Salvation of a Saint (7 page)

‘You saw Mr Mashiba?’

A pause, then: ‘Yes.’

‘When?’

Her reply didn’t come immediately.
She’s a sore loser,
Kusanagi thought, growing irritated.

‘Do I have to answer that?’ Hiromi looked up again at the two detectives. ‘It doesn’t have anything to do with what happened. Isn’t this an invasion of privacy?’

She looked ready to cry, but there was also growing anger in her eyes, a sharpness to her words. Kusanagi remembered something another detective once told him:
no matter how soft she may look, never underestimate the power of a cheating woman
.

They didn’t have time to do this carefully. Kusanagi played his next card.

‘We know the cause of death,’ he said slowly. ‘Mr Mashiba was poisoned.’

Hiromi flinched. ‘What?’

‘Traces of poison were found in the coffee he was drinking when he died.’

Her eyes opened wide. ‘I don’t – that’s impossible!’

Kusanagi leaned slightly forward, staring her directly in the eye. ‘Why do you say that?’

‘Because …’

‘Because when you drank coffee with him earlier, nothing was wrong?’

She blinked, then, after a moment’s hesitation, slowly nodded.

‘You see our problem, Ms Wakayama. If Mr Mashiba put the poison in the cup himself, that’s one thing – it would either be suicide or an accident. But the possibility of either of those things is extremely low. We’re forced to consider a scenario in which someone intentionally poisoned Mr Mashiba’s coffee. Traces of the poison were also found in a used paper coffee filter. Our best guess at present is that someone mixed poison in with the ground coffee beans.’

Now considerably flustered, Hiromi shook her head. ‘I don’t know anything about it.’

‘Surely you can at least answer some of our questions? It is extremely important that we know exactly
when
you drank that coffee at the Mashiba household if we are going to be able to determine the time at which the coffee was poisoned. Well?’

Kusanagi straightened in his chair, staring evenly at the woman across the table, perfectly ready to sit there in silence as long as was necessary.

Hiromi covered her mouth with both hands. Her eyes wandered, unfocused. Then, abruptly, she said: ‘It wasn’t me.’

‘Huh?’

‘It wasn’t me.’ Her voice was pleading. She shook her head. ‘I didn’t poison the coffee. Really. You have to believe me.’

Kusanagi and Utsumi exchanged glances.

Hiromi Wakayama was a suspect, of course, and their most likely suspect at that. She’d had plenty of opportunities
to poison the coffee. If she was having an affair with Yoshitaka Mashiba, then it was fairly easy to imagine some rift between lovers providing the motivation. Poisoning him, then ‘discovering’ the body, could have been merely an attempt to camouflage her role.

At this stage, however, Kusanagi intended to avoid any preconceived notions, in order to get as unfiltered a story from her as possible. He had deliberately chosen not to say anything that might sound accusatory. All he had asked was when she had drunk that coffee with Yoshitaka Mashiba. So why
was
she claiming innocence all of a sudden? Was she, in fact, the guilty party? Had she just skipped ahead, anticipating where all this was leading?

‘We are not accusing you of poisoning him,’ Kusanagi said, with a gentle smile. ‘As I said, all we’re trying to do is establish the timing. If you met with Mr Mashiba and drank coffee, then can you tell us when that was, who made the coffee, and exactly how?’

A pained expression rose on Hiromi’s pale face. Kusanagi still couldn’t tell whether she was simply hesitant because she was unwilling to admit she was having an affair or whether it was something more than that.

‘Ms Wakayama?’ Utsumi put in abruptly.

Hiromi looked back up, startled.

‘We’ve already made certain assumptions about your relationship with Yoshitaka Mashiba,’ the younger detective continued, with all the indifference of a government official explaining how to fill out a form. ‘You can deny it if you like.
At which point, we will have to start asking more questions in order to determine the truth. When we set our minds to it, we can usually bring the truth to light … but as part of that process, we have to talk to a lot of people. You understand?

‘I’d like you to give what I just said some thought. If you can be completely honest with us now, we may be able to be a bit more circumspect with our investigation. Say, for instance, if you wanted to tell us something that you’d rather we didn’t repeat to anyone else outside of our office.’

Utsumi glanced towards Kusanagi, nodding her head slightly.

Was that her idea of an apology for speaking out of turn?
Kusanagi wondered.

Her advice seemed to have a remarkable effect on Hir -omi, however.
Perhaps it was easier hearing it from a woman.
She hung her head for a moment, then looked up again, blinked slowly, and took a breath. ‘You promise to keep it a secret?’

‘As long as it isn’t directly related to the case, we keep all personal information private. It’s standard procedure,’ Kusanagi explained.

Hiromi nodded. ‘Then … as you suspect, Mr Mashiba and I did have a … special relationship. That, and I visited him earlier over the weekend.’

‘Exactly when was this?’

‘Saturday night. A little after nine o’clock, I think.’

A rendezvous while the wife was away, then.

‘Had this been arranged in advance?’

‘No. He called me at work – I was teaching a patchwork class. He called right about when the class was finishing. He invited me over.’

‘So you went, and what happened next?’

Hiromi thought for a moment, then with growing determination, she looked back at Kusanagi. ‘I spent the night and left the next morning.’

Utsumi had begun taking notes. Kusanagi glanced at her but couldn’t read anything from her expression.
She’s on to something,
he thought, resolving to ask her about it later.

‘When did you drink coffee together?’

‘In the morning. I made it. Oh, but we also had coffee the night before.’

‘On Saturday night? So you had coffee twice?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you make the coffee the night before as well?’

‘No. Mr Mashiba had already made it when I arrived. He poured a cup for both of us,’ Hiromi continued, looking down at the table. ‘It was the first time I’d ever seen him make his own coffee. “It’s been a while,” he said.’

‘But you didn’t use saucers that evening?’ Utsumi asked, looking up from her notebook.

‘No,’ Hiromi confirmed.

‘But you made the coffee the next morning – yesterday morning?’ Kusanagi asked.

‘Mr Mashiba’s coffee was a little too strong, so he asked me to make it in the morning. He stood there watching me
while I did it.’ She looked up at Utsumi. ‘We used saucers with our cups that time. Those were the ones in the sink.’

Kusanagi nodded. So far, her story was checking out. ‘Just to be certain, I should ask whether the coffee you drank on Saturday night and Sunday morning was made from the ground beans at his house?’

‘I think so. At least when I made it, I used the coffee in the refrigerator. I don’t know about the coffee Mr Mashiba drank on Saturday night. But I don’t see why he would’ve used anything different. There was plenty left.’

‘Have you ever made coffee at the Mashibas’ before this weekend?’

‘Only rarely, when Ayane asked me to. She was the one who showed me how to make it without a coffeemaker. That’s how I knew what to do yesterday.’

‘Did you notice anything different when you were making the coffee? Was the bag in a different place than usual? Was it the same brand?’

Hiromi let her eyelids fall closed and gave her head a shake. ‘I don’t remember anything different. It was the same as always.’ When she opened her eyes again they had a gleam of curiosity in them. ‘But I don’t see why it should matter how anything was when
I
made the coffee.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘Well, because …’ She lowered her face, eyes looking up at them. ‘There wasn’t any poison in the coffee when I made it, right? If someone poisoned the coffee, it would’ve had to have been after I used it.’

‘That’s true, unless there was a trick to it, one that involved doing something to the coffee earlier.’

‘A trick?’ Hiromi didn’t look convinced. ‘Well, I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.’

‘You drank coffee that morning. What next?’

‘I left. I teach a patchwork class at an arts school in Ikebukuro.’

‘What time does the class run?’

‘Well, there’s one in the morning, which goes from nine to eleven, and one in the afternoon, which goes from three to six.’

‘What do you do between classes?’

‘Mostly clean up from the first class, eat lunch, and get ready for the next class.’

‘Do you bring a lunch?’

‘Not usually. Yesterday I went out and ate at a noodle place in a department store that’s nearby …’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘I think I was away from the school building for about an hour. I wouldn’t have been able to go to the Mashibas’ and back in that amount of time.’

Kusanagi chuckled, waving a hand. ‘Don’t worry, we’re not checking your alibi. According to what you told us yesterday, you gave Mr Mashiba a call as soon as your class was finished. Would you care to amend that statement in any way?’

Hiromi frowned and looked away. ‘I did call him. That’s true enough. But my reason was a little different from what I said.’

‘I believe you told us that you were worried about how he was getting along without his wife there?’

‘Actually, when I left that morning, he asked me to call him when I was through with class.’

Kusanagi stared at her. ‘He invited you out to dinner, didn’t he?’

‘I think that was the plan, yes.’

‘Well, honestly, that makes a lot more sense. It would take an extremely devoted student to worry that much about her teacher’s husband, and a champion worrier to go to someone’s house just because they didn’t answer the phone.’

Hiromi’s shoulders sagged. ‘I was afraid it sounded suspicious. But I couldn’t think of what else to say.’

‘Mr Mashiba didn’t answer the phone, so you went to his house – any adjustments that need making there?’

‘No. Everything else happened just like I said it did. I’m sorry I lied.’

Next to Kusanagi, Utsumi was furiously taking notes. He glanced over at her before returning to Hiromi. Everything in her story thus far made sense. All of the doubts they’d had the night before had been largely defused. Not that this was reason enough to trust her completely.

‘Like I said, we’re fairly certain that this is a homicide. I believe I asked you last night if you had any suspicions as to who might have been responsible. You told me you didn’t – that you knew nothing about the deceased other than that he was your teacher’s husband. I wonder if you might be
able to elaborate now that we know about your connection with him?’

Hiromi raised her eyebrows. ‘I really don’t know who it could have been. I can’t believe anyone would want to kill Yoshitaka.’

Kusanagi mentally noted her shift from ‘Mr Mashiba’ to ‘Yoshitaka.’

‘Try to recall any recent conversations. If this was a homicide, then it was clearly premeditated. That means that there will be a definite motive, and in most cases, the victim is well aware of it. Even if he was trying to keep it from you, he may have said something inadvertently.’

Hiromi rubbed her temples with her fingers and shook her head. ‘I don’t know. Work seemed to be going fine, he didn’t have any big worries, and he never spoke ill of anyone.’

‘Please, take a moment now to think it over again.’

She looked at Kusanagi with sad, defiant eyes. ‘I did think about it. I cried all night thinking about it, wondering how this could’ve happened. I thought about everything we said to each other, everything we did, over and over again. I still have no idea. Detective, I want to know why he was killed, too. More than anything else, I want to know.’

Kusanagi noticed a redness in her eyes, a pink blush in the skin around them.

She really loved him,
Kusanagi thought.
Or if this is just an act, she’s really good.

‘When did your relationship with Mr Mashiba begin?’

Hiromi opened her reddening eyes wide. ‘Does this have something to do with the case?’

‘It’s not for you to decide whether it does or whether it doesn’t. It’s for us to decide. Again, we won’t mention it to anyone; and, once we’re satisfied it has nothing to do with the case, we won’t pry any further.’

Her lips formed a tight line and she took a deep breath. She reached out and took a sip of her surely-cold-by-now tea.

‘About three months ago.’

‘Thank you.’ Kusanagi looked down, wondering how to broach the topic of how the affair had started. ‘Does anyone else know?’

‘Not that I’m aware of.’

‘But you’d gone out to eat together before? Somebody might’ve seen.’

‘We were very careful. We never ate at the same place together twice. And Yoshitaka often ate with women he’d met through business, or hostesses at bars, so I don’t think anyone would have thought twice, even if they did see us together.’

So Yoshitaka Mashiba had been something of a playboy. Kusanagi considered the possibility that he’d had other lovers in addition to Ms Wakayama. Which, of course, would provide the woman sitting across the table from him with a motive.

Utsumi’s pen stopped on the page and she looked up. ‘Did you ever rendezvous at hotels?’ she asked coolly.
Kusanagi gave her a sidelong glance. He’d been meaning to ask the same question, but hadn’t been able to bring himself to be so direct.

Hiromi looked displeased. ‘Is that really necessary for your investigation?’

Utsumi’s expression remained blank. ‘Of course it’s necessary. In order for us to solve this case, we’ll need to know everything about Yoshitaka Mashiba’s daily life. We need to know what he was doing, when, and with whom, in as much detail as possible. If we ask enough people, we may be able to fill most of it in, but there will certainly be blanks remaining. I don’t need to know what you did there, but I do need to know if you went to any hotels.’