Hidden Nexus (11 page)

Friday 31st December 11:30am

After talking to Eri Yamada’s parents Sergeant Mori had made the short journey to Hideki Yamada’s place of work. All of his work colleagues had confirmed that, to their knowledge, he was perfectly happy with his marriage. No-one implied the slightest possibility of a secret office romance or badly hidden personality disorders. He appeared to be a perfectly normal individual, working for a normal company in a normal role in a normal life.

The pattern was to repeat itself for the other people he'd managed to quickly interview that morning. No-one had a bad word to say about her, or him. No light could be shed on their relationship to suggest that there was anything remotely fractious
about it. They seemed to be a perfectly happy couple, a bit limited, a bit boring perhaps, but even so, perfectly happy.

Eventually he'd made contact with Deguchi who'd informed him that to date the house-to-house checks for witnesses had turned up nothing what-so-ever and so as a consequence, with no other leads to follow and his head cold dimming any sense of individual drive or motivation, Mori decided to pull in Hideki Yamada as per Sakamoto’s request.

He made his way back to Kamioka on the Keihin Kyuko and re-traced the journey that Yamada would have taken the previous evening. The snow still lay heavy on the streets and on the railway embankments but its crisp, fresh whiteness was gradually being rimmed by a slushy brown hem. He noted the time the train took from central Yokohama to Kamioka and also the walking time up to his house from the station. The walk took in many twists and turns through the narrow residential streets finishing in a steep uphill stretch that flanked the park in which Eri Yamada had been murdered. In all it took about forty minutes – twenty-five walking up from the station, perhaps a little less in more forgiving conditions – his shoes had found it hard to gather purchase on the icy roads.

The brisk walk had warmed him up and he’d broken out in a sweat which together with his cold made him feel dizzy and momentarily weak. He simultaneously gathered his thoughts as well as his energy and approached Yamada’s house. Immediately he was alarmed to notice the absence of the uniformed
Junsa
who was not standing outside as had been ordered the night before.

‘Who’s on guard outside Yamada’s house?’ he demanded angrily down his mobile to HQ.

‘It should be Shimizu. I’ll just check.’ There was a ruffling of paper and then confirmation.

Mori cut the line and ruffled his hair trying to think quickly of what to do. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out how a guard could take it upon himself to wander off without being replaced. He examined the trail of footprints, relieved that the snow in front on Yamada’s house remained virgin white and untouched. Nonetheless his heart was still beating with an injection of concern. He rang the bell to Yamada’s house and the door was slowly opened by a dishevelled and pale-looking Yamada. He was clearly hung-over.

‘Everything all right, sir?’

‘Fine – well, no not really! I’ve just lost my wife. What do you think?’ he said irritably.

Mori didn’t really know what to say. He merely replied with a sympathetic look. ‘We kept a man on guard outside last night – just for your own safety.’

Yamada looked surprised and then glanced up and down the street. He raised an eyebrow at a sight of all the snow. He wasn’t all that concerned and showed little emotion either way.

‘I need to check a few things and then I’ll be back. You’ve had no communication with the guard?’

‘I didn’t know anyone was there and anyway…’

‘Yes, well, I’ll be back in a minute.’

Mori was still angry as he stepped away from the closing door and went back into the street. At least on the surface there appeared to be no harm done, nonetheless, it was unforgivable that there had been a breach in security.

A minute later Shimizu turned the corner ambling along without a care in the world, clasping his arms around his body in an attempt to keep warm.

‘Where have you been?’ spat out Mori.

Shimizu stood to attention seemingly caught off guard by the attitude of the senior man. ‘I’ve just been to the toilet.’

‘How long have you left your post for?’

‘Two-three minutes, sir?’

Mori looked at the floor in despair.

‘Come on – we’ve got a job to do.’ They returned to Yamada’s house and forty-five minutes later Yamada was safely in custody.

*

The small, windowless interview room was designed precisely to put the accused on the back foot. It was kept artificially bright making it difficult to track the passing of time. There was a mirror - a one way mirror, on the wall to the left, recently installed so that the interrogations could be monitored – in line with international recommendations.

Mori settled himself down in one of the chairs next to Sakamoto and indicated that he was ready to start.

‘Your full name is Yamada Hideki?’ Sakamoto started.

‘Yes,’ Yamada replied.

‘Date of birth?’

‘Showa 28 07 53.’
  

‘Place of birth?’

‘Fujisawa.’

‘Okay, let’s get straight to the point, then. Where were you last night between eight and nine o’clock,’ demanded Sakamoto.

‘I told you last night. I was coming home from work.’

‘And what time did you leave work?’

‘After seven.’

‘After seven – you can’t be more precise.’

‘No.’

‘Can anyone confirm that?’

‘Lots of people probably can – Nagai san, Iida san, Miura san… I probably left about quarter past – maybe twenty past. I don’t know.’

‘Okay, okay,’ said Sakamoto raising his hands. ‘What train did you catch – the time?’

‘I usually catch the seven thirty three, sometimes the seven forty – JR line, then Keihin Kyuko from Yokohama.’

‘And last night?’

‘I can’t recall.’

‘It’s important that you do recall,’ interrupted Mori. ‘It might just save you!’

‘I don’t know.’ For the first time Yamada began to sound a little desperate and for a second, it appeared to Mori, he looked imploringly into his eyes.

‘I didn’t have to wait, that’s all I know. I ran down the steps and just managed to catch it. I don’t know which train I got. At the time I didn’t think it was important.’ Yamada ran his hands through his hair and looked down at the table in front of him.

‘And how long does your journey usually take?’

‘Usually about an hour on the trains and then twenty minutes walking up the hill from Kamioka station. It all depends on which train I get.’

‘So you got back home… when?’

‘About nine.’

‘About nine? Before or after?’

‘I don’t know – after?’

‘Surely that’s too late. If you left at seven thirty and arrived home at nine that’s an hour and a half commute. There’s a ten minute gap, isn’t there.’

‘I know. I may have got the seven forty – I guess.’

‘Did you see anyone at Kamioka station – can anyone verify your whereabouts?’

Yamada stared past Sakamoto with a mournful look in his eye. It was difficult to tell if he was thinking or just merely dulled by his hangover and general shock at finding himself in the position that he was. Sakamoto repeated the question.

‘I didn’t see anybody – not really.’

‘Not really?’

‘I mean no. I didn’t see anybody.’

‘You didn’t stop off anywhere – call into a bar or a convenience store?’

‘No.’

‘Fine, fine!’ Sakamoto sat back in his chair clearly pleased at the way the interview was progressing. The vagueness concerning the timings of Yamada’s journey was precisely what he wanted to hear. The existence of an uncertain ten minutes gave him ample time to attack and murder his wife – ample time indeed.

‘So… do you know what time you arrived at Kamioka station?’

‘I don’t know – about eight-thirty, I suppose.’

‘You suppose!’

Sakamoto sat back once again in his chair and placed his hands behind his head.
For a minute or two they remained in this position - Sakamoto with his hands behind his head, Yamada staring resolutely at the table. ‘What did you wear yesterday?’ Sakamoto said suddenly, leaning forward.

‘What did I wear?’

‘Answer the question.’

‘You saw for yourself last night.’

‘Humour me!’

‘Well. I wore my usual dark green suit. It was cold so I also had a scarf and my overcoat.’

‘Colour?’

Once again Yamada looked perplexed.

‘Dark grey. Look I don’t understand-’

‘Tie?’

‘What?’

‘Did you wear a tie?’

‘Of course I did?’

‘I didn’t notice you wearing a tie last night.’

‘I took it off.’

‘Right, so… what? You left it on the sideboard or hung it back up on your tie rack – what?’

‘I guess I hung it back up?’

‘And your suit too?’

‘Actually yes. I changed and hung that up. It’s in my closet.’

‘Dark green you say.’

‘Yes.’

‘And the tie?’

‘Also dark green – with a flowery pattern.’

‘What colour flowers?’

‘Yellow.’