Inspector Imanishi Investigates

that Miyata would be used to disguises, especially since he acts in contemporary dramas. I had a flash that maybe he was the one who had gone to Kameda.”

Yoshimura looked intently at Imanishi. “And was that what had happened?”

“I went over to his apartment building and talked to his landlord’s wife. Miyata went to Akita for four days from about May 18. It was at the end of May that we went to Akita, right? So the dates match up pretty well. The dead can’t talk, so we can’t ask Miyata himself, but I’m sure there’s no mistake.”

Imanishi ate the rest of his noodles.

“I’m impressed.”

“That’s what I mean about train of thought. I remembered when I read that complicated article by the guy in the Nouveau group. And the reason I read that piece was because I remembered seeing him at Kameda Station. Then suddenly the two strands fit together: Miyata, whom I’d been checking on for a while, and Kameda.”

“So your hunch was right on target.”

“That’s fine so far. But the question is, why did Miyata go to Kameda?”

“That’s true.”

“He wandered aimlessly in that town dressed like a laborer. Those weren’t his normal clothes. And all the people there said that he kept his head down and didn’t look directly at anyone, didn’t they?”

“Yes, they did.”

“And yet, in such a small country town he was sure to be noticed. One of the hotel maids described him quite accurately as being ‘dark-skinned but handsome.’ ”

Imanishi and Yoshimura stared intently at each other.

“I can’t figure it out. What brought him to Kameda in disguise?”

“I don’t know. At any rate, he didn’t do anything. All he did was walk around. He hung around near some houses and lay around at the riverside. And that’s all.”

“Wait a minute,” Yoshimura put his hand up to his forehead. “What if that was why he went?”

“That’s it!” Imanishi nodded. “He behaved in such a way as to leave an impression on the local people.”

“Why did he do that?”

Imanishi did not reply directly to Yoshimura’s question. “The rumor about the strange man found its way to the local police. And we found out because we requested information about the Kamata killing. We were taken in.”

NINE Groping

Yoshimura had asked Imanishi to guide him to the spot where Miyata had died.

“This is the place,” Imanishi said.

“I see.” Yoshimura looked where Imanishi pointed. “The bus stop is right over there, isn’t it?” Yoshimura asked. In fact, passengers were getting off a bus that had stopped not three feet from where they stood. “The theory that Miyata was waiting for the bus is a possibility.”

“That’s true. Oh, yes, Yoshimura,” Imanishi said, thinking of something, “would you ask the conductor the exact times buses stop here around eight o’clock at night?”

Yoshimura ran for the bus and asked the conductor. He came back as the bus pulled away.

“There’s a bus to Seijo at seven-forty,” Yoshimura said. “At eight o’clock the bus for Kichijoji goes by, and ten minutes later another bus for Seijo. Then nothing for about twenty minutes until the bus from Chitose Karasuyama passes through on the way to Seijo. After that buses in both directions come by at twenty-minute intervals. So a bus comes by here every ten minutes or so.”

Imanishi listened to this and muttered, “They come quite often, don’t they?” He continued, “Miyata died at about eight o’clock. If we assume that he was waiting near the bus stop, his heart attack must have occurred during the ten-minute span between buses. It’s not certain that the buses in both directions pass by at exactly those intervals, so there is some leeway. But in any case, he couldn’t have been waiting long. If Miyata had his heart attack during the ten-minute wait, he was really unlucky.” Imanishi was thinking out loud.

Yoshimura could not hear him. He was walking across the field near the road.

“Imanishi-san,” Yoshimura called out, bending over. “Look at this.” Yoshimura pointed to the ground. In the grass there was a piece of paper some four inches square, torn, with ragged edges.

“What could it be?” Imanishi picked it up.

“It looks like a list of figures,” Yoshimura said, peering over Imanishi’s shoulder.

The sheet of paper listed the following:

Total Amounts of Unemployment Insurance Disbursed

1949 --

1950 --

1951 --

1952 --

1953 25,404

– -

– -

1954 35,522

– -

– -

– -

1955 30,834

– -

– -

1956 24,362

– -

– -

1957 27,435

1958 28,431

– -

– -

1959 28,438

– -

It appeared that this sheet of paper was one section of a larger report that had been torn apart.

“I wonder if there’s someone in this area interested in these figures?”

“Maybe someone from the Labor Ministry lives around here,” Imanishi responded.

The statistics were of little interest to the two men, but the piece of paper had been dropped about ten yards from where Miyata had collapsed.

“I wonder how long this paper has been here?” Yoshimura said.

“It’s not very dirty, Yoshimura. When did it rain last?”

“I’m quite sure it rained four or five days ago.”

“Then this paper was dropped after that. It hasn’t been rained on.”

“Miyata died three days ago. Could it be from about that time?”

“I wonder,” Imanishi thought. “I can’t imagine why Miyata would be carrying around something like this.”

“Should we ask at the Avant-Garde Theater just to be sure? It might be a prop for a play or a part of a script.”

In response to Yoshimura’s suggestion, Imanishi said, “It could also be a piece of paper blown here by the wind.”

“Yes, sir. I think we should take that possibility into account.”

“You suspect that someone other than Miyata dropped this?”