'I'm sorry to have taken up so much of your time.' Yasuda saw Mihara to the door. He was still quite calm; there was no sign of uneasiness in his manner.
Before returning to the office Mihara stopped in at his favorite coffee shop in Yuraku-cho. Seated at a table, he took out his notebook, tore out a blank page and again wrote out the information Yasuda had given him:
January 20: Left Ueno 7:15 (Towada). Arr. Aomori 21st, 9:09. Left Aomori 9:50 (Sei-kan ferry). Arr. Hakodate 2:20. Left Hakodate 2:50 (Marimo). Arr. Sapporo 8:34 (met at station).
January 21-24: Maruso Inn. Left January 24.
January 25: Arr. Tokyo
The waitress serving him noticed the schedule. 'Are you planning a trip to Hokkaido?' she asked. 'Maybe,' Mihara replied, forcing a smile. The girl seemed envious. 'You are lucky. You've just been to Kyushu and now it's Hokkaido. Why, that's from the extreme west to the extreme north!'
Yes, the case had spread out and now extended from one end of Japan to the other.
Mihara returned to his office and reported to Inspector Kasai. He repeated Yasuda's story and showed him the schedule he had put in writing.
The inspector looked at it intently. 'Hokkaido is a surprise! The other end of Japan!'
'Yes, quite a distance from Kyushu. Disappointing!' Mihara said it with feeling.
'Do you believe he's telling the truth?' Kasai was still looking at the schedule, elbows on the table, chin resting between his fists.
'Yasuda is no fool. He wouldn't tell a lie that could be easily found out. I'm sure he's telling the truth.'
'All right. But check his statements.'
'Certainly. I'll ask the police at Sapporo to question the Futaba Company representative who is supposed to have met Yasuda at the station. I'll also have them check the inn where he said he stayed.'
'Right. Get that done at once.'
As Mihara stood up to leave the inspector stopped him. 'Just a minute. How about Yasuda's family?'
'He has a wife who has tuberculosis. She lives apart from him, at Kamakura.'
'Yes, yes, you told me that yesterday. Because of the frequent trips he makes to Kamakura he probably found out about the four-minute train interval. Wasn't that the point?'
'Yes. When I called on him today I found him telephoning to Kamakura. He's anxious about his wife's health.'
'I see. He's living in Tokyo alone, then?'
'He has a house in the Asagaya district. He lives there with two servants. I've already investigated.'
Mihara sent a long telegram to the Central Police Station in Sapporo. There would be no reply until the following day or the day after, at the earliest. However, he was not expecting much from that source. He was sure Tatsuo Yasuda would not be telling obvious lies; he was too clever for that.
He was at a loss. Perhaps, at the back of his mind, he was still hoping for something tangible in the reply to his telegram. But a feeling akin to frustration was growing within him. Brooding over the meager facts in his possession he seized upon a new thought. Was Yasuda's wife really convalescing in Kamakura? Hadn't he better check that part of the story?
She could not possibly be involved in the case. Yet there was the matter of the four-minute interval. Yasuda learned about it because he went often to Kamakura to visit his sick wife. Mihara's suspicions were suddenly aroused. Suppose it was not his wife but someone else who lived there? He was certain Yasuda's trip to Hokkaido would be confirmed; Yasuda knew that would be checked. But regarding his wife, ill in bed, that was something people might easily believe, something so commonplace one was apt to accept it without question.
He looked in on his chief but Inspector Kasai had already left. He put a note on his desk to say that he was going to Kamakura and went out. It would be late by the time he returned.
He bought a box of cakes at a well-known store in the Tokyo Station Building. If he was going to call on Mrs. Yasuda it would look well to take a gift.
He climbed the stairs to platform 13 and got on a train that was waiting there. He looked over at platform 15. As he knew already, his own train and the one alongside at platform 14 prevented him from getting a clear view of platform 15. How very clever to have used that four-minute interval, Mihara again remarked. He was certain it was not just by chance; it must have been planned. Of course! Yasuda must have known he would be questioned and he prepared for it by providing the eyewitnesses. This was why he had other people present at the scene; Mihara was convinced of it now.
The train left the station. Many thoughts passed through his mind during the hour it took him to reach Kamakura. There was definitely something suspicious about Yasuda's movements. But what was it? The case was a simple one of double suicide. What did Yasuda gain by having these witnesses present? What was his purpose?
Moreover, Yasuda had stated that he was on his way to Hokkaido the night of the twentieth when Sayama and Otoki had committed suicide at the other end of Japan. Kyushu and Hokkaido! Kyushu and Hokkaido! They were too far apart to be in any way connected.
At Kamakura Mihara changed to the local line to Enoshima. The car was full of noisy school children on a day's outing.
He left the train at Gokuraku-ji. He was not sure of the house number but the town was small and the residences were closely clustered. If Mrs. Yasuda's house really existed it would not be difficult to find.
Mihara went to a police box and identified himself. He asked the young policeman on duty whether there was a Yasuda living in the neighborhood.
'You mean the house where the sick lady is living?'
Mihara felt strangely let down. He had vaguely hoped to catch Yasuda in a lie.
Since he had come this far he decided to see it through. He walked in the direction the policeman had indicated, carrying the box of cakes. It was a quiet residential neighborhood. A few of the houses had thatched roofs. A small hill rose abruptly to one side; on the other, over the top of some garden shrubbery, he caught a glimpse of the sea.
9 Landscape with Figures
The house stood at the bottom of a slight slope, some distance from the station. Most of the houses in the neighborhood were of wood, the walls a combination of bamboo and cedar. The Yasuda home had only one story and was quite small. It was shaded by a few tall cedars and a hedge enclosed the tiny garden. It was the kind of place a person would choose to recuperate in.
Mihara pressed the bell. He could hear it ringing in the house. He took a deep breath; the task before him was not a pleasant one.
The door was opened by an elderly woman.
'My name is Mihara; I'm from Tokyo. I'm a friend of Mr. Yasuda's. I happened to be in the neighborhood and have called to inquire about Mrs. Yasuda.'
The servant listened politely, then disappeared indoors. She presently returned. 'Please come in,' she said.
She showed him into a Japanese-style room, about eight mats in size. The sunlight, slanting through the sliding glass doors that faced the garden, reached to the middle of the room where a bed was spread on the tatami.
Mrs. Yasuda was sitting up in the bed, waiting to receive her guest. The servant slipped a haori over her shoulders while she acknowledged Mihara's greeting. The dark silk jacket had a brilliant red pattern that formed a pool of color in the center of the room. She was a woman in her early thirties; her hair was tied loosely at the back and on her thin, extremely pale face Mihara noticed a trace of make-up, as if she had put it on hastily to receive him.
'Please forgive me for dropping in unannounced,' Mihara said. 'My name is Mihara; I'm a friend of Mr. Yasuda's. I was in the neighborhood and felt I should call.' He could not very well hand her his official business
