“Yes,” Yoshimura answered. “I’m speculating that someone Miyata knew might have written these statistics down, someone who was interested in labor relations.”
“Then you think that person might have been here with Miyata?”
“Maybe. Or Miyata may have been given that piece of paper and had it in his pocket. When he collapsed, it may have fallen out. Then later the wind blew it over here. That’s another possibility.”
Imanishi laughed. “It’s probably unrelated. Miyata wouldn’t have been given something like this. It would have been of no interest to him. But your idea that there might have been someone with Miyata is interesting.”
Imanishi looked the piece of paper over again.
“I wonder what this is?” he asked, pointing to a figure. “See, this chart starts at 1949. But for 1949,1950,1951, and 1952, there are no numbers.”
“That must be because those numbers were unnecessary, or unclear, one or the other.”
“I can see that. But look at this. Between 1953 and 1954, here, there are two lines drawn. And between 1954 and 1955 there are three lines. There are no notations of the year before these lines. What do these blanks mean?”
“I wonder.” Yoshimura was craning his neck to look at the piece of paper. “I can’t figure it out. I wonder if a different number is supposed to fit there. For example, maybe they intended to put in the number of insured people or the number of people receiving insurance?”
“If that’s the case, you’d think those categories would be filled in, but they’re not. It may be that this is a reminder to the person who wrote down these figures.”
“The handwriting isn’t good, is it?”
“Right, it’s not. It looks like a junior high school student wrote it. But these days even college graduates have terrible handwriting.”
“What shall we do with it?”
“Well, it might be of some use later. I’ll keep it.”
Imanishi placed the piece of paper in his pocket.
“Sorry to have had to drag you all the way out to a place like this,” Imanishi said to Yoshimura. Apologizing for inconveniencing even a younger colleague was natural to Imanishi.
“I don’t mind. It’s better for me to have seen it. I’m glad I came along,” Yoshimura was equally polite.
The two men walked back to the bus stop.
Imanishi returned to police headquarters and sat, staring absent-mindedly for a while. Then he went to the Public Information Department.
“Are you wrapped up in another complicated investigation?” the section chief asked Imanishi.
“I’d like to find out something about ‘musique concrete,’ ” Imanishi said seriously.
“What on earth is that?” The section chief looked at Imanishi, baffled.
“Apparently, it’s some kind of music. Do you have something that I could look it up in?”
“Last time it was dialects, and now music.” Shaking his head, the section chief stood up and brought out a reference book. “There must be something in this.”
Imanishi opened the thick volume. He read the small print of the encyclopedia and soon closed it. The article was full of difficult terminology, and it was hard for him to take it in. He could tell that it must be a very complicated form of music and that it was different in style from traditional music. However, none of the intricate points was comprehensible to him.
“Thank you very much.” Imanishi returned the heavy volume.
“Did you get the meaning?” the section chief asked.
“No, not very well. It’s a bit over my head.” Imanishi smiled ruefully.
“I’m not surprised. What on earth brought you to this topic?”
“Well, there was something I was thinking about.” Imanishi kept his answer vague and left the room.
He had become curious about all of the members of the Nouveau group. He could not imagine the connection between this group and Miyata Kunio. Yet he was impelled to find out about this “musique concrete.”
That evening Yoshimura called Imanishi who was still at work. “Remember we were wondering why Miyata had gone to Kameda? I’ve got an idea.”
“Really? I’d like to hear it.”
“I thumbed through the newspapers from around the time of the Kamata murder. About three or four days after the murder, articles appeared saying that the police were pursuing a lead, that the murderer and victim had been talking in Tohoku dialect, and that the name Kameda had come up.”
“I see. And?” Imanishi swallowed hard.
“I think these newspaper articles led to Miyata’s going to Kameda. You see, I think that since investigation headquarters was concerned with Kameda and the Tohoku dialect, the murderer thought that Kameda in the Tohoku region would attract the attention of the police. The killer figured out that sooner or later the police would discover a location named Kameda and investigate it. Couldn’t it be that the killer’s aim was to focus attention on that area?”
“Yes, that could be it,” Imanishi shouted into the telephone. “You’ve really hit upon something.”
Yoshimura’s excitement was heightened by Imanishi’s praise. “To keep the attention of the police on Kameda, there had to be something strange happening there. I think that’s what the killer calculated. I think the killer performed a sleight-of-hand trick. He’s
“Then what about Miyata?”
“He was sent by the killer of course. He could have played his role without knowing the reason behind it.”
“Then the killer must have been acquainted with Miyata.”
“He may even have been on close terms with Miyata since he asked him to go there.”
“Thank you,” Imanishi said to Yoshimura. “You’ve come up with a very good point. I’m impressed that you thought of it.”
Yoshimura’s voice sounded a bit embarrassed. “I just happened to think of it. I might be wrong.”
“No, no. You’ve been very helpful.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Let’s get together some time and talk it over.” Yoshimura hung up.
Imanishi pulled out half a cigarette from his desk, stuck it into a battered old bamboo cigarette holder, and lit a match. While he smoked he thought over what Yoshimura had said on the telephone.
It was no doubt as Yoshimura had suggested. He had found out why Miyata had gone to Kameda. This brought the murderer into clearer focus. The murderer knew Miyata; he was not from the Tohoku region, but was from somewhere else.
Miyata had wanted to tell Imanishi about something important. Imanishi had asked Miyata about Rieko’s suicide. But in addition, Miyata might have wanted to talk of another important matter. As he thought, Imanishi made notes on a piece of paper. With his hands on his forehead, he stared at his notes.
Miyata’s death had created a problem. If he had been murdered, there would be clues pointing to his killer. But he died of a heart attack. Those around Miyata had known that his heart was weak, and this fact had been substantiated by the medical examiner. Yet Imanishi’s suspicion of foul play wouldn’t subside. The actor’s death seemed too well timed. But it
Various theories contended within Imanishi’s head. He thought of Kamedake, an area located in the opposite direction from Tohoku. And yet what had he found there? Nothing. He had not discovered a shred of a motive for the crime.
He considered facts about Naruse Rieko. It had been Rieko who had scattered the bits of the murderer’s bloodstained shirt. She and the murderer must have had a special relationship, and Miyata must have known about it.
When Imanishi returned home, he found that his younger sister was visiting. She and Yoshiko were chatting gaily.
“Good evening, Brother,” she greeted him.
Imanishi changed from his office clothes into a kimono.
“What have you been up to today?” Imanishi said, sitting down in front of his sister, sipping a cup of tea.
“I got some passes to the Nichigeki theater, so I stopped by on my way home.”
