‘So why can’t you tell me?’
‘Let’s say, for argument’s sake, that I explained the trick to you now. If, later on, we found some trace that proved the trick had been used, no problem. But what if we don’t? Would you be able to reset your thinking at that point? Would you still be able to allow the possibility the trick had been used?’
‘Well, sure, if there was no proof the trick hadn’t been used.’
‘That’s what I have a problem with,’ Yukawa said.
‘Explain.’
‘I didn’t want anyone to suspect a particular person in the absence of proof. And there’s only one person in the world who could have used this trick.’
Kusanagi glanced at the professor’s eyes behind his glasses. ‘Ayane Mashiba?’
Yukawa gave a slow blink, which Kusanagi took for a yes. He gave a deep sigh. ‘Fine, then. I’ll just keep on with my investigation and hope for a breakthrough. I finally got something like a lead, you know.’
‘Do tell.’
‘I found one of Yoshitaka Mashiba’s ex-girlfriends. And there’s a connection to the case.’ Kusanagi explained how Junko Tsukui had committed suicide using arsenous acid.
‘And this was two years ago?’ Yukawa asked, his gaze wandering off into the distance.
‘Yes, which is why, trick or no trick, I’m happy investigating my own way. This case isn’t as simple as a wife taking revenge for her husband’s infidelity. I think it’s a lot more complicated than that.’
Yukawa looked up at Kusanagi and a smile spread across his face.
‘What’s that for?’ the detective asked. ‘You think I’m barking up the wrong tree, don’t you?’
‘Not at all. I was just thinking that I really didn’t need to bring you all the way over here today after all.’
Kusanagi frowned, not understanding.
‘You see,’ Yukawa continued, ‘what I wanted to tell you was exactly that: the roots of this case are deep. We can’t afford to look only at the events around Mashiba’s death, we need to go as far into the past as we’re able, and to look at everything from every angle. What you just told me about this ex-girlfriend is particularly interesting – especially the part about the arsenous acid.’
‘Now you’ve lost me,’ Kusanagi grunted. ‘Don’t you suspect Mrs Mashiba? Why should the past matter?’
‘It does matter, very much,’ Yukawa said, picking up his racquet and his sports bag. ‘My muscles are getting cold. Let’s get going.’
They left the gymnasium together. As they neared the front gate, Yukawa stopped. ‘I’m heading back to the lab. Want some coffee?’
‘Was there something else you had to tell me?’
‘Nothing right now.’
‘Then I’ll take a rain check. I’ve got some stuff to do back at the station.’
‘Right,’ Yukawa said, turning to leave.
‘Hey,’ Kusanagi called out. ‘Ayane made a patchwork jacket for her father once. She sewed a pillow in at the waist, to cushion him if he slipped on the ice and fell.’
Yukawa turned. ‘And?’
‘She doesn’t act irrationally. She’s the kind of person who can consider her own actions in advance. I don’t think someone like that would commit murder just because her husband betrayed her.’
‘Your detective’s intuition tell you that?’
‘I’m just giving you my impression. Regardless of whether you and Utsumi think I have special feelings for Mrs Mashiba.’
Yukawa’s eyes dropped to the ground for a moment before he looked back up and said, ‘I don’t care if you have special feelings for her or not. I don’t think you’re so weak a person as to let your feelings influence your detective work. And another thing,’ he said, lifting his index finger. ‘What you say is certainly correct. Ayane is no fool.’
‘So you don’t suspect her?’
Yukawa lifted his hand and waved, then turned his back and walked away.
TWENTY-THREE
Kusanagi took a deep breath before pressing the intercom button. He stared at the small placard on the door that read ‘Anne’s House’, bemusedly wondering why he felt so tense.
There was no response from the intercom, but after a moment Ayane opened the door. She gave him an oddly gentle look, as if she were a mother looking at her son. ‘Right on time, I see,’ she said.
‘Huh? Oh, right,’ Kusanagi murmured with a glance at his watch. It was exactly two P.M. – the time he had set when he called.
She opened the door wider and invited him inside.
The last time Kusanagi had visited the school was when he had brought Hiromi Wakayama down to the station for questioning. Though he hadn’t really looked around the place then, something felt different about it today. The workstations and the furniture were all still there, but the place seemed somehow less alive.
He took the seat offered to him and gazed around the big room while Ayane poured tea, a wry smile on her face. ‘It looks barren in here, I know. I never realized how many things Hiromi had brought in until they were gone.’
Kusanagi wasn’t surprised to hear that Hiromi had quit. Most women would have hit the road the moment the secret was out.
Ayane had left her hotel yesterday to take up residence here at the school. She wasn’t planning to move back into the house – which made sense to Kusanagi. It was the scene of a murder, after all.
The widow placed a teacup in front of the detective. He thanked her.
‘I went there this morning,’ Ayane said, sitting across from him.
‘To your house?’
She put a finger on the edge of her cup, nodding. ‘Yes, to water the flowers. They were all wilted.’
Kusanagi frowned. ‘I’m sorry. I have the key and everything, but I’ve been so busy—’
She waved off his apology. ‘No, don’t worry about it, please. I never should’ve asked for that sort of favour in the first place. Honestly, I didn’t say it out of spite.’
‘I really meant to water them, I just forgot. I’ll be more careful from now on.’
Ayane shook her head. ‘Please, it’s quite all right. I’m going to make a point of going there every day to take care of them myself.’
‘I see … well, then, I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help. Maybe I should return your key?’
Ayane thought for a moment, then stared at the detective. ‘Are you finished with that part of your investigation, or will you need to go back in?’
‘Well, that’s difficult to say,’ Kusanagi admitted.
‘Then please hold onto it. That way you don’t have to come and ask me every time someone needs access.’
‘Right. I’ll be sure to keep it safe,’ Kusanagi said, patting his left breast pocket.
‘That reminds me – were you the one who brought that big watering can?’
Kusanagi paused, teacup raised to his mouth, and waved his free hand. ‘Oh, that,’ he said. ‘Well, I liked the empty can you had before, but, ah, I thought a proper watering can might be more convenient. I’m sorry if it was an imposition.’
‘No, not at all. I had no idea they even made such large watering cans. It was very convenient, so much so that I wish I’d bought one earlier. Thank you.’
‘That’s a relief, then,’ Kusanagi said. ‘I was afraid you might have been attached to that can of yours.’
‘Why would anyone be attached to a can? I take it you threw it out?’
‘Yes … I hope that’s not a problem?’
‘No, not at all. You did me a favour.’
Ayane lowered her head, smiling. Just then the school’s phone – sitting on a nearby shelf – began to ring. She stood up to answer it.