None of the three members of the Namiki family said so much as a word.
6
He adjusted the color balance, closed his eyes, waited a few seconds, then opened them again and looked back at the computer monitor. Without doing a conscious “self-reboot” like this, he found it hard to judge whether the design had improved or not.
Not bad, thought Tomoya Takagaki, examining his own handiwork. The image on the monitor was of a room in a rather upscale retirement home. Tomoya was selecting photographs for the retirement home’s brochure and the client had asked him to make sure the whole thing felt bright and cheerful.
Tomoya was wondering how to enhance the sunlight streaming in through the window, when the phone on his desk lit up with an incoming call. He picked up; it was the woman at reception.
“Mr. Takagaki, I have a lady here who says she wants to see you. A Ms. Utsumi.”
“Ms. Utsumi? Where’s she from?”
“She says she’s from the Kikuno shopping district.”
“From Kikuno?”
He knew Kikuno well. Recently, however, he had been giving the shopping district a wide berth. He had his reasons.
“What do you want me to do? I can tell her you’re too busy to see her.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m on my way down.” Curious to know what she’s here for, Tomoya got to his feet.
Waiting for him in the reception area was a woman in a black pantsuit with long hair tied back. She was in her early thirties, possibly a bit older.
“Mr. Takagaki?” she inquired, walking toward him.
“Yes, that’s me,” he said. The woman drew a step closer. She glanced discreetly back at the reception desk, then extracted something from the inside pocket of her jacket. “This is who I am,” she said, deliberately keeping her voice low.
He didn’t immediately grasp what she was showing him. It was only after a few seconds that he realized it was a police badge. Tomoya blinked and stared into her face.
The woman looked straight back at him. He thought he detected a hint of confrontation in her eyes. “It would be nice if we could find a quiet place to talk.”
“There’s a meeting room. Would that be all right? It’s a bit on the small side.”
“Thank you. That’ll be fine.”
Tomoya was relieved. Her courteous manner suggested that she wasn’t going to accuse him of committing a crime. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d had anything to do with the police. Pulling out her business card, the woman introduced herself formally. She was Kaoru Utsumi from the Homicide Division of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department.
“I know you must be busy, so let’s get straight down to business. I believe you know this woman?”
As she said this, she produced a photograph. Tomoya swallowed at the sight of it. He hadn’t forgotten that face — couldn’t have forgotten it even if he had wanted to.
“It’s... uh... Saori Namiki,” he replied, gazing at the photograph. In it, Saori was smiling and making the peace sign.
“What was the nature of your relationship?”
He swallowed again, then said: “We were going out together. That is... three years ago we were. What is it, Sergeant Utsumi? Are you here to tell me that Saori has...?”
Tomoya couldn’t finish his question.
Utsumi frowned slightly and gave a gentle nod.
“Saori’s body was recently discovered in a burned-out house in Shizuoka prefecture.”
“In Shizuoka?”
“However, we believe that she actually died a long time ago. Perhaps immediately after she went missing.”
It was a physical sensation, as if part of his body had hollowed out and vanished. That’s it. She’s dead.
In his heart, he had always thought so. Still, to be told like this was a big shock.
Tomoya caught his breath, then he looked at Utsumi. “Why Shizuoka?”
“We don’t yet know. It’s one of the things we are currently looking into. Can you shed any light on the subject, Mr. Takagaki? When Saori was alive, for example, did she ever mention Shizuoka to you?”
“Never.” Tomoya spoke with conviction. “I don’t think she’d ever even been there.”
“Her parents told me exactly the same thing,” said Utsumi, nodding. Then she gave Tomoya a piercing look. “How close was your relationship with Saori?”
“How close? I suppose I’d say our relationship was, you know, normal,” replied Tomoya, scratching his head. “To call it ‘official’ sounds a bit weird, but the first time we officially went out on a date was around the time Saori graduated high school. I was in my second year at work, I’d got a handle on my job, and I was just starting to have a bit more time for myself outside my job. Until then, I just talked to her when I went to Namiki-ya for dinner, so we were hardly close.”
“And how often did you go out together?”
“Once every week or two, I guess. We were both quite busy.”
“Where did you go on these dates, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“We mostly went into the center of Tokyo. We didn’t do anything special, just wandered around, went shopping, stuff like that.”
Tomoya wondered if Utsumi was expecting him to reveal whether or not their relationship was physical. Sure, she was the police, but did she have the right to intrude on a person’s privacy like that?
But Utsumi didn’t ask any more intrusive questions. Instead, she switched her focus to the big issue. “Could you tell me in as much detail as you can about the time when Saori went missing?” she asked.
Tomoya dug into his memory.
“I only found out she was missing several days after it happened. It was funny, I was sending her texts, which I could see weren’t being read; she wasn’t picking up my calls, either. I thought I’d drop into Namiki-ya on my way home from work, and I found the place closed. I realized something serious must have happened. That was when Natsumi contacted me and I finally found out what was going on.”
“Did the police ever contact you?”
“No, they didn’t. Natsumi was the only one who knew about my relationship with Saori, and I guess she didn’t mention it to the police. Later on, she told me that she didn’t want me to get caught up in all the trouble.”
Talking about it brought back vivid memories.
Tomoya often went to Namiki-ya after being told about Saori’s disappearance. But the place was always closed. Although he was desperate to know what was going on, he kept telling himself that Saori’s family were suffering even more than he was himself.
“I’m going to ask you point-blank.” Utsumi looked him in the eye. “Can you think of any reason for Saori Namiki to disappear?”
Tomoya shook his head in puzzlement.
“I really have no idea. I mean, how should I know? She just disappeared one day — and then she stayed missing.”
“We believe it is highly likely that Saori Namiki was the victim of some sort of crime. What’s your opinion? Do you agree?”
“Of course, I do.” Now Tomoya’s head was bobbing up and down. “I think somebody murdered her.”
“And have you any idea who that somebody might be?” Utsumi asked, her gaze intense.
A thought flitted through his mind. It was the matter of a moment, but enough to perceptibly delay his answer. “No, no idea,” he said.
“You paused for a moment there,” Utsumi said. “Are you quite sure you didn’t think of something?”
“No, I... uh...,” mumbled Tomoya incoherently.
“Mr. Takagaki,” said Utsumi, smiling and speaking more gently. “There’s only me here and I’m not even taking notes. If there’s something you want to say, you should go ahead and say it. You don’t need to tie yourself in knots worrying about sharing what may be nothing more than a groundless hunch with the police. It’s our job to extract the truth by sifting through a jumble of information. Please, work with me here.” She bowed curtly.