meditate on one thought. The meal would give a certain rhythm to his thoughts. At these times he would mutter things out of context. This helped to clarify his thinking process. He had muttered “Kamata” because he was ruminating about the case.
The late meal ended. Imanishi moved to his desk and started writing his thank-you letter.
I am sorry I have taken so long to write to you. Thank you very much for an unexpected gift of such superb quality. In looking at the abacus, I can tell, even though I am unfamiliar with such pieces, that it is of exquisite make. I hope to preserve it for a long time. I only regret that I have no use that will do justice to such a piece.
I will, however, inform people whenever the opportunity arises that these precious abacuses are made in your district.
When I look at the Kamedake abacus, memories of my visit there come back to me. Thank you so much for all you did for me at that time. I also read with fond memories the wonderful haiku you wrote for the abacus.
I recall the mountains surrounding your town, which must now be beautiful in their autumn colors…
Having written this much, Imanishi paused to read the letter over. How should he continue? He could close here, but it was too short for a proper thank-you letter.
He wondered if he should take the old gentleman’s lead and enclose a haiku of his own. But no good ideas came to mind. Since he hadn’t written any poems recently, his brain seemed to have grown dull. As he was going over these thoughts, Yoshiko brought in some tea.
“A thank-you letter?” She peered at his desk.
Imanishi lit a cigarette.
“Shouldn’t we send him something in return?” Yoshiko asked.
“I guess so. What would be good?”
“There isn’t anything very special we can send from Tokyo. Asakusa seaweed is probably a safe gift.”
“Could you go to the department store and have them send some tomorrow? Won’t it be expensive?”
“Even if it is, for a thousand yen we should be able to get something appropriate.”
“Then go ahead and do it.”
Imanishi thought he would write at the end of the letter, “I have taken the liberty of sending something to you by separate post. I would be happy if you would accept this token of my gratitude.”
Although his cigarette ash grew long, no poem came to him. The memory of Kirihara Kojuro’s expression as he spoke was the only image in his thoughts.
It was at that instant Imanishi felt as if he had been hit by an electric current, jolting his brain into awareness. He sat still while the ashes from his cigarette fell on his knees. He didn’t move for some ten minutes. Then, suddenly, as if he had awakened from a dream, he continued his letter in a flurry. The ending was completely different from the one he had intended to write.
Waking early the next morning, Imanishi realized there was another person he should write to as well.
Miki Ken’ichi had come to Tokyo immediately after making a pilgrimage to Ise Shrine. This was what his adopted son, Shokichi, had stated when he had come to Tokyo police headquarters. At that time Imanishi had thought that Miki had simply decided to come to Tokyo to see the sights before returning home. But perhaps there had been something that had made Miki change his plans. There may have been a pressing reason that couldn’t be explained as a mere change of heart. It could be that Miki’s change of plans, his coming to Tokyo after Ise, had been connected to his murder.
Stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray, Imanishi got out of bed, washed his face, and sat at his desk. The letter he had written the night before to Kirihara Kojuro had been left there inside its envelope. He began to write a letter to Miki Shokichi.
I hope you have been well.
You may not remember me, but I am the detective you spoke to when you came to Tokyo to inquire about your father’s whereabouts.
As you know, we have been unable to locate the person who killed your father. I feel a deep sympathy for the memory of your father. Even though the investigation team has been disbanded, that does not mean we have stopped searching for the criminal. We are determined to find this despicable killer to appease your father’s soul. We intend to pursue every lead, to take any measure to arrest the murderer. We will not allow this case to remain unsolved.
The case has reached a very difficult crossroads. In order for any progress to be made toward a solution, we feel we need your cooperation.
Toward this end, would you please inform me of the places your father visited from the time he left on his pilgrimage to the Ise Shrine until the time his body was discovered at the Kamata railroad yard?
It would be most helpful if, for example, you knew which days he spent at which inns. When I asked you about this matter, you mentioned that you had received a few picture postcards from his trip. If you have any further information, I would greatly appreciate hearing any details.”
Five days passed. During those five days, Imanishi was involved in a few new cases, which were easily solved. On the fifth he found an envelope on his desk. Turning it over, he read the carefully written return address “Miki Shokichi, xx Street, Emi-machi, Okayama Prefecture.”
Imanishi had been waiting for this reply. He opened it at once.
Thank you very much for your letter. I am sorry to cause you so much trouble on account of my late father.
I was deeply grateful to learn from your letter that you and others are working incessantly to apprehend my late father’s killer. As a member of the family of the deceased, I would like to help in the investigation as much as possible, but regret that my incompetence does not allow me to be of much assistance.
It may be presumptuous for me to say this, but my late father was a person who had great compassion for others, and never incurred the hate of anyone. As I said before, he was a virtuous man. There is no reason that his killer should not be found, and I believe that Heaven will not let this case go unsolved. Each morning and evening we burn incense at the family altar and pray for the arrest of his killer.
In reply to your questions, here are my answers.
My father sent us a total of eight postcards during his trip.
• April 10: Omiya Inn, in front of Okayama Station
• April 12: Sanuki Inn, Kotohira-cho, Shikoku Island
• April 18: Gosho Inn, in front of Kyoto Station
• April 25: at Mt. Hiei, outside Kyoto
• April 27: Yamada Inn, Aburakoji, Nara City
• May 1: at the Yoshino mountains
• May 4: Matsumura Inn, in front of Nagoya Station
• May 9: Futami Inn, Ise City
These are all of the postcards we received. He wrote about how he was enjoying his trip.
My father had planned to return home as soon as he finished his Ise Shrine pilgrimage. In fact, in his postcard from Nagoya, he wrote that he would be able to come home in four or five days. There was no word about going to Tokyo.
Imanishi received another letter the following day.
It was from Kirihara Kojuro. This was written with a brush in bold strokes on stationery of elegant handmade Japanese paper that made the black characters stand out in contrast. Imanishi read the contents of the five-page letter that was the response to his questions about Miki Ken’ichi.
Imanishi read the letter over several times. It was a detailed account of former policeman Miki’s good deeds. Kirihara’s letter gave more concrete information about the deeds Imanishi had heard about on his visit to Kamedake.
Imanishi spent the whole day deep in thought. Even while at work, his thoughts of the Kamata murder stayed with him. He sent off another letter of inquiry. In the evening, he went to see his supervisor to ask for two days off.
“That’s unusual.” The supervisor looked at Imanishi’s face and smiled. “I don’t think you’ve ever asked for a two-day leave.”
“No.” Imanishi rubbed his head. “I’m feeling a bit tired.”
“Take care of yourself. You can take three or four days if you like.”