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Ayane’s eyes went wide. ‘In your desk drawer? Why?’

Kusanagi didn’t answer. Instead, he said, in a voice completely devoid of emotion, ‘We have to conclude that there was arsenous acid in the water filter, enough so that any water from that filter would’ve contained a lethal amount on the day Mr Mashiba died. Other evidence shows clearly that the poison was inserted into the filter a year ago. The person who would have been able to carry out this crime was someone who could have prevented anyone from using that filter for an entire year – and there’s only one person who could have done that.’

Utsumi swallowed, still watching Ayane’s face. Their beautiful suspect’s eyes were downcast, her lips tightly shut. Though a trace of a smile lingered on her face, the aura of elegance around her had begun to fade.

‘We’ll talk more at the station,’ Kusanagi said.

Ayane looked up. She breathed a deep sigh, and stared directly at Kusanagi. ‘All right. I’ll just be a bit longer.’

‘No rush. Take your time getting your things together.’

‘It’s not just that. I also want to water the flowers. I hadn’t finished when you arrived.’

‘By all means.’

Ayane nodded and opened the door to the balcony. Hefting the large watering can in both hands, she slowly began to sprinkle the potted flowers.

THIRTY-TWO

Ayane recalled a day about one year earlier when she was watering her flowers, just as she was doing now. The day she heard the truth from Yoshitaka. She had listened to him while she stared at the pansies in the planter.

Her friend Junko had loved pansies. The pen name she chose, ‘Violet Butterfly’, was a nickname for the flower.

She had met Junko in a bookshop in London. Ayane was there looking for patchwork designs. She reached out for a book of photos just as another girl reached for the same book. The other girl was Japanese, too, and several years older than Ayane.

The two became close friends in no time at all, exploring London together, and they made an effort to keep in touch once they returned to Japan. Junko moved to Tokyo a short while after Ayane arrived in the city.

Though they were both busy with work, and didn’t meet often, they remained close. Junko was one of the few people with whom Ayane felt she could truly be herself. She knew that Junko valued their friendship as much as she did – maybe even more. Junko was even worse than she was at meeting people.

Then one day Junko told her there was someone she wanted Ayane to meet: the CEO of a company that had used one of her character designs in an online anime.

‘We were talking about making some toys to go with the character, and when I told him I knew a patchwork specialist, he said he had to meet you. I know you’re busy, but if you have any time at all, it might be worth it.’

Junko sounded hesitant to impose, but Ayane was delighted. And that was how she had met Yoshitaka Mashiba.

In a word, Yoshitaka was alluring. His face came alive when he talked about his ideas, and his eyes brimmed with confidence. He was good at getting other people to talk, too, so much so that just chatting with him for a few minutes had made her feel eloquent.

They were walking away from the café after he had left when Ayane smiled and said, ‘What a great guy.’

‘Isn’t he?’ Junko said, happily. One look at her friend’s face revealed the extent of Junko’s feelings for Yoshitaka.

Even now, Ayane regretted not asking her, not making sure. All she would’ve had to ask was, ‘Are you two dating?’ But she didn’t, and Junko offered nothing.

The plan to include patchwork in one of the character designs was ultimately scrapped. Afterwards, Yoshitaka called her directly to apologize for taking up her time. He offered to treat her to dinner in the near future to make up for it.

Ayane assumed he was just being polite, but a few days later he called again with a real invitation. The way he invited her made it clear that he was inviting only her – Junko wasn’t involved. I guess they’re not dating, she told herself.

She met Yoshitaka for dinner, her heart fluttering. Being alone, just the two of them, was even more fun than the last time she had seen him.

Ayane’s feelings towards Yoshitaka grew rapidly. At the same time, she could feel herself pulling away from Junko. Knowing her friend’s interest in Yoshitaka made it somehow harder to pick up the phone and call her.

When she met Junko again several months later, she was startled at the change in the other woman. Junko had become shockingly thin, and she looked years older. But when Ayane asked if she was feeling okay, her friend insisted she was fine, and that was the end of it.

As they talked about recent events, Junko seemed to perk back up. Then, just when Ayane was contemplating telling her about Yoshitaka, Junko’s face went pale.

Ayane asked what was wrong, but Junko didn’t answer. She stood abruptly, saying that she had just remembered something she had to do, that she had to go home. Bewildered, Ayane walked outside with her and watched her get into a taxi.

It was the last time she saw her friend.

Five days later, a package arrived at Ayane’s apartment. She opened the box to find white powder in a plastic bag. On the bag was written, in permanent marker, ‘arsenic (poison)’. The package had come from Junko.

Immediately suspicious, she tried calling her friend, but Junko didn’t answer. Almost in a panic, she went to Junko’s apartment. She arrived to see her friend’s place cordoned off by the police. The officers were still there. One of the onlookers told her that the woman who lived in the apartment had poisoned herself.

In shock, Ayane wandered the neighbourhood, not even sure where she was going. By the time she realized it, she was back at home, staring at the package from Junko.

As she was wondering what the package meant, and why Junko had sent it to her, something tickled her memory. She recalled the moment Junko got up from the table the last time they met. Her friend’s eyes had fallen on Ayane’s mobile phone where she had set it beside her plate. Ayane pulled out her mobile and looked at it. It had a little decorative souvenir strap attached to it that she had bought with Yoshitaka on one of their dates – the same as the strap on his phone.

Ayane immediately imagined the worst: that Junko had realized she was seeing Yoshitaka and, in a fit of jealousy, had committed suicide. But she couldn’t imagine her friend taking her own life over an unrequited crush. Which meant that there had been something more between her and Yoshitaka.

Ayane didn’t go to the police. She didn’t even go to Junko’s funeral. The more she suspected she was responsible for her friend’s death, the less she wanted to know the truth.

For the same reason, she lacked the courage to ask Yoshitaka about it, knowing that it could mean the end of her own relationship with him.

Some time later, Yoshitaka made a curious proposal. He wanted them both to go to the same party, but separately, and pretend it was their first time meeting. He didn’t want people to think he was seeing someone through work, he explained.

‘Idle people with time on their hands are always asking couples how they met, right? Well, I think we should give them a story. And what’s simpler than a social mixer?’