The Devotion Of Suspect X (3 page)

“Like I said, I’m not interested. Surely you didn’t think I would really say yes? You’re just using that as an excuse to bother me.”

That had to have hit the mark. But Togashi didn’t respond. Picking up the remote, he turned on the television. It was a cartoon show.

Yasuko sighed and went into the kitchen. She reached into the drawer by the sink and pulled out her wallet. Opening it, she took out two ten-thousand yen bills.

“Take it and leave,” she said, putting the money on top of the kotatsu.

“What’s this? I thought you weren’t giving me any money.”

“This is it. No more.”

“Well, I don’t need it.”

“You won’t leave until you get something. I’m sure you want more, but things aren’t easy for us either.”

Togashi looked at the bills, then up at Yasuko’s face. “Fine, I’ll leave. And I really didn’t come here for money. This was your idea.”

Togashi took the bills and shoved them into his pocket. Then he pushed the rest of his cigarette butt inside the can and slid out from under the kotatsu. Rising, he turned, not toward the front door, but toward the back room. Moving quickly, he threw open the sliding door. Yasuko could hear Misato’s yelp from the other side.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Yasuko shouted at his back.

“I can say hello to my stepdaughter, can’t I?”

“She’s no daughter or anything else of yours anymore.”

“Give me a break. Fine. See you later, Misato,” Togashi said, still peering into the room. The way he was standing blocked Misato from Yasuko’s view, so she couldn’t see how her daughter was reacting.

Finally, he turned back toward the front door. “She’ll make a fine woman someday. I’m looking forward to it.”

“What nonsense are you talking about?”

“It’s not nonsense. She’ll be making good money in three years. Anybody would hire her.”

“I want you to leave now.”

“I’m going, I’m going. For today, at least.”

“Don’t you dare come back.”

“Oh? Don’t think I can promise that.”

“You’d better not—”

“Listen, Yasuko,” Togashi said without turning around. “You’ll never get rid of me. You know why? Because you’ll give in before I will, every time.” He chuckled quietly, and then leaned over to put on his shoes.

Yasuko, stunned into silence, heard something behind her. She turned to see Misato, still in her uniform, rushing past her. Holding something above her head, Misato came up behind Togashi. Yasuko, frozen in place, couldn’t move to stop her, or even to cry out. She could only watch, horrified, as Misato brought the object down, striking Togashi on the back of his head. All she heard was a dull thud, and then she saw Togashi collapse on the floor.

Then something fell from Misato’s hand. It was a copper flower vase—a thank-you gift the Yonazawas had handed out to customers when Benten-tei opened for business.

“Misato!” Yasuko screamed, finally finding her voice. She went over to her daughter.

Misato’s face was blank. She had become a statue; for one long moment she stood unmoving. Then her eyes jerked open wide. She was looking past Yasuko—over her shoulder.

Yasuko whirled around to see Togashi staggering to his feet. He was grimacing, one hand pressed to the back of his head.

“Son of a…” Togashi grunted, his face red with hate. His eyes were fixed on Misato. He stumbled again, then took a lunging step toward her.

Yasuko kept herself between them. “No, stop!”

“Out of my way!” Togashi grabbed her arm and roughly shoved her aside. Yasuko reeled, hitting the wall hard and falling to her knees.

Misato turned to run, but Togashi grabbed her by the shoulders and brought all his weight to bear, pushing the girl down to the floor. Then he leapt astride her, grabbing her long hair and striking the side of her face with his right hand. “I’m gonna kill you, you little bitch!” he roared.

He
is
going to kill her,
Yasuko thought.
He really is going to kill her—

Still on her knees, Yasuko looked around frantically. The electrical cord snaking out from beneath the kotatsu caught her eye. She reached over, grabbed it, and yanked it out of the wall socket. The other end was still attached to a corner of the kotatsu top. She stood, making a loop out of the cord in her hand.

She stepped behind Togashi where he sat atop her daughter, hitting her repeatedly, howling in blind anger. She slipped the loop over his head and pulled with all her strength.

Togashi gave a strangled yelp and fell over on his back. Realizing what was happening, he tried to work his fingers under the cord, but Yasuko kept pulling. This man was a curse on her and her daughter. She had to get him off her daughter. She had to be rid of him. If she let go now she might never get another chance.

But Yasuko had only a fraction of her ex-husband’s physical strength. The cord slipped in her hands as they struggled. Meanwhile, Misato had scrambled out from beneath the man when he toppled over. Now she joined in the fight, clawing at Togashi’s fingers, pulling them away from the cord around his neck. She straddled his chest, pinning him to the floor.

“Quick, mom! Quick!” Misato shouted.

There was no time for hesitation. Yasuko screwed her eyes shut and pulled as hard as she could. Her heart pounded in her chest. She could hear the blood surge inside her as she drew the garrote tighter and tighter.

She could not have said how long she stood like that, straining blindly, desperately. Finally, a faint voice calling
“Mom, Mom,”
began to penetrate her mental fog and brought her back to her senses.

Slowly Yasuko opened her eyes, the cord still tightly gripped in her hands.

Togashi was right in front of her face. His open eyes were blank, the color of slate, glaring out into nothingness. His face was a sullen blue, suffused with blood. The cord had left a dark line across his neck.

Togashi wasn’t moving. A line of drool hung from his lips. His nose ran. Yasuko yelped and dropped the cord from her hands. Togashi’s head hit the tatami with a thud. He still showed no sign of life. Misato gingerly slid off him and onto the floor. The skirt of her school uniform was a wrinkled mess. She leaned back against the wall. For a moment mother and daughter sat in silence, their eyes glued to the unmoving man. The buzzing of the fluorescent light in the kitchen sounded loud in Yasuko’s ears.

“What do we do?” Yasuko said, her voice barely a whimper. Her mind was blank. “I killed him.”

“Mom…”

Yasuko looked up at her daughter. Misato’s face was white, but her eyes were red, and dried tear tracks ran down her cheeks. She must’ve been crying, though Yasuko couldn’t imagine when she’d had the time.

She looked again at Togashi. She was torn, half wanting him to spring back to life and half wanting him to stay dead. Not that it mattered what she wanted. From the looks of him, he wasn’t coming back.

“
He
did this. It was
his
fault.” Misato drew up her legs, hugging her knees to her chest. She buried her face between them and began to whimper.

“What do we do—?” Yasuko began. Then the doorbell rang, and her whole body jerked with surprise.

Misato looked up, her cheeks glistening. Their eyes met, asking each other,
Who could it be?

Then there was a knock on the door, and a man’s voice. “Ms. Hanaoka?”

It was a voice she’d heard before, though she couldn’t for the life of her place it. Yasuko was fixed to the spot, paralyzed. She and Misato simply stared at each other.

Knock, knock.

“Ms. Hanaoka. Ms. Hanaoka?”

Whoever was outside knew they were home. One of them would have to respond. But how could they open the door when inside was … this?

“Go to the back room. Close the door, and don’t come out,” Yasuko ordered Misato in a hushed voice. Her brain was slowly regaining its function.

Another knock at the door.

Yasuko took a deep breath.
Nothing happened. Just another ordinary evening.
“Yes?” she called, acting the part she knew she had to play. The part of a woman who hadn’t just strangled her ex-husband to death on the living room floor. “Who is it?”

“Oh—it’s me, Ishigami. From next door.”

Yasuko started. Who knew what kind of noise they’d been making? Of course their neighbors would have ample cause for suspicion. Ishigami was checking in on them.

“Just a moment please,” Yasuko called back, trying to sound calm, and entirely unsure of her success.

Yasuko looked around the room. Misato had retreated to her room and closed the sliding door. Yasuko then looked at Togashi’s body. She would have to do something about that.

The kotatsu table was at an angle to the wall, pulled out of its usual place. She dragged the table a few more feet until it just covered the body; the thick quilt hanging down from its sides hid Togashi from sight. It was an odd placement for a kotatsu, but there was nothing she could do about that now.

Yasuko checked to see that her clothes were in order and stepped down into the entranceway. Then she noticed Togashi’s scuffed shoes lying there. She shoved them out of sight.

Then, careful not to make any noise, she gently slid off the door chain. The door was unlocked. She patted her chest to stop her heart from fluttering.

Opening the door at last, she found Ishigami’s large round face hovering just outside. His narrow eyes stared in at Yasuko. There was no discernable expression on his face; it gave Yasuko the chills.

“Um, er, can I help you?” Yasuko said, managing a smile, even as she felt the muscles in her forehead twitch.

“I heard some noise,” Ishigami said, his face still impossible to read. “Did something happen?”

“Oh, no, nothing,” she replied, shaking her head vigorously. “S-Sorry to have bothered you.”

“Well, if you’re sure it’s nothing,” Ishigami replied, his eyes wandering toward the room behind her.

Yasuko’s skin was on fire. She said the first thing that came to mind. “It was a bug. A cockroach.”

“A cockroach?”

“Yes. A cockroach on the wall, and I—my daughter and I were trying to get it. I’m afraid we made quite a ruckus…”

“Did you kill it?”

Yasuko’s face hardened. “What?”

“The cockroach. Did you kill it?”

“Yes … yes, we did,” Yasuko said, bowing her head with each word. “Killed it good. Everything’s fine. Thanks.”

“I see. Well, if there’s ever anything I can help with, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you very much. I’m sorry. Really sorry. For all the noise.” Yasuko bowed her head deeply and shut the door. Then she locked it. Only when she’d heard Ishigami return to his own apartment and shut the door behind him did she allow herself a deep breath. Then she crouched down, putting her hands to the floor to keep from toppling over.

She heard the sliding door open behind her. “Mom?”

After a long moment Yasuko stood shakily. She glanced at the bulge in the kotatsu cover and a new wave of despair came crashing down on her. “We didn’t have a choice,” she said at last.

“What are we going to do?” Misato asked, looking up at her mother.

“What can we do but call the police?”

“You’re going to turn yourself in?”

“You have a better idea? He’s dead. I killed him.”

“But what’ll happen to you?”

“I don’t know.” Yasuko pulled back her disheveled hair. She realized that she must have looked frightful. She wondered what the mathematician next door had thought. Not that it mattered.

“Will you go to jail?” Misato asked.

“Well, I suppose so, yes.” Yasuko’s lips shaped a smile. She could already feel herself giving up. “I did kill him, after all.”

Misato shook her head violently. “But that’s not fair!”

“Why not?”

“It’s not your fault. It was all
his
fault. He was gone, history! But he kept coming back, tormenting you, and me … You shouldn’t have to go to jail for him.”

“Murder is murder. Everything else is just details.”

Oddly enough, Yasuko could feel her own feelings coming under control as she explained the situation to Misato. She could almost be coolheaded about the whole affair. And as soon as she began to calm down, she started wondering if it was really true that she had no other option. She hadn’t wanted Misato to grow up the daughter of a nightclub hostess. A murderer’s daughter had to be worse. But she couldn’t think of a way out. Still, even if there was no getting around the fact of what had happened, at least she could try to make both of them look as good as possible in the eye of the public.

Yasuko saw the cordless phone where it lay in a corner of the room. She went over and picked it up.

“Mom, no!” Misato darted across the room, trying to take the receiver from her mother’s hand.

“Let go!”

“No, you can’t!” Misato shouted, grabbing Yasuko’s wrist. She had a strong grip, probably from those hours of badminton practice after school.

“Let go of me,
please
.”

“No, Mom, I won’t let you do it. I’d rather turn myself in.”

“Nonsense! What are you talking about?”

Misato shot her mother a defiant look. “
I
hit him first. You were just trying to save me from him. And even after it all started, I helped. I killed him, too.”

Yasuko’s body stiffened, and her grip on the phone weakened. Misato snatched it from her hand. Hugging it to herself she went to the far corner of the room, turning her back on her mother.

Yasuko thought furiously. What would the police do? Would they believe her if she said she’d killed Togashi by herself? Would they just take her word for it?

No, the police would make a thorough investigation. She had seen enough police dramas on television to know that they would want evidence—and they would use every means at their disposal to get it. They would question the neighbors, there would be a forensics team, and then—

Yasuko’s vision dimmed. The police could threaten her all they wanted, she would never tell them what Misato had done, she was sure of that. But what if their investigation revealed the truth anyway? It would all be over.