“Did Yasuko Hanaoka tell you this—that she was only pretending to talk to her daughter, when in fact she was talking to you?”
“She didn’t have to tell me. I know everything about her,” Ishigami asserted, vigorously nodding his head.
“So she didn’t tell you that, then? Maybe this whole arrangement was just in your head?”
“Nonsense!” Ishigami’s expressionless face flushed slightly. “You see, I knew about the trouble her ex-husband had been giving her because she told me about it. Why would she bother telling her daughter such things? It doesn’t make sense. She was giving all this information for my benefit. She was asking me to do something about it.”
Kusanagi waved one hand to calm him, squashing out the smoldering cigarette with the other. “You were saying you had another means of communication?”
“Yes, the phone. I called her every evening.”
“You called her house?”
“Her cell phone, to be precise. Not that we would talk. I would merely let the phone ring several times. If she had an urgent need, she was to answer. If not, she wouldn’t pick up. I always let it ring five times before hanging up. That was the number we decided upon.”
“You decided? Both of you? So she knew about this?”
“Of course. We had talked it over previously.”
“So we could ask Ms. Hanaoka about this?”
“Absolutely. That’s the only way to be sure,” Ishigami said with an air of confidence.
Kusanagi shook his head. “I’m afraid we’re going to have to ask you to repeat this story several times. We’ll be writing up a formal statement, you see.”
“Not a problem. I understand there’s procedure to be followed.”
“Before we get to that, however, there’s one last thing I wanted to ask you.” Kusanagi put his hands together on the table, interlocking his fingers. “Why’d you turn yourself in?”
Ishigami took a deep breath before asking, “Should I not have turned myself in?”
“That’s not what I asked. I just wanted to know why you decided to do so, and why now.”
Ishigami snorted. “What has that got to do with anything? Surely all you need to do your job is a confession. How about, ‘Wracked with guilt over what he had done, the murderer turned himself in’? I should think that would suffice.”
“Sorry, but you don’t exactly look wracked with guilt.”
“If you’re wondering whether I feel I did wrong, then I’d have to say I don’t—well, not exactly. I do have regrets. I wish I hadn’t done what I did. And if I had known how I would be betrayed, I never would’ve killed that man.”
“Sorry? You were betrayed?”
“Yasuko, she…” Ishigami dropped his eyes for a moment before continuing. “She’s seeing another man. Even though I was the one who dealt with her ex-husband. And if she hadn’t told me all those things, I never would’ve done it. She said it, plain and clear: ‘I want to kill him.’ So I killed him for her. You might say she was my accomplice. She made me do it, after all. In fact, I don’t know why you police aren’t over there arresting her this minute.”
In order to corroborate Ishigami’s story, the police had to search his apartment. While that was going on, Kusanagi and Kishitani went to talk to Yasuko Hanaoka. It was evening, and she and Misato were at home. The two detectives had a fellow officer take the girl outside—not to protect her from hearing anything alarming, but because they wanted to question her separately.
When she heard that Ishigami had turned himself in, Yasuko’s eyes went wide; for a moment she seemed to have stopped breathing. She opened her mouth but no words came out.
“I take it this comes as a surprise?” Kusanagi asked, paying close attention to her expression.
Yasuko shook her head slowly, and finally spoke. “I had no idea. I mean, why would he kill Togashi?”
“You can’t think of any possible motive?”
Yasuko hesitated at Kusanagi’s question, a look of bewilderment coming across her face. She looked as though she had something to say but was unwilling to say it.
“Ishigami says he did it for you. He says he killed your ex-husband on your behalf.”
Yasuko looked pained and let out a long sigh.
“So you can think of a reason.”
She nodded slightly. “I knew he had feelings for me. I just never imagined he would go so far—”
“He told us that the two of you have been in constant contact for some time now.”
“Contact?” Yasuko frowned. “We’ve barely ever spoken.”
“But there were phone calls from him? Every evening?” Kusanagi told the woman what Ishigami had said about their arrangement. Yasuko frowned again.
“So that was him calling.”
“You didn’t know?”
“I thought it might be him, maybe, but I wasn’t sure. He never gave his name.”
“I see. Can you tell us a little more about these calls?”
Yasuko explained that someone unknown started phoning her in the evening about three months ago. Without giving his name, the caller had suddenly started saying things about her personal life—things no one could possibly have known unless they had been spying on her. She was frightened, afraid that she had a stalker; but she’d been baffled by the question of who it might be. After that, the phone had rung every night at the same time, but she had never answered—except for once, when she’d picked up the receiver without thinking. Then the man on the other end said: “I understand you’ve been too busy to answer your phone. So I have a suggestion. I will call every evening, and you only need to answer if you need me for something. I will let the phone ring five times, you just need to pick up before the fifth ring.”
Yasuko had reluctantly agreed, and since that time, the phone rang every night. Apparently, the stranger was calling her from a public phone. She never answered.
“You couldn’t tell it was Ishigami from his voice?”
“Not really. We’d spoken so little. And I never picked up except for those two times, so I can’t even really remember what the voice sounded like now. In any case, I can hardly imagine someone like him doing such a thing. I mean, he’s a high school teacher!”
“That’s no guarantee of character these days, I’m afraid,” Kishitani offered. Then, as if embarrassed by his own interruption, he quickly lowered his head.
Kusanagi reflected on how the junior detective had taken the Hanaokas’ side since the very beginning. Ishigami’s turning himself in must have come as a great relief to Kishitani.
“Was there ever anything else, besides the calls?” Kusanagi asked.
“Well…” Yasuko rose and retrieved three envelopes from a nearby drawer. There was no sender or return address marked on any of them; on the front of each was only the name “Yasuko Hanaoka.”
“And these are?”
“Letters I found in the mailbox on my door. There were some others, but I threw them out. I just thought I should keep these as evidence in case there was ever a more serious problem—people are always doing that on television, you know. I didn’t much like having them, but I kept these three, just in case.”
Kusanagi opened the envelopes.
Each contained a single sheet of paper with words that had clearly been typed on a computer. None of the letters was particularly long:
I notice you’ve been putting on more makeup recently. And wearing fancier clothes. That’s not like you. Plainer attire suits you better. It also bothers me that you’ve been coming home late. You should come home right after work is finished.