‘Right … well … I …’ Again, the woman seemed bewildered. After a moment, she asked hesitantly, ‘Is the kind of poison important? I mean, was it a problem that I told him she died from sleeping pills?’
That’s odd, Utsumi thought. ‘Do you mean you knew it wasn’t an overdose of sleeping pills, but you told him that anyway?’
‘I’m sorry,’ Yoko whispered, her face suddenly rigid with pain. ‘I thought it didn’t matter anymore how she had died, it was so long ago now—’
‘Was there some reason you didn’t want to tell us about the arsenous acid?’
Yoko was silent.
‘Mrs Tsukui?’
‘I’m sorry,’ Yoko said again. She shuffled backward, placed both hands on the tatami, and bent into a deep bow. ‘I’m truly sorry. I just couldn’t bring myself to say it—’
This time, it was Utsumi’s turn to be bewildered. ‘You don’t need to apologize. Please, just explain what this is all about. Is there something you haven’t told us?’
Yoko looked up slowly. She blinked several times. ‘The arsenic was from our house.’
Utsumi gasped. ‘But the report said the source was unknown?’
‘I couldn’t bring myself to say it. I told the detective back then that I didn’t know where the arsenic – I mean the acid – came from. I just couldn’t bear to tell them that she had got it from here. I might’ve said something if they had asked again, but they seemed to be satisfied … I’m really sorry.’
‘So you’re telling me that the arsenous acid she used was taken from your house?’
‘Yes, I’m fairly sure it was. My husband got some from a friend to use as rat poison. We kept it in our storage shed.’
‘And you’re sure Junko took it?’
Yoko nodded. ‘As soon as I heard how she had died, I went to check. The bag that used to be in the shed was gone. That’s when I realized why she had come home. She came back to get the poison.’
Utsumi realized that, in her shock, she’d forgotten to take notes. She quickly began to write in her notepad.
‘How could I say that my own daughter had come home to kill herself, and I had no idea? That she got the poison from us! I know it was wrong to lie … I’m truly sorry if it’s caused you any problems. I’d be more than happy to go and make a formal apology,’ Yoko said, bowing her head repeatedly.
‘Could I see this storage shed?’ Utsumi asked.
‘Certainly.’
Utsumi stood.
The shed, a simple steel affair, sat in a corner of the backyard. It was large enough to hold some old furniture, electrical appliances, and a collection of cardboard boxes. Utsumi stepped inside, the smell of dust and mould filling her nostrils.
‘Where was the poison?’ Utsumi asked.
‘Right there,’ Yoko said, pointing to an empty can sitting on a dusty shelf. ‘The bag was in that can.’
‘How much did Junko take with her?’
‘Well, the whole bag was gone when I checked. About this much,’ Yoko said, putting her hands together to form a scoop.
‘That’s quite a lot,’ Utsumi said.
‘Yes. At least enough to fill a rice bowl.’
‘She wouldn’t need that much to kill herself. And the report indicates that they didn’t find such a large amount at the scene.’
Yoko shrugged. ‘I know. It bothered me, too … At first, I’m ashamed to say, I was worried that they’d blame me for being so careless. Then I just assumed that Junko had thrown out the rest.’
It seemed unlikely to Utsumi that someone committing suicide would go to the trouble of getting rid of excess poison.
‘Do you use this storage shed frequently?’ she asked.
‘No, hardly at all. I haven’t even opened it for some time.’
‘Can it be locked?’
‘Locked? Yes, there’s a key somewhere.’
‘Then, could you lock it for me today? We might have to come back here and examine it.’
Yoko’s eyes widened slightly. ‘Examine the storage shed?’
‘Yes. I promise we won’t impose more than is absolutely necessary.’
Utsumi felt a hint of excitement. The department hadn’t been able to find out where the poison used to kill Yoshitaka Mashiba had come from. If it turned out that the poison from Junko’s home was a match, it would change the course of the entire investigation.
I’ll just have to hope that some trace amount of the acid was left in that shed. Utsumi resolved to speak to Mamiya as soon as she was back in Tokyo.
‘By the way,’ she asked Yoko, ‘I heard that Junko sent you a letter by post?’
‘Yes … yes she did.’
‘Might I see it?’
Yoko thought for a moment before she said, ‘All right.’
They went back inside, where she showed Utsumi to her daughter’s old room. It was a Western-style room, with a desk and a bed.
‘I’ve kept all of her things in here. I keep planning on cleaning it out someday, but I never seem to get around to it.’ Yoko opened the drawer in the desk to reveal a stack of letters. She lifted out the topmost envelope. ‘Here you are.’
Utsumi thanked her and took the envelope.
The contents of the letter were pretty much as she had heard from Kusanagi. There was no suggestion of a reason why she might have committed suicide. The only concrete impression Utsumi got from it was that Junko felt she had no pressing reasons to stay in this world.
‘I can’t help but feel like there was something we could’ve done,’ Yoko said, her voice trembling. ‘If I had been a bit more attentive, maybe I would’ve noticed she was in so much pain.’
At a loss for something appropriate to say, Utsumi returned the letter to the drawer, noticing the other letters as she did so. ‘What are these?’ she asked.
‘More letters from her. I don’t use e-mail, so she would write to me now and then to tell me how she was doing.’
‘Do you mind if I look at these as well?’
‘Certainly, go ahead. I’ll bring tea,’ Yoko said, leaving the room.
Utsumi sat down at the desk and began looking through the letters. Most of them were simple reports about the picture books Junko was working on or future projects she was planning. There was hardly anything suggesting relationships, or even friends.
She was on the verge of giving up when she saw a postcard. The front showed a red double-decker bus. The back held a note written in blue ink. Utsumi held her breath as she read the tightly spaced letters.
How are you? I’m finally in London. I met another Japanese girl here! She’s an exchange student from Hokkaido, and she’s offered to show me around town tomorrow.
TWENTY-FIVE
‘According to Mrs Tsukui, Junko got a job right out of college, but quit after three years because she wanted to study art in Paris. She sent that postcard during her two years over there.’
Kusanagi listened to the junior detective rattle off the facts, growing steadily gloomier as she grew more animated. A part of him didn’t want to acknowledge the importance of her discovery.
Mamiya leaned back in his chair, thick arms crossed across his chest. ‘So what you’re trying to say is that Junko Tsukui and Ayane Mashiba were friends?’
‘Well – it’s very likely. The postmark on the postcard coincides with the time that Mrs Mashiba was studying in London, and she’s from Hokkaido. I don’t think it’s a coincidence.’
‘Come on,’ Kusanagi said. ‘It could be a coincidence. How many exchange students do you think there are in London at any given time? At least one hundred, maybe two.’