“Great. I’ll meet you at the front gate at five, then. Sound good?”
“That’s fine—where are you now?”
“In the neighborhood. See you soon!”
“Right, see you.”
After Yukawa hung up, Ishigami clutched his cell phone with tense fingers, staring down at it. What could possibly be so urgent that it would drive the physicist to come see him here at school? Ishigami puzzled over it as he walked back to his desk.
By the time he had finished grading his few remaining exams and had gotten ready to leave it was already five. Ishigami walked out of the teachers’ room and cut across the schoolyard toward the front gate.
Yukawa was standing near the gate next to the crosswalk. His black coat fluttered in the wind. When he saw Ishigami, he waved and smiled. “Sorry to drag you out like this,” he called out cheerfully.
“I was just wondering what was so urgent that you came all the way out here to see me about it,” Ishigami said, his expression softening.
“Let’s talk while we walk.” Yukawa set off down Kiyosubashi Road.
“No, this way is faster,” Ishigami said, indicating a side road. “If we go straight through here it will get us right to my apartment building.”
“Yeah, but I want to go to that lunch box shop,” Yukawa explained.
“The lunch box shop? Why go there?” Ishigami asked, feeling the muscles in his face tighten.
“Why? To get a lunch box. Why else? I don’t think I’ll have time to get a proper dinner anywhere tonight, so I thought I might get something easy ahead of time. The lunches are good there, aren’t they? I’d hope so, seeing as how you buy them every day.”
“Oh … right. Off we go, then.” Ishigami turned toward Benten-tei.
They headed off in the direction of Kiyosu Bridge. As the walked along, a large truck rattled past them on the road.
“So,” Yukawa was saying, “I met with Kusanagi the other day—you remember, the detective that dropped in on you?”
Ishigami tensed, his premonition growing steadily worse.
“What’d he have to say?”
“Nothing big. Whenever he runs into a dead end, you see, he always comes whining to me. And never with the easy problems, either. Once he even wanted me to solve a poltergeist haunting. See what I mean?”
Yukawa began to tell him the story of the poltergeist haunting. It sounded interesting enough to Ishigami. But he knew that Yukawa hadn’t come all the way here to relate a would-be ghost story.
The math teacher was on the verge of asking his old friend what he had really come for when the sign for Benten-tei came into view. Another wave of unease washed over him. How would Yasuko react when she saw them? It was unusual under any circumstances for Ishigami to show up at this time of day, and if he came with a friend, she would be sure to suspect the worst. He just hoped she had the sense to act naturally.
Yukawa stepped up to the sliding glass door to Benten-tei, opened it, and went inside. Ishigami followed, somewhat hesitantly. He saw Yasuko behind the counter, in the middle of helping another customer.
“Welcome!” she said brightly to Yukawa. Then she turned to look at Ishigami. A look of bewilderment came into her eyes, and her smile froze on her face.
“Did my friend do something?” Yukawa asked.
“No—nothing,” Yasuko shook her head, still smiling uncomfortably. “He’s my neighbor. He always buys his lunch here…”
“So I’m told. I’m here on his recommendation.”
“Thank you, then,” Yasuko said, nodding politely.
“We were classmates back in university,” Yukawa went on, turning to Ishigami. “I was just over at his place the other day.”
“Oh, right.” Yasuko smiled and nodded again.
“Oh, he told you?”
“Yes, in passing.”
Yukawa nodded, smiling. “So, what do you recommend? No, what does he usually buy?”
“Mr. Ishigami almost always gets the special, but I’m afraid we’re sold out…”
“That’s too bad. Let’s see, then. They all look so good…”
While Yukawa selected a boxed lunch, Ishigami stood looking out through the sliding glass door. He wondered if the detectives were watching from somewhere nearby. If possible, he didn’t want them to see him being friendly with Yasuko.
Then another thought occurred to him, and he gave Yukawa a sidelong glance. Could Yukawa be trusted? Did he need to be on his guard around this old friend? If he’s friends with Kusanagi, anything he sees here might eventually wind up back with the police.
Yukawa had finally decided on a lunch box. Yasuko had just gone back with his order when the glass door slid open again and a man in a dark brown jacket stepped into the shop. Ishigami glanced behind him as casually as he could. He felt his jaw clench involuntarily.
It was the man he had seen dropping Yasuko off the other day in front of their apartment building. From beneath his umbrella, Ishigami had watched them talking together. He had gotten the impression that they were old friends—or something more.
The man didn’t seem to notice Ishigami. He was waiting for Yasuko to reappear. When she came back to the front and saw him, her eyes opened in surprise. The man merely nodded, smiling, with a look that said, We’ll talk after you’ve dealt with these customers.
Who is he? Ishigami wondered. When did he show up, and how did he get so close to Yasuko Hanaoka? Ishigami vividly remembered the look on Yasuko’s face when she had stepped out of the taxi the night before. He had never seen her looking so full of life. Her face hadn’t been the face of a mother or an employee at a lunch box shop. It had been her true face, he thought. A woman’s face.
A face she wore for this man, and would never wear for Ishigami—
Ishigami’s gaze darted between the mystery man and Yasuko. He thought he could feel the atmosphere shift between them. A feeling of anxiety clutched at the math teacher’s chest.
Yukawa’s lunch box was ready. He paid, took the bag, and turned to Ishigami. “Thanks for waiting.”
They left Benten-tei and went down to the Sumida River at the stairs by Kiyosu Bridge. They began to walk along the river.
“So who was that guy?” Yukawa asked.
“Huh?”
“The guy that came into the shop. It looked like you recognized him.”
Internally, Ishigami cursed his old friend’s powers of observation. “Really? Can’t say that I did,” he replied, striving to maintain his composure.
“Oh, well, never mind then.” Yukawa said.
“So what is the urgent business all about, anyway? Don’t tell me you came all this way just to buy a lunch box?”
“Oh, right. I hadn’t gotten to why I came, had I?” Yukawa frowned. “Like I said before, that Detective Kusanagi has a habit of bringing me all of his annoying loose ends. Anyway, this time he came because he found out I knew you, and you’re her neighbor. It turns out he has a … well, a rather unpleasant request.”
“What’s that?”
“To put it bluntly, the police are still investigating the murder of your neighbor’s ex-husband, and they have suspicions about your neighbor. Unfortunately, they haven’t got a shred of evidence linking her to the crime. So, they’d like to keep tabs on her, watch what she does—you know, observe. But there are limits to how far they can take that. Which is where we come to you.”
“Wait, they don’t want me to watch her for them, do they?”
Yukawa scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “Er, well, yes, actually they do. It’s not like they want you to observe her all the time, twenty-four seven. They just want you to keep an eye on the place next door, and let them know if you notice anything. I know, it’s a serious imposition, but that’s how they are.”
“So that’s why you came out here to talk to me?”
“Well, I expect the police will make a more formal request soon enough. They just wanted me to feel you out about it first. Personally, I wouldn’
t care if you said no—in fact, I almost think you should, but I thought I owed my detective friend at least a preliminary chat with you.”
Yukawa looked sincerely put upon. Secretly, though, Ishigami wondered if the story was really true. Would the police really go to a civilian with a request like that?
“Is that why you wanted to go to Benten-tei, too?”
“Honestly, yes. I wanted to see this suspect for myself. And I gotta say, now that I have, I don’t think she’s capable of killing someone.”
Ishigami was about to tell him that he agreed, but he held back. Instead, he said, “Well, they say you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.”
“True enough. So, what do you say? How would you answer if the police asked you to spy for them?”
Ishigami shook his head. “Honestly, I’d rather not get involved. I’m not in the habit of prying into other people’s lives, and besides, I barely have the time. It might not look it, but I’m rather a busy man.”
“So I thought. Look, I’ll just tell Kusanagi what you said. That should put an end to the whole idea. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable at all.”
“No, not a bit.”
They were approaching Shin-Ohashi Bridge. They could already see the homeless people’s shanties along the riverside.
“So the murder happened on March tenth, I think he said,” Yukawa said. “Kusanagi mentioned you came home kind of early that day?”
“Yeah. I didn’t have anything scheduled that night. I think I got back around seven—I believe that’s what I told him.”
“After which you holed up in your room, doing battle with those mathematical problems of yours?”
“Something like that.”
As he talked, Ishigami wondered if Yukawa was actually trying to see if he had an alibi. If that was the case, then he already suspected Ishigami of being involved.
“Which reminds me, I have no idea if you have any other hobbies. I mean something other than math.”
Ishigami snorted. “Hobbies? Not really. Math is about all I do.”
“What you do to blow off steam, then? Do you like going for drives?” Yukawa pantomimed gripping a steering wheel.
“No, no. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. I don’t own a car.”
“But you have a driver’s license?”
“Is that a surprise?”
“Not particularly. You’re not so busy that you couldn’t find the time to go to driving school, are you?”
“I got it right after I found out I wasn’t getting a university job. I figured it might be of help in finding work. Of course, it ended up not helping at all,” Ishigami said with a sidelong glance at Yukawa. “What, are you trying to figure out whether I could drive a car?”
Yukawa blinked. “No. Why would I?”
“Given your questions, I just thought you might be.”
“Well I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just wondering if you like to go for drives. Or, more to the point, if you had anything you like to discuss other than mathematics once in a while.”
“Other than mathematics and murder mysteries, you mean.”
Yukawa laughed. “Well said.”
They passed beneath Shin-Ohashi Bridge. The man with gray hair pulled into a ponytail was boiling something in a pot over a makeshift burner. He had a small oil can sitting next to him. A few of the other homeless were out and about.
As they made their way up the stairs by the bridge, Yukawa turned to Ishigami and said, “Well, I’d better be getting back home. Sorry for troubling you with the whole investigation thing.”
“Just apologize to Detective Kusanagi for me. I’m sorry I couldn’t help him.”
“I don’t think there’s any need to apologize. And, I hope you don’t mind if I drop in again?”
“No, I don’t mind.”
“Great. We can drink sake and talk math.”
“You mean talk math and murder.”
Yukawa shrugged and wrinkled his brow. “Maybe so. Though I did come up with a new problem for you. Maybe something you can think about in your spare time?”
“That being?”
“Which is harder: devising an unsolvable problem, or solving that problem? And it’s not an empty question. Unlike the Clay Mathematics Institute prize people, I guarantee this puzzle has an answer. Interesting, no?”
“Very interesting,” Ishigami said, trying to read Yukawa’s expression. “I’ll think about it.”
Yukawa nodded, then turned and walked back toward the main road.
NINE
They had eaten the last of the shrimp, and the wine bottle was empty. Yasuko drank the last sip of wine from her glass and breathed a sigh of contentment. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been out for real Italian food.
“Something more to drink?” Kudo asked her, a line of red showing beneath his eyes.
“I’m fine, thanks. Why don’t you order something?”
“No, I’ll pass. Save it for dessert.” He smiled and dabbed at his mouth with a napkin.
Yasuko had gone out to dinner with Kudo several times back when she was a hostess. Whether the meal was French or Italian, he had never stopped at the first bottle of wine.
“Drinking less these days?”
Kudo nodded thoughtfully. “I suppose I am. Less than before, at any rate. Maybe I’m getting old.”
“There’s nothing wrong with moderation. You have to take care of yourself.”
“Thanks.” Kudo laughed.
He had called her cell phone earlier that day to ask her out to dinner. At first, she hesitated, but then she accepted. The murder investigation had given her pause. It felt wrong, somehow, to go out to dinner at a time like this. Wrong for her, and especially for her daughter, who was surely even more frightened by the whole thing than she was. There was also the matter of Ishigami, and his help in covering up Togashi’s death. She wondered how long his assistance would remain unconditional.
Then again, she thought, maybe it was precisely at times like these that she should do her best to act normal. If she didn’t have a particular reason not to go, wouldn’t it be “normal” to accept an old friend’s offer to go to dinner? It would be more unnatural for her to refuse, and if word of it reached Sayoko, then she might grow suspicious.
Whatever the line of reasoning she came up with to rationalize it to herself, Yasuko knew it was all a pretense. The real reason she had accepted Kudo’s offer was that she’d wanted to see him again.
She wasn’t sure if she had romantic feelings for him. In fact, before he had showed up the other day, she had scarcely thought of him in the last year. She was fond of him, that was true, but at present, it went no further.
Yet she couldn’t deny that after he had invited her out, she had felt elated—an elation very similar to what she remembered feeling when making a date to meet a lover. She had even felt her body warming. Heart aflutter, she had asked Sayoko if she could get out of work early.
It was possible that all she really wanted was an escape from the worrying that had become a constant in her life. Or perhaps she wanted once again to be treated like a woman, to feel those things she had not felt in so long.
Regardless of the reasons, Yasuko didn’t regret accepting Kudo’s invitation. Though she couldn’t help feeling like she was sneaking away from something else she should have been doing, it was undeniable that she was having fun.
“What did your daughter do for dinner tonight?” Kudo asked, taking a sip of coffee.
“I left her a message telling her she could order out. I’m guessing pizza—it’s her favorite by far.”
“Hmph. Poor girl. Eating pizza while we’re here with this feast.”
“I don’t know. I think she prefers watching TV and eating pizza to a place like this. She’s not fond of formal dining—or anything else where you have to act proper.”
Kudo nodded, frowning. He scratched at the side of his nose. “That may be, that may be. I doubt she’d like to share a meal w
ith some strange old man, either. But maybe next time I could take the both of you out to something simpler. A sushi-go-round, perhaps?”
“Thanks. But you don’t have to worry on our account.”
“It’s not worrying. I’d like to meet her—your daughter.” Kudo raised his eyes shyly from his coffee.
When he had first invited her out, he’d insisted that she bring her daughter along. And Yasuko had been sure of his sincerity, which made her happy.
Yet she had known at once that she couldn’t bring Misato. It was true that the girl didn’t like places like the restaurant Kudo had chosen. That, and Yasuko didn’t want her daughter to have to deal with people at a time like this. If the conversation had chanced to drift to the murder, she didn’t know whether Misato would be able to keep her cool. She also didn’t want her daughter to see her mother as she was now—a single woman out with a man.
“What about you, Kudo? Is it all right for you to skip out on dinner with your family?”
“What about me, indeed.” Kudo set down his coffee cup and rested his elbows on the table. “Actually, one of the reasons I invited you out to dinner today was to talk about that.”
Yasuko lifted an eyebrow, looking into his eyes.
“That is to say—actually, I’m single now.”
Yasuko gasped out loud.
“My wife got cancer. Pancreatic. She had surgery, but it was too little, too late. She passed away last summer. She was young, but once it started it went quickly. It was over in blink of an eye.”
He spoke evenly, which had the effect of making his story sound almost unreal to Yasuko’s ears. For several seconds, she merely sat there, staring at him.
“Really?” she finally managed.
“I wouldn’t joke about something like that,” he replied with a wry smile.
“No, of course you wouldn’t. I just don’t know what to say—” She looked down at the table, then bit her lip before looking back up. “I … I’m sorry for your loss. It must have been difficult.”