Six Four (25 page)

‘Why?’

‘I’m not sure. I noticed his head was drooping over the recording equipment, not too long after Amamiya had left. I thought he might have got too tired, maybe fallen asleep, so I went over and looked into his face to check. His eyes were bright red. When I asked what the matter was he just started to cry.’

Mikami felt his neck tense. It was the first solid fact he’d come across. ‘What happened next?’

‘Well, I didn’t know what to say. That was when Koda hurried over; he all but pushed me out of the way. He kept tapping Hiyoshi on the shoulder, saying something into his ear.’

‘What did he say?’

‘I couldn’t hear. It looked like Koda was trying to console him.’

Mikami remembered the scene from the time he’d stepped into Amamiya’s house. Hiyoshi, white as a sheet. Utterly overwhelmed. Did this mean it had been more than just stress?

‘Thanks. I think I’ll go and pay him a visit.’ Mikami drank the rest of his cold tea and got to his feet.

‘Oh, okay. I’m sorry if I wasn’t much—’

‘Give me a call if you remember anything else.’ Mikami handed her a note with his mobile number.

‘About Minako?’

‘Either of the two.’

‘Okay. I think I’ve already told you all I know about—’

‘Have you ever heard of the Koda memo?’

‘The Koda memo? I don’t think so. Is that something Koda wrote?’

‘Forget I said it,’ Mikami said, avoiding her gaze as he made his way to the door.

‘Try not to be too . . . distant, okay?’ Mizuki’s voice chased him from behind. ‘Right now you’re all Minako’s got. She’s totally dependent on you.’

For whatever reason, Mikami found it hard to be thankful for the advice.

‘Thanks for your time.’

‘Call again, okay?’

Mikami thought he saw a hint of pride in the woman’s small eyes and wondered if it was because she’d managed to keep her and Minako’s secret for another day.

Dead leaves swirled around Mikami’s feet as he made for the car.

The kind of man who cried in front of others. Sentimental. It wouldn’t be hard to get him to talk. Mikami sank into the driver’s seat, feeling encouraged. He used his mobile to call Minamikawa. Two years Mikami’s junior, Minamikawa worked in the Prefectural HQ’s forensics division. He and Mikami shared the same hometown, and they went out for drinks a couple of times each year.

‘Hello?’

‘Minamikawa, it’s Mikami. Sorry for the weekend call.’

‘No problem . . . how are things?’

His voice had grown tense. Mikami continued with a sinking feeling.

‘I’ve got something I need to ask you. One of your lab staff – Hiyoshi; glasses. Do you know his address and phone number?’

‘No, sorry.’

‘Really? You don’t know it?’

‘I don’t work with those guys.’

‘Stop messing around. I know you’re all like family over there.’ Mikami tried to sound confident, but he could already feel his shoulders sagging. Even Forensics had been told to keep away from Administrative Affairs.

‘If you’ve been told not to say, at least admit it.’

‘Fine – I’m not allowed to say anything.’

‘When did they come around?’

‘Yesterday. Out of nowhere.’

‘And they didn’t tell you why, I suppose?’

‘Do you know what this is about, Mikami? I’d like to know if you do.’

‘Ask Arakida.’

Mikami snapped his mobile shut and started the car. He didn’t have the luxury of waiting until Monday. He would contact the head of Forensics, get Hiyoshi’s address, then go and see him in person before the day was out. He could no longer trust the department’s neutrality, but he could hope that the head proved to be more amenable – as an academic – than the others.

Mikami was back at HQ in seven minutes. The detective on duty leaned briefly from his window, surprised to see Mikami for a second time in one day. Mikami ignored him and walked into the room; he opened the box containing the keys. The one for Media Relations was missing from its hook. Someone on his staff was in the building. He stole a glance at the hook for Administration. Not there. Futawatari was still in.

Mikami made his way down the corridor, half dark due to the energy-saving policy. He walked into Media Relations. As expected, he saw Mikumo, sitting at the desk closest to the door. She got quickly to her feet. She was wearing full uniform.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘Sir. The deadline’s almost up for the bulletin. I thought I could come in and get a little done now.’

Her desk was littered with proofs and photos, all for the press bulletin. Mikami didn’t doubt that her schedule had suffered because of the problems they were having with the press, but it seemed unlikely that that was the only reason behind her deciding to come in on a weekend.

‘Sorry I had to call earlier.’

‘Not at all, that’s fine.’

‘Call Kuramae, get him to come in and help.’

Mikami sat at his desk and unlocked the bottom drawer. He
pulled out a list of phone numbers for officers and staff in executive-level accommodation and began to go through it.
Inomata, Head of Forensics
. The sheet contained both his private and work numbers. The internal line would be best. Mikami doubted Inomata would be able to place him from a name if he called his private number. Using the internal line would put Inomata into a state of readiness; Mikami would only need to introduce himself as press director before moving straight on to his questions. He reached for the phone on his desk. As he did, he became aware of Mikumo’s profile.
It’s nothing she can’t overhear.
Reassuring himself, Mikami dialled the number.

After a few rings, Inomata picked up the phone. He seemed perhaps five years Mikami’s senior.

‘Please accept my apologies for disturbing your weekend. This is Press Director Mikami.’

‘Not a problem. What can I do for you?’

He came across as a good-natured old man.

‘There’s something I need to confirm, if possible. Would you be able to give me the address of someone on your staff? His name is Hiyoshi.’

‘Hmm? I don’t remember anyone with that name working for me.’

‘I’m sorry?’ Mikami raised his voice before he could stop himself. He looked up at Mikumo. She was busy moving her pen, her face over her desk. Mikami pulled the mouthpiece closer. ‘Are you positive?’

‘If the head of Forensics hasn’t heard of him, I’m quite sure he doesn’t exist. Perhaps there’s been some kind of mistake? A mix-up with another department, something like that?’

Mikami was listening for signs of the Iron Curtain, but could pick up nothing out of the ordinary in the way Inomata was speaking.

‘And you haven’t had any transfers? Anyone who moved on to something else?’

‘Not since I started here; not one.’

That was when Mikami realized something. It was only seven or eight years ago that Inomata had moved into his current position. The HQ had headhunted him from the Prefecture D Institute of Technology, having set up the role specially.

‘Forgive the question, but could you remind me when you joined us?’

‘Eight years ago . . .’

‘And you’re absolutely sure there wasn’t anyone here by that name?’

‘I’m not senile quite yet.’

He sounded a little affronted. Ignoring this, Mikami asked his next question.

‘In which case, I’m very sorry to have to trouble you, but could I ask you to check with the staff rota from fourteen years ago?’

‘Sorry? Staff rota . . . fourteen years ago?’

‘Please. I believe, as head of the division, it should be in your possession.’

‘Well, I must say it’s a bit sudden . . . Don’t you have that in the main building?’

‘No. We don’t maintain a comprehensive list in case of religious cults or the extreme left getting their hands on it.’

‘I see . . . of course.’

The confidence had drained from his voice. Seeing his opportunity, Mikami chose to press the matter. ‘Speed is of the essence. If you can’t find the rota, you’ll need to try something else. Maybe you can ask someone on your staff who might know. I would appreciate it if you called me – Mikami in Media Relations – the moment you have an answer.’

‘Ah . . . of course. I’ll try asking someone.’

‘Also, I think you might find that he resigned. If so, I would appreciate it if you could find out the date he left as well as the reasons he gave for his decision.’

He had quit the force, Hiyoshi, just like Koda had.

The magnitude of this discovery left Mikami on edge even after the call was over. Hiyoshi had left the force, too, at the very least eight years earlier. It was possible that, like Koda, he had resigned when the memory of Six Four had still been fresh in everyone’s mind. The real question was
why
he’d chosen to leave. Whether the decision had been related to the tears he’d shed in Amamiya’s house.

Mikami saw Mikumo get up from her chair. She started towards the cupboard. She’d probably decided it was time to put on some tea. Mikami checked the wall clock: three fifteen. Knowing Inomata wasn’t a police officer, it seemed impossible to gauge how long it might take him to call back.

A short while later Mikumo came over with a tray and a mug of tea.

‘I heard your parents had a silent call, at their place.’ The words came without conscious thought.

Mikumo drew a quiet, surprised breath.

‘Mizuki Murakushi told me. When did it happen?’

‘Right, yes. They said it was about a month ago.’

‘How many calls?’

‘They said two.’

‘On the same day?’

‘Yes, I think that’s what they said.’

‘I see . . .’

The response hung awkwardly.

One month ago.
It was around the same time he and Minako had received the calls. And again, more than just once. Mizuki’s call had also come in around the same period, close to three weeks ago.
Look at society these days, there are so many weird people out there.
It was possible Mizuki’s comment hadn’t actually been too far off the mark. Two coincidences coming together was making Mikami think that maybe someone had been out there, getting off on silent-calling random numbers. He let out a quiet sigh just as his desk phone started to ring. He checked the clock. Only
twenty minutes had passed. He glanced at Mikumo as she walked back to her desk, then picked up the receiver.

‘Mikami, this is Inomata. I got what you wanted.’

His voice was much brighter.
All right then.
Mikami got himself ready.

‘Go ahead.’

‘I had a look around and found the staff rota. Let’s see . . . yes, here we are, Koichiro Hiyoshi. Is that the man you’re after?’

‘Is there anyone with the same family name?’

‘No, no, just Koichiro Hiyoshi. He was in our physical-evidence lab. Here’s the information you needed. First his address: 1256, Osumi-machi, City D. His phone number is—’

Mikami felt he’d had a stroke of luck as he recorded the details. Addresses bearing a four-digit house number were usually in the older residential areas. It was almost certainly the address of his parents’ house. And the name Hiyoshi traditionally indicated the eldest son of a family. All of this meant there was a strong possibility he was still living at the address in Osumi-machi.

‘I asked some of our older employees, too. Apparently, the reason he left was . . . do you remember that kidnapping that happened fourteen years ago?’

Mikami caught his breath. His hand tightened around the receiver.

‘Yes.’

‘He took some time off after that, three months or so. When he didn’t come back we decided to treat the case as voluntary resignation. They didn’t know the exact cause, but it seems Hiyoshi had been posted to work in the house with the victim’s family – ah, hello? Are you getting all of this . . .?’

‘Yes, keep going.’

‘Well, it didn’t last long, but it seems he was very withdrawn by the time he’d come back to work. He stopped talking to other people altogether. After a while, he just stopped turning up to the lab. That’s the general gist. He was . . . with us for close on
two years. Before coming here he’d spent just under a year with NTT. That’s all the information I could get.’

‘That’s perfect. I really appreciate your help,’ Mikami said, genuinely meaning it as he slipped the paper he’d written the address on into his jacket pocket.

It took Mikami fifteen minutes to reach Osumi-machi by car.

The streets were lined with large old houses, the tall walls surrounding them suggesting concealed, manicured gardens. Mikami parked off to the side of a children’s playground. The sun was already low in the sky. He continued his way on foot, using a copy of a local map to guide him. He picked up speed as he moved.

Hiyoshi’s family home was situated just around a corner; it had an old, tiled roof and a nameplate set into a stone column that read
Hiyoshi
. It was large even compared to the others. Thick pine branches arched over the road, and there was a white-walled building for storage alongside the main structure. There was a garage, too; the door was closed but, judging from the width, it probably housed a number of cars.

Hiyoshi was from a wealthy family. Mikami felt his enthusiasm wane as a number of emotions, including a good measure of disdain, rose to the surface. Hiyoshi had only been in Forensics for two years; NTT, less than one. Perhaps he was simply the type to throw in the towel each time something bad happened at work. Mikami still didn’t know why Hiyoshi had cried at Amamiya’s, but the man’s tears already seemed to carry less weight. Mikami sighed, then he circled around to the side and rang the bell. It was bowl-shaped, lacking a camera or intercom function, just a single button that reminded him of early Showa, possibly even Taisho.

Mikami waited for a while, allowing for the size of the building. Eventually, he heard the clicking of wooden sandals. The small timber door opened and a woman in her early sixties emerged, dipping a head that was streaked with grey. Her appearance wasn’t that of a domestic helper. Mikami decided she had to be Hiyoshi’s mother, but there was something about her that suggested a deep melancholy. She eyed Mikami suspiciously, then in a clipped tone asked, ‘And you might be . . .?’