A Cop's Eyes (23 page)

If that was the case, what were those photos?

The camera had captured the culprit. Ohta had them. Did
that mean that Ohta wasn't the one who'd attacked Emi Natsume? Or had someone else taken those pictures and given them to Ohta? A blackmail scenario—

When the investigation meeting ended, Natsume was called over by the chiefs, who were discussing something in the front. They probably wanted Natsume to excuse himself from this investigation.

It had a bearing on the spree that his daughter had fallen victim to. He wouldn't be able to make composed decisions.

Nagamine, himself, valued Natsume even though the man was just a precinct detective, but it would be best if other investigators handled the case at hand just this once.

Nagamine was thinking this as he watched, but Natsume shook his head and seemed to be making an earnest appeal. Then he came back.

“Want to grab something to eat?” Nagamine invited him.

“I think they have a point.” Pouring beer into Natsume's drained glass, Nagamine tried to persuade him.

After finishing their meals, Nagamine had expressed his agreement with the brass about Natsume removing himself from the case this time, but the man would only stubbornly shake his head.

Nagamine had felt so during the last investigation too, but Natsume was pretty stubborn despite his gentle demeanor.

“It might become a very painful investigation for you.”

“For me, investigations are always painful,” Natsume quietly answered.

That had to be true. If his own family were killed or hurt in a case, Nagamine wasn't sure he could stay at this job. He'd be unable to put a lid on his hatred for any and all criminals.

Yet, Natsume had done the opposite and jettisoned his prior career to become a cop.

Nagamine admired the man's resolve. He also understood why Natsume balked at removing himself from the investigation, but without exception, having a personal interest in a case was taboo.

“This time is different, it'll be even worse. First of all, if Toru Ohta did attack your daughter … would you be able to pursue his killer with the right amount of anger and determination?”

“Yes,” Natsume nodded. “The culprit who attacked Emi must be caught, and the same goes for the murderer who killed the attacker.”

“What if, like you, the suspect is related to one of the victims of the serial assailant case? Would you be able to go after the perp without letting your emotions interfere in any way whatsoever?”

“Of course,” Natsume replied firmly.

“Ow—”

Preparing ice for his clients, Seiji had struck himself in his hand again with his pick.

It was normally easy work he could perform like a machine, but tonight, his hand kept shaking and it wasn't going well.

“Bartender, that's unusual for you,” a regular sitting at the counter peered at him and said.

“Even monkeys fall from trees or whatever it was,” he responded jokingly, but his mind was a vortex of anxiety.

The night before last, Ohta had come to the bar again.

He'd grinned and taken a seat away from the other customers.

“Did you talk to Kyoko?”

While Seiji hung his head, Ohta had pulled an envelope from his bag and put it on the counter.

“The evidence is in here, so hurry up and ask her.”

“I can't do that … I honestly regret having bullied you. Let me make it up to you some other way.”

Ohta had sneered at the words Seiji had squeezed out.

“Don't worry, I'm sure Kyoko will do exactly what you tell her to. I mean, it'd be to protect her precious family. If you tell Kyoko that, I'll tell you something interesting.”

“Something interesting?”

Ohta had left the bar laughing, not deigning to reply.

Seiji had wanted to check what was in the envelope right away but couldn't leave his customers unattended. He'd finally examined the contents after closing time.

The photos in the envelope had chilled him to the bone. They documented the very moments he'd committed the crime—

When he got home, however, he still couldn't bring himself to convey Ohta's demand to Kyoko. Tossing and turning in bed, he kept thinking about what he should do, but no matter how much time he agonized over it, there was only one answer.

That was it. If he wanted to protect his happiness, there was no other way.

Having arrived at a conclusion, he sat up in his sheets.

When he came out of the bedroom, Kyoko got a curious look on her face and asked him, “What's wrong?” Usually he slept until noon and only left at around one. When he checked the clock, it was still a little after nine.

He lied that he had to go buy new equipment for the bar and went out. He called a taxi and headed to Hikarigaoka.

He remembered that both of Ohta's parents worked. If they still did, the only one home would be Ohta. If he waited for the chance, he might be able to pull it off. He frantically rehearsed his plan in the cab.

When he got to Ohta's house in Hikarigaoka, however, there was a different name on the nameplate. It seemed they had moved.

He sent Nishikido a message asking if he knew where Ohta lived now and got back a response in the afternoon. It gave an
address in Zoshigaya in Toshima Ward.

What do you need it for?

To Nishikido's question, he answered,
Ohta came to my bar yesterday but forgot something, I'm delivering it to him
, and immediately headed to Zoshigaya.

When he arrived at the address in the message, he did indeed find a house with an “Ohta” nameplate. When he looked at his watch, it was past three.

Was Ohta or his parents home?

To find out, he rang the doorbell, but there was no response. After ringing the bell several times and confirming that no one was home, he readied himself.

He put on some gloves and went around to the back of the house. He grabbed a large rock from the garden, shattered the glass of one window, and broke in. It was the living room. He went around to the other rooms on the first floor, but none of them was Ohta's. He went up the stairs to the second floor and opened the three doors there one by one.

When he opened the last door—

He didn't want to recall the scene that had greeted him.

Too flustered by it to achieve his goal, he had fled down the stairs and out the living room window in a panic.

“Bartender, check.”

He was brought back to reality by a customer's voice.

“You seem kind of absentminded. Are you still not feeling well?”

“Sorry.”

Lowering his head, Seiji returned the change.

As the customer left the bar, Seiji put both hands on the sink and let out a heavy sigh.

Had he been witnessed by someone? No, it wasn't just that. The police would target Ohta's acquaintances. Nishikido might tell the police that Seiji had asked for Ohta's address yesterday.
And if the police found the photos and data from the serial assailant case …

He heard the door opening and raised his head. A first-time patron wearing a suit had come in.

“Welcome …”

When a second guest followed in, Seiji held back a gasp.

Espying him at the counter, the man also stopped in his tracks with a surprised look on his face.

Natsume—

“Sorry for coming at such a busy time. We're Nagamine and Natsume, metropolitan police. We would like to ask you some questions.”

The first man showed Seiji his badge.

Metropolitan police?

Confused, he looked between the badge and Natsume, who was standing in the back.

Seiji doubted his eyes, wondering if he was hallucinating. More than the police visiting him so soon, he couldn't believe Natsume was standing before his eyes.

But apparently it was no illusion.

“Tsukamoto,” Natsume recalled Seiji's name.

“You know him?” the man called Nagamine asked.

Natsume nodded slightly as they approached the counter.

“Actually, we came to ask you about this man.” Nagamine put a picture on top of the counter.

The moment Seiji saw Ohta's headshot, he was brought from his trance-like state back to reality.

“Toru Ohta. Do you know him?”

“Yes … of course. We went to the same elementary and middle schools. I was surprised when I saw the news this morning.”

Since learning of Ohta's murder in the morning, Seiji had been terrified as though he were being hounded by a terrible demon, but he tried not to betray his fear as he replied.

“So he was your classmate … Mr. Ohta had a business card for your bar in his wallet, and that's why we came to visit. When did you last see him?” Nagamine asked.

If he told a bad lie, it would only come to haunt him later. “The last time was the night before last. We met for the first time in a while at a reunion and I told him I'd opened a bar, so he came to visit a few days later …”

“At that time, what did you talk about?”

“Well … Mr. Natsume here should know this well, but I was wild in my teens … and he had a lot of complaints about me bullying him back then. I told him it'd be on the house and he went home happy in the end … He even dropped in the next day.”

“Did he say that anyone had a grudge against him? Or do you remember anyone like that?”

“If there was, he didn't tell me … and I hadn't seen him for eleven years until that reunion. I have no idea what kind of people he was associating with now.”

“During elementary school and middle school, who was he closest to?”

“I wonder … I don't remember much. To be honest, even though we were schoolmates, I didn't have much in common with him.”

“Lastly, where were you between one in the afternoon and the evening?”

This was probably what they called an alibi. “I was at the bar. Normally I arrive at two, but I wanted to try making a new cocktail.”

“That seems difficult.”

“Probably not as much as being a detective. Even though we weren't close, we were classmates once, so please do catch the murderer.”

“Yes. We will conduct our investigation with every means at our disposal. Thank you for your cooperation,” Nagamine said,
then headed to the door. Natsume bobbed his head and followed suit.

“Um—” Seiji called out without thinking. The duo stopped and looked at him.

“I'll wait outside,” Nagamine said to Natsume and exited by himself.

Checking Seiji out, Natsume's expression loosened. “It looks like you're working hard.”

Although Seiji had called him back, he didn't know what to say. “So, the metropolitan police department …” he just narrowly managed to utter.

“About ten years ago, I changed jobs. You've gotten pretty polite,” Natsume ribbed him.

Why—Seiji thought to ask and stopped. He knew the reason better than anyone. It was in order to catch Seiji. There was no mistaking why Natsume had quit being a judiciary technical officer; he'd joined the police force to catch the culprit who'd attacked his daughter.

Beyond that, there was one other thing Seiji wanted to ask.

What had become of Natsume's daughter? It had been reported in the news that the victim, Emi Natsume, had sustained a serious wound to her head, but Seiji didn't know even now how she'd fared since.

If she'd recovered from her injury and was healthy, he might feel that much less guilty.

“Back then … you appeared on television, right? You said that your daughter was the victim of some crime.”

“Yeah.”

“And now your daughter is …”

“She's been in the hospital ever since.”

“When you say that … It's been like ten years.”

“She's become a vegetable.”

Vegetable—the word stung deep into his heart.

“I'll come by again when I have the time.”

Natsume smiled and left the bar.

As soon as the man was out of sight, Seiji crouched where he stood as though all of his strength had been sapped away. Tormented by despair, he covered his face with both hands.

Vegetable—

Emi's adorable face as she turned when he was about to hit her with the hammer flickered before his eyes and would not leave him.

For ten years, while Seiji had been cobbling together a happy life, that girl had never recovered and lived as though she were dead.

Why had he ever—

If he could, he wanted to go back in time. He wanted to go back to those days and engrave, deep in his heart, the words that Natsume would speak to him. Then this wouldn't have happened.

The first time Seiji met Natsume was when he was fifteen.

Arrested for assault right before graduation, he'd been sent to a juvenile detention center near his home. There, the person in charge of interviewing him was Natsume.

The centers investigated the family environment and personal relationships of juvenile offenders and what had driven them to resort to crime. There were almost daily interviews with judiciary technical officers.

Seiji was always flippant during them.

He didn't mind getting stuck in a reformatory. Even if he left, there was nowhere for him to go.

No matter what happened, his nature would never change. It was all because he'd been born to those parents of his.

But Natsume refuted everything Seiji said.

He couldn't let his hatred towards his parents and society
consume him. No matter what hardships he came across, he could overcome them if he had the strength. Natsume wanted Seiji to cultivate the strength to face those hardships from now on.

Seiji was persistently met with such niceties. One by one, Natsume's words got on his nerves until he could barely stand it.

What did the guy know about Seiji? There were things in the world that stayed the same no matter how much you struggled. He, Seiji, might be young but already knew this. How dare someone raised without knowing hardship dole out that shit, like he knew better.