Inspector Imanishi Investigates

“Do you wear a beret when you go out?” Imanishi asked, looking steadily at the face of the long-haired man across from him.

“Yes, I do.”

“A while ago you went to a sushi shop near Naruse-san’s apartment, didn’t you?”

The actor was startled again.

“At that sushi shop you obliged a fan who wanted your autograph, didn’t you? That’s not all. You tried to call Naruse-san out from her apartment by whistling, didn’t you?”

The actor grew pale. “No, that wasn’t me. I never called her out.”

“But you were whistling beneath her apartment window to try to get her to come out. Miyata- san, I saw you there. I heard you whistling that night as I passed by.”

When Imanishi said he had seen Miyata near the apartment, Miyata’s face lost all color. The actor was silent for a while. His face was full of pain.

“How about it, Miyata-san,” Imanishi pressed. “I’d like you to tell me everything you know. That doesn’t mean that I intend to do anything to you. Naruse Rieko’s death was a suicide. The police don’t act unless it’s a murder. But we are interested in Naruse-san in connection with another case.”

Miyata looked afraid, but he still didn’t answer.

“This is just my personal opinion, but I think the reason for Naruse-san’s death is connected to what we wanted to question her about. How about it, Miyata-san. Can’t you tell me the truth? Why would she commit suicide?”

The actor kept silent.

Imanishi leaned on his elbows across the table. “You must know. You seem to have known her very well. That is neither here nor there. All I want you to do is to tell me frankly what you think caused Naruse- san to commit suicide.”

Imanishi continued to stare at Miyata. Imanishi had a look that seemed to pierce to the depths of one’s soul. Miyata began to fidget.

Imanishi observed this and said, “Miyata-san, how about it? Will you cooperate?”

“Yes.” Miyata took out a handkerchief and wiped the perspiration off his brow. “I’ll tell you what I know. But I can’t talk to you now.”

“Why not?”

“Nothing is clear to me right now. As you say, I know something that might be of help in terms of Naruse- san’s suicide. But that’s not all. I’d like to tell you about something else, but… I can’t do that right now.”

Imanishi nodded, never taking his eyes off Miyata. It seemed clear that Miyata knew a lot about Rieko, that he knew secrets she kept from others, that Miyata felt something more than friendship for her. Now was not the time to insist on answers. He was so upset that it was unlikely he would say anything if pressed. His instinctive reaction to his suffering would be complete silence. Imanishi knew, if he was to learn more, he would have to give Miyata time.

“I understand. Then when can we talk?” Imanishi asked.

“Please give me two or three days,” Miyata said.

“Two or three days? Couldn’t you make it sooner? I need to hear what you have to say about Naruse- san as soon as possible.”

“Inspector,” Miyata asked, “are you sure Naruse-san had something to do with your case?”

“We’re not sure yet, but we hope that there’s some tie-in.” Miyata stared intently at Imanishi. He said, “It’s very likely that I can help your investigation. I’ll tell you everything I know about Naruse- san tomorrow.”

Grateful, Imanishi said, “Where shall we meet?”

“I’ll wait for you at the Company S Tearoom in Ginza at eight o’clock. I’ll have my thoughts straight by then,” Miyata said.

EIGHT A Mishap

Imanishi entered the Ginza tearoom the next evening promptly at eight o’clock. It was crowded with customers, but he did not see the actor. He took a seat along the wall, ordered a cup of coffee, and took a weekly magazine out of his pocket. Each time the door opened he looked up. He sipped his coffee as slowly as he could, but the actor hadn’t shown up by the time he had finished.

Imanishi grew impatient but realized the actor might have been delayed. He would give it another twenty minutes.

Imanishi continued to skim the magazine. The tearoom became more and more crowded; newcomers left when they saw that the shop was full. Imanishi could tell from the look on her face that the waitress wanted him to leave. Reluctantly, he ordered again, this time a cup of tea. He took his time sipping this as well. At eight-forty Imanishi became concerned. The telephone rang, and a customer was paged, but it was not for Imanishi. His teacup was empty. Next, Imanishi ordered a fruit punch. He couldn’t even finish half of it.

An hour passed. Imanishi waited, determined to hear Miyata’s story about the girl who had cooperated with the murderer, the girl who had cut up and scattered the bloodstained shirt.

Imanishi became annoyed. Finally, he left the tearoom and went on waiting outside, sure that as soon as he left for home Miyata would arrive. Imanishi called the theater, but there was no answer. He had to give up.

Imanishi woke up at six o’clock the next morning. For some reason, no matter how late he had gotten to sleep, or how occupied he had been on a case, he woke up at six o’clock. Yoshiko and Taro were still asleep.

He smoked a cigarette and crawled out of the futon to go to the front door. The morning newspaper had been slipped between the lattice work of the door. He returned to his bed, taking the newspaper with him.

One of the pleasures in his life was to lie in bed and read the newspaper as he smoked. He turned first to the city page out of professional interest. Articles on unimportant cases filled the page. Imanishi stopped suddenly at a small headline: “Modern Drama Actor Dies at Roadside-Heart Attack on Way Home from Rehearsal.”

Imanishi looked at the photograph next to the headline. It was Miyata Kunio. He read:

At approximately eleven p.m. on August 31, Sugimura Isaku, 42, a company executive, discovered a dead body as he drove to his home near Number xx, Kasuya-cho, Setagaya-ku. He reported his discovery immediately to the Seijo police station. As a result of an inspection of the man’s belongings, the deceased was identified as Miyata Kunio, 30, an actor with the Avant-Garde Theater. The cause of death was tentatively given as a heart attack. Today there will be an autopsy at the Tokyo police medical center.

Miyata had finished rehearsals at the Avant-Garde Theater at approximately 6:30 p.m., and had left the building at that time. According to Sugiura Akiko of the Avant-Garde Theater, Miyata was an actor with a bright future. Recently, he had become quite popular.

Imanishi was shocked. Kicking off his bedding, he got up again. He hurried Yoshiko to prepare breakfast and ate quickly.

“Is something the matter?” Yoshiko wondered.

“Nothing, nothing.”

Imanishi dressed in a rush, like a firefighter called to a fire. He left the house at 8:30.

Miyata’s body would no longer be at the Seijo police station. The Tokyo police medical center in Otsuka started its workday at nine a.m. It would be quicker to go there.

It was slightly after nine when he reached the medical center located only a ten-minute walk from Otsuka Station. In front of the medical center was an attractive garden, but inside the building it was dingy and dark. Two men, someone’s next of kin, sat uncertainly in the waiting room. Imanishi went directly to the medical center chief’s office.