Inspector Imanishi Investigates

One of the young detectives picked up the mail from the reception desk. At three-fifteen, he came through the door, waving a manila envelope.

“Finally, it’s here.” Imanishi jumped up from his chair.

Inside the envelope was a photograph protected by two sheets of cardboard. Imanishi looked at the photograph so intently that he no longer heard the voices around him. In an elegant garden of a grand residence half a dozen people were standing in a line. Imanishi focused his attention on one of them, staring at his face for a long time.

“Could you lend me a magnifying glass?” he asked a young detective.

The detective brought over a magnifying glass, and Imanishi placed it over the face in the photograph. So this photograph was what Miki had seen. The enlargement displayed on the wall at the Asahi Theater in Ise must have been nearly poster size.

Miki had focused on one face, and he must have gone back to jot down the name of that person from the label beneath it. Even without an address, he was the sort of person who would be easy enough to find in Tokyo. Miki had changed his plans and suddenly decided to go to Tokyo. There was someone he wanted to see again before he took leave of this world. That person was one of the people in the photograph. Miki arrived in Tokyo early on May 11 and looked up the address of the person in the photograph, perhaps in the telephone directory. He telephoned.

Imanishi telephoned Yoshimura to arrange a meeting at Kamata Station at six-thirty.

“Where shall we talk?”

“Let me see.” Imanishi looked down the long, narrow shopping street and led the way into a tearoom. The customers were mainly women who came to eat bean paste sweets, which made it a good location for their confidential conversation. They sat at the table farthest from the door.

“This is it.” Imanishi took the photograph out of his pocket.

“Please let me have a look.” Yoshimura gazed at the photograph, which he, too, had been eagerly awaiting. His eyes held the same expression as Imanishi’s had when he first saw the picture.

“Imanishi-san,” Yoshimura said, “you’ve done it.”

“Hm,” Imanishi answered. “Finally.”

He was thinking that he had taken many detours before he had been able to identify the face that had drawn Miki to Tokyo.

Neither Imanishi nor Yoshimura mentioned the photograph again. The remaining task was how to solve the rest of the case.

Imanishi had theorized from the start of this case that the murderer’s hideout was close to Kamata Station and that he had walked there to change his bloodstained clothes. So the murderer’s lover probably lived near Kamata. Naruse Rieko, who had destroyed the evidence, had been in close contact with the murderer.

She had moved into an apartment in Imanishi’s neighborhood soon after the crime. Where had she lived before? He had asked the manager of the apartment building, but had been told that it was unclear where she had come from. Yoshimura had searched the area around Kamata thoroughly, carrying with him a photograph of Rieko. He had not been the only one. Many detectives had taken part and the local policemen also had searched the area, but to no avail.

“Yoshimura,” Imanishi said. “We were wrong. Rieko was brokenhearted and committed suicide. There is no mistake in that. But we had the wrong lover.”

“I guess so,” Yoshimura agreed.

“Now that we know that, let’s try one more time to find Rieko’s address at the time of the murder. Your station still has her photo?”

“Yes, we do.”

“We did that investigation once, but there may be something we overlooked. She must have lived within a twenty-minute walk from Kamata. The murderer walked to this hideout after he committed his crime at the railroad yard. If he had walked for a long time, he would have risked being noticed.”

“I agree.” Yoshimura nodded over and over. “I understand. I’ll check it out once more. This time we’ll keep it to an area within a twenty-minute walk from Kamata.”

Three days later there was an interim report from Yoshimura. “My investigation section head was enthusiastic when I told him about your finding. He pulled together a special investigation team.”

“That’s gratifying.” Imanishi was satisfied. No matter how he might have fretted about it, if the local police station was unenthusiastic, he could not hope for any success.

“The newspaper reporters have started to suspect something, so it’s getting difficult.”

“Make sure they don’t find out anything.”

“Of course we’re doing all we can, but those fellows are quick to notice things. They won’t leave us alone. They’re after me to talk to them, and they’re really persistent.”

“That’s a problem,” Imanishi said, his expression clouded.

“We’re giving them various excuses. Imanishi-san, I’m afraid that we won’t have an answer for quite a while.”

“I’m not expecting anything right away. How far has the investigation proceeded?”

“We’ve practically finished the area a mile and a quarter around Kamata Station.”

“That’s a lot of work for you.” Imanishi thought for a bit and said, “My hunch is that the areas to the north and west of Kamata Station are the most likely.”

There was something else that Imanishi was looking into, but his best hope was that the Kamata police station would find Rieko’s former address. Imanishi became impatient. He wanted to go to each house, photo in hand, but his work schedule did not permit it.

One morning, Imanishi came across the following report in the cultural section of the newspaper.

Composer Waga Eiryo has announced that he will be visiting the United States by invitation of the Rockefeller Foundation. He will depart on November 30 from Haneda Airport for New York, where he will reside for a while. Mr. Waga’s stay in America will last approximately three months, during which time he will present performances of his electronic music compositions. Afterward, he plans to travel in Europe to observe developments regarding electronic music. He plans to return to Japan at the end of April. Soon after that, Mr. Waga will wed his fiancee, Tadokoro Sachiko, the daughter of Agriculture Minister Tadokoro Shigeyoshi.

Imanishi read through this article twice.

Arriving at headquarters in low spirits, Imanishi found Yoshimura waiting for him. “You’re awfully early.”

“Yes, sir.” Yoshimura’s face showed fatigue, and Imanishi realized that the investigation had not been successful.

“So, nothing’s been found?”

“We’ve come up with nothing.” Yoshimura was dejected. “The section chief gave us all the support he could, but…”

“How many days has it been since you started the search?”

“Almost a week. We’ve searched everywhere we could.”

“I see…” Imanishi placed his hand on the shoulder of his young colleague, “Thanks for all your efforts.”

“I’m so sorry that we couldn’t come up with anything.”

“Don’t let something like this get you down. Keep up the good work.”

“Yes.”

“You’ve given so much to this investigation. I’m sure there was no oversight. I feel that there must be something that we don’t see yet-a blind spot.”

“Imanishi-san, it makes me relieved when I hear you say that. As you say, there may be something like a blind spot.”

“Right, let’s think about it some more.”

“Yes, I’ll think about it.” Yoshimura’s expression regained some of its energy.

“Please give my best to your section chief.”

“Yes, I will.”

Imanishi saw his young colleague out to the front door of police headquarters. He watched as Yoshimura crossed the brightly lit avenue.

That day Imanishi did not go home directly, but took the streetcar to the Avant-Garde Theater. It was dusk, but there was still a light shining in the office where three of the staff were putting posters and tickets in order. One of