Inspector Imanishi Investigates

hinterlands of Izumo for a long time.”

“That’s right.” Imanishi felt as if he were half dreaming. This time, there was no mistake. For the first time, he felt that he could see the light at the end of a dark maze. He immediately took the map out of his pocket. Kisuki station and Minari station were both in the area where the Izumo dialect was spoken. Miki had spent ten years as a policeman there. No wonder he spoke with a zu-zu accent.

According to Imanishi’s research at the language center, the people of this area swallowed the ends of words. What the witnesses had heard as Kameda had actually been Kamedake.

Imanishi boarded the Izumo limited express at Tokyo Station. It was scheduled to depart at ten-thirty p.m. Usually he traveled with someone, but this time he was alone. For a change, Yoshiko came to the station to see him off.

“What time will you get in?” she asked as they walked along the platform.

“Tomorrow night about eight, I think.”

“That’s over twenty hours. It’s a long way away, isn’t it?”

“Yes, a long way.”

“I’m sorry that you’ll have to be on the train for so long,” Yoshiko said sympathetically.

Yoshiko waved good-bye as the train pulled out of the platform. Imanishi leaned out the window and waved back.

The train was rather empty. Imanishi pulled out the small bottle of whiskey that Yoshiko had given him and took a few sips. In front of him sat a middle-aged woman and a child. She was already leaning against the back of the seat asleep. For a while he read the newspaper, but soon he, too, felt sleepy. There was no one sitting beside him, so he lay across the seat and folded his arms. He used the arm rest as a pillow for a while, but the back of his head started to hurt. He shifted around, but he still felt cramped. Eventually he fell asleep. In his sleep he heard them announce Nagoya Station. He shifted around again.

He woke up at seven-thirty. The train had just passed Maibara. From the window he could see the morning sun shining on a large expanse of fields. Now and then water glistened beyond the fields. It was Lake Biwa. It had been several years since he had come to this area. As he traveled, he thought about the cases that had brought him here.

Imanishi bought a box lunch in Kyoto and ate it for breakfast. His neck hurt from sleeping in a strange position. He massaged his neck and shoulders.

The trip went on and on. He ate lunch at Toyooka at one-eleven. The train stopped at Tottori at two fifty-two, Yonago at four thirty-six. He could see the mountain Daisen out the left-hand window. Yasugi at four fifty-one, Matsue at five-eleven. Imanishi got off at Matsue.

If he continued straight to Kamedake, it would take another three hours, and by the time he arrived the police authorities would have left for the day. So there was no point in going all the way to Kamedake today. He went to an inn across from the station and asked for the cheapest room. His per diem was limited, so he couldn’t be extravagant.

After supper, he went out to walk around the town. He saw a long bridge. Lake Shinji spread out into the night. Its shores were dotted by solitary lights. Gazing at the night scene, the lake, and the unfamiliar surroundings, he felt melancholy.

When he returned to the inn, Imanishi asked for a massage. It was too extravagant for his travel allowance, but he decided to treat himself to it. In his younger days, no matter what he had gone through, he would never have felt this tired. It must be age, he thought.

Imanishi paid the masseur in advance and said, “I may fall asleep during the massage. If I do, feel free to leave.” He did start to feel sleepy as he was being massaged, his arms and legs stretched out on the bedding. Gradually, Imanishi stopped responding to the masseur’s comments. He had fallen asleep.

Imanishi woke up once about four in the morning. He rolled over onto his stomach and smoked a cigarette. Then he pulled out his notebook and started thinking. He fell back to sleep as he was trying to compose a poem.

The next morning, Imanishi took the Kisuki Line at Shinji Station. He had expected something old-fashioned, but it was a diesel train. The landscape along the way, however, fit Imanishi’s vague expectations. The mountains closed in and there were fewer fields. The river appeared and disappeared as the train moved on.

The passengers were mostly locals. Imanishi listened to them talk to each other. He could hear the rise at the end of phrases. But not the zu-zu accent.

Imanishi got off at Minari Station in Nita town. The train station was small, but it seemed to be the center of Nita. Descending the gentle slope from the station, he walked along a sleepy street lined with shops selling electric goods, general goods, and clothing. The signs advertising “Yachiyo quality sake” had to be for the locally produced rice wine. He crossed a bridge. The row of houses continued. Some had tiled roofs, but most were thatched. After he passed the post office and the elementary school, he arrived at the Minari police station. The building was so substantial it seemed out of place in such a small town. The mountains pressed in behind the white building.

He walked into the police station and found only five people sitting at their desks. When Imanishi gave his business card to the uniformed policeman at the reception desk, a plump man in an open-necked shirt stood up from his seat in the rear and came over.

“You’re from the Tokyo police?” he said, smiling. “I’m the police chief here. Please, come in.”

He was led to the chief’s desk at the rear of the room.

“I’ve heard about the case from the prefectural police.” The station chief took out a file from his desk drawer. “I understand you’re here for information on Miki Ken’ichi?”

Imanishi nodded and said, “Yes. You’ve probably heard something about this, but Miki Ken’ichi was killed in Tokyo. I’ve been investigating this case, and we have found that Miki-san once served at this station as a policeman. That’s why I’ve come to inquire about him.”

A staff member came over to serve them tea.

“That was a long time ago,” the station chief said. “It’s over twenty years ago, so no one now at this station knew Miki-san. I did ask around for you.”

“Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule.” Imanishi bowed his head.

“No bother. But we weren’t able to come up with much. As I said, it was quite a while ago. I don’t know if this will be of any help. Miki Ken’ichi was transferred to Kisuki station in June of 1929, came to Minari station in March of 1933, and worked at Kamedake substation. He was already a police sergeant at that time. In 1936 he was promoted to assistant inspector and became chief of patrol here. He retired in December 1938.”

This confirmed what Imanishi had learned from the information sent to Tokyo by the Shimane prefectural police.

“Chief,” Imanishi said, “I noticed from that brief resume that he was promoted very rapidly.”

“That’s right. It seems quite unusual,” the station chief nodded. “As I understand it, he was committed to his work, but he was also a very kind person who did all sorts of good deeds.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. He was cited twice for outstanding work. Here’s a copy of those commendations. Let me read from them,” the chief dropped his eyes to the file. “The first one was when there was a flood in this area when the river overflowed due to a typhoon.”

Imanishi recalled the river flowing under the bridge that he had crossed.

“There was a landslide that caused a number of deaths and injuries. In that instance, Miki- san acted courageously and saved three lives. He saved one child who was swept downstream. The others were a child and an old person that he saved by volunteering to go into a house that had been crushed by the landslide.”

Imanishi took notes on this.

“The other commendation was when there was a fire in this area. Miki-san stopped a mother who was trying to go back into her burning house and went in himself to save her baby.”

Imanishi noted this as well.

“He was exceptionally well thought of. Everyone who remembers him praises him. They all say that there was no one like him… Imanishi-san, I first heard of him after we got your inquiry. But I can’t understand why such a good man as Miki-san met with such a horrible death in Tokyo.”