Inspector Imanishi Investigates

Mrs. Tadokoro said, “Thank you for coming. Please join us.”

The children stared curiously at the newcomers who had intruded upon the family gathering. Sekigawa tapped Waga on the shoulder and took a seat. Extra glasses were brought in.

“Congratulations,” said Sekigawa in a toast. The other two also raised their glasses.

“Thank you.” Tadokoro bowed politely.

Waga stood up and moved behind the chairs of his three friends and said, “Thanks for coming.”

Sachiko also greeted them familiarly. “You’re all so busy, thank you for taking the time to come over.”

“Well, it is an occasion on which congratulations are in order. So we came right over,” Sekigawa responded, representing the others. “It looks like tonight might be a rehearsal for Waga’s wedding,” he said jokingly.

The small family party grew livelier with the addition of the three new guests. From the start, they talked a lot and drank a lot. Smiling broadly, Tadokoro listened to the young men’s discussion of art. The most animated speaker was Sekigawa. The other two were artists, so they did not reach the level of Sekigawa’s eloquence. Sekigawa explained the new artistic theory in terms that the elderly bureaucrat Tadokoro could understand.

The family dinner party ended about an hour after it had begun. The older people and children left. The others retired to the living room. Coffee and fruit were served.

Waga and Sachiko chatted quite naturally with their three friends. The talk was an extension of the artistic theory discussed in the dining room. In their eyes, leading figures of the establishment were nothing more than targets of denunciation. Tadokoro and his wife sat near them, listening. The lively young people spoke with animation. The older adults were quite overwhelmed.

More well-wishers came to the mansion. Newspaper reporters were among them, asking for photographs.

“It’s a perfect occasion for you to take some photos of me with these young people,” the new minister said, and stood informally with the others. Tadokoro and his wife were flanked by Waga and Sachiko, with Sekigawa, Katazawa, and Takebe included along with members of the family.

“Well, shall we take our leave?” It was Sekigawa who still took the lead.

“Why not stay a little longer?” Waga was acting like a member of the family already.

“No, it’s getting late.”

“Why don’t you stay and talk some more?” Sachiko tried to detain them.

Sekigawa said for the others, “Thank you so much for the delicious dinner.”

Waga and Sachiko saw them off at the front door.

The three young men walked away together.

“It was quite a gathering,” Takebe said.

“Right. Waga is already behaving like a son-in-law,” Katazawa said.

They took a taxi to Ginza.

“I know a bar near here. Let’s stop off and drink some more,” Takebe suggested. Katazawa agreed to go with him.

“Sekigawa, how about you?”

“No, I’ll beg off this time.”

“Why?”

“I’ve remembered something I have to do. Driver, let me off at Yurakucho.”

“So long.” Sekigawa stepped out and waved at the others. “See you soon.”

“Sekigawa’s acting a bit strange,” Katazawa said to Takebe. “Why did he get off alone there so late at night?”

“He may have been a bit upset about things tonight.”

“What do you mean?”

“It might have been a shock for him to see the way Waga was acting this evening.”

“Hm.” Katazawa felt that he understood what his friend meant. They had both felt oppressed by Waga’s behavior at the Tadokoros’.

“He’s been really close to Waga recently. Tonight, too, he was in a good mood and talking up a storm.”

“That’s human nature for you,” Katazawa responded. “You go overboard acting lively at that kind of occasion. Then you feel lonely afterward.”

“Well, let’s drink, then,” Takebe said. “Let’s get drunk.”

Sekigawa walked alone. He appeared to have nowhere in particular to go. Turning away from the neon lights of Ginza, Sekigawa walked slowly down a side street, deep in thought. He entered a brightly lit pachinko hall.

“Give me two hundred yen worth.”

He scooped up the small metal balls in his hands and stood in front of a board. His thumb flipped the lever, sending the balls across the face of the machine. He did not seem to care at all whether he won or lost. He just kept on flipping the lever.

FIFTEEN On The Track

A letter arrived for Imanishi from the head of the investigation section of the Ise police station.

The following report is in answer to your inquiry.

We went immediately to question Tadokoro Ichinosuke, manager of the Asahi Theater. Tadokoro- san says he does not know any Miki Ken’ichi, nor did he meet him during the period you indicated. This is as we reported to you in answer to your last inquiry.

Tadokoro-san is from the same village as Tadokoro Shigeyoshi, who was recently appointed minister of agriculture and forestry. Tadokoro-san holds Tadokoro Shigeyoshi in the highest regard. Each time he visits Tokyo, he stops by at Tadokoro Shigeyoshi’s residence to pay his respects and to deliver some special items from this area. He also mentioned that he has received many favors from Tadokoro Shigeyoshi.

Tadokoro-san has at his home many letters, calligraphic works, photographs, and other items that he has received from Tadokoro Shigeyoshi. Furthermore, to show his respect for Tadokoro Shigeyoshi, he has occasionally displayed at the Asahi Theater commemorative photographs taken of himself with Tadokoro Shigeyoshi. When we inquired about May 9, he indicated that at that time there was an enlargement of a photograph taken with the Tadokoro Shigeyoshi family placed on the wall of the hallway leading into the auditorium of his theater. This photograph was taken down at the end of May, and is now at Tadokoro- san’s private home.

I have borrowed the original photograph from Tadokoro-san and am sending it under separate cover. Please return it when you are finished with it. I have signed a receipt for this item in my own name and request that the utmost care be taken so as not to lose the photograph.

Impatient to see the photograph, Imanishi left home early the next morning and reached headquarters at nine a.m. Only two young detectives had arrived so far.

“Hey, has the mail come?” Imanishi asked right away.

“No, sir, not yet.”

Imanishi could not sit still. He had never wished so hard for a new case not to break. If a murder occurred, he would have to rush out.

The section chief arrived just before ten o’clock.

“Imanishi,” he called from his desk.

Imanishi shuddered. But after talking with the chief, he was relieved that he would not need to leave the office. He returned to his desk to find that the mail had been delivered, but there was nothing for him.

“Hey, didn’t I get anything?” he asked the young detective who had distributed the mail.

“No, sir, there was nothing.”

“When does the next delivery come?”

“Usually about three.”

Imanishi sipped the tea that a junior detective served him. He could hardly wait for the next delivery. As the long hours stretched slowly into the afternoon, he sat at his desk filling out reports. He kept looking at the clock.