Imanishi felt a little light-headed. “Kameda, eh?” he said, without realizing that he was saying the name aloud. It was on his mind after all. He didn’t think he was really drunk, yet he repeated the name several times.
The next morning Imanishi slept late. It was almost nine o’clock when he got up. His son had already left for school.
Imanishi washed his face and sat at the dining table. He had slept soundly for a change and felt rested.
“What time do you have to be at work today?” Yoshiko asked as she scooped some rice into his bowl.
“I have to show up by eleven.”
“So you can take your time.”
The morning sun shone on their small garden. The sunshine had become quite strong. Droplets of water glistened on the leaves of the miniature bonsai plants. Yoshiko must have watered them.
“Will you be early tonight?”
“I’m not sure when I’ll be home.”
“I hope you’ll be able to come home early. Too many late nights in a row can’t be good for your health.”
“But that can’t be helped in my line of work. Until the case is solved I can’t tell whether I’ll be early or late.”
“And when this case is solved, there’ll be the next one. There’s never an end to them.” Yoshiko seemed mildly displeased. But this was just her way of showing that she cared for her husband.
Imanishi pretended not to hear and ate his breakfast of rice and miso soup, pouring the soup over the rice. Having been raised in the countryside, he had never abandoned this custom. His wife criticized his bad manners, but to Imanishi this was the way it tasted best.
His stomach full, Imanishi lay back on the tatami. Perhaps his sleepiness still lingered, for when he lay down, he felt drowsy.
“Why don’t you rest a bit before you leave?” Yoshiko brought him a pillow and covered him with a light blanket.
He couldn’t fall asleep right away. A women’s magazine happened to by lying near the pillow. To take his mind off the case, he opened up the thick glossy magazine. He intended to skim it at random, but another smaller volume fell out of it. It was a supplement, a folded color map entitled “A Guide to Japan’s Famous Hot Spring Areas.” Imanishi lay down and held the map above his head, his attention drawn to the northeastern region of Japan. He was still mulling over the name Kameda. The map highlighted such famous resort areas as Matsushima, Hanamaki Hot Springs, Lake Tazawa, and Lake Towada. The names of the stations were crowded in along the train lines. Reading the unfamiliar station names seemed to conjure up images of the scenery of that area. On the left there was Hachirogata, beyond that, the Oga Peninsula. Noshiro, Koigawa, Oiwake, Akita, Shimohatma-these place names drifted before his eyes. Then he saw the name Ugo Kameda.
He jumped up and started getting ready for work.
“What happened?” Yoshiko hurried into the room from the kitchen and contemplated her husband hastily changing into his work clothes. “Can’t you sleep?”
“This is no time to be sleeping,” Imanishi said. “Hurry up and shine my shoes, will you?”
“But you don’t have to be there until eleven. It’s still early,” said Yoshiko, looking at the wall clock.
“Never mind, just hurry. I have to leave right away,” he said loudly. He could feel his own excitement mounting.
Imanishi walked quickly along the street. He waited for the bus impatiently.
Investigation headquarters had been set up in a room in the Shinagawa precinct office. It was shortly after ten when Imanishi reached it.
“Hey, you’re here early,” a colleague said, patting him on the back.
“Is the chief in?”
“Yeah, he just came in.”
Imanishi entered the room with the sign “Kamata Railroad Yard Murder Case Investigation Headquarters” on the door. Behind a desk in the center of the room sat Police Inspector Kurozaki. Imanishi went directly to him.
“Good morning, sir,” Imanishi said.
“Morning,” Kurozaki nodded.
“Chief, it’s about the Kameda matter,” Imanishi started off.
Kurozaki’s hair was slightly frizzy, his eyes were narrow, and he had a double chin. He was a big man with a thick neck that was tucked into his shoulders. He looked up quickly and asked, “Have you found out anything?”
“I don’t know if this is right, but about the name Kameda,” Imanishi began. “Could it be that it isn’t a person’s name but a place name?”
“Is there such a place in the Tohoku region?”
“Yes, there is. Actually, I found it on a map this morning.”
“I didn’t think of that. That’s… of course… so that’s it,” Kurozaki answered, thinking it over. “Where is this Kameda?” he asked.
“It’s in Akita Prefecture.”
The chief yelled, “Hey, someone bring me a prefectural map.”
A young detective rushed out of the room to borrow a map.
“Boy, am I glad you noticed this,” the chief said.
The detective returned with a folded map flapping in his hand. The chief opened it up at once. “Imanishi, where is it?”
Imanishi went around the desk to stand beside the chief and peer at the small print. The map that Imanishi had seen that morning had been an inexact drawing. After a moment Imanishi found Akita City. Then, pointing with his little finger, he traced the Uetsu Line.
“Let’s see.” The chief peered at the spot, “I see, Ugo Kameda. It’s there.” Just next to Ugo Kameda was a town called Iwaki.
Chief Kurozaki gathered all the detectives together and announced Imanishi’s discovery. The majority opinion was now in favor of Kameda as a place name rather than a person’s name. All eyes in the room drifted toward Imanishi.
“We’ll send the victim’s photo to the area and have the local police inquire as to whether anyone in that area knows the victim,” the chief said.
The response came four days later. Chief Kurozaki took the call.
“This is the investigation chief at the Iwaki station in Akita Prefecture,” the caller began.
“This is Chief Inspector Kurozaki. Thank you very much for all the trouble you went to.”
“About your inquiry…”
“Yes?” Kurozaki, grasping the telephone receiver, became tense. “Were you able to find anything?”
“We made inquiries in the Kameda area, but unfortunately were unable to come up with anyone fitting your description.”
“Is that right?” Kurozaki said in disappointment.
“We took the photograph you sent us and asked various people, but the residents of the Kameda area say they don’t know him.”
“What is Kameda like?” Kurozaki asked.
“The population of the Kameda area is at most three to four thousand. It is now part of Iwaki town. There is very little farmland, and most of the industry in this area centers on the production of dried noodles and weaving. The population seems to be declining year by year. If the man in the picture was from Kameda, people would have known immediately, but they all said they had never seen him.”
“Is that so.” But the next words gave hope to the discouraged Kurozaki.
“Though no one fits the description, something strange did happen here.”
“Yes, what do you mean when you say ‘something strange’?”
“Two days before we received your inquiry, that is, just a week ago, a stranger was seen wandering around the Kameda area. This man also stayed in the one inn in Kameda. Since it’s an area where it is unusual to see strangers, he attracted some attention, and one of our men heard about it.”
“What kind of man was he?” the chief asked.
“He was thirty-two or -three years old. At first impression he seemed to be a factory worker. We couldn’t figure out why he had come to Kameda. I wanted to inform you in case it might be of interest.”
