“What? That’s not why—” Kishitani began.
“It’s okay, you can admit it. You sympathize with the single mother and her daughter. Truth be told, I wish they weren’t suspects myself.”
“Sounds complicated,” Yukawa said, smirking as watched the two detectives’ faces.
“Nothing complicated about it. The man who was killed used to be married, and apparently he’d been searching for his ex-wife just before it happened. So, we had to check out her alibi, that’s all.”
“And she has an alibi?”
“That’s the rub.” Kusanagi scratched his head.
“Oh? You’re not sounding so sure yourself, anymore,” Yukawa laughed as he headed for the kettle. Steam was rising from its spout. “Can I interest you gentlemen in some coffee?”
“Please,” Kishitani said, nodding eagerly.
“I’ll pass,” Kusanagi frowned. “See, there’s something about the alibi that doesn’t feel right.”
“Well, I don’t think they’re lying.”
“On the basis of what? We haven’t finished checking out their story yet.”
“But didn’t you just tell the chief that it was impossible to confirm alibis at ramen shops and movie theaters?”
“I didn’t say it was impossible. I just said it was almost impossible.”
“Ah,” Yukawa joined in as he arrived with two coffees in hand. “So these women, the suspects, claim they were seeing a movie at the time of the crime?” He handed one of the cups to Kishitani.
“Thanks,” Kishitani said, nodding. Then his eyes went wide as he noticed the layers of grime on the cup’s rim. Kusanagi stifled a laugh.
“If the movie’s their alibi, that would seem hard to corroborate.” Yukawa seated himself in a chair.
“But they went out to karaoke afterward. And we have an affidavit from one of the staff there,” Kishitani said, a bit too stridently.
“Which doesn’t mean we can just ignore the movie theater. They could have committed the crime and then gone out for karaoke,” Kusanagi pointed out.
“But the Hanaokas went to the movies at seven or eight o’clock. I can’t imagine any place so deserted at that time of night that they could have just killed someone there. And they didn’t just kill him, they stripped him bare.”
“I agree, but you have to consider all the possibilities before you go writing them off as innocent.” Not to mention you have to satisfy that stickler Mamiya, Kusanagi added to himself.
“So, I gather from your discussion that you were able to ascertain the time of the murder?” Yukawa asked.
“The autopsy put the estimated time of death after six P.M. on the tenth,” Kishitani said.
“Great. Why not go ahead and divulge every last detail about the case?” Kusanagi grumbled.
“But I thought Professor Yukawa was assisting the department?”
“Only when there’s some bizarre mystery in need of unraveling. There’s no need to go outside our people for help with this case.”
“I am a mere civilian, yes. But please don’t forget my ongoing contribution to the effort. I provide you with a place to shoot the breeze.” Yukawa took a long sip of his instant coffee.
“I hear you. You want us to leave.” Kusanagi stood up from his chair.
“No, wait,” Yukawa said. “About these suspects … Could they prove they had been to the movies?”
“They seemed to know the story well enough. Of course, that doesn’t tell us when they went.”
“Did they have ticket stubs?”
Kusanagi looked back at Yukawa. Their eyes met. “They did.”
“Oh? And where were these stubs?” The rims of Yukawa’s glasses sparkled in the sunlight coming through the window.
Kusanagi snorted. “I know what you’re getting at. Who holds onto ticket stubs, right? Believe me, even I would have found it suspicious if Yasuko Hanaoka had pulled them out of her kitchen drawer and produced them immediately.”
“So they weren’t someplace in particular, then?”
“At first she said she’d thrown them away. But when she pulled out the movie program she’d bought at the theater, the stubs were inside.”
“Ah, the movie program to the rescue. It’s believable enough.” Yukawa crossed his arms. “And the date on the tickets matched the date of the murder?”
“Of course. But that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. They could have bought tickets but never gone inside, or fished those stubs out of the trash.”
“Regardless, it means that the suspects went to the theater—or near it, at least.”
“We had the same thought. So we’ve been canvassing the area since this morning, looking for someone who might have seen them. Unfortunately the girl who was taking tickets that night had today off, so we had to go all the way to her house to interview her. Which was near here, so I decided to visit.”
“And the ticket girl told you absolutely nothing of value, I see,” Yukawa said with a chuckle, noting the dour look on Kusanagi’s face.
“The tenth was a few days ago, and she can’t be expected to remember the faces of everyone who comes to the theater. Not that I’m disappointed. I didn’t expect anything to come of it in the first place. And I see we’ve taken up enough of the assistant professor’s time. We’ll be on our way.” Kusanagi clapped Kishitani on the back, making him cough up a swig of coffee, and headed for the door.
“Hang in there, Detective,” Yukawa called after Kusanagi. “If this suspect of yours is the true killer, you could be in for a rough time.”
Kusanagi turned around again. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Like I just said, a common criminal wouldn’t think to put ticket stubs procured for an alibi in such a credible place. If we assume that the tickets really were bought to establish an alibi, that she put them in the pamphlet expecting you to come and ask her for them, I’d say that makes her an adversary to be feared.” The smile died from Yukawa’s eyes as he spoke.
Kusanagi nodded, mulling over the warning. “Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind.” He said good-bye again and once more started to leave. But just before he put his hand on the doorknob, he remembered something and turned around a third time. “You know, one of your classmates lives next door to the suspect. He would have been an upperclassman when you were starting out.”
“Upperclassman?” Yukawa echoed, lifting an eyebrow.
“Guy by the name of Ishigami. Teaches high school math. He graduated from Imperial University. Probably from your department, too.”
“Ishigami…” Yukawa muttered to himself, then his eyes went wide behind his glasses. “Ishigami the Buddha!”
“The Buddha? Huh?”
Yukawa held up a hand, motioning for them to wait, then disappeared into the next room. Kusanagi and Kishitani exchanged curious glances.
The professor returned a moment later. He was carrying a black university folder in his hand. He opened it and pointed to a page. “This Ishigami?”
There were several photographs on the page, all of them young students. At the top of the page was the heading, “Masters of Science Received in the 38th Term.”
Yukawa was pointing to the picture of a chubby-faced graduate student. Unlike the students in the other photos, this fellow wasn’t smiling; his thin eyes merely stared straight ahead impassively. The name beneath the photo read “Tetsuya Ishigami.”
“Hey, that’s him,” Kishitani said. “He’s a lot younger here, but there’s no mistaking that look.”
Kusanagi covered the top of the man’s head with one finger and nodded. “Yeah. That’s the guy. Didn’t recognize him at first with all that hair. You know him?”
“Yes, but he wasn’t an upperclassman. We were the same year. The science department in those days split us up by major after the second year. I was in physics, and Ishigami was in math.” Yukawa closed the file.