The Gate of Sorrows (26 page)

“You’re right. I don’t see anything that ties Kozaburo Ino to those homeless people. But I noticed something on the roof just now.”

“You went up there?”

“I wanted to see how visible the station and the tracks are. From where the gargoyle sits, the Chuo Line cuts diagonally across your field of vision from left to right. The Seibu-Shinjuku Line runs off to the left—west-northwest—from Shinjuku Station. It’s not so conspicuous in the daytime, but the tracks are lit up at night. You can easily see the line, even when there’s no train. You can see the stations and estimate distances along the tracks. They make good landmarks.”

“For what?”

Shigenori didn’t answer immediately. He wasn’t looking at Kotaro now.

“Today—no, yesterday. Until I saw that handprint on Mrs. Chigusa’s window, I thought I was dealing with some kind of animal. A huge nonnative species of bird. Carnivorous. What do they call them?”

“I don’t know. Raptors?”

“That’s it. They’re native to certain countries.”

“But how could a bird like that get to Japan?”

“Someone could’ve imported it. Go to any pet shop. Snakes and iguanas. Alligator snapping turtles. Not long ago people were screaming about an alligator in the lake at Inokashira Park.” Kotaro had never heard of it.

“When they caught the thing, it turned out to be a gar with a head like an alligator. Anyway, it wasn’t native to Japan. Somebody released it. Maybe they couldn’t keep it and couldn’t sell it, or they just got tired of it.”

Shigenori thought a raptor might have taken up residence in Shinjuku after having escaped, or been released, under similar circumstances. “It’s a reasonable conjecture, don’t you think?”

“Maybe, but are there really raptors in other countries big enough to grab a man and fly off with him? I mean, we’re not taking about a dinosaur.”

“No, I wasn’t suggesting that.” Shigenori sounded slightly embarrassed. He scratched the bridge of his nose. “I’m thinking Kozaburo wasn’t carried away. He saw some huge bird, panicked and hid someplace where no one could find him, but he couldn’t move because he was hurt.”

Kotaro was silent.

“Does that sound ridiculous?”

“I was wondering why he’d hide someplace no one could find him.”

“You’d do the same if a predator chased you. Get under cover. Hide.”

“Hmm … it seems like a stretch.”

“Okay, what do you think happened?”

“I don’t know. But I don’t think it was a bird.”

Shigenori nodded. “Neither do I. Not anymore, not after seeing the picture that child drew. We’re not talking about a bird here. It’s clearly human, or something that’s at least partially human.”

It was so cold now that Kotaro’s eyes were starting to water. He narrowed them and peered at Shigenori. “So a human dressed like a bird flies—glides, let’s say—through the air. He comes down out of the sky and commits crimes?”

“At this point, that’s the second reasonable hypothesis.”

“Like Spider-Man.”

“That’s a movie.”

“No, there are people who can do that kind of thing. I heard about a guy who can dress up like Spidey and climb right up the side of a building. He’s not in Japan, though.”

Kotaro’s phone started vibrating inside his down jacket. He stood up, climbed the ladder, and quietly raised the hatch. No change.

He decided to climb onto the roof. As he stood up, a gust of freezing wind almost made him lose his balance. Shielding his eyes with one hand, he took a quick look around, then climbed back down. For several minutes his teeth were chattering so hard he couldn’t close his mouth.

“You were right. The tracks make a g-good landmark. They run straight out from the station. Some insane person pretending to be a bird is using this b-building as a base to go after homeless people along that commuter line. He’s hunting people.”

Shigenori’s voice was firm. “I wouldn’t push Reasonable Conjecture Two that far.”

“But you said—the landmarks—”

“Conjecture Two doesn’t explain why the gargoyle’s here in the daytime. Why would your crazy birdman go to the trouble of sitting up there all day without moving a muscle, pretending to be a statue?”

“You’ve got a point.”

“Let’s just sit tight until we figure out what this thing is.”

Kotaro nodded and looked around for the crowbar. With his eyes adjusted to the dimness, he quickly found it. He picked it up and put it on the floor beside him.
Good thing I brought this. It might come in handy as a weapon.

“I don’t think you need to worry.” Shigenori laughed. He’d seen through Kotaro’s fear. Were all detectives like this? It suddenly hit him that Shigenori hadn’t given a straight answer to any of his questions. Instead, he’d answered with a different question. It wasn’t unlike the detectives he’d seen on television.

“You must have friends or coworkers who stay up late. Is there someone you can contact? Maybe they have news about Morinaga.”

Kotaro should’ve thought of it himself. He quickly sent Seigo a message. As though he’d been waiting, Seigo responded immediately.

Still missing. No news. Get some sleep.
Kotaro looked at Shigenori and shook his head.

An hour passed. They each climbed the ladder once. Nothing changed. Between trips, Shigenori nodded off. After checking the roof a second time, he climbed down, covered his nose with both hands and sneezed violently.

“You were right. It’s even colder if we don’t talk.”

Kotaro’s mouth was frozen shut.

“Hey, are you still alive?”

“I’m about to freeze to death.”

“We should keep talking. The president of Kumar is a woman, I think. What was her name, Ms. Ayuko Yamashina?”

“Ms.?” He hasn’t even met her. Is this how detectives talk?

“I’m surprised you’ve heard of her.”

“Saw her on TV.
Movers and Shakers
, something like that.”

The TV crew that visited the office. So it had already aired.

“Now she’s starting a nonprofit? Do you and Morinaga have anything to do with that?”

Kotaro pictured himself at the soba restaurant, gazing at Ayuko. She’d said she wouldn’t get Kumar involved.

“We’re not involved with that one. What you saw on TV was basically PR. She wants to attract sponsors. What kind of nonprofit was it?”

“Don’t you know?”

“I missed it.”

In the dim light, Shigenori seemed a little uncomfortable. “It’s a support organization.”

“For who?”

“Victims of sexual violence.”

Kotaro’s surprise came with a sudden picture of Ayuko’s smile.

“The police can’t give those victims the attention they deserve. There’ve been organizations like that in America for a long time. Rape crisis centers, I think they call them.” Again, Shigenori looked uncomfortable. “They’ll take the victim to a hospital, handle notifications to law enforcement and generally help out with a lot of things.”

“Take care of them, you mean.”

“Right. I thought you didn’t know about it,” Shigenori said mildly.

“That’s the kind of person our president is.”

Working for the benefit of society and helping those in need. Pure and gentle, with the persistence and push to get things done.
So that’s what her new project was about. She could’ve told me,
Kotaro thought. Everyone in Kumar would’ve been willing to help if she’d asked. Seigo must feel the same way.

“She’s a wonderful person,” Kotaro said.

“A real looker, too.” Shigenori’s tone was playful. Kotaro had the feeling he’d been read again.

“When I started doing cyber patrol work, I found out how vulnerable women are to that kind of abuse online. There’s a lot of it. I think she must’ve felt like she had to do something.”

Shigenori looked at him thoughtfully. “You respect her, don’t you?”

“Of course, but the police don’t like that kind of organization much, I guess.”

“What makes you think that?”

“You know—amateurs getting involved in your work.”

“I don’t agree at all. That’s my personal opinion. There’s a limit to what the police can do. If leaving something to the private sector works better and it’s more effective, fine. Business or nonprofit, whatever works.”

“That’s a pretty progressive way to look at things.”

“If you think that’s progressive, you’re behind the times.” Kotaro had just taken a hit.

“Especially with sexual violence, society doesn’t always sympathize with the victims. People tend to think the victim was partially responsible. They let their guard down. Or they were careless. If the government tried to do what your president wants to do, there’d be people screaming about using the public’s hard-earned taxes for the wrong thing.”

Kotaro had had enough of people who were against everything, but he took the point, especially after seeing the number of people on the web who disclosed personal information in the course of trying to find someone to date, or put out ads soliciting “dates” for money.

“In a democracy,” Shigenori said, “you can’t ignore those opinions. I used to be paid by taxpayers myself, so my hands were tied. That’s why I appreciate what private support groups can do.”

“I never looked at it that way.”

“It goes for you too, you know. Cyber patrolling falls into the same category. If the government tried it, people would say it was censorship and an attack on freedom of speech and expression, the freedom to think and believe.”

“I hear Kumar gets complaints like that too. I haven’t seen them myself, though.” He’d heard Seigo mention it casually.

Some people just can’t stand us. They call us a stalking horse for the authorities but they still use pseudonyms, the stupid cowards.

“But that Ayuko Yamashina. What a beauty. People who attract attention attract opposition too. I think she’s in for a rough ride.”

“We’ll protect her.”

Shigenori laughed. At least it sounded friendly.

For the next several hours they waited quietly, each occasionally checking to make sure the other hadn’t frozen to death. Nothing changed on the roof. Kotaro suspected that their stakeout had been detected from the sky, but he was afraid that saying so might make it true. He held his tongue.

Half past four. Kotaro climbed down the ladder to find Shigenori on his feet, limbering up his shoulders.

“How’s it look?”

“No change.”

“Maybe it got away.”

“I don’t think we’ve done much to be seen.”

“I don’t know. Mrs. Chigusa didn’t even open—” Shigenori shook his head, canceling that last statement. “Let’s keep at it till dawn. I took a little nap. I’m feeling better.”

He rubbed his face with his gloved hands and sat down with his back against the edge of the ladder. Kotaro sat back against on the opposite side.

“If these disappearances turn out to be murders, there’ll be more victims than Toe-Cutter Bill.”

Kotaro was about to explain, but Shigenori already knew. “They’re calling him Buffalo Bill the Toe Cutter on the web.” He sounded chagrined. “The Toe-Fetish Killer too.”

“What kind of person would do this?”

There was no answer.
Maybe he doesn’t think he should be talking about it,
Kotaro thought.
Even though he is retired. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked.

But then Shigenori said quietly, “Not person. People.”

“What?”

“There’s more than one killer. I can’t believe this is the work of one person.”

“But all the victims were strangled. And each one was mutilated—”

“That might just mean the killers have an understanding.”

“What motive could there be?”

“I don’t know.” Shigenori’s tone was heavy, as though he thought he was supposed to know.

“What makes you think there’s more than one killer?”

Still with his back to Kotaro, Shigenori sighed deeply. “Someone’s going to come to the same conclusion and say it on television, tomorrow if not today. There are a lot of ex-detectives who appear on TV as analysts these days.” His voice didn’t betray whether he approved of this or not.

“The victim in Tomakomai managed an izakaya. Mishima was running a bar. She was popular with her customers. Totsuka was a pharmacist. Each victim was kidnapped and killed, but not by a stranger. They each knew their killer.

“The victims in Hokkaido and Mishima were both taken soon after closing up shop but before returning home. The pharmacist met her killer on the way home after work, that much seems certain. She dropped out of sight before she reached her regular bus stop. No one noticed anything out of the ordinary. That means she probably got into someone’s car.”

Each killer knew the victim’s daily routine. Each killer could approach and greet the victim without arousing suspicion.

Kotaro pictured how it might’ve happened. The killer smiles, says hello.
How’s everything? Just getting off work? Can I give you a lift?
Or maybe,
Can you give me a lift?
The car door opens … Mama Masami had probably been killed in her beloved Volkswagen.

“Do you really think a single person could’ve committed a murder in Tomakomai and then, in the space of six months, moved a considerable distance—twice—to strike up relationships with two more victims?” Shigenori asked. “People in different lines of work, not even the same gender? That’s not how serial killers operate.”

“But all three victims worked with customers. It would be easy to get to know them.”

“Customers, yes, but in an izakaya, a bar, and a pharmacy. Those are very different settings. The degree of familiarity is different. If you’re running a bar, you might get to know customers well enough to give them a ride home after you close up. Now let’s take the Totsuka murder: Saeko Komiya. She had a three-year-old son. She was on her way to pick him up from his nursery school. She meets someone she recognizes by sight from the pharmacy. A customer—a patient, in this case. This person offers to give her a lift. Do you really think she’d accept? It’d have to be someone living in the same building, or someone whose child was in the same school, at least.”

Let’s go home together.

“The Akita victim is unidentified, but that in itself is a clue. Maybe she was traveling, or someone who just moved to the area, someone in a special situation.”