“No, two days will be enough.”
“Are you going somewhere?”
“I was thinking of going to soak in some hot springs on the Izu peninsula.”
“That’s a good idea. You’ve been working straight through. Unless one gets some rest, one can get really sick from overwork. Go soak in the baths and ask for a massage and get some sleep.”
The supervisor put his seal on Imanishi’s leave request and submitted it to the section chief.
Imanishi left police headquarters early and rushed home.
“I’m off on a short trip and I’m leaving right away. Would you help me get my things ready?”
“Is it a business trip?” Yoshiko asked, seeing that Imanishi was impatient.
“No, it’s not for work. I’m taking a short break. I feel a sudden urge to get on a train and go somewhere.”
“Are you leaving on tonight’s train?”
“Yes. I want to leave as soon as possible.”
“Are you going alone?”
“Yes, alone.”
“It sounds strange. Are you sure you don’t have some work there?”
“No, I’m not going on work. I’m just going to pay my respects at Ise Shrine.”
Yoshiko laughed in amazement. “I wonder what brought this on?”
The train arrived in Nagoya the next morning. Imanishi changed to the Kintetsu Line for Ise. It took another two hours to reach Ise City. He had come here once, before the war, and the city didn’t seem much changed. He found the Futami Inn right away. It was a five- or six-minute walk from the station. He looked inside, but it seemed very busy as a large group was just leaving. It would be better if he visited the inn a little later. The slowest time for the inn would be around noon. That would be the best time to ask questions.
Imanishi decided to visit Ise Shrine in the meantime. He could not go home without paying his respects to this national Shinto shrine after coming all the way here. The inner shrine did not look different, and there were many worshipers. What was different was the result of the recent typhoon. It had broken branches and destroyed some of the trees in the shrine grounds. Imanishi felt amazed that he could be here at Ise Shrine today when he hadn’t even thought of coming until yesterday.
Normally, on this kind of trip, he would go to the local police and ask for their cooperation. But he had already taken two official trips, to the northeast and to the Japan Sea area, with nothing to show for them. Unsure if he could come up with any useful results, he had felt unable to request permission from his supervisor for another official trip.
When he returned to the Futami Inn, the entranceway was quiet and the cleaning had been completed. Imanishi stood in the entry, which had been sprinkled with water. A young maid, still in her cleaning clothes, came out to the entrance. She greeted him with a bow when she saw him there. “Welcome.”
He was taken to a room in the back of the inn on the second floor. The front of this new wing faced the main road, which led directly to the station, but the back rooms had unimpressive views of the cluttered roofs of the city. In the sky above, an airplane flew by. Another maid brought him some tea.
Imanishi gave her his name card. “Would you tell the proprietor of this inn that I’d like to see him?”
The maid took the card and seemed a bit surprised when she read it. It stated that he was from the First Investigation Section of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police.
“Please wait just a minute.”
Imanishi smoked as he waited for the innkeeper to come up to his room. From his window, all he could see were roofs. The largest one seemed to cover a movie theater. An ink painting of the woods at Ise Shrine hung in the
“Excuse me.”
He heard a voice from the other side of the sliding doors.
“Come in,” Imanishi answered, still seated.
A bald-headed man of about fifty opened the door and came into the room. “Welcome.” After closing the door, the man bowed formally. “I’m the owner of this inn. I’m sorry that you had to come such a long way.”
“Please sit over here.” Imanishi invited the innkeeper to sit in front of him.
“Thank you very much.”
The proprietor showed by his respectful demeanor his deferential attitude toward the police. It was not the attitude shown a regular guest.
“When did you arrive?” he asked Imanishi.
“I left last night, and got here just this morning.” Imanishi made himself look as amiable as possible.
“Then you must be tired.”
The innkeeper bowed his head each time he spoke. He seemed to be uneasy. All kinds of people spent the night at inns as guests. Burglaries might occur. Wanted criminals might hide out. These things caused all sorts of problems for innkeepers.
“As a matter of fact, I’ve come from Tokyo to ask for some information,” Imanishi began calmly.
“Yes, is that so?” The innkeeper looked at Imanishi.
“It’s nothing for you to worry about. I just want to ask some questions for background information.”
“Yes?”
“I’d like to know about a guest who stayed here on the night of May ninth. I’m sorry to cause you trouble, but could you let me see your guest register?”
“Yes, yes, certainly.”
The innkeeper picked up the telephone receiver on the table and asked that the guest register be brought up.
“My, it must be hard for the police.” Becoming a bit more relaxed, the innkeeper made small talk.
“Well, yes, but it’s part of our work.”
“It’s the first time we’ve had someone from the Tokyo police here. Being in this kind of business, we often have to deal with the local police.”
A maid came in while they were talking. The innkeeper took the guest register from her.
“Let’s see, May ninth, was it?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
The innkeeper leafed through the bound bills.
“What was the name?”
“A man named Miki Ken’ichi,” Imanishi replied.
“Miki? Let’s see, yes, here he is.”
The innkeeper passed the register to Imanishi. Imanishi took it and looked intently at the page:
Present address: xx Street, Emi-machi, Okayama Prefecture. Employment: General Store. Name: Miki Ken’ichi. Age: 51.
The penmanship showed uprightness; the characters were written clearly with no abbreviations. Imanishi stared at the words. This was the writing of the unfortunate Miki Ken’ichi. No matter how he tried, Imanishi could not connect the style of these characters with the man’s brutally beaten body.
Miki had no way of knowing that a tragic fate awaited him when he signed this guest register. He had left the mountains of Okayama Prefecture to make a trip he had always dreamed about; he had fulfilled his goal of a pilgrimage to Ise Shrine and had seen the sights along the way. At the edge of the entry, the name “Sumiko” was noted, identifying the maid who had waited on Miki.
“It seems that Miki spent only the night of the ninth?” Imanishi asked the proprietor.
The innkeeper also looked at the register. “Yes, it does.”
“Do you remember this guest?”
“I’m usually in the back office, so I can’t recall him.”
“It looks like Sumiko was the maid in charge.”
“Yes, she was. I can call her here if you have any more questions.”
“Please.”
The innkeeper picked up the telephone again and told the maid to come to the room.
Sumiko was a young maid who seemed like a hard worker. Her appearance was not very tidy, and she had red
