Inspector Imanishi Investigates

be reassigned to your precinct again, so I might come bothering you.”

“I hope you do.” Yoshimura sounded glad. “I can learn a lot from you if we get to work together again.”

“Don’t say that. My theories on this case have been wrong from the beginning,” Imanishi said.

“This is a chance to start fresh.” Yoshimura tried to reassure him.

“I’d like to get together tomorrow.”

“I’ll be waiting for you.”

Imanishi left police headquarters shortly after that. It was still light when he got home. The days were longer, but he had also gotten home earlier than usual.

“Why don’t you go over to the bath?” his wife said.

“I’ll take the boy and go for a long soak then.”

Ten-year-old Taro, their only child, ran around the house excitedly, happy that he was going out to the neighborhood bath with his father.

When they came back from the public bath dinner was ready.

While they were gone, Imanishi’s younger sister had come over. She lived in Kawaguchi, on the outskirts of Tokyo. Her husband worked in a foundry, but they had saved up some money and owned a small apartment building.

“Good evening, Brother.” The sister poked her head out of the other room where she was changing out of her street clothes into some comfortable clothes she had borrowed from Imanishi’s wife.

“I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I just arrived.”

Imanishi made a sour face. His sister always involved them in her fights with her husband.

“It’s hot today, isn’t it?” she said as she plopped down beside Imanishi and started to fan herself.

Imanishi stole a glance at her. He could tell by her expression whether or not she had just come from having a fight with her husband. He was relieved. “What is it? Have you two been at it again?” Imanishi talked this way on purpose when he knew that they hadn’t been fighting. When it was obvious that there had been a fight, he tried not to refer to it at all.

“No, not today. Tonight he’s on the night shift, and I’m tired from helping somebody move in all day. So I’ve come for a rest.”

“Who moved in?”

“A new tenant for one of our apartment units.”

“You mean the room that doesn’t get much sunlight?”

His sister had been complaining that this room was hard to rent out.

“She’s a single woman, about twenty-five years old. It didn’t seem like she had anyone else to help her. I felt sorry for her and pitched in.”

“If she’s a woman alone, could she be someone’s mistress?”

“No, she’s not. Although she does work in the entertainment district.”

“Is she a waitress at a fancy restaurant?”

“No, apparently a hostess in a bar in Ginza.”

“If she’s moving into an apartment way out in Kawaguchi, she can’t be working in a very profitable bar.”

Taking his comment as a slight, Imanishi’s sister countered indignantly, “Of course, the locations most convenient to Ginza would be Akasaka or Shinjuku. But apparently the bar customers are a real problem. They make up all sorts of excuses to see her home after the bar closes.”

“Really? So she moved to Kawaguchi to get away from that? Where was she living?”

“She said near Azabu.”

“Is she pretty?” Imanishi asked.

“Yes, very pretty. Why don’t you come and take a look at her some time?”

At that moment Imanishi’s wife entered the room with a bowl of watermelon slices. Imanishi’s sister stuck out her tongue, embarrassed at what she had said.

“Please eat it while it’s cold. Taro, come over here.” Yoshiko called out to Taro who was playing in the yard and set down the bowl. “Oyuki-san says all the units in her apartment building are now rented,” she said to Imanishi.

“So she was just telling me.”

Sekigawa rode in a taxi with Emiko. It was almost midnight, and most of the houses along the route had closed up for the night. The only things that could be seen were what the taxi headlights picked up.

“I’m tired,” Emiko said. “I was thinking of calling in sick today. But I forced myself to go in, since I had promised to meet you.” Emiko held Sekigawa’s hand tightly as they sat in the back seat.

“When you moved in did you ask anyone to help you?” Sekigawa asked, looking straight ahead.

“No. The movers carried everything into the apartment. The hard part came after that. Luckily, the woman who owns the apartment building pitched in.” She leaned against Sekigawa. “I wish you’d come to help.” Her voice was both scolding and seductive.

“But I couldn’t possibly.”

“Yes, I understand. But I still wish you could have.”

Sekigawa was silent.

“After I moved out, I realized how convenient my other place was. There was shopping close by, and it was easy to get into town. The place I’m in now seems so far away, it’s depressing. But since you insisted, I guess it couldn’t be helped,” Emiko said.

“No, it couldn’t. And it was your fault anyway.”

“What do you mean?” Emiko’s grip on Sekigawa’s hand tightened. “It wasn’t my fault. You were the one he saw. And even that…”

“Stop it,” Sekigawa said, jerking his head toward the driver.

The driver was speeding now. After they had ridden in silence for some time, they neared a lighted bridge spanning Arakawa River. Sekigawa stopped the cab after they had crossed it.

“Are you sure this is where you want to get out?” the taxi driver asked. Looking at the dark levee that extended along the river, he smirked.

“It’s scary here. Let’s not go too far,” Emiko said, hanging onto his arm.

Ignoring her, Sekigawa continued walking down toward the water.

“How far are you going to go?” Emiko leaned on him. Her high heels made it difficult for her to walk on the pebbled bank.

Across the river neon lights flickered in the distance. Stars glittered in the sky.

Sekigawa stood still and said out of the blue, “Don’t talk so thoughtlessly.”

“What do you mean?” Emiko asked.

“I’m talking about inside the cab just now. You can’t tell what the driver overheard. He was listening to everything you said.”

“You’re right,” Emiko said meekly. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ve told you before. You shouldn’t have said that I was the one he saw.”

“I’m really sorry, but…”

“But what?”

“I still don’t think the student noticed anything.”

Taking a cigarette out of his pocket, Sekigawa cupped his hands to light it. For a moment, half his face was lit up.

“You’re just trying to fool yourself,” he said in a dry voice, exhaling smoke. “You told me the student across the hall asked you about me.”

“He doesn’t know who you are. He just asked me what kind of man had come to my room the night before. He was curious. I don’t think he meant anything by it.”

“See,” Sekigawa said, “his asking you proves that his friend said something to him. I tell you, he recognized my face.”

“The way the student across the hall asked me about it, it didn’t seem you were recognized.”

“My picture appears in newspapers next to my articles,” Sekigawa said, staring hard at the dark river. “The guy is a student. It’s very likely that he reads what I write. He might have remembered my photograph.”