Salvation of a Saint (33 page)

‘So she watered her flowers …’

‘With water from the filter, no doubt. A bucketful would be enough to nearly completely wash the poison out of the system. So much so that, without a lab as precise as Spring-8, we never would’ve been able to detect it. She was going on about her flowers, and destroying the evidence right in front of your noses.’

‘So that water –’ Kusanagi began.

‘– is your evidence, if there’s any left,’ Yukawa finished. ‘Even if finding trace particles of arsenous acid in the water filter isn’t enough to prove how she did it, proving that a deadly amount of arsenous acid had come out of that water filter on the day of Mr Mashiba’s death would probably be enough to prove my theory.’

‘I just told you, she used the water on her flowers.’

‘Then check the soil in the planters. I’m sure Spring-8 wouldn’t have any trouble finding arsenous acid if it’s in there. Though it might be difficult to prove that it came from the water she used at that time, at least it’s another piece of evidence.’

While he listened to Yukawa talk, something was tugging at the back of Kusanagi’s mind – something he couldn’t remember, something he’d forgotten that he even knew.

Suddenly it dislodged itself from the depths of his brain. Kusanagi gasped. He looked intently at Yukawa.

Yukawa stared back at him. ‘What? Is there something on my face?’

Kusanagi shook his head. ‘I need a favour. Actually, consider it a formal request from the Metropolitan Police Department’s Criminal Investigation Section to Imperial University’s Professor Manabu Yukawa.’

A hard look came over Yukawa’s face. He adjusted his glasses with the tip of a finger. ‘Go on.’

Utsumi stood in front of the door, looking at the now-familiar nameplate. Anne’s House. According to what Kusanagi had told her, it might as well have read ‘Ayane’s House’. After moving in, the widow had almost entirely cancelled classes.

Kusanagi, standing beside her, nodded. Utsumi pressed the doorbell.

A long interval passed without an answer. She was about to press the button again when a voice came over the intercom.

‘Yes?’

It was Ayane.

‘Hello, it’s Detective Utsumi from the Metropolitan Police.’ Utsumi leaned in close to the speaker, talking quietly so the neighbours would not overhear.

After a moment of silence, Ayane said, ‘Oh, Detective Utsumi. How can I help you?’

‘There’s something I need to ask, if it’s all right?’

Another pause. Utsumi could picture Ayane standing by the intercom inside, thinking.

‘I’ll be right there,’ she said at last.

Utsumi and Kusanagi exchanged glances. He swallowed.

They heard the sound of the door being unlocked. Ayane seemed surprised to see Kusanagi there as well.

Kusanagi lowered his head. ‘Sorry to drop in on you unexpectedly.’

‘I didn’t know you were here too, Detective Kusanagi,’ Ayane said with a smile. ‘Please, come in.’

‘Actually,’ Kusanagi said, ‘can you come with us to Meguro?’

The smile evaporated from Ayane’s face. ‘The Police Station?’

‘Yes. There are a number of things we’d like to go over with you. I’m afraid some of them are a bit delicate …’

Ayane stared at the detective. Utsumi followed her eyes, looking up at Kusanagi in profile. There was a look of sadness, even regret, in his face.

If she didn’t know why we were here before, she knows now
, Utsumi thought.

‘I see,’ she said. A strangely gentle light came into her eyes. ‘I’d be happy to go along with you. But I need to get some things. Won’t you wait inside? It’s against my nature to leave guests lingering in the hallway.’

‘Certainly, if you don’t mind,’ Kusanagi replied.

She opened the door wider and invited them in.

The inside of the classroom was neat and tidy. She had obviously packed away some of the furniture she’d set up for her classes. Only the large table in the middle of the room remained exactly as it had been.

‘I see you haven’t hung up that tapestry yet,’ Kusanagi said, with a glance at the wall.

‘Surprisingly, I haven’t had the time.’

‘Really? You should definitely put it up. It’s such a nice pattern, like something from a picture book.’

She looked around at him, still smiling. ‘Thank you.’

Kusanagi’s eyes went out to the balcony. ‘I see you brought over your flowers.’

Utsumi glanced out at the balcony, too. She could see flowers in a variety of colours on the other side of the glass doors.

‘Just a couple of them, yes,’ Ayane answered. ‘I had a moving company help me bring over some stuff.’

‘That’s good. They look well watered.’ Kusanagi’s gaze lingered for a moment on the large watering can just inside the doors.

‘That watering can has really come in handy,’ Ayane said. ‘Thank you again.’

‘Glad it could be of service,’ Kusanagi said, looking back at her. ‘Please, don’t mind us. Do what you need to get ready.’

Ayane nodded and headed towards the next room; but before opening the door, she turned. ‘Did you find something?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Did you find something out about the case? Some evidence, or a new lead? That’s why you’re bringing me in, isn’t it? More questions?’

Kusanagi took a sidelong glance at Utsumi before returning his gaze to Ayane. ‘Something like that, yes.’

‘What did you find? Or can you not tell me that until we’re at the station?’ Her tone was as light as if they were discussing the weather.

Kusanagi looked down at the floor for a moment in silence before saying, ‘We found out where the poison was. We had to run several tests, but it’s become very clear that it was inside the water filter in your kitchen.’

Utsumi was staring at Ayane’s face; barely a ripple passed across the woman’s benign expression. Her eyes as she looked towards Kusanagi were calm.

‘I see. In the filter,’ she echoed, no trace of surprise in her voice.

‘The problem was figuring out how the poison got into the filter. Based on evidence found at the scene, there was really only one method the killer could have used. And, based on this method, there’s only one possible suspect.’ Kusanagi stared at Ayane. ‘That’s why we need you to come with us.’

The faintest blush came to Ayane’s cheeks, but the smile remained upon her lips. ‘Do you have evidence that there was poison in the water filter?’

‘Arsenous acid was detected in the filter after thorough
testing. However, that was insufficient proof, given that all indications were that the killer put the poison in the filter a whole year earlier. What we needed to prove was that the poison was present in sufficient quantities to be lethal on the day of Mr Mashiba’s death. In other words, we needed to prove that the water filter had not been used, washing out the poison inside, for an entire year.’

Utsumi noted that Ayane’s long eyelashes twitched at the precise moment Kusanagi said ‘an entire year’.

‘And did you prove it?’

‘I myself was flabbergasted when I first heard the theory that the killer had put the poison in place an entire year ago,’ Kusanagi said. ‘But you don’t seem surprised at all, Mrs Mashiba.’

‘I’m sorry if I’m not reacting. It’s just that everything you’re saying is so outlandish, I wouldn’t know where to begin.’

‘I see,’ Kusanagi said. He shot Utsumi a look. The junior detective reached into her handbag and pulled out a plastic bag.

The smile finally faded from Ayane’s face as she saw what was in the bag.

‘I’m sure you recognize this,’ Kusanagi said. ‘You opened holes in the bottom of this empty can to water your flowers.’

‘I thought you threw that out …’

‘I held onto it, actually. Didn’t even wash it,’ Kusanagi said, a hard look returning to his face. ‘You remember my
friend Yukawa, the physicist? I had him examine this can in his lab. To make a long story short, he found arsenous acid. We were also able to determine that the acid had been in water from your filter. I also happen to have been present the last time this can was used – you were watering the flowers on your second-floor balcony. Hiromi Wakayama came and interrupted you halfway through. The can wasn’t used after that, because I bought a new watering can, and kept this one in my desk drawer.’

Ayane’s eyes went wide. ‘In your desk drawer? Why?’

Kusanagi didn’t answer. Instead, he said, in a voice completely devoid of emotion, ‘We have to conclude that there was arsenous acid in the water filter, enough so that any water from that filter would’ve contained a lethal amount on the day Mr Mashiba died. Other evidence shows clearly that the poison was inserted into the filter a year ago. The person who would have been able to carry out this crime was someone who could have prevented
anyone
from using that filter for an entire year – and there’s only one person who could have done that.’

Utsumi swallowed, still watching Ayane’s face. Their beautiful suspect’s eyes were downcast, her lips tightly shut. Though a trace of a smile lingered on her face, the aura of elegance around her had begun to fade.

‘We’ll talk more at the station,’ Kusanagi said.

Ayane looked up. She breathed a deep sigh, and stared directly at Kusanagi. ‘All right. I’ll just be a bit longer.’

‘No rush. Take your time getting your things together.’

‘It’s not just that. I also want to water the flowers. I hadn’t finished when you arrived.’

‘By all means.’

Ayane nodded and opened the door to the balcony. Hefting the large watering can in both hands, she slowly began to sprinkle the potted flowers.

Ayane recalled a day about one year earlier when she was watering her flowers, just as she was doing now.
The day she heard the truth from Yoshitaka
. She had listened to him while she stared at the pansies in the planter.

Her friend Junko had loved pansies. The pen name she chose, ‘Violet Butterfly’, was a nickname for the flower.

She had met Junko in a bookshop in London. Ayane was there looking for patchwork designs. She reached out for a book of photos just as another girl reached for the same book. The other girl was Japanese, too, and several years older than Ayane.

The two became close friends in no time at all, exploring London together, and they made an effort to keep in touch once they returned to Japan. Junko moved to Tokyo a short while after Ayane arrived in the city.

Though they were both busy with work, and didn’t meet often, they remained close. Junko was one of the few people
with whom Ayane felt she could truly be herself. She knew that Junko valued their friendship as much as she did – maybe even more. Junko was even worse than she was at meeting people.

Then one day Junko told her there was someone she wanted Ayane to meet: the CEO of a company that had used one of her character designs in an online anime.

‘We were talking about making some toys to go with the character, and when I told him I knew a patchwork specialist, he said he had to meet you. I know you’re busy, but if you have any time at all, it might be worth it.’

Junko sounded hesitant to impose, but Ayane was delighted. And that was how she had met Yoshitaka Mashiba.

In a word, Yoshitaka was alluring. His face came alive when he talked about his ideas, and his eyes brimmed with confidence. He was good at getting other people to talk, too, so much so that just chatting with him for a few minutes had made her feel eloquent.

They were walking away from the café after he had left when Ayane smiled and said, ‘What a great guy.’

‘Isn’t he?’ Junko said, happily. One look at her friend’s face revealed the extent of Junko’s feelings for Yoshitaka.

Even now, Ayane regretted not asking her, not making sure. All she would’ve had to ask was, ‘Are you two dating?’ But she didn’t, and Junko offered nothing.

The plan to include patchwork in one of the character designs was ultimately scrapped. Afterwards, Yoshitaka
called her directly to apologize for taking up her time. He offered to treat her to dinner in the near future to make up for it.

Ayane assumed he was just being polite, but a few days later he called again with a real invitation. The way he invited her made it clear that he was inviting only her – Junko wasn’t involved.
I guess they’re not dating,
she told herself.

She met Yoshitaka for dinner, her heart fluttering. Being alone, just the two of them, was even more fun than the last time she had seen him.

Ayane’s feelings towards Yoshitaka grew rapidly. At the same time, she could feel herself pulling away from Junko. Knowing her friend’s interest in Yoshitaka made it somehow harder to pick up the phone and call her.

When she met Junko again several months later, she was startled at the change in the other woman. Junko had become shockingly thin, and she looked years older. But when Ayane asked if she was feeling okay, her friend insisted she was fine, and that was the end of it.

As they talked about recent events, Junko seemed to perk back up. Then, just when Ayane was contemplating telling her about Yoshitaka, Junko’s face went pale.

Ayane asked what was wrong, but Junko didn’t answer. She stood abruptly, saying that she had just remembered something she had to do, that she had to go home. Bewildered, Ayane walked outside with her and watched her get into a taxi.

It was the last time she saw her friend.

Five days later, a package arrived at Ayane’s apartment. She opened the box to find white powder in a plastic bag. On the bag was written, in permanent marker, ‘arsenic (poison)’. The package had come from Junko.

Immediately suspicious, she tried calling her friend, but Junko didn’t answer. Almost in a panic, she went to Junko’s apartment. She arrived to see her friend’s place cordoned off by the police. The officers were still there. One of the onlookers told her that the woman who lived in the apartment had poisoned herself.

In shock, Ayane wandered the neighbourhood, not even sure where she was going. By the time she realized it, she was back at home, staring at the package from Junko.

As she was wondering what the package meant, and why Junko had sent it to her, something tickled her memory. She recalled the moment Junko got up from the table the last time they met. Her friend’s eyes had fallen on Ayane’s mobile phone where she had set it beside her plate. Ayane pulled out her mobile and looked at it. It had a little decorative souvenir strap attached to it that she had bought with Yoshitaka on one of their dates – the same as the strap on his phone.