The Tokyo Zodiac Murders (11 page)

“Well, she’s a friend of mine. She told me that you are extremely talented, not only as a fortune-teller but also as a detective. She really admires you.”

“Ah…” Kiyoshi allowed himself to be flattered.

After a pause, Mrs Iida said abruptly, “May I ask your first name, Mr Mitarai?”

Kiyoshi was badly shaken by the question; it was one he hated to be asked. “Would there be any connection between my name and your story?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“No, it’s just that Ms Mizutani was wondering why you never mentioned your first name.”

“Mrs Iida, did you come here just to ask my first name?”

“It’s Kiyoshi,” I interrupted quickly. “Kiyoshi Mitarai. As a matter of fact, in Chinese characters his name means ‘clean toilet’. I’m not kidding!”

Kiyoshi made a sour face.

Mrs Iida looked down for a moment, trying hard to hold her laughter. “Oh, how unusual!” she exclaimed, looking up. Her cheeks were slightly flushed.

“The person who named me had an unusual sense of humour,” Kiyoshi responded immediately.

“Was it your father?”

The look on Kiyoshi’s face grew more severe. “That’s right. He paid for it by dying young.”

There was another moment of silence, but the ice seemed to have been broken.

When Mrs Iida started speaking, her words flowed smoothly. “The story includes some facts that could be rather shameful for my father. He died last month, and I’m afraid that things could escalate into criminal liability if the authorities start to ask about his involvement. My husband and elder brother could get into big trouble because—like my father was—they are police officers. I don’t mean that my father was a criminal.
He was a very honest man. He received awards and was given a testimonial dinner when he retired. He was always punctual and never missed a day at the office. However, I happened to find out about a shocking incident which he was involved in a long time ago.

“I have come here of my own accord. My husband is a rather conservative man like my father was, but my brother is not. He has an aggressive streak, and he can be ruthless and cold-hearted. Thinking of what my father must have gone through, I can’t let him handle this. The case is notorious enough. If someone can solve this case without my father’s honour getting smeared, it would be the best for everyone.”

She paused for a moment and took a deep breath.

“My father was being used by some criminals,” she continued. “I’m sure you’ve heard of the Tokyo Zodiac Murders, a serial murder case that happened before the Second World War.”

Kiyoshi said he knew nothing whatsoever about it, which caused Mrs Iida to stare at him in shock. She couldn’t believe it, and neither could I. The case was not only very famous but also concerned astrology.

“I see,” she said hesitantly. “Then I should tell you about it, shouldn’t I?”

She began to relate the story of Heikichi’s death, but I interrupted her, saying that I knew the story quite well and would fill in the details for Kiyoshi later. She nodded, and then went on to summarize the whole story anyway.

Then she added, “My maiden name is Takegoshi. I am the daughter of Bunjiro Takegoshi, who was born on 23rd February 1905. When Mr Umezawa was murdered, my father was thirty-one and working at the Takanawa police station.
I hadn’t been born yet; there was only my brother. They were living in Kaminoge when my father got involved in the case.

“After my father passed away, I was cleaning his bookshelves and came across this note. It was in his own handwriting on official stationery, the kind used by detectives in the police department. When I read it, I was stunned. I couldn’t believe that my father had done such a thing. He was a very straight, conservative man. He must have endured terrible pain and hardship, and I felt so sorry for him… I made up my mind to do something. In the note, he confesses to his mistake, which, of course, a police officer does not have the luxury to make. That’s why I’m here. Could you please solve this case so that he can rest in peace? Here is the note. Please read it. You will see that my father died in remorse, anger and shame… If it’s impossible to solve the case entirely, then could you at least try to find a reasonable explanation for my father’s involvement?”

“I understand,” Kiyoshi replied, saying nothing more.

On my part, there were no words to express how excited I felt. I thanked God that I knew Kiyoshi Mitarai.

After Mrs Iida had gone, we carefully read her father’s note together.

After serving thirty-four years as a policeman, nothing but pain is left. I have a framed testimonial and the title of superintendent, but they are just pieces of paper that mean nothing to me. However, I shall not think of myself as a victim. The deeper the pain you have, the more you hide it. I am sure I am not the only one who has suffered. The bitter truth is often covered with fake smiles.

When I accepted the benefit retirement plan at the age of fifty-seven, my subordinates showed their disbelief. Some might have thought that it was the attraction of the 50 per cent increase in retirement money, but that was not true; nor had I lost interest in my job. I took the offer because I wanted to quit. I was waiting for my retirement day like a girl dreaming of her wedding day.

I realize that making a written confession is risky, but “that incident” has never left my mind in all these years. I wouldn’t be able to die in peace without bringing it to an end. So I will write about it, knowing that I can burn this note at any time.

I was always scared. The higher my position got, the more paranoid I became. When my son started to climb the ladder of success as a policeman like myself, my fear became almost unbearable. I had no way out. If I quit the job, my colleagues would have been very suspicious. If the facts had been
uncovered, I would have been arrested immediately. Nor would my resignation have changed my son’s situation.

What I call “that incident” was the Umezawa serial murders. Japan was infested by crime during the post-war confusion. There were serial murders and many terrible homicides. We saw more of them in rural areas, and some cases were never solved. The Umezawa case was being investigated by the Sakuradamon police station. At the time, I was the chief detective at the Takanawa station. In those days, detectives were given a bonus depending on how many suspects they brought in to be prosecuted. I was competent enough to be promoted to chief at the age of thirty. I bought a house in Kaminoge, and my wife and I had our first child. I was filled with hope. But then, out of the blue, I got involved in that horrific incident. I am still hesitant to describe it, but I must be brave.

When I was a young detective, I sometimes got up earlier than my wife, went to work, and came home after she had gone to bed. At the time of the incident, I had been promoted to section chief, so I would leave for the office at six every morning and return home a little after seven every evening by the same route. One day, I got off work as usual and, arriving in Kaminoge, began my walk home. After about five minutes, I saw a woman in a dark kimono walking ahead of me. There was nobody else on the street. Suddenly she squatted down. She was holding her stomach, so I asked her if she was all right. She said she was in acute pain, so I helped her get home, which was not far from there. When I was about to leave, she asked me to stay with her for a while because she was alone. She lay down on the floor, twisting her body in agony. Her kimono got bunched up around her knees, exposing her thighs. I could see
between her legs; she wasn’t wearing any underwear. Honestly, I had never had an extramarital affair and I had no intention of having one with this woman, but, to my shame, I could feel myself losing control.

She leant on me and held me, repeatedly whispering how lonely she was. In a sad voice, she asked me not to turn on the light. When we were done, she apologized over and over again. Then she said, “Please leave the light off and go home. Your wife will worry if you come home late. I was just feeling lonely. Please forget about me. I won’t tell anyone about you.” I put my clothes on in the dark and left.

Walking home, I thought about what I had just done, but everything was like a dream. Acting sick was a popular trick of female pickpockets, but nothing had been stolen from me. So the woman’s faked illness might just have been a ploy to entice me into having sex with her. I didn’t feel guilty. Actually, I felt rather good for having given her a good time. My wife would never know about the encounter. And even if she found out, it wouldn’t hurt my social position. I got home at about 9.30. My dreamlike adventure had lasted less than two hours.

Two days later, I read in the morning newspaper about the murder of the woman I had the sexual encounter with. The article filled about a quarter of a page and included a picture of the victim. Her name was Kazue Kanemoto. It was an old photo that had probably been retouched. She looked rather different, but there was enough resemblance. The newspaper reported the time of death to have been between 7 p.m. and 9 p.m. on the night of the 23rd, which was exactly when I was with her. I had met her on the street around 7.15 and left her house a little before 9. The culprit, presumably a thief,
must have entered the house right after I left, or he might have already been in the house, hiding until I left. It said the woman had been killed while she was combing her hair. I could visualize the entire scene clearly. I left my house quickly, went to the office and pretended I hadn’t heard about the murder. Although the woman’s house was not very far away, it was not particularly close. I could have gone to the site before going to the office, but I didn’t want to.

The initial investigation determined that the victim had been raped, which alarmed me. The rapist had blood type O, the same as me. I became too scared to read the newspapers. The victim’s kimono and a vase, which I had seen in her house, were being kept as evidence. I couldn’t believe that she was thirty-one. She had seemed younger; maybe she had made herself look younger for a chance romantic encounter. I felt very sorry for her. What must have gone through her mind when she looked at herself in the mirror after having sex with me? I felt great anger at the killer.

The case was not under the jurisdiction of our station. Having no way to join the investigation, I waited to see what would happen. Several days later, I received an express letter, postmarked “1st April, Ushigome, Tokyo”. The letter was stamped confidential, and the sender told me to burn it after I read it, which I did. As far as I can remember, the letter read something like this:

“We are secret agents of the Emperor. It has come to our attention that you are the murderer of Kazue Kanemoto. It is regrettable and unforgivable that you, a police officer, should have committed such a crime. However, given the fact that our country is in a critical phase, it is not in our interest to
bring disgrace to a citizen who has until now led an upright life. Therefore, we will make allowances for the circumstances you find yourself in and will pardon you for your crime if you help us accomplish our goal. Your cooperation will be required only this one time and never again in the future. You will be required to dispose of the bodies of six women who were Chinese spies. They were assassinated in order that war between China and Japan might be avoided. So that the utmost secrecy is maintained, no one from this agency will have any direct involvement in the execution of your mission. You must acquire a vehicle to dispose of these bodies at the designated places in the designated manner within a certain time frame. If you are apprehended, you will be held fully accountable. The corpses can be found in the storeroom of Kazue Kanemoto’s house. You must begin your assignment on 3rd April and complete your task within one week. You may prefer to drive at night. Do not ask directions from anyone; do not stop at any restaurants; keep all contact with people to a minimum. You must keep the entire mission a secret; this is for your own sake. Maps are enclosed. And remember: one hand washes the other. Sayonara.”

I was shocked at what I was being asked to do, but at the same time, I realized it would be almost impossible to prove my innocence in the murder of Kazue Kanemoto. Without an eyewitness to the murder, I would not be able to clear myself of suspicion. After all, it was my semen they had found in the victim’s body. Investigators would never doubt that I killed her. I was devastated, not knowing what would happen even if I did successfully complete this job assigned to me. I had heard of the existence of secret agencies such as the Nakano School.
If the sender of the letter belonged to one of them, I felt that he would at least honour the promise of secrecy.

The assignment would not be easy. I would need a full week to carry it out, most of it at night. Attached to the letter were full directions, including the routes of travel I should take and instructions on exactly how the women should be buried. Each destination was shown on a map, but the map was less than detailed or precise. I sensed that the secret agent may never have been to those places himself.

The next day, I was so preoccupied by my fear of discovery, I could do nothing. I could have ignored the letter, but the circumstances I found myself in were not very favourable. I had had sexual intercourse with the murdered woman. If I told the truth at an inquiry, my public shame would be enormous. My immorality would be sensationally exposed in every newspaper. I would lose my job and my family would be ruined. And I would probably be convicted of murdering the woman as well. What would happen to my wife and my baby boy if I was arrested and put in prison? I made up my mind to fight for my life and for theirs. In that life-or-death situation, I was prepared to do anything.

Very few people could afford to own an automobile back in 1936. Even my wealthy friends didn’t have one, and I was no exception. Nor could I fabricate a reason to borrow a police car for the several days required for the mission. I knew of only one person who owned a car and would probably be prepared to lend it to me. He was a contractor. I first met him during the investigation of a fraud case. He was tied to dirty money. Normally, he would be the last man I would ask a favour of, as it would make me beholden to him. But I had no choice.

In order to take a week off from work, I made up a story: my wife was ill, and I would be taking her to the Hanamaki hot springs, near her parents’ house. As fate would have it, I did in fact have to go to that area, so I would be able to stop to buy some souvenirs for my colleagues, which would make them believe that I really had been there. My story worked, and my boss allowed me to be away from the office for a week. On the morning of 3rd April, I told my wife that I would be leaving on a business trip that evening and asked her to prepare enough rice balls to last me for three days. I packed the food, put a shovel in the trunk, and drove to the house in Kaminoge, where I found the corpses as instructed. The bodies were mutilated and resembled deformed children. I got the two corpses I was told to bury first, laid them in the trunk, and then drove west towards the Kansai area in the dark of night.

I had to move quickly, because I knew that when decomposition set in, the stench would be unbearable; it would also attract attention. Furthermore, the possibility of a reinvestigation of Kazue’s house loomed. I needed to get the bodies out of there as fast as possible.

Traffic checks were rare, but I had to take every possible precaution. I had my police identification ready, just in case. I loaded three extra containers of petrol. With luck, that would be enough fuel to reach my destination without having to stop for more. I didn’t want a petrol-station attendant remembering my face. As I drove, my mind raced. The order and place of burial for each body had been spelt out in detail. But what was the reason for that? Was it to make it seem like a serial killing committed by one individual? And was there any reason why each body had been cut up in such a different way?

I didn’t get to Nara that first night, so I drove into the mountains at Hamamatsu and napped at the side of a road. It was spring, and the sun rose earlier than I’d expected, which made me even more anxious. My instructions mere to bury the six bodies in specific mines spread across the island of Honshu. After the Yamato mine in Nara, I was to go to the Ikuno mine in Hyogo Prefecture. Then to the Gumma mine in Gumma Prefecture, the Kosaka mine in Akita, the Kamaishi mine in Iwate and the Hosokura mine in Miyagi.

The car I had borrowed was a Cadillac. It was bigger than any Japanese car but still too small to transport six bodies at once. I would have to make two separate trips. Still, if I was stopped for any reason, it would be easier to cover my lies in a car rather than in a truck. I was determined to fulfil my end of the bargain, even though I knew the secret agency could ambush me at any time.

I continued driving the next night and arrived at the Yamato mine at 2 a.m. on 5th April. I started digging. I had never imagined that digging a hole a metre and a half deep would be so difficult. But I managed to finish before sunrise. I slept in the mountains. At midday, I was startled awake by a man with a towel trapped around his face. He was peering into the car. At that moment, I thought everything was over. But when I calmed myself, I could see that he was mentally retarded and was wandering in the woods like a lost child. I breathed a sigh of relief as I watched him slowly amble away. He was the only person to have come so close to the car. I told myself to be patient while I awaited the end of the day, so that I could leave.

The digging at the Ikuno mine in Hyogo exhausted me, but I felt great relief once it was done. Having disposed of
the two bodies, I drove the rest of the night and through the day, trying my best to stay alert. I got home in the afternoon of 6th April. I ate a quick meal and collapsed, but I couldn’t allow myself a long sleep.

That night, as I prepared for the next part of my mission, I told my wife not to answer the phone until I returned. I went again to Kaminoge, loaded the four bodies in the trunk, and drove off. I neared Takasaki early in the morning of the 7th. I had had no sleep, finding nowhere that I could park safely. Here I found a remote spot, so I pulled over and shut my eyes. I resumed driving in the afternoon, arriving at the Gumma mine after midnight. Compared with the previous two jobs, this one was easy. I just covered the corpse with a little soil, and then I continued along the mountain road.

I arrived in Hanamaki at 3 a.m. on the 8th. At that hour, no place was open, so I drove on to Akita. I stopped along the way to rest and I lost my way once, but fortunately I still seemed to be keeping to schedule. The digging and burial at the Kosaka mine was finished early in the morning on the 9th. The job in Iwate was done early the next morning, and I finished the next one in Miyagi the night of the 10th, just abandoning the corpse near a mountain road. I had accomplished it all in one week as the instructions demanded.