“Well, thanks for your vote of confidence. You know my division chief is already losing interest in Ishigami. Pretty soon my hands will be tied as well. That’s why I need you to tell me why you’ve had your eye on him. Come on, Yukawa, you’ve had your fun. Why won’t you tell me?”
A serious look came across Yukawa’s face, and he set down his coffee. “I haven’t told you why because doing so would be meaningless. What I have to say wouldn’t help you all.”
“Why not let me be the judge of that?”
“Okay: the reason why I started to think he might have been involved is the same sort of reason you yourself have been talking about since you got here. Somehow I got the feeling that he might have a thing for Yasuko Hanaoka, so I thought I’d see if he had anything to do with the murder. Now, I’m guessing you want to know why I ‘had a feeling,’ and all I can say is, it was a hunch. Call it intuition. I’m not sure that anyone who didn’t understand Ishigami pretty well would be able to pick up on it. You’re always talking about a detective’s intuition, aren’t you? It’s something like that.”
“Well, this is unexpected. You’ve always made intuition sound like a dirty word.”
“I’m allowed to branch out now and then, aren’t I?”
“All right. Then at least tell me when it was you first noticed that Ishigami had a thing for her.”
“Sorry,” Yukawa replied immediately.
“C’mon!”
“It’s a matter of pride. Ishigami’s pride, I mean. It’s not the kind of thing I want to tell other people.”
Kusanagi sighed. Just then, there was a knock on the laboratory door, and another student stepped in tentatively and looked around.
“Over here,” Yukawa called out to him. “Sorry for calling you up like I did, but there was something I wanted to talk to you about with regard to your report the other day.”
“What might that be?” The student froze behind his glasses.
“Your report—it was well written. Just, there was one thing I wanted to check with you. I was wondering why you used solid-state physics to describe your process.”
The student looked bewildered for moment. “Wasn’t it a solid-state experiment…?”
Yukawa chuckled and shook his head. “Actually, the experiment is, in essence, based on elementary particle physics. I was hoping you’d consider that in your approach as well. Just because the problem seems like one of solid-state physics at first doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t consider other theories. Tunnel vision is no way to make it as a researcher. Your assumptions are your worst enemies. Trust them too much, and you’ll fail to see what’s right under your nose.”
“Right.” The student nodded.
“I’m giving you this advice because you do such good work. Thanks for dropping by.”
The student thanked him and left.
Yukawa turned his attention back to Kusanagi, only to see Kusanagi staring back at him.
“What? There something on my face?”
“No, I was just thinking you science types all seem to say the same things.”
“What do you mean?”
“When I visited him, Ishigami said something a lot like what you said just now.” Kusanagi told his friend about Ishigami’s mathematics test.
“Blind spots due to assumptions, eh? How like him.” Yukawa grinned. But the next moment, the physicist’s expression changed. Suddenly he stood, and clutching his head in his hands, he walked over to the window. He looked out and upward, toward the sky.
“Hey, Yukawa?”
But the physicist merely held up his hand for silence. Kusanagi shrugged and sat watching his friend.
“Impossible,” Yukawa muttered. “There’s no way he could’ve—”
“What? Could have what?” Kusanagi asked, unable to restrain himself any longer.
“Show me that paper you had. Ishigami’s work schedule.”
Kusanagi hurriedly produced the folded paper from his pocket. Yukawa took it. He stared at it for a moment, then quietly groaned. “I don’t believe it…”
“Don’t believe what, Yukawa? What are you talking about? Tell me!”
Yukawa thrust the schedule back toward Kusanagi. “Sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
“Huh? No way!” Kusanagi resisted. But when he saw the look on his friend’s face, he lost the next words he was going to say.
Yukawa’s expression was twisted with worry and pain. Kusanagi had never seen him look quite so miserable.
“Just go. I’m sorry,” Yukawa asked again, his voice like a moan.
Kusanagi stepped back from the table. There were a mountain of things he could have asked, but he realized the only thing he could do at that moment was leave.
FIFTEEN
The clock showed the time as 7:30 A.M. Ishigami left his apartment, clutching his tote bag. The bag contained the thing he valued most in the world: a set of files pertaining to the mathematics problem he was currently researching. “Currently”—or, more accurately, “eternally.” He had written his senior thesis on it back in college, but even now his work was far from complete.
He had calculated that it would take him roughly another twenty years to complete his work on this particular theory. Possibly even longer. It was the kind of insurmountable problem worthy of an entire lifetime’s devotion. And of all the mathematicians in the world, he was in the best position to crack it.
How wonderful it would be to forget everything else, all other considerations, all the time sinks of daily life, and just work on that problem! Ishigami daydreamed, as he had so often before. Whenever he considered the dreary truth that he might die before finishing, it chafed at him to do anything but work on it.
No matter where he went, he took his files with him. There could be no rest, no vacation while there was still progress to be made. And all he needed to work on it was paper and pencils. If only he could have been left alone to do his research, he would have required nothing else from life.
Mechanically, he walked his usual morning route past the Shin-Ohashi Bridge and down along the Sumida River, past the shacks with roofs made from blue vinyl tarps. The man with the long white hair pulled back into a long braid was once again holding a pot over a burner. Ishigami couldn’t see what he was cooking. A mutt with light brown fur was tied up beside him. The dog sat, exhausted, leaning its flank toward its master.
The Can Man was crushing cans and muttering to himself as usual. He already had two plastic bags filled with flattened aluminum balanced next to him.
A little farther along there was a bench. This morning it was empty. Ishigami glanced at it for moment, then dropped his gaze to the ground before his feet, maintaining his steady pace.
He sensed someone walking toward him along the riverbank. Right about now was when he usually met the elderly woman taking her three dogs for a walk, but he could tell from the sound of the approaching footsteps that this wasn’t she. Ishigami glanced up.
A surprised “Oh” slipped from his mouth, and he stopped.
The other person kept on coming. Then with a smile he paused in front of Ishigami.
“Morning,” said Manabu Yukawa.
Ishigami hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to reply. He wet his lips and opened his mouth. “You were waiting for me.”
“Of course I was,” Yukawa replied, still smiling. “Well, maybe not ‘waiting,’ exactly. I’ve just walked here from Kiyosu Bridge. Figured I’d run into you along the way.”
“What ever it is, it must be urgent.”
“Urgent? Maybe. It could be.”
“You want to talk about it now?” Ishigami glanced at his watch. “I haven’t much time.”