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She heard the sliding door open behind her. “Mom?”

After a long moment Yasuko stood shakily. She glanced at the bulge in the kotatsu cover and a new wave of despair came crashing down on her. “We didn’t have a choice,” she said at last.

“What are we going to do?” Misato asked, looking up at her mother.

“What can we do but call the police?”

“You’re going to turn yourself in?”

“You have a better idea? He’s dead. I killed him.”

“But what’ll happen to you?”

“I don’t know.” Yasuko pulled back her disheveled hair. She realized that she must have looked frightful. She wondered what the mathematician next door had thought. Not that it mattered.

“Will you go to jail?” Misato asked.

“Well, I suppose so, yes.” Yasuko’s lips shaped a smile. She could already feel herself giving up. “I did kill him, after all.”

Misato shook her head violently. “But that’s not fair!”

“Why not?”

“It’s not your fault. It was all his fault. He was gone, history! But he kept coming back, tormenting you, and me … You shouldn’t have to go to jail for him.”

“Murder is murder. Everything else is just details.”

Oddly enough, Yasuko could feel her own feelings coming under control as she explained the situation to Misato. She could almost be coolheaded about the whole affair. And as soon as she began to calm down, she started wondering if it was really true that she had no other option. She hadn’t wanted Misato to grow up the daughter of a nightclub hostess. A murderer’s daughter had to be worse. But she couldn’t think of a way out. Still, even if there was no getting around the fact of what had happened, at least she could try to make both of them look as good as possible in the eye of the public.

Yasuko saw the cordless phone where it lay in a corner of the room. She went over and picked it up.

“Mom, no!” Misato darted across the room, trying to take the receiver from her mother’s hand.

“Let go!”

“No, you can’t!” Misato shouted, grabbing Yasuko’s wrist. She had a strong grip, probably from those hours of badminton practice after school.

“Let go of me, please.”

“No, Mom, I won’t let you do it. I’d rather turn myself in.”

“Nonsense! What are you talking about?”

Misato shot her mother a defiant look. “I hit him first. You were just trying to save me from him. And even after it all started, I helped. I killed him, too.”

Yasuko’s body stiffened, and her grip on the phone weakened. Misato snatched it from her hand. Hugging it to herself she went to the far corner of the room, turning her back on her mother.

Yasuko thought furiously. What would the police do? Would they believe her if she said she’d killed Togashi by herself? Would they just take her word for it?

No, the police would make a thorough investigation. She had seen enough police dramas on television to know that they would want evidence—and they would use every means at their disposal to get it. They would question the neighbors, there would be a forensics team, and then—

Yasuko’s vision dimmed. The police could threaten her all they wanted, she would never tell them what Misato had done, she was sure of that. But what if their investigation revealed the truth anyway? It would all be over.

She wondered if there was some way she could make it look like she had killed him by herself, but she soon discarded the idea. If she tried anything of the sort, they’d see right through her amateurish efforts.

I have to protect Misato. The girl had had it so tough, growing up with a mother like her. Yasuko would gladly give her own life if it meant Misato would not have to suffer anymore.

So what should I do? Is there anything I can do?

A curious sound shook Yasuko out of her thoughts. Gradually, she realized it was the phone, ringing as Misato clutched it. Misato’s eyes went wide and she looked at her mother.

Yasuko quietly extended her hand. Misato bit her lip, then slowly handed over the phone.

Yasuko steadied her breath, then lifted the receiver to her ear and pressed the talk button. “Yes? Hello? Hanaoka speaking.”

“Um, hi. It’s Ishigami, from next door.”

Yasuko stared stupidly at the phone. It’s that teacher again. What could he possibly want this time? “Yes? Can I help you?”

“Erm, well, actually, I was wondering what you were going to do.”

Yasuko had no idea what he meant. “I’m sorry, about what?”

“Just, well—” Ishigami paused before continuing. “If you were going to call the police, well that’s fine, I’ll say nothing about it. But if you weren’t, then I was thinking there might be something I could do to help.”

“What?” Yasuko’s mouth hung open. What the hell was he saying?

“How about I come over there now,” Ishigami said, his voice hushed over the phone. “Would that be okay?”

“What? No, I don’t think—no, that would not be okay.” Yasuko stammered, her body breaking out in a cold sweat.

“Ms. Hanaoka,” Ishigami went on. “It’s very difficult to dispose of a body. A woman can’t do it by herself.”

Yasuko was speechless.

He must have overheard. He must’ve been able to hear her talking with Misato. Maybe he had been listening to everything—her argument with Togashi, the struggle, everything.

It’s over, she thought, lowering her head. There was no escape now. She would have to turn herself in. She would just have to try to make sure that Misato’s involvement never came to light.

“Ms. Hanaoka, are you listening to me?”

“Um, yes. I’m listening.”

“Can I come over then?”

“But I just told you—” Yasuko stopped and looked at her daughter. Misato stared back at her, fear and confusion on her face. She must really be wondering who I’m talking to.

If Ishigami had been listening to everything from the neighboring apartment, then he knew Misato was involved in the murder. And if he were to tell the police what he knew …

Yasuko swallowed. “Right. Okay. There is something I wanted to ask your help with anyway. Please do come over.”

“Be right there,” came Ishigami’s reply.

“Who was it?” Misato asked as soon as Yasuko had hung up.

“The teacher from next door. Mr. Ishigami.”

“Why? How did he—”

“I’ll explain later. You go to your room, and close the door. Quickly!”

Still looking confused, Misato went into the back room again. At almost the same instant that the girl shut her door, Yasuko heard Ishigami step out of his apartment.

A few moments later, the doorbell rang. Yasuko went to the entryway, unlocked the door, and removed the chain.

Ishigami was waiting there with a curious expression on his face. For some reason, he had put on a dark navy jacket. He wasn’t wearing that a moment ago.

“Come in.”

Ishigami nodded and stepped inside.

While Yasuko locked the door behind him, the teacher stepped into the room and without the slightest hesitation pulled back the cover on the kotatsu. He went down on one knee to get a closer look at Togashi’s corpse. From his expression he seemed to be deep in thought. For the first time, Yasuko noticed that he was wearing gloves.

Hesitantly, Yasuko joined him where he knelt. All the life had drained from Togashi’s face. Spittle, or something else—it was hard to say—had run down from his lips and dried on his skin.