“The writing and the content was excellent, but most of all, we were deeply impressed with the research,” Hashiba gushed. Then he laid his cards on the table. “Honestly, we came to the conclusion that it would be quicker and easier to use what you know than for us to go to Takato and conduct our own investigation. If you don’t mind my asking, was this the first time you’ve reported on a missing persons case?”
“Well, yes,” Saeko responded.
It was true. It was the first time she’d done an article about a missing persons case. She refrained from mentioning that she’d performed a similar investigation in the past and was well equipped with the relevant skills and contacts.
The thorough investigation of the Fujimuras and their two children that Saeko had conducted during two week-long visits to Takato had been more or less textbook. She had gone to see a local judicial scrivener and acquired the Fujimuras’ residency card, family registry, and appendices—the three fundamentals of a missing persons case. She’d familiarized herself with three generations of their family tree, thoroughly examined their financial obligations and collateral, and the possibility of any extramarital affairs. She’d visited the children’s schools, spoken to their friends to see if the children had had any special issues, and followed up on every possible lead.
All told, Saeko had easily devoted over a hundred hours to the investigation. For the director to redo the same work would take him even longer, given that he lacked Saeko’s experience. From that perspective, it would be a lot more economical to use Saeko’s information, not to mention a lot quicker. Shows like these usually didn’t have a moment of production time to waste.
A man in his thirties emerged into the lobby, holding a cell phone to his ear as he glanced about. It was Hashiba, the director. Saeko got up from the sofa and walked over to meet him. As soon as Hashiba saw her, he ended his phone call, smiled, and bowed.
“Thank you for waiting.”
He was dressed casually, in slim jeans and a denim shirt, and Saeko noticed that he had perfectly flat abs. Somehow he gave off a more innocent vibe than he had at their first meeting.
Was he this good looking? Saeko cocked her head with uncertainty as she followed Hashiba inside.
4There were seven people in the meeting room, including Saeko. Oki the producer and chief director Hashiba sat at the head of the table, with directors Kagayama and Nakamura on the left and writers Shigeta and Satoyama on the right. Saeko was the only woman in the group.
“Thank you for coming all this way,” Oki said by way of greeting. Then he got straight to the point, explaining the goal of the project. “Here’s the concept. We want to zero in on the pathological phenomenon in modern Japan—the disappearance of 100,000 people each year—incorporating a sort of public investigation element. Ideally, the show would lead to the resolution of some cases.”
Saeko wanted the same thing. She had hoped her reporting would at least bring the investigation closer to the truth. She’d love to have discovered the clue that would lead to the answer—she needed the catharsis that would come with cracking the case. But reality hadn’t conformed to her wishes.
When Saeko made no response, Oki continued. “By the way, Ms. Kuriyama, I’m sure there are things you found out that didn’t make it into your article. Could you please give us a general explanation once more of everything you’ve found out about the case?”
Saeko opened the file in front of her, trying not to make eye contact with any of the men. “As you all know, the four members of the Fujimura family disappeared suddenly on the night of January 22nd of this year.”
“Can we be sure they disappeared on the night of January 22nd?” Hashiba asked promptly.
“To be precise, it was sometime between 10 p.m. that evening and 7 a.m. the next morning.”
“You have a specific time frame?”
“Yes. At around 10 p.m. that evening, a friend of Haruko’s called the house and spoke with her.”
“Haruko?”
“Here. Let’s go over the family tree once more,” Saeko replied, passing out copies of a diagram that showed the Fujimuras’ familial relationships at a glance. “There you have the four members of the Fujimura household. Kota, the husband, age 49, an employee of the local Japan Agricultural Cooperative; his wife Haruko, age 45, a high school teacher in Ina City; daughter Fumi, a first year student at Takato High School; and son Keisuke, a second year student at Takato Junior High. We know that all four were at home at 10 p.m. on the 22nd.”
“This was confirmed by Haruko’s friend who called?” Hashiba wanted to know.
“Of course she didn’t talk to each individual family member,” Saeko replied. “But Haruko’s friend has stated that when she spoke to Haruko, everything seemed normal, and she could hear the voices of the other family members in the living room over the line.”
“I see. But couldn’t it be possible that one or two of the family members could already have been missing at that point?” Hashiba pressed.
“It’s possible. But it’s hard to imagine that anything abnormal was going on at that point based on the impression Haruko’s friend had when she called.”
“What did they talk about?” Oki asked.
“Haruko and her friend, you mean?”
“Yes.”
“The two of them were friends from high school, and a mutual friend was returning to Japan from the U.S., so they discussed the three of them getting together for a drink.”
“When was their friend going to return to Japan?”
“January 24th.”
“Two days after the family’s disappearance. It’s hard to imagine someone disappearing of their own volition the same night she’d made plans to go drinking with friends two days later,” Hashiba murmured, seemingly to himself. He had a habit of tapping the tip of his ballpoint pen against his notepad while he thought.
“That’s right. At least, I couldn’t uncover a single reason why Haruko would want to disappear,” Saeko confirmed.
“All right. Now, can you tell us how you know the family had gone missing by 7 a.m. the next morning?” Oki prompted, bringing them back to the timeframe issue.
“Another phone call. Haruko’s older sister Junko called at that hour, and there was no answer. Normally, someone would definitely have been home to answer the phone on a weekday morning at seven. Kota left for work at nine-thirty, the children left for school just a little before eight, and Haruko left for work earliest, at seven-thirty.”
“Who was the first person to notice that something unusual was going on with the Fujimuras?”
“Keisuke’s homeroom teacher at Takato Junior High.”
“Because he didn’t show up at school?”
“Right. The teacher called the Fujimuras immediately, but there was no answer. Given that Haruko was a fellow teacher, Keisuke’s teacher obtained her contact details through a mutual friend and tried her workplace, but her coworkers informed him that she hadn’t shown up. That afternoon, the teacher called a relative of the Fujimuras and explained the circumstances.”
“And who was the first person to check their home?”
“Junko, Haruko’s older sister.”
“The woman who had phoned that morning.”
“Yes.”
“And what did Junko find?”
“Basically, the house looked as if the Fujimuras had just popped out momentarily and then never returned.” Saeko stopped here, and she somehow felt compelled to look each of the six men in the face.
But how could that be? their eyes seemed to say.
“Specifically, what did she find?” Kagayama asked, speaking up for the first time. The whole group was listening intently, but Kagayama alone betrayed a hint of fear in his expression.
“It was like any other day at the Fujimura house. The bathtub was full of water … Of course, it was cold by the time they found it. But there were signs that the children had already bathed; they may have been in their pajamas when they disappeared. I
n the kitchen, the dishes had been washed, and on the living room table there were two tea cups with tea still in them, plus an empty beer can next to a glass still half-full of beer. There were a few tissues and a banana peel in the wastebasket, and the radio was on in one of the children’s rooms.”
“And the lights?”
“They were on.”
“Did Junko go in through the front door?”
“No. It was locked, so she went around the back and came in through the kitchen.”
“I see. And she discovered the house looking as if everything was wrapped up for the day and the family was ready for bed, hmm? Yet, for some reason, the family was gone. Tell me, Ms. Kuriyama, what was the first explanation that came to mind? Did you have any theories as to how the Fujimuras vanished?”
“I went through the standard scenarios and ruled them out one by one. As I noted in my report, the majority of missing persons incidents in Japan involve debt. So that was the first possibility I examined. There are innumerable examples in which the missing party gave the appearance of leading a perfectly stable life despite actually being deeply in debt.”
“So you looked into their finances.”
“Thorougly.”
“And there was no debt?”
“Let me give you the specific numbers. Their bank accounts held 25 million yen in Kota’s name and 9.5 million in Haruko’s. The children aside, that’s a total of almost 35 million yen. On top of that, their house was all paid off—no mortgage. The only thing they owed was their auto loan, with a balance of less than a million yen. The Fujimuras owned other real estate as well, but it wasn’t under mortgage either. In other words, the family was essentially debt-free, with nearly 35 million yen in the bank. And not a drop of that money has been withdrawn since they’ve gone missing.”
“In other words, we can rule out debt as the reason for their disappearance.”
“Right. It’s just not possible.”
With specific numbers provided, the group had to agree with Saeko’s conclusion. The Fujimuras definitely hadn’t run off in the night to escape their debtors.
“So what does that leave?”
“Beyond debt, the next most likely possibility is a crime of passion. Kota was clean as a whistle, with no shadow of any rumors of adultery. He was never very social and he didn’t have a lot of friends. Haruko, on the other hand, was a very attractive woman, and there was some talk of a possible relationship between her and another man.”
“Ah-ha! Did the husband know?” Oki asked quickly. He seemed to be already imagining the set-up: husband learns of wife’s affair and in a blind rage kills his family before taking his own life. Naturally, Saeko had entertained the same possibility.
“I looked into it, but it seems the rumors about Haruko hadn’t reached Kota. They were baseless to begin with and never went any further than Haruko’s workplace. For that reason, the jealous husband scenario doesn’t seem like a possibility, either.”
In a sweeping motion, Oki the producer reclined in his seat and leaned back all the way. “Mm-hmm. So I guess that only leaves one possibility.”
“Abduction, you mean?”
“Yes. What’s your take?”
“I think the possibility of a foreign government being involved is slim, but the most likely remaining explanation is that they were abducted.”
“Ah-ha!” Oki’s reaction seemed vaguely excited as he sat back up in his chair, leaning forwards across the table.
“Nothing else fits. The chances that a group of criminals broke into the Fujimuras’ home and kidnapped them is basically nil. There was no evidence whatsoever of a struggle. The family’s car is still parked in their garage, so we know they didn’t go for a drive and get into an accident. The only possible explanation is that someone very close to the Fujimuras lured the whole family out of the house and that they were taken away in a van or similar vehicle.”
“I see. Does anyone else have any ideas?” Oki turned to the other members of the group.
“Well, perhaps we should consider the possibility of a UFO abduction,” suggested writer Satoyama with a wide-eyed expression. Immediately the tension in the room slackened, and a few members of the group let out guffaws. Saeko wasn’t sure whether Satoyama was kidding or not. He looked like a typical occult-obsessed reclusive type, and it seemed possible that he genuinely believed aliens might be involved.
Saeko smiled and refrained from commenting. Then she revealed the hypothesis she’d left out of her report.
“Between you and me, when I began my investigation, I suspected Koji’s older brother Seiji.” Without clear evidence, Saeko could have been sued for slander if she’d publicly implicated a specific individual in her report. It wasn’t the sort of thing a writer could publish without any proof.
“Why?” Both Oki and Hashiba simultaneously voiced their interest.
“Because Seiji does have debt,” Saeko replied.
Immediately, the expressions of the entire group turned grave. Only Satoyama looked vaguely disappointed.
“How much does he owe?” Oki inquired.
“Approximately two million yen. And not because his business went bankrupt. He just spent himself deeper and deeper into debt.”
“Well, that’s not uncommon.”
“But Seiji has no prospects for paying his debts off.”
“If the entire Fujimura family were to disappear, would Seiji inherit everything they had?” Hashiba probed.
Saeko nodded. “Exactly. He’s Koji’s only sibling. If the Fujimuras never reappear, Seiji is the legal heir to their estate. As I mentioned earlier, the Fujimuras had almost 35 million yen just in savings. When you factor in their home, the lot, and their other property, they were easily worth more than 50 million.”
“And if Seiji wanted to inherit that money, he would have to get rid of the entire family, right?”
“Do you know what he asked me?”
“What?”
Saeko lowered her voice and imitated Seiji’s throaty growl. “Say, does it really take seven years to close a missing persons case?”
Hashiba gave her a startled look. Up until now, Saeko had responded to the men’s questions with a perfectly sober demeanor. Then, all of a sudden, she’d launched into an uncanny impression of a brazenly greedy middle-aged man. He was so taken off guard that he didn’t have time to laugh, but it made him take a fresh look at Saeko. Delight registered on his face as on a boy’s discovering an appealing toy.
“I get it. The case has to be closed for him to inherit their estate, huh?” Oki’s speech, too, dropped into an informal, more familiar register.
“What do you think, Ms. Kuriyama? You’ve met this Seiji, right?” Hashiba asked.
“Yes.”
“Well? Is he behind this?”
The six men gazed at Saeko in tense anticipation.
“No.” Saeko delivered her verdict with an off-hand shrug.
“What? He’s not?” All at once, the six men clamored to know why Saeko could be so sure of Seiji’s innocence.
“On paper, he looks pretty suspicious. But the moment I met him, I knew he couldn’t have done it. He’s clean, all right. He doesn’t have the balls to pull off something this big.”
This was too much for Hashiba. He grimaced, barely holding in his laughter. “He’s not the criminal type, you mean?”
“Oh, he’s rotten to the core. He’s the kind who would do anything for money. But if he did, he’d be bound to screw something up. He’s that type. We’re talking about making an entire family disappear overnight without a trace, as if by magic. Seiji could never pull a stunt like that singlehandedly.”
“But we can’t be sure it was a solo job, right? Maybe he had accomplices,” Oki offered.
“Even more impossible.”
When Saeko shot down his suggestion, Oki looked slightly taken aback, slumping one shoulder dramatically. “How do you know?” he asked.
“No decent human being—or an indecent one
for that matter—would ever consider partnering up with Seiji.”
The rest of the group eyed Saeko dubiously, as if wondering how she could be so sure just through her limited contact with Seiji. “Can you guarantee that?” one of the men ventured.
“He’s a little out of the ordinary. Very out of the ordinary, I should say. He hops from job to job and has virtually no social skills. He’s the black sheep of the family, and the Fujimuras didn’t have much to do with him. He lives in a shack in their neighborhood but he’s basically a hobo, frequently disappearing for a month or two, even a year at times. It would be perfectly obvious to anyone who met him. A group of kidnappers capable of abducting a family wouldn’t want to collaborate with a man like him.”
Saeko obviously held Seiji in the lowest possible regard. Hashiba gazed towards the ceiling with a vague look of satisfaction on his face, as if savoring Saeko’s vitriol. Perhaps he was imagining what unpleasantness had taken place between Saeko and Seiji when she was gathering information.
In contrast, Oki’s expression was faintly sour. “But this Seiji has the key to the Fujimuras’ home, right?” He was literally referring to the front door key to the Fujimuras’ now empty home.
“That’s right. Unfortunately, Seiji is now the caretaker of the Fujimura residence.”
“In other words, nobody can enter the house without Seiji’s permission?”
“That’s right.”
“But from what you wrote, it seems like you’ve been in the house.”
“I believe I’m one of very few journalists who have been inside.”
“Did money change hands?”
“No. Money played no part. Seiji rarely allows any journalists inside. Perhaps he only lends the key to those he perceives as allies.”
This had truly been the selling point of Saeko’s story. Her coverage was unique in providing vivid descriptions of the interior of the Fujimura home. The beer bottle on the table, the-old fashioned radio on the desk in the children’s room, the hardened banana peel in the trash can, the laundry hamper full of clothes in the bathroom … Her detached portrayal of the Fujimuras’ material belongings in the absence of their owners elicited a sort of ominous mood that made her article gripping.