please. Oh, no, no. I’m afraid something will happen to me. Stop it, please, stop, stop’-were they about these ultrasonic waves?”
“She wouldn’t have been able to hear the ultrasonic waves.”
SEVENTEEN The Loud Speaker Announcement
For two days, Yoshimura had interviewed people connected with the Broadcast Technology Research Center. He asked a lot of questions and received many answers. He had also gone to a number of stores dealing in wireless equipment.
Although the investigation into the case had been for all practical purposes closed months earlier, the station chief now placed great hope in the “voluntary investigation” based on the new evidence Yoshimura had obtained from talking to Imanishi and from his own inquiries.
Imanishi went to the Avant-Garde Theater. The usual clerk came out to meet him.
“Sorry to have bothered you the last time I was here,” Imanishi smiled. “I’ve come to ask you for a little more help.”
“What is it this time?”
“I’d like to meet once again with the wardrobe mistress.”
“That’s no problem at all. She’s here right now.” The clerk called in the wardrobe mistress.
“Thanks for the other day,” Imanishi said. “What you told me that day was very helpful.”
Imanishi was taken to an empty sitting room by the wardrobe mistress, who had perceived that Imanishi’s business needed privacy.
“You said that a costume had disappeared. I suppose it hasn’t been returned since then?”
“No, it hasn’t. Since you asked me about it, I thought I would reconfirm, so I checked through the numbers again. It hasn’t been returned.”
“I have a favor to ask of you,” Imanishi said, bowing his head. “Could you please let me borrow the replacement costume, that raincoat, for a few days?”
“You mean lend it to you?” The woman’s expression indicated a problem.
“I’ll take complete responsibility for it. Of course, I’ll write an official receipt for the loan.”
“Our policy is not to allow theater belongings off the premises.” But this was a request from the police. “I guess it’s all right. If you’ll take responsibility for it.”
Imanishi and Yoshimura met that evening at a diner in Shibuya. They both ordered curry and rice and began to eat.
Imanishi heard Yoshimura’s report on his inquiries at the Broadcast Technology Research Center and the shops specializing in wireless materials. Yoshimura explained that a parabola was shaped like a bowl. In transmitting a certain sound wave, if a parabola is used, the waves become condensed and stronger. Imanishi wrote in his notebook the word “parabola.”
Yoshimura continued, “You know, those big saucers stuck on towers on top of tall buildings? That’s what it is. That’s a parabola. Those are very large. When I checked, just as you thought, he had been secretly buying equipment like that from July on. Of course, it’s not just a parabola that he bought. The device used against the peddlers combines a parabola and a tweeter, one of those small speakers for high sounds. I’ve written down the details…”
“Miki was killed in May, and Miyata’s death was August thirty-first, so July is just at the midpoint between the two,” Imanishi noted.
“Yes, it is, just as you surmised, Imanishi-
“It seems so.” Imanishi nodded, but he did not look pleased. “We’ve got the main outline. The problem is how do we get evidence? Otherwise, it just remains our inference.”
“You’re right about that.”
“It’s a real problem. There must be some way we can get the evidence,” Imanishi said.
“The closer it is to a perfect crime, the less clues there are.”
“It can’t be helped; if we can’t get evidence, we’ll have to resort to tricks.”
“Tricks?”
Imanishi handed Yoshimura a bundle wrapped in newspaper that he had been holding under his arm. “This is a costume I borrowed from the Avant-Garde Theater. It’s the raincoat they bought to replace the one that disappeared. The color and shape are exactly like the one that was stolen, and it was lengthened to fit Miyata.”
“What am I supposed to do with this?” Yoshimura was bewildered.
“You’re going to wear this raincoat.”
“Where to?”
“To that house, of course. You and I won’t be the only ones going there. We’ll be accompanying the officials in charge of prosecuting violations of broadcast laws.”
“When do you plan to do this?”
“Tomorrow morning about eight o’clock. Your station chief should have been notified, so when you return to your office, you will get instructions.”
“Imanishi-
“We’ll have to manage somehow.” But Imanishi’s uneasiness showed. “While the scientists and doctors are doing their experiments, you and I have something else to do,” Imanishi said.
“What is that?” Yoshimura asked.
“Let’s think about the circumstances of Miura Emiko’s death. She had a fall, and died after a miscarriage because of the shock from the fall. We thought that she might have miscarried as the result of this fall, but what if we place it earlier?”
“You mean, the miscarriage was preceded by the killing of the fetus by ultrasonic waves?”
“She was subjected to a type of ‘surgery.’ ”
“Why didn’t she go to a legitimate physician?”
“I think the reason she had such an unusual ‘operation’ was because she didn’t want to go to a regular doctor. In other words, Emiko wanted to have the child.”
“Then she was tricked into it?”
“Probably. Sekigawa must have asked for this favor.”
“And she died from it?”
“Yes, she did. I don’t think they intended to kill her. She died because the ‘operation’ failed.”
“Does that mean Sekigawa knew of this device?”
“I think he did. I can’t say when he first found out about it. He may have figured it out because he had doubts about Miyata’s death. If there hadn’t been the problem of Emiko’s pregnancy, his knowledge about this would have given him a permanent advantage over his good friend. You must have noticed that Sekigawa’s reviews of Waga’s music suddenly turned favorable. Sekigawa’s position of advantage was reversed when he asked Waga to ‘operate’ on Emiko.”
At eight o’clock the following morning, five men visited the home of composer Waga Eiryo. It was quiet in the residential area. On the streets, only the commuters walked with quick steps. It was a cold morning, so several of the men wore overcoats. One had on a dirty gray raincoat. A middle-aged woman opened the door as she wiped her hands on her apron.
“Good morning,” a tall, young man said to her. “Is the master of the house in?”
“Could I ask who you are?” The woman seemed to be the housekeeper.
“This is who I am.” He gave her his name card. “We would like to see him.”
“The master doesn’t seem to be awake yet…”
“Please excuse me, but could you let him know that we are here to see him?”
Facing five men at once, the housekeeper seemed overwhelmed. She retreated into the house.
Imanishi stood in the entryway and looked around. Directly above the raised step into the house was fixed a
