Six Four (24 page)

‘So that’s not what you’re calling about?’

‘No. I’ve got something I need to ask you, about an old case.’

‘Something to do with Six Four?’

He was surprised by her reaction, but she was an ex-officer of the Prefectural HQ, and he supposed Six Four would be the first case to come to mind after what he’d said.

‘Yeah. You haven’t lost your touch. Would you mind?’

‘Is it anything difficult . . .’

‘Potentially a little.’

‘Okay, well, why don’t you come over? My husband’s out with Yoshiki, playing football. Unless you’re not in the area?’

‘No, I am, I’m near the office.’

‘That settles it – come over. I’ve got something I wanted to talk to you about, too.’

Her last sentence convinced him that they needed to meet. He wanted to know what Minako had called her about.

‘No problem. I’ll be there in ten minutes.’

He already knew the way to the Murakushis’ apartment. He spun the car around and left the parking area. Over the dashboard he spotted an insubstantial figure crossing the road, causing him to catch his breath.

Futawatari.

With a serious profile, he strode into the main building of the headquarters. Working at the weekend. Was he headed for Administration? Personnel? Surely he wasn’t planning to barge in on Arakida and Matsuoka in Criminal Investigations?

The glass of the entrance doors flashed, reflecting light as they closed behind him. Mikami pulled his eyes away, then slowly pressed on the accelerator.

The only way to rationalize the size of the living room Mizuki showed him into was to remind himself she was married to a banker.

‘You’re sure this is okay, with your husband out?’

‘It’s fine, don’t be silly. Find yourself a seat while I put on some tea.’

Perhaps it was the effect of being on home territory, but Mizuki gave the overall appearance of being a little rounder than when he’d seen her a couple of weeks earlier.

‘Don’t go to any trouble. I don’t have much time either,’ Mikami said. He heard a laugh from behind the kitchen counter.

‘As self-centred as always, then.’

‘Probably a bit late for that to change.’

Mikami relaxed. There was something in Mizuki’s easy-going and frank manner that compelled him to loosen up. She had a large face with small eyes. Nothing about her fitted the definition of beauty.
And that’s what’s so good.
The old thought came back to him, vivid and suggestive.

‘How has Minako been since I last saw her?’ Mizuki asked, setting down a teacup and saucer. She was still working up to what she really wanted to ask.

‘You told me she called you. How did she seem?’

‘She sounded down.’

‘What did you talk about?’

‘Nothing important, I don’t think.’

Mikami felt as if she’d dodged the question. She was still debating whether or not to confide in him.

‘How is she normally?’

‘Not too bad most of the time.’

‘But not all of the time . . .?’

‘She’s a lot better than she was.’

‘Does she leave the house at all?’

‘No, that’s still the same.’

‘But you haven’t had any more calls, since the last ones?’

‘No.’

‘You know, I can’t help wondering—’ Mizuki broke off. She seemed to be thinking about something.

‘Wondering what . . .?’

Her eyes flicked up to meet his. ‘Do you mind?’

‘Go on.’

‘The silent calls you had. I keep asking myself . . . if they really were from Ayumi.’

It came as a painful blow. First Ikue, now Mizuki, too.

‘It was Ayumi. I’m certain of it.’

‘There’s something I kind of neglected to mention before. We had a silent call. I think it was around three weeks ago. It was a Sunday, so my husband answered; he kept saying hello but whoever was calling just stayed silent, so my husband started to shout, asking who it was, saying we were a police family, that kind of thing, but the phone just went dead after a while. Anyway, what matters is that—’

‘Just the one?’ Mikami asked, cutting her off.

‘Just the one. I don’t know, maybe finding out we were police scared them off . . .’

‘We had three calls. All on the same day. We’re not even in the directory.’

‘I know. But we’re not either, haven’t been for more than ten
years. My husband . . . the way he looks, he used to worry no one would marry him. So he rushed to buy this place, even though he couldn’t afford it. And guess who fell for that . . .’

Mikami laughed, snorting through his nose. He had never seen her husband, and didn’t feel comfortable talking about him.

‘Anyway, I mentioned the phone directory and he said he’d only been listed for the first few years, that he’d had the number made private after too many of those annoying sales calls. I checked the new one over there, just to be sure, but our number definitely isn’t in there. But we still had the call. I’m sure hardly anyone has their number listed these days . . . it’s not like it used to be. It’s just hassle, there’s no upside to it.’

‘True enough.’

Stuffed on to one of the shelves of the gaudy bookcase Mizuki had pointed at was a new-looking phone directory.
Hello Pages. Prefecture D, Central to East. 2002.
You didn’t need to check to see it was getting thinner with each passing year. Even so, it was thicker than the North or West sections, which came attached as flimsy little supplements.

‘Do you know of anyone who might have a grudge against you?’

‘I can’t say no for sure. I’m sure some people have it in for my husband. You know, a lot of people were left without work when the bank downsized. They’d have good reason to resent the people who kept their jobs.’

‘It’s possible.’

‘But look at society these days, there are so many weird people out there, there have to be some who enjoy calling up random numbers. That reminds me: Mikumo said her parents had one, too. That was when I called her to organize a get-together for us female officers, not too long ago.’

‘Okay. Look, what are you trying to say?’ Mikami was becoming conscious of the time.

‘What . . . I’m . . . saying . . . is that it might be an idea
not
to
fixate on the calls. The way things are going, Minako’s not going to last much longer. Mentally or physically.’

‘But they’re—’

‘I know. They’re the only evidence you have that indicates that Ayumi’s alive and well. She is alive, of course she is. She’s a daughter of the police. Officers are looking out for her across the country. They will find her. She will come home – I’m sure of it. And that’s why Minako has to take care of herself until that happens. It’s your job to support her, right? The fact that no one said anything during the calls, it’s really getting to her; she can’t handle it. She said it felt like Ayumi was saying goodbye.’

Mikami looked up to meet Mizuki’s eyes. ‘She . . . said that?’

‘Yes, when she called yesterday. It scared me a little. That’s why I thought I should tell you. You need to alter your approach a little. I think it would help if you were the one to say it – suggest the calls might not have been from Ayumi. That she would have said something if it had been her.’

Mikami blinked and saw Minako’s downcast features.

Usually desperate to hang up, she had actually used the phone to call Mizuki. On the drive over, Mikami had wondered if it was the pain of having to ID the girl’s corpse that had pushed her into making the call. Maybe he’d been half right. The silent girl underneath the sheeting had communicated nothing but ‘goodbye’.

Mizuki’s worries touched on Mikami’s greatest concern: that he couldn’t trust Minako’s outward appearance to convey the truth.
Ayumi had been saying goodbye.
Minako would choke on the despair if she ever decided that that was the truth.

‘Okay. I’ll think about it.’

‘Yes, please do. I’ll try calling her again, too.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Don’t be silly. I’m just concerned for Minako’s happiness. I’m glad you’re letting me help.’

This didn’t translate well.
Concerned for Minako’s happiness . . . because I know she’s had a hard time in the past.
Mikami had
previously suspected that Mizuki knew a side to Minako he didn’t. Despite the circumstances, he felt his emotions spike, hitting his pride as a man rather than as a father or a husband.

‘You went to see Amamiya at home?’ Mikami was slow to nod, disorientated by the sudden change in topic. Minako must have told her about it during their call. ‘What did you want to ask me about? I was only there for half a day, mind.’

‘I need to know when you arrived and when you left.’

‘It was the day after the kidnapping, so 6 January. I got there after midday. I think you were there at the time.’

‘That’s right.’

‘I was there until 9 p.m., when Nanao came in to take my shift. How is she these days, anyway?’

For a long time, Nanao had headed up the women officers’ section in Administration in the Prefectural HQ – she was the only female officer in the prefecture to have been promoted to police inspector.

‘I couldn’t say. I never see her at work.’

‘But you’re both in Administrative Affairs?’

‘Different offices. I did hear she doesn’t laugh so much now that she’s a police inspector.’

‘It must be stressful. It’s not easy, you know, for a woman to carve out a career in the force. Anyway, sorry, what else did you want to ask?’

Mikami chose the most direct of all the questions in his head. ‘Did you notice any arguments or trouble between the Amamiyas and the Home Unit while you were in the house?’

‘What kind of trouble . . .?’

‘It would take too long to go into it now. I went to see Amamiya a couple of days ago, but he wasn’t receptive to what I had to say. I got the impression he was angry with us for something. I’m trying to work out what that something is.’

Mizuki looked at Mikami through narrowed eyes. ‘Well, that does sound odd. You saw him about something press-related?’

‘Like I said, it’s a long story.’

Mizuki chuckled. ‘Still a detective on the inside. Tell me this, tell me that, never revealing your own hand. I’d always thought Admin was more about bartering: you scratch my back and all that . . .’

‘Nice.’ Mikami felt a pang at being called a detective. ‘So come on, how did relations with the Home Unit seem to you?’

‘The Home Unit. That would be Urushibara, Kakinuma . . .’

‘And Koda and Hiyoshi.’

‘Mmm.’ Mizuki folded her arms in a distinctly masculine gesture. ‘I was in a bit of a state myself. You were there, I’m sure you remember. You could hardly breathe it was so tense in there, right up until Amamiya-san had to rush out with the ransom. I doubt anyone could have actually
argued
during that . . .’

That fitted Mikami’s own impression. ‘What about afterwards? Did you see anything out of the ordinary in the run-up to that night?’

‘Cut out that fierce look. This isn’t an interrogation.’

Mikami grimaced. If Mizuki ever became a suspect in a crime, she’d give even the best detectives a hard time.

‘Sorry. If there is anything you can remember . . .’

‘I can’t . . . I don’t think I saw anything. Did you have anything particular in mind?’

‘Someone from the Home Unit arguing with Amamiya’s wife? Anything like that?’

‘She passed away, you know.’

‘Yeah. I found that out when I went to see him.’

‘I went to her funeral. Nanao had called to tell me about it. I’d only been there for half a day, but I suppose I was on the team looking after her . . . You know, thinking about it now, I can’t remember anyone from the Home Unit being there.’

The shock of this forced Mikami to ask her again. ‘No one? You’re sure?’

‘I think so. But, no, I’m pretty certain there wasn’t any kind of
trouble. I can’t think why anyone in the team would have a reason to fight with Toshiko.’

‘Hold on for a second. What about Kakinuma? He wasn’t at the funeral either?’

‘I didn’t see him there, no.’

‘And Urushibara, the chief of the Home Unit?’

‘Well, I didn’t see him. I did have a pretty good look, too. I’d expected he would be there.’

It was hard to digest. Koda had resigned. Hiyoshi was with Forensics. It was feasible enough that they might not have attended. But it was difficult to imagine Kakinuma – a man who had continued to devote himself to the case even after his time in the Home Unit – neglecting to put in an appearance. The same applied to Urushibara. He might have since become a district captain, but it seemed ridiculous that the man who had led the Home Unit would demonstrate such an uncaring attitude. Even putting social graces aside, for an officer of the law it was all but compulsory to attend such ceremonies.

They hadn’t forgotten . . . something had prevented them from going. That had to be the case. Meaning it was true – something
was
stopping them from crossing Amamiya’s territory.

‘Was anyone else there from the force?’

‘Yes. Matsuoka was there, and the officers from the Investigative Team. A few others.’

‘What was the atmosphere like?’

‘One of mourning. What else could it have been? We failed to bring in the kidnapper.’

‘What about Amamiya himself?’

‘He had his eyes on the ground the whole time. He looked like an empty shell. Like he couldn’t hear any of the condolences people offered.’

‘And flowers, wreaths?’

‘None that I remember. Not from us, at least.’

It was possible Amamiya had refused to accept any. It was
normal for a wreath to be delivered bearing the station captain’s name.

‘Ah! But yes,’ Mizuki said, suddenly louder. ‘There was something.’

‘Flowers?’

‘No, no, something out of the ordinary. But it wasn’t anything to do with Toshiko. It was the man with the glasses . . . from Forensics, I think.’

‘Hiyoshi.’

‘That’s him, yes. He was crying.’

‘Crying?’

‘Off in one of the corners.’

Mikami struggled to keep up. She wasn’t talking about the funeral. She was back in Amamiya’s house, fourteen years ago.