettle?’
‘I don’t see any other explanation.’
‘That seems like an awfully risky strategy. They must have been sure that Mr Mashiba wouldn’t tell anyone they were coming. Or is your hypothesis that Mr Mashiba stepped out for a moment and they snuck in?’
‘Breaking and entering seems unlikely. I’m thinking the killer knew that Mr Mashiba wasn’t the type to talk about his guests.’
‘I see. So this guest wasn’t someone he wanted the neighbours to know about, then.’ Yukawa nodded and turned to Utsumi. ‘You don’t have to worry. Your boss is still capable of rational thought.’
Kusanagi scowled. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Nothing in particular. I was just making the point that, if both parties are rational, then any difference of opinion is probably a good thing.’
There he goes again – that charming way of making me feel like a complete idiot. Kusanagi glared at the physicist. Yukawa grinned, completely unperturbed.
The water in the kettle came to a gradual boil. Yukawa turned off the stove, opened the lid, and looked inside. ‘Exactly what I was looking for,’ he said, tipping the kettle over the sink.
When Kusanagi saw the liquid spilling out into the sink he almost jumped. The water was bright red.
‘Is this some kind of joke?’
Yukawa placed the kettle in the sink and turned towards Kusanagi with a smile. ‘When I said there were no tricks, I lied. There was red powder in the bottom of the kettle, covered with a layer of gelatin. As the water boiled, the gelatin gradually dissolved, allowing the powder and water to mix.’ His smile faded and he nodded towards Utsumi. ‘Am I correct in my understanding that the kettle was used at least two times before the victim died?’
‘Yes,’ Utsumi replied. ‘On Saturday night and Sunday morning.’
‘By adjusting the type and amount of gelatin, it is theoretically possible to keep the poison from getting into the liquid until the third time the water is used. You might want to have Forensics look into that. They should also consider where on the kettle the gelatin was placed. Oh, and they’ll also want to consider alternatives to gelatin.’
‘Right,’ Utsumi said, making a memo in her book.
‘What’s wrong, Kusanagi?’ Yukawa chided. ‘You look unhappy.’
‘My happiness has nothing to do with it. I was just wondering whether your average murderer would use such an elaborate method of poisoning.’
‘Elaborate method? There’s nothing elaborate about it. Anyone who has any familiarity with gelatin would have no trouble doing something like this. Say, for instance, a wife who fancied herself as a good cook.’
Kusanagi began grinding his molars – a bad habit he had developed in moments of stress. It was becoming clear that the physicist, too, suspected Ayane Mashiba. What has Utsumi been putting in his head?
Just then the junior detective’s mobile phone rang. She answered it, said a few words, then looked up at Kusanagi. ‘A report from the lab. You were right – they didn’t find anything in the empties.’
THIRTEEN
‘We will now observe a moment of silence.’
Hiromi closed her eyes and bowed her head at the emcee’s announcement. The Beatles’ song ‘The Long and Winding Road’ filled the room, nearly making her gasp. Yoshitaka was a Beatles fan and had often played their CDs in the car. This was one of his favourite songs, with its slow rhythm and poignant melody. Ayane’s choice, no doubt, Hiromi thought bitterly. The mood of the song fit the occasion far too perfectly.
Hiromi felt a tightening in her chest, and tears she thought had long run dry began to spill from her closed eyes. How could she not remember him? Yet she knew she mustn’t be seen crying here. What would people think if they saw me, the deceased’s wife’s assistant, crying my eyes out? What would Ayane think?
After the moment of silence, there was a presentation of flowers. The guests approached the altar in order and laid their bouquets in a pile. Yoshitaka hadn’t been a religious man; the church ceremony was Ayane’s choice. She stood beside the altar, keeping her head bowed as people shuffled forward.
The police had released the body to the funeral home the day before, and Tatsuhiko Ikai had made the arrangements for the ceremony as soon as he received word. This presentation of flowers took the place of a traditional wake; the company would hold a more formal, upscale ceremony the following day.
Now it was Hiromi’s turn. She took her flowers from the attendant waiting in the aisle and laid them at the altar. Then she looked up at the photo of the deceased and pressed her hands together in prayer. In the photo, Yoshitaka was smiling, looking tanned and fit.
Hiromi struggled to hold back a fresh wave of tears. Her stomach gave a sudden brutal lurch. Morning sickness. She unclasped her hands and pressed them to her mouth.
Nauseous, she turned to leave; her eyes met Ayane’s and she stiffened. Ayane’s face was devoid of emotion as she stared down at her. Hiromi bowed quickly and began to walk past her.
‘Hiromi?’ Ayane called out in a soft voice. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine, thanks,’ Hiromi managed.
Ayane nodded and turned back towards the altar.
Hiromi left the room. I need to get out of here. She hurried for the exit, but she had just reached the door when some- one touched her on the shoulder from behind. It was Yukiko Ikai.