Kusanagi gulped and stared at the physicist. “You’re saying it was a ploy to draw our attention to Shinozaki?”
“That’s one possibility.”
“We did spend a lot of time and manpower questioning people around the station here. If your theory’s right, that was all wasted time.”
“Not a waste, per se. After all, the bicycle was stolen from here. But I don’t think this case is simple enough that knowing that fact will do you any good at all. No, our little caper was constructed far more craftily and with greater precision than that.”
Yukawa turned abruptly and began to walk away.
“Hey—” Kusanagi hurried after him. “Where are you going now?”
“Home. Where else?”
“Wait a second.” The detective grabbed Yukawa by the shoulder. “There is one more question I wanted to ask you. Why are you so interested in this case?”
“Was I not supposed to be interested?”
“That’s not an answer.”
Yukawa shrugged Kusanagi’s hand off his shoulder. “Am I a suspect?”
“A suspect? Hardly.”
“Then I can do as I please, can’t I? I’m certainly not trying to obstruct your investigation.”
“Okay, then let me be frank. You mentioned my name to the mathematician living next to Yasuko Hanaoka, didn’t you? And you lied to him. You told him I wanted his help with the investigation. I think I have the right to ask what that was all about.”
Yukawa turned to face Kusanagi, his body suddenly tense, and behind his sunglasses, he stared at the detective coldly. “You went to talk to him?”
“I did. Because you wouldn’t tell me anything.”
“What did he say?”
“Now just hold on a minute. I’m the one asking the questions here. What was that all about? Do you think the mathematician is involved?”
Yukawa turned away and resumed walking toward the station.
“Hey, wait—” Kusanagi called to his back.
Yukawa stopped and peered back over his shoulder. “Now it’s my turn to be frank. I’m afraid I can’t give you my full cooperation with this case. I’m looking into it for personal reasons. So don’t expect me to be of much help.”
“Then don’t expect me to give you any more information.”
Yukawa’s eyes dropped to the pavement, then he nodded. “Fair enough. We’ll just each have to go it alone this time around.” He began walking again.
Kusanagi sensed a rare determination in Yukawa’s gait, and he refrained from calling after him again.
After pausing for a cigarette, the detective headed for the station himself. He had decided to delay his departure so he wouldn’t end up on the same train as Yukawa. For reasons Kusanagi couldn’t fathom, his friend had some personal connection to this case and seemed to be determined to solve it on his own terms. Kusanagi didn’t want to do anything to distract him.
What is Yukawa so worried about? Kusanagi wondered as the subway car swayed along the tracks.
Could it really be the mathematician, Ishigami? But if Ishigami was somehow connected to the case, why hadn’t his name come up at all, except as the lead suspect’s neighbor? What was it about him that bothered Yukawa so much?
Kusanagi thought back over what he had seen a couple of evenings before at the lunch box store. Yukawa was there with Ishigami—and Ishigami had told him it was Yukawa’s idea to go there.
Yukawa wasn’t the type to go out of his way to do something without a good reason. He had been after something when he went to that shop with Ishigami. But what?
And then Kudo had shown up right after that … But surely Yukawa would have had no way of anticipating that.
Kusanagi thought back on his discussion with Kudo, but he couldn’t remember the man having said anything about Ishigami. Kudo hadn’t given any names at all, for that matter. In fact, he had plainly stated that he wouldn’t offer any names even if he knew them.
A thought crossed Kusanagi’s mind. What had they been talking about when he said that? He pictured Kudo’s face, the man suppressing his irritation as he spoke of the people who visited Benten-tei just to see Yasuko.
Kusanagi took a deep breath and straightened his back. The young woman sitting in the seat across from him shot him a dubious look.
The detective glanced up at the subway map above the door. Think I’ll make a stop in Hamacho.
It had been a while since Ishigami last sat behind the wheel of a car, but it only took him about thirty minutes to get used to driving again. Still, it took him a while to find a suitable place to park on the road near his destination. Every spot he checked seemed like it would put him in someone else’s way. Finally he found a small truck that had been sloppily parked across two spaces and managed to squeeze in behind it.
It was his second time in a rental car. He’d been obliged to pick one up once while he was a university assistant in order to ferry students around on a field trip to a power plant. That time he drove a large van that seated seven, but today he was in a small economy car, which he found much easier to handle.
Ishigami’s eyes went to a small building ahead of him on the right. The sign on the building read “Hikari Graphics, Ltd.” It was Kuniaki Kudo’s company.
It hadn’t been difficult to track the place down. He had the name Kudo from the detective, Kusanagi, and he knew the man ran a printing company. Ishigami had gone online, found a site with links to printing companies, and checked every single one in Tokyo. Hikari Graphics was the only one with a CEO named Kudo.
Ishigami had gone to the rental car office directly after finishing up at school and picked up a car he had reserved in advance.
There was danger involved in renting a car. The transaction would leave a trail. But he had weighed the risks for a long time before deciding to act.
When the digital display on the dashboard read 5:50 P.M., several men and women emerged from the front entrance. Ishigami spotted Kudo amongst them, and his body stiffened.
Eyes fixed on the group, he reached for the digital camera in the passenger seat. Flicking it on, he looked through the view-finder. There. He adjusted the focus and zoomed in as far as the lens allowed.
Kudo was dressed impeccably. Ishigami didn’t even know where one would go to buy that kind of clothes. Again, it occurred to him that this man was Yasuko’s type. Of course, not just Yasuko, but most women, if given a choice between him and Kudo, would have chosen Kudo.
Ishigami snapped a picture, feeling a pulse of envy course through him. He had set the camera not to flash, but even so Kudo showed up beautifully on the LCD. The sun was high enough and angled well so as to light his subject clearly.
Kudo was going around to the back of the building where, Ishigami had already ascertained, the company’s private parking lot was located. The mathematician waited, watching. After a few moments a single Mercedes rolled out into the street. It was green. Spotting Kudo in the driver’s seat, Ishigami hurriedly started his own engine.
He drove, eyes fixed on the Mercedes’s brake lights. Driving was difficult enough, but following someone else made it even harder. The worst part was timing the traffic lights. Luckily, Kudo was a conservative driver. He drove at or under the speed limit, and always stopped at yellow lights.
Ishigami began to worry that he might be driving too close to his mark and would be noticed. Still, now that he had started, he had to keep following.
As he drove, the mathematician occasionally glanced at the car’s GPS. The roads were mostly unfamiliar to him, but he could see on the map that Kudo’s Mercedes was heading for Shinagawa.