Utsumi pushed open the door and stepped inside. From behind the counter on her right, a gray-haired bartender — the owner, she assumed — wished her a good evening. A wide array of glass bottles was arranged on shelves behind him.
All the tables were occupied by couples and there was another couple sitting at the counter. At a certain distance from them, right at the back, sat the person Utsumi had arranged to meet.
“I hope you’ve not been waiting long?” Utsumi said, speaking quietly as she sat down on the seat next to Yukawa.
Yukawa slipped his phone into his inside jacket pocket and reached for his tumbler. “I only just got here myself.”
The bartender came over to them. Utsumi ordered a Virgin Moscow Mule.
“Planning to head back to the station afterward?”
“Yes. I’ve got a report to write.”
“Hard life, eh?” It looked as though Yukawa was drinking a highball. “Investigation hit a brick wall?”
“Nothing gets past you, does it?”
“You invited me for a drink, but I see no sign of a gift.”
“Sorry about that.” Utsumi sighed and let her head droop to one side. “I don’t think that the investigation’s actually on the wrong track.”
“What did Tojima have to say for himself? Kusanagi told me about the drop in the volume of liquid nitrogen in the company storage tank.”
“Tojima’s saying he doesn’t know how it happened. He’s admitted that he did drive one of the company’s minivans on the day of the parade. He checked up on the freezers at the factory, then set out for the parade venue, he says. Worried that he wouldn’t find a place to park the van, he ended up driving back. We have a statement from a witness who saw a Tojima-ya Foods vehicle very close to the starting point of the parade.”
Yukawa exhaled loudly. “As excuses go, it’s plausible.”
“It doesn’t feel quite right to me. He’s the boss. He can always get one of his employees to inspect the freezers. Plus, why do that sort of thing on a Sunday in the first place?”
“He can just say, ‘It’s my decision and it’s nothing to do with you.’”
“Yes, I know but...” mumbled Utsumi.
The bartender placed a tumbler in front of Utsumi. There was a half slice of lime floating in it. When she took a sip, a fresh, tart fragrance perfumed the air.
“Is Masumura still refusing to say anything?”
Utsumi nodded listlessly.
“He says that he got the job at the recycling company because he’d heard that the place welcomed ex-cons on its workforce; that he had no idea Hasunuma worked there; and that he knew nothing about Yuna Motohashi’s murder.”
“Did you check with Masumura’s previous employer?”
“I sent an investigator to talk to them. They’re a construction subcontractor. The place has such a high level of employee turnover that almost nobody there remembered Masumura.”
“I can believe it.” Yukawa sounded quite unfazed. “If there was any weakness in that part of their plan, the whole thing would disintegrate. Whatever happens, Masumura has to keep denying any link between himself and what happened twenty-three years ago.”
“You said ‘their plan’ — but who exactly is ‘they’? Masumura and Tojima, all three members of the Namiki family, Tomoya Takagaki, both the Niikuras — do you regard them all as suspicious?”
“It would be illogical not to do so.”
“Yes, but all three members of the Namiki family have alibis. We have located the Takagaki and the Niikuras in CCTV footage from the parade and we know that none of them was carrying any bulky items. Based on how long Tojima was away from his factory in the minivan, the furthest he could have transported the liquid nitrogen — assuming he did so — would be to the starting point of the parade. So who transported it from there to the crime scene and how did they do it?”
“Isn’t answering questions like that meant to be your job?”
“We’re doing our best. Have you heard of utility wagons, Professor?”
“Utility wagons? It sounds faintly Wild West.”
“They’re trolley-mounted square boxes covered in plastic sheeting. Delivery company drivers use them. They stick the packages they’re delivering in the box and push them to their destination. The sheeting keeps the packages dry when it’s raining and stops them falling off the trolley. You must have seen them around?”
“Oh, yes. I know exactly what you mean.” Yukawa was nodding enthusiastically. “I see them all the time.”
“Deliveries were still being made in Kikuno on the day of the parade. These utility wagons pop up from time to time on the security-camera footage. In every case, we’ve contacted the delivery company and are checking to see that the deliveries actually arrived. We thought that the perpetrator could have disguised himself as a deliveryman and transported the liquid nitrogen that way.”
“Interesting. Was it Kusanagi who gave that order?”
“Yes, it was.”
Yukawa smiled and drained his highball. “He’s shaping up to be a pretty good chief inspector.”
“Shall I tell him you said that?”
“There’s no need.”
“That gives you an idea of how thorough we’re being. From reviewing the footage of security cameras in every possible location, I’ve got a good grasp of how the spectators were behaving, how they moved around. Despite all our efforts, we still can’t figure out how the perpetrator transported the liquid nitrogen. That’s why I’ve come here to see you tonight.”
“You want me to figure it out?”
Utsumi placed both her hands on her knees and turned in her seat to look directly at Yukawa. “Professor, I’m sure you can solve the mystery.”
“Now you’re just being illogical,” said Yukawa. He called the bartender over and, pointing to his tumbler, asked for a refill.
Utsumi scratched the top of her head. “Are we missing something?”
“Perhaps you are. No, make that a probably. At times like this, it’s always a good idea to look at things from a different point of view.”
“A different point of view, huh.” Utsumi took a sip of her cocktail, then rested her chin on her interwoven fingers and watched the deft movements of the bartender’s hands as he made a whiskey and soda. Her gaze wandered across to the bottles arrayed behind him. A small frog-shaped knickknack at the corner of the bottom shelf caught her eye.
What on earth is that frog doing here? she wondered. She soon realized what it was and her mouth creased into a spontaneous smile.
“What is it?” Yukawa asked.
“That thing there.” Utsumi pointed to the knickknack. “You know its name?”
Yukawa took a look, then snorted. “It’s Kikunon. The mascot of the parade.”
“I’m not a big fan of the design. Just looks like an ordinary frog to me.”
The bartender placed a new highball in front of Yukawa. “One of the customers left it behind.”
“That explains it,” said Yukawa, sounding relieved. “It doesn’t really match the rest of the decor.”
“I can’t just throw the thing away. It’s a bore. I wish they’d hurry up and come and collect it,” said the bartender before walking off.
Utsumi stared at the miniature Kikunon. The giant inflatable version of it had been the last attraction in the parade. The thing required several high-pressure cylinders’ worth of helium.
“Ah!” Utsumi exclaimed loudly.
“What is it now?”
“Nothing. Nothing.” Utsumi flapped a hand from side to side. “I thought I’d had an inspiration... Sorry. It was stupid.”