The Isle of South Kamui and Other Stories (21 page)

To some extent, lies were part and parcel of showbiz reporting, but it was unlikely that all of what they said was just irresponsible talk; they were generally alert to people's secrets. Even the rumor about Kyoko Igarashi being in financial difficulty probably had some basis in fact. If so, it might well have some bearing on this case.

Having thought this much, Tasaka got to his feet and went into the studio.

In the studio they were holding a press conference for the cast, who were still in full costume. At the center of it all, dressed in a subdued kimono, sat Kyoko Igarashi amidst a shower of camera flashes.

Tasaka stood at a distance from the crowd and for a while observed her being interviewed.

The interview appeared to be drawing to a close. She had tended to look down while answering questions, but now, raising her eyes she caught sight of Tasaka. A momentary expression of confusion mixed with panic crossed her face. The reporters also apparently noticed it, for a number of faces turned in Tasaka's direction following her gaze.

As if to put them off, Tasaka approached and told them, stony faced, “I'm from the police. If you've finished your interview, I'd like to ask a few questions of my own.”

“So what are the police investigating?” The reporters surrounded Tasaka, undisguised curiosity showing on their faces.

“It has nothing to do with you lot,” Tasaka said sharply to keep them away.

Kyoko Igarashi glared furiously at Tasaka. “Come over here,” she said, dragging him to a corner of the studio.

The reporters refrained from following, but they huddled together and watched intently from a distance.

“Why did you come barging in here?” demanded Kyoko, her face pale. “My life depends on this job. If any weird rumors start, it'll ruin everything.”

“I went to your home but was told you were at work, so I had no choice but to come here. It never occurred to me you'd be working the day after your only son's death,” said Tasaka with heavy irony.

“Are you being sarcastic?” asked Kyoko, her eyes stern.

“I'm only stating the obvious. But then it seems that common sense doesn't work in your world, does it?”

“I'm an actress. However sad I'm feeling, I have to work, if only for all my fans. I'm different from ordinary people.”

“I heard you got the job on this drama thanks to your son's death.” Tasaka knew he was being nasty.

“Are you saying I should have turned it down?” Kyoko's voice became shrill.

“No,” answered Tasaka curtly, his face as calm as ever. “I'm impressed that you are capable of putting in a good performance. Most would be utterly incapable of doing so. By the way, did you really warn your son not to eat the rat poison?”

“Of course I did. I'm his mother!”

“Have you any proof?”

“Proof?” Her face crumpled. Her slender fingers clutching the sleeve of her kimono trembled. “Are you saying that I'm to blame for my son's death?”

“As a police officer, I just want to know the facts.”

“I warned my son. Now please leave!”

“The proof?”

“I've got proof!”

“Your maid didn't know about it.”

“There's the worker from the Public Health Office who brought the poison. My son came back from preschool just after he arrived and he warned him about it. Ask him—he'll confirm it. Unfortunately for you, I suppose.”

Tasaka deliberately ignored the gibe, commenting “I guess I'd better go and ask at the health office, then.”

Kyoko stamped her feet impatiently. “If you're quite finished, then can I ask you to leave? I have to go over to STV now.”

“You're in hot demand, aren't you?”

“Anything wrong with that?”

“No, well, I'll just ask one more thing before I clear off. Is it true that you're having financial problems?”

“Whoever told you such a thing?” The color drained from Kyoko's face. Tasaka grinned. It seemed it was true. He had found a weak point of hers, although he did not yet know how to connect it to the crime.

“I just heard a rumor.”

At that moment, a young girl who looked like a fledgling actress called over, “Igarashi Sensei!”

Kyoko glanced over at her and then said dryly, “That was all, then?” Without waiting for an answer, she walked quickly out of the studio.

Igarashi Sensei, is it?
Tasaka watched her go with a wry smile. If it transpired that she had indeed killed her six-year-old son, then nobody would be calling her Sensei much longer.

A visitor had arrived for Detective Tasaka, so Ono went to reception to meet him in his place.

The man was about forty, and wore a moustache. After glancing sharply at Ono through his thick glasses, he said, “I have come on behalf of Kyoko Igarashi.” He proffered his business card, upon which was written “Ichiro Yoshimuta, Director, ABC Productions.”

Already?
thought Ono, bracing himself.

“Excuse me, but are you Detective Tasaka?” asked Ichiro Yoshimuta.

“No,” replied Ono. “He's out on an investigation at the moment. I'm his colleague, Detective Ono.”

“Well, please tell him when he returns to stop harassing her.”

“Harassing?” Ono's expression wavered.

Yoshimuta continued unperturbed, “It's clearly suicide, yet the police are still sniffing around as if there was something more to it. Look, show business is all about popularity ratings, so it's causing us a lot of bother.”

“We don't know that it's suicide, you know,” said Ono.

“It
is
suicide. There was even a suicide note, wasn't there? Didn't you see it yourself?” pressed Yoshimuta.

“Yes, I saw it,” replied Ono. “But there remains some doubt as to whether a six-year-old child is capable of committing suicide. So we are investigating, just in case.”

“But Detective Tasaka's method of investigating seems to be to interrogate Kyoko Igarashi as if she herself had killed her own child.”

“Surely not.”

“It's true—just now she came to me in floods of tears to tell me about it. Detective Tasaka came barging in on her while she was at work at a TV station and started treating her like a criminal right under the noses of a bunch of reporters there. This is absolutely going too far.”

Shit
, thought Ono. He really was overdoing it. This was not officially a murder case, and there was not even an incident room set up for it. In other words, it was an under-the-table investigation. They should be treading warily, yet here was Tasaka aggressively confronting the woman head on.

Apparently emboldened by Ono's silence, Yoshimuta continued, “Show business is precarious, and if any weird rumors got around it could be fatal. I really must ask you to consider this. If anything like this happens again, we will have no choice but to defend ourselves and take legal action against Detective Tasaka. Please tell him that,” he added threateningly.

When Yoshimuta had left, Ono went to report to the Chief and said, “I would like to pay a visit to Ueno police station.”

With arms folded, the Chief considered this and then queried, “You mean, to find out about Detective Tasaka?”

“Yes. I happen to have a friend from my police academy days stationed there; he's bound to know something. Tasaka's behavior on this case is really unlike him. If he carries on like this, things are bound to end badly. I'm concerned about him. If I can just find out why he's behaving like he is, I think I'll be able to help him.”

“You're probably right. Okay, you'd better get going,” replied the Chief.

Ono made his way through the slush-filled streets to Ueno with a heavy heart. He was about to inquire into Tasaka's secrets. Even if he was doing it for a good reason, to help Tasaka, there was nothing pleasant about it.

His old friend Detective Yokoi looked pleased to see Ono as he came out to greet him. It had been four years. After catching up with each other's latest news, Ono said casually, “I'm partnered with Detective Tasaka these days. He was here before, wasn't he?”

“Tasaka?” repeated Yokoi. “Ah, right, Detective Tasaka.” He smiled. “He's extremely trustworthy, isn't he? A very serious man.”

“Yes. But there's something that's worrying me.”

“What's that?”

“How come he's still single? He's already thirty, after all.”

“Why? Have you got a bride in mind for him?”

“Well, you know…” said Ono evasively. “I heard that he was married before, but is that true?”

“It's true. But they didn't get along. In the end they split up— even though they had a child.”

“A child?” Ono was surprised. Given Tasaka's behavior during this case, he had assumed that he did not have any children of his own.

“She was a really cute little girl.” A shadow passed over Yokoi's face.

“Did she die?”

“Yes. It was a horrible death, too. Tasaka's never been the same since.”

“How did she die?”

“His wife was a bit flashy. After their daughter was born, she had an affair with a TV celebrity. And she went running after him, leaving the kid behind. She'd always wanted to be in showbiz, or something. The day she left, Detective Tasaka was busy with a murder investigation. The little girl—she was two and a half at the time—apparently tried to follow her mother, but fell down a drain. She couldn't get out again, and she died down there.”

“Did she know her daughter had died?”

“Probably not,” Yokoi continued, “And don't say anything of what I've told you to Detective Tasaka.''

“Don't worry, I won't,” responded Ono.

Ono felt he now understood why Tasaka was so abnormally interested in the current case, and why he was so quick to judge it as murder. Deep in his heart, this case must be superimposed on his own daughter's death and his wife's betrayal. But the knowledge did not lighten Ono's heart at all— in fact it made it heavier.

The official at the Public Health Office could not recall whether he had warned Kyoko Igarashi's son about the rat poison or not. His evasiveness emboldened Tasaka further. It seemed increasingly possible that it was murder.

By the time he left the Public Health Office, the sun was high in the sky and the snow was quickly melting. This morning the landscape had been pure white, but now it was converted into grubby slush.

Bit like Kyoko Igarashi
, Tasaka told himself repeatedly as he headed for the kindergarten attended by Kyoko's son. She might be beautiful on the surface, but inside she was full of filth. So much so that she had sacrificed her own child without a qualm. Just like Misako, the wife that had abandoned Tasaka.

A “Closed” sign hung outside the kindergarten, no doubt due to the snow, but the headmistress and a teacher were there so he was able to ask about the dead child.

“It seems he was very attached to his deceased father,” commented Tasaka.

“Oh yes,” nodded the teacher. “Whenever we do drawing, he always does a picture of an airplane, and then explains that it's Daddy's jetliner. He really loved his father.”

“What about his mother?”

“You mean Kyoko Igarashi?”

“Yes. Did he ever draw pictures of his mother?”

“If he was told to draw one, yes.”

“Only then?

“Yes.”

“Isn't it usual for small children to draw pictures of their mothers?”

“Yes, well…” Suddenly the teacher became vague, apparently worried that Tasaka might infer something from what she said.

“What did you think when you heard about the suicide?”

She seemed relieved at the change of subject. “I was shocked!”

“Just that? Didn't you think it was odd? Weren't you a little doubtful as to whether a six-year-old child would commit suicide?” The teacher clammed up at Tasaka's barrage of questions. He turned to the middle-aged headmistress. “What do you think?” he queried. “Is there any record of a six-year-old child having committed suicide?”

“In this country, the youngest recorded suicide was actually seven years old.” The headmistress, a slim woman, spoke in sincere tones.

“Not six, right?”

“Right. Only—”

“Only what?”

“With children it is very difficult to judge whether a death is suicide or not. There's rarely any suicide note, unlike with adults. And there are cases abroad of suicide at age six.”

“However, in Japan, the youngest suicide on record was at age seven,” insisted Tasaka. Statistics didn't lie, he reasoned with himself. According to the statistics in Japan, the youngest suicide on record was at age seven, so wasn't that proof that it was strange for a six-year-old to have killed himself?