Malice (8 page)

“Well, I'm much obliged. Though I can't promise I'll see things the same way you do.”

Kaga pulled a notebook out of his jacket pocket. “The most important point is the time of death. We understand that Kunihiko Hidaka was killed somewhere between five and seven o'clock, but according to the coroner, it is extremely unlikely he died after six. Estimating the time of death by examining the state of digestion of food is a very reliable method, and in a case like this, it can usually narrow the time of death down to a smaller window of time than two hours. Yet we have a witness who testifies that Hidaka was alive after six o'clock.”

“Well, it's the truth. What do you want me to say? I realize the possibility is slight, but we're talking natural processes here. Would it really be that astonishing if the doctor was twenty or thirty minutes off?”

“Of course not, but what concerns us is that the basis of this testimony was a phone call. We can't be sure that it was really Hidaka on the phone.”

“Oh, no, I'm sure it was Hidaka. Without question.”

“Yes, but you can't prove that. No one except you was on that phone call.”

“I guess you'll just have to take my word for it.”

“I would like to do that—I would; but your word won't hold up in court.”

“Well … I did answer the phone, yes, but don't forget there was a person standing right next to me at the time. You talked to Mr. Oshima from Dojisha about this, didn't you?”

“We did. He confirmed that you received a call shortly after six.”

“Didn't he hear us talking?”

“No, he only heard you. He said it sounded like you made arrangements to meet someone. And that afterward, you told him the person you were talking to was Kunihiko Hidaka.”

“So how doesn't that qualify as proof? Is it that you think someone else called me and I just made it sound like it was from Hidaka? Is that what you're getting at?”

Kaga frowned and chewed his lower lip for a moment before replying. “The possibility can't be ruled out entirely.”

“Well, I wish it could, because it doesn't look like you're much for taking someone at his word.” I made a show of being offended. “What I don't get is why you're so hung up on the time of death. Sure, it might be a little off from what the autopsy says, but not by much. Yet from what you're saying, it sounds like if it strays a few minutes in the wrong direction, then I've just made the whole thing up. I hope you have a better reason for doubting me, because if not, frankly, it's insulting.”

Kaga stared me in the eye for a long moment before responding, “I do have a better reason.”

“Well, let's hear it.”

“The cigarette.”

“Excuse me?”

“You told me that Mr. Hidaka was a heavy smoker, to the point where it sometimes felt like he was fumigating his office.”

“What of it?” I felt an ugly premonition, like black smoke, spreading to fill my chest.

“There was only one cigarette butt in the ashtray.”

I gasped despite myself.

“One cigarette butt, thoroughly mangled. If he'd done any work after Miyako Fujio went home a little after five, there should've been others. Furthermore, the one cigarette that was there wasn't one he smoked while he was working. He smoked it while he was talking to you, Mr. Nonoguchi. You said as much in your account.”

I dimly recalled Kaga mentioning something about the number of cigarettes Hidaka had smoked. Had he been onto me this whole time?

“In other words,” he continued, “from the time that Miyako Fujio left Hidaka alone to the time that he was killed, he didn't smoke even one cigarette. I mentioned this to the wife, and she told me that even if he'd only been working for thirty minutes, he'd have smoked at least two or three. She said he also had a tendency to smoke more when he was starting work on a new installment. And yet, that night he didn't smoke a single cigarette. What am I to make of this?”

I had already begun inwardly chastising myself. It was so obvious, yet it had never crossed my mind. Probably because I don't smoke.

“Maybe he was out of cigarettes?” I tried, realizing this tactic was probably futile. “Or he realized he didn't have enough to last, so he was pacing himself?”

“That day at lunch, Hidaka bought four packs. A pack with fourteen cigarettes remained on his desk, and there were three unopened packs in his desk drawer.”

Though Kaga spoke softly, I could feel his words slowly advancing toward me, each step powerful, inevitable. I remembered that he was good at kendo, and a shiver ran down my spine.

“Well, what do you know!” I said. “I guess that
would
make a single cigarette seem a little suspicious. Though you'd have to ask Hidaka himself why he didn't smoke more. Maybe he had a sore throat, or something like that?” It was a last, desperate line of defense.

“If that were the case, I wouldn't think he'd have smoked while you were there, either. I'm afraid we have to assume the most likely explanation.”

“In other words, that he was killed earlier.”

“Much earlier. In fact it only makes sense if he left his office just after Ms. Fujio departed, then, after his wife left for the hotel, he went back to his desk and was killed immediately.”

“You seem pretty sure of that.”

“Going back to the cigarette briefly, it's worth noting that Hidaka didn't even smoke one while Ms. Fujio was there—and with good reason. According to his wife, Ms. Fujio didn't like cigarette smoke, and he'd decided not to smoke while she was there, in hopes it would help smooth things out.”

“No kidding.” One thing I could say about Hidaka: he was always a shrewd tactician.

“And yet there is no doubt that his conversation with Ms. Fujio was stressful. One would assume that as soon as she left, and he was done speaking to his wife, he'd have lit up a cigarette with the eagerness of a starving man. Yet there are no butts. Did he not smoke? Could he not smoke? I believe it is the latter.”

“Because he was killed.”

“Yes.” Kaga nodded.

“But I left the Hidaka's a long time before that.”

“I know. You went out the front door. After which you went around to the garden, to Hidaka's office window.”

“You say that like you were standing there watching me do it.”

“Actually, it was you who gave me the idea, albeit while you were speculating that Miyako Fujio was the killer. In your version, she pretended to leave the Hidakas' and then went around to the office, did she not? I wondered if you weren't simply relating what you yourself had done.”

I shook my head slowly. “Serves me right for trying to be helpful! I wouldn't have said a thing if I'd thought you were going to twist it around and throw it back at me like this.”

Detective Kaga looked down at his notebook. “In your own account, you described your departure from the Hidakas' in the following manner: “‘Good-bye,” she said, and stood watching me until I'd turned the corner.'
She
here refers to Rie Hidaka.”

“So? That's what happened.”

“According to what you wrote, she went as far as the front gate to see you off. Yet when I talked to her about this, she said she only saw you as far as the front door. How do I explain this contradiction?”

“I wouldn't go so far as to call it a contradiction! One of us remembered events differently, that's all.”

“Really? I don't think so. I think you purposely wrote a false account of what happened. You did this in order to camouflage the fact that you never went to the corner. You never even left the front gate.”

I scoffed. “Ridiculous. You're dreaming this stuff up and trying to make it all fit. It's amazing what you can accomplish once you've drawn your conclusion in advance.”

“Personally, I feel I'm approaching this case very objectively.”

The look in his eyes made me flinch, even though my brain was off wondering about completely unrelated things, such as why this man loved saying
personally
all the time.

“Fine, whatever. You're free to make whatever conjectures you like. But while you're at it, I'd like you to paint the whole picture for me. What happened next? I was crouched beneath the window, and what then? Did I sneak in through the window and whack Hidaka?”

“Did you?” Detective Kaga looked directly at me.

“Hey, I'm asking you.”

Kaga shook his head slightly. “I'm afraid only the one who did it knows all the details of the crime.”

“What? Are you asking me to confess? Believe me, I'd be happy to—if I'd actually done it. But I didn't do it. Sorry to rain on your parade. Let's get back to the phone call, shall we? Remember, the one I got from Hidaka after you claim that he was killed? If that wasn't from Hidaka, who was it from? My story has been reported widely in the press. If someone else happened to have called me around then, wouldn't they have gone to the police by now?” I stuck up a finger as though I'd just had a thought. “Wait, you think I had a conspirator, don't you! You think I had someone call me on purpose.”

Kaga looked around the room without answering. His eyes eventually came to rest on the cordless phone sitting on the dining-room table. He went over, picked it up, and then came back to the sofa.

“You didn't need a conspirator. All you needed was for this phone to ring.”

“But how does the phone ring if no one's calling?” I clapped my hands. “Wait! I see what you're getting at. You think I was carrying a cell phone in my pocket. Then, when Oshima wasn't looking, I called my own home phone. Right?”

“That would be one way to do it.”

“Fine, but that's impossible. I don't have a cell phone, and I don't know anyone I could have borrowed one from. Besides, couldn't you just check the records? I'm sure the telephone company would be able to see if I'd called my own phone number.”

“Actually, it turns out to be very difficult to run a reverse trace and look up where a phone call came from.”

“Ah, is that what it's called—a reverse trace?”

“However, that isn't necessary, since it's very easy to tell who a particular phone call was made to. All we need to do in this case is check and see where Mr. Hidaka called that day.”

“And did you?”

“We did.” Kaga nodded.

“I already know the answer, but tell me, what did you find?”

“We found a record of a call from his house to your apartment at six thirteen.”

“Of course you did. Because he called me and we spoke.” I tried to appear confident even though my fear was growing by the moment. If the phone company record hadn't been enough to dispel Kaga's suspicions, then he was onto my trick.

Kaga stood and returned the cordless phone to the table. This time, however, he didn't come back to the sofa. “Hidaka was supposed to send his finished manuscript by fax. However, there's no fax machine in his office. I'm sure you know why.”

I almost said that I didn't, but I held my tongue instead.

“Because he could send it directly from his computer, right?” Kaga asked.

“I've heard that can be done.”

“It's very convenient for people who still need to send faxes. You don't have to keep paper at hand, for one thing. Of course, Hidaka was going to switch to sending in his submissions by e-mail once he was in Canada. He'd already asked his editor to make any necessary adjustments for this on their end.”

“I don't know about any of that. I don't use computers much. All I know is that Hidaka once mentioned something about sending faxes directly from his computer.”

“There's nothing difficult about it. Anyone can do it. And the software comes with lots of useful features. You can send to several different numbers simultaneously if you want, and you can save a list of common recipients. Also”—Kaga paused, looking down at me—“if you set the time, you can have it send a fax automatically.”

I looked at the floor, away from his eyes. “And you think that's what I did?”

He didn't answer the question. There was no need.

“It was the lights that bothered me at first,” he said. “You said all the lights were out when you arrived at the Hidakas'. The killer had probably wanted to make it look like Hidaka had gone out, though you couldn't figure out why they had left the computer on, correct? I think I know why. Because the computer was necessary for the fax trick to work. It had to be left on. After you killed Hidaka, you scrambled to create an alibi. Specifically, you turned on his computer, pulled up some suitable document, and set the computer to fax that document to you at 6:13 p.m. Then you went around and turned off every light in the house, a necessary step for the story you were going to tell. If you were going to return to the house at eight o'clock, think Hidaka wasn't home, and then go so far as to call his hotel, you needed the lights to be off. Even if the lights had been on only in that one room, you would have come around and looked through Hidaka's office window before calling the hotel. And you wanted Rie Hidaka to be there with you when you discovered the body.”

After this little speech Kaga paused. Perhaps he was waiting for me to retort or attempt an explanation. I remained quiet.

“I think you probably considered the computer monitor yourself,” he went on after a moment. “As I said previously, the monitor puts out quite a bit of light. But the PC needed to be running. You could've turned off just the monitor, but that would've been dangerous. Rie was with you when you discovered the body, and if she had noticed that the computer was running but the monitor was turned off, that might've been enough to tip off the police to your trick right there on the spot.”

I tried to swallow, but my mouth was completely dry. I realized I was terrified of meeting Kaga's eyes. He had seen right through my flimsy layers of subterfuge, right through my skull and down into the very thoughts that had been in my head.