“If he was involved, then I think he was not in a position to assist with the actual murder. In other words, by the time he became aware of the situation, Togashi was already dead. So what were his options? If it had been possible to conceal what had happened, he would have tried that. If it was impossible, he would have done what he could to hinder the eventual investigation. He would have given explicit instructions to Yasuko Hanaoka and her daughter, telling them how to answer detectives’ questions and what evidence to reveal at what time. A script for them to follow, in other words.”
Which meant, according to Yukawa’s theory, everything Yasuko Hanaoka and Misato had told them so far wasn’t their own, unsullied testimony, but one prepared by Ishigami, who had been behind them, pulling the strings the whole time.
“Of course,” the physicist had added quietly, “this is all merely my conjecture—a theory constructed on the premise that Ishigami was somehow involved. That premise itself might be wrong. In fact, I hope it’s wrong. I hope deep in my heart that he had nothing to do with it.”
Yukawa’s expression when he told Kusanagi this had been unusually pained—and, the detective thought, a little lonely. Perhaps the physicist feared losing an old friend so soon after becoming reacquainted with him.
But Yukawa had never told Kusanagi the reason why he had come to suspect Ishigami in the first place. It seemed that he had somehow come to the conclusion that Ishigami had a crush on Yasuko—but he hadn’t mentioned any evidence he had to support that theory.
Still, Kusanagi trusted Yukawa’s skills of observation and deduction, almost to the point that, if Yukawa thought something was so, the detective assumed it was correct unless proven otherwise. Which made what Kusanagi had heard at Club Marian all the more interesting.
Why hadn’t Yasuko come to them with an alibi for the night of March 10? If she had committed murder and prepared an alibi, she would have wanted to tell them about it as soon as possible. But that might not be so if Ishigami had instructed her not to tell them. Maybe he had given them instructions to never say more than was absolutely necessary at any given time.
Kusanagi remembered another remark Yukawa had made, back before he had shown any real interest in the case. When Kusanagi told the physicist that Yasuko Hanaoka had retrieved her ticket stubs from the movie pamphlet, what had he said?
“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.”
It was just past six o’clock, and Yasuko was about to remove her apron, when a customer entered Benten-tei. She smiled and gave a reflexive “Hello!” in greeting, but when she saw the man’s face, she hesitated. It was a face she knew, but not well—that of Ishigami’s old friend.
“Remember me?” he asked cheerily. “I came here before, with Mr. Ishigami.”
“Oh, oh yes. I remember you,” Yasuko said, regaining her poise and her smile.
“I happened to be in the area, and remembered your lunch boxes. The one I had the other day was really quite good.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“I’m thinking today I’ll … let’s have the special. I know that’s what Ishigami always gets, but you were out of them last time. How about today?”
“No problem,” Yasuko said, giving the order to the kitchen and undoing her apron strings.
“Oh? Were you on your way home?”
“Yes. I work until six.”
“Oh, I see. So, you’ll be going back to your apartment?”
“Yes.”
“Mind if I join you for a bit, then? There was something I wanted to talk with you about.”
“Talk about? With me?”
“Yes, well … I wanted your advice, I should say. It’s about Ishigami.” The man smiled.
Yasuko grew uneasy. “Oh, I’m sorry but I hardly know Mr. Ishigami, actually.”
“I won’t take much of your time at all. We can talk while we walk,” he offered, his tone soft but his words insistent.
“All right, then, for a little, I suppose,” Yasuko replied, seeing no easy way out of the situation.
The man introduced himself as Yukawa. He was an assistant professor at the university where Ishigami had studied.
After a few moments Yukawa’s lunch box was ready, and the two left the shop together. Yasuko had ridden to work on her bicycle, as usual. Now as they set out down the street she pushed the bike along beside her, until Yukawa said, “Let me take that,” and began to push it for her.
“So you’ve never talked much to Ishigami?”
“Not much. Just a word or two when he comes to the shop.”
“I see,” he said, and then fell silent.
“You said you wanted some advice?” Yasuko asked. She felt the tension growing inside her.
But Yukawa did not reply. Yasuko’s unease became a physical pain that spread across her chest and was starting to make her shoulders ache when finally he said, “He’s a simple man.”
“What?”
“He’s simple. Ishigami, I mean. I don’t mean stupid—I mean he’s straightforward, direct. The solutions he looks for in his work are always the simplest. He doesn’t start a problem by looking for many answers at once. And he always chooses a simple approach to get where he’s going. That’s why he is so good at what he does. There’s no indecision, and he doesn’t give up over trifling obstacles. It’s great for mathematics, but not so great for day-to-day life. You can’t always shoot for one result, for all or nothing. And yet he’s constantly doing just that, and winding up with nothing to show for all his efforts.”
“Mr. Yukawa, I…”
“I’m sorry, I know I’m not making myself very clear.” Yukawa smiled wryly. “Did you meet Ishigami for the first time when you moved into your current apartment?”
“Yes, when I went around to meet my neighbors.”
“And you told him you were working at the lunch shop then?”
“I did; but why do you ask?”
“I guess that’s when he started frequenting Benten-tei?”
“I suppose it was, yes.”
“I know you didn’t talk with him much, but did anything he said make a lasting impression on you? Any little thing?”
Yasuko was confused. This was the last sort of question she had expected to hear.
“May I ask why you want to know? Maybe if I knew, I could give you better advice.”
“Well,” Yukawa shot her a sidelong glance as they walked, “it’s because he’s my friend. He’s a very important friend of mine, and I want to know how he’s been lately.”
“I’m afraid we speak so little, there’s really nothing much to say.”
“Yet for him, that connection to you was far more important than you make it out to be. I think you understand why.”
Yasuko caught the serious look in Yukawa’s eyes, and it made her skin prickle. It suddenly occurred to her that this man knew about Ishigami’s interest in her and wanted to know why it had started.
Yasuko realized for the first time that she had never given a moment’s thought to that herself. She knew from years of experience that she wasn’t the kind of beauty with whom men fell head over heels in love at first sight. It had to have been something else.
She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t think of anything. Really, I could count the number of times we’ve spoken on one hand.”
“I see,” Yukawa replied, his tone softening. “I suppose that makes its own kind of sense, doesn’t it?” Ishigami’s friend was mostly talking to himself, but then he turned to her again and asked, “What do you think of him?”