The Case of the Sharaku Murders (26 page)

Ryohei hurriedly threw a cardigan on over his pajamas and raced downstairs.

“I'm sorry. I had a late night last night,” apologized Ryohei, speaking into the receiver.

“I thought I'd find you there,” said Iwakoshi. “I tried your apartment but when no one answered, I wondered if maybe…”

Iwakoshi sounded even graver than usual.

“Is it something urgent?” Iwakoshi had never telephoned Ryohei in Morioka before. Ryohei had a vague sense of foreboding.

“The professor's dead…”

“Huh?”

“Professor Nishijima was found dead this morning,” repeated Iwakoshi, practically shouting.

Ryohei felt his knees go weak.

“Wh… what happened?” he asked, once he had collected himself.

“A fire at his house,” said Iwakoshi, choking on the words. “They found his body after it had been put out.”

Professor Nishijima had been at home alone, according to Iwakoshi. The rest of the family was safe, having left for Hakone the night before. Every year, on the day after New Year's, all of Nishijima's current and former students were invited his house for an all-day party which went on in to the evening. When it was over, the professor always went away with his family for several days to a hot springs resort. But this year he had stayed behind because he had some magazine interviews lined up starting on the fifth.

Iwakoshi had been at the party. Nishijima had apparently been in high spirits, talking animatedly about Sharaku with Yoshimura, Iwashita, and the others. By the time everyone left, the professor had been quite drunk.

“Around eight o'clock, after cleaning up after the party, it seems his wife left with the children… Once they were gone, the professor probably went to his study to work… The fire broke out around midnight. His body was discovered on a daybed next to his desk where he took naps, so the fire department believes he probably started the fire by accident—a lighted cigarette falling onto a pile of papers, or something like that. He must have fallen asleep and been overcome by the smoke before he could escape,” explained Iwakoshi sadly.

The suddenness of it all left Ryohei speechless.

Iwakoshi burst into tears. “Of all the idiotic things!” he shouted. “Why did this have to happen now, just when things were getting started! What in the world are we going to do?”

A memorial service was to be held the following day. Promising to be there, Ryohei rang off. He returned to his room and lay down on his futon. Tears began to flow freely. Ryohei felt a strange mix of emotions. He had hated the professor—hadn't he?

That was precisely what made it all so unbearable. Ryohei was not sure exactly how he felt. He owed the professor a lot—there was no denying it. Even if Yosuke were right and Nishijima
had
lost his direction as a scholar, if not for him, Ryohei would never have come to appreciate the wonders of ukiyo-e. He had not wanted to part from the professor on bad terms. That was why he had left Tokyo.

Why did you have to go and die on me?

Ryohei felt angry at Nishijima's selfishness.

7

The Artist's Alibi

J
anuary
7
      THE FUNERAL RITES for Nishijima Shunsaku were held at Somon-ji in Tokyo's Nakano ward starting at 1 p.m. The Hon. Yokoyama Shuzo of the Japanese House of Representatives acted as chief mourner. Over 700 people came to pay their last respects. Tables were set up to receive the mourners, and Ryohei and Yumi were put in charge of one of these. Members of the Edo Art Association's administrative staff also took turns helping out.

It couldn't be more different from Mr. Saga's funeral!

The temple had received hundreds of floral wreaths, so many sthey did not all fit in the courtyard and some had to be placed on the street outside the main gate. The Japanese Minister of Education was scheduled to deliver the eulogy. Only now did Ryohei become aware of just how powerful Professor Nishijima had been.

“Ryohei!” someone behind him called out in a low voice. It was one of the professor's seminar students. “Yoshimura wants to see you in the waiting room.”

As a member of the funeral committee, Yoshimura was serving as an usher, greeting guests and showing them to their seats in the temple's main hall. Though Nishijima's death initially seemed to have come as a severe blow to him, as the days passed, he had gradually regained his usual good humor.

As soon as Ryohei reached the waiting room, Yoshimura came out and beckoned him into another room.

The room was empty. Ryohei couldn't imagine what Yoshimura's intention could be in sending for him.

“An editor from Osaki Arts has just arrived,” began Yoshimura. Osaki Arts was the publishing house that had been planning to publish the professor's book on Shoei. “I'm in a real mess,” Yoshimura continued. “Fortunately I have a copy of the professor's paper and the negatives of the slides Iwakoshi and the others took of Shoei's paintings, but I don't have Kiyochika's preface or his biography of Shoei. We've been planning all along to reprint the entire catalogue as an appendix to the professor's book, but I never thought something like this might happen.”

“What do you mean?”

“The original has been destroyed.”

Ryohei had forgotten about the original.

“Apparently the editor was planning to start photographing the catalogue tomorrow. He says a photocopy will be good enough for the parts that are merely text. I remembered you had made a copy for yourself, so I went ahead and told him he could use it.”

That's taking quite a bit for granted, isn't it?

Ryohei was indignant. “What! You mean
you
didn't make a copy?”

“Don't be ridiculous. How could I? The professor told me it could wait until after the Shoei hypothesis had been announced. There was no need to make another copy—more to the point, he wouldn't let it out of his sight.”

Ryohei said nothing.

“C'mon, let me borrow your copy. Please,” Yoshimura begged. “Without it we won't be able to reprint the catalogue. Think of it as a final tribute to the professor.” Uncharacteristically, Yoshimura bowed his head.

A tribute to the professor, my foot! Now that he's dead, Yoshimura plans to take his place!

“I left it in Morioka,” Ryohei replied bluntly, intending his words as a refusal.

“Okay. Pick it up anytime you like. Naturally, I'll pay your expenses.”

Yoshimura's superciliousness took Ryohei by surprise.

“Let me think about it. The professor's only just died. It's quite a lot to process right now.”

“Sure. Take your time. We'll talk about it again soon,” said Yoshimura nodding. He seemed to have decided things could get messy if he pushed Ryohei too far.

When Ryohei returned to the reception table, he saw an unexpected face waiting there.

“Hey, long time no see!” the man greeted him.

“Inspector Onodera… What are you doing here?”

“Just popped in for a look… Say, isn't this some funeral! Leave it to the professor to draw a crowd,” said the policeman, casting an amiable smile in Yumi's direction. Then in a low voice he said, “There are a few things I'd like to ask you later… Do you mind?”

After the funeral was over, an elaborate memorial service was to be held in the temple's annex. Ryohei had not been invited. As soon as it started, Ryohei slipped away with Onodera. Ryohei had already removed his necktie and since he was wearing an overcoat he didn't stand out as being dressed for a funeral. After walking for five minutes they came to a restaurant. Without saying a word, Onodera pushed open the door and went inside.

“You know,” Onodera began, sipping a glass of tomato juice, “I saw Mizuno at the funeral.”

“Oh?” replied Ryohei. “I didn't notice him come in.” He felt a twinge of guilt. After all this time, he still hadn't spoken to the book dealer.

“He said he was returning the favor you did by coming to his brother-in-law's funeral.”

“Is that so?”

“But it's a shame, isn't it? First Saga, now Professor Nishijima… In a matter of two short months, the ukiyo-e world has lost its two leading scholars,” Onodera said, giving Ryohei a meaningful look.

Grasping the detective's implication, Ryohei gave a start.

Is that it? Is that why he's come today?

When one paused to think about it, it
was
a strange coincidence—though a coincidence it certainly was. In the space of two months, both the Edo Art Association and the Ukiyo-e Connoisseurship Society had lost their central figures. What's more, the two men had known each other—indeed, had once been friends—for decades. One didn't have to be a detective to find it all just a bit suspicious.

I wonder why it never struck us as strange?

No one in Nishijima's inner circle had thought to draw any connection between Saga Atsushi's death and the professor's. It just went to show how remote a figure Saga had been to them. While outsiders would have looked at Saga and Nishijima and seen two ukiyo-e scholars, to those on the inside the two men seemed to belong to different worlds.

“Was there anything suspicious about the professor's death?” asked Ryohei, jumping to the crux of the matter.

“Well, right now it's hard to say.” Onodera gave a wry smile.

“Hard to say?”

So the fire didn't start by accident?

Ryohei leaned forward in his chair.

“The thing is,” Onodera went on, “we haven't been able to determine the cause of the fire—all we know is it started in his study. You see, there were so many books, it's hard to pin down exactly
how
it started. But it seems now the local police are treating it as arson.”

“Arson!” exclaimed Ryohei. That meant murder. He probed the detective for more information.

“At this point it's just a hunch; one death coming right after the other and all. Anyway, that's what the inspector in charge of the case seems to think. He rang our office up to ask whether there was anything suspicious about Saga's death.”

Ryohei said nothing.

“Since I was in charge of the Saga investigation,” Onodera went on, “I came down to Tokyo to talk to him. I explained 'til I was blue in the face that Saga's death's has nothing to do with this, but he wouldn't listen—says it's too easy to dismiss it as mere coincidence.”

The detective smiled.

“So he thinks Mr. Saga's death wasn't a suicide, and the professor's wasn't an accident, is that right?” asked Ryohei.

“That's about it.”

“But why would someone have wanted to murder them? It's true Mr. Saga and the professor were friends once, but they had hardly spoken to each other for years.”

“True, it's hard to imagine they were both killed for the same reason. But I suppose it's conceivable someone killed Nishijima as revenge for Saga's death.”

“So you still think the professor might have somehow driven Mr. Saga to commit suicide?”

“No, I was just kidding. What I meant was there's no other way to explain their deaths.”

Ryohei looked confused.

“At any rate, I intend to investigate this until I'm satisfied I've got the answer. Ultimately I think we'll decide one was a suicide and the other was an accident. But there
is
one thing that's been bothering me…” Onodera hesitated before continuing.

“What's that?” Ryohei prompted him.

“Have you seen Yosuke Kokufu recently?”

“No—that is, not since before New Year,” Ryohei replied. Then he quickly added, “Why, what's
he
got to do with this?”

“Well, a witness has reported seeing someone matching his description near the scene of the incident on the night Professor Nishijima died.”

“You're kidding!”

“The clerk at the neighborhood liquor store has stated that when he stepped outside around nine in the evening to lower the store's shutters, he saw someone who looked like Yosuke walking toward the professor's house. It seems Yosuke had bought alcohol at the shop on numerous occasions when visiting the professor in the past, so the clerk recognized him; only he can't say for sure it was Yosuke because he didn't actually exchange greetings or anything with him. Still, it's been nagging me a bit.”

“The professor's house… Yosuke?” Ryohei couldn't believe it. But then he realized it
was
possible. There was no denying Yosuke had been thinking of doing something about the whole Shoei affair. But Ryohei wasn't about to say as much to the detective. Not only would it cast suspicion on Yosuke but Ryohei would then be obliged to relate the painful story of how Professor Nishijima had stolen his research. Otherwise, Onodera wouldn't understand why Yosuke had been so upset at the professor.

“Now, I understand Yosuke had been expelled, as it were, from Nishijima's inner circle,” said the detective.

Ryohei said nothing.

“Some people might consider that suspicious,” went on Onodera, lighting a cigarette. “However, there's too big a gap between nine in the evening and midnight, which was when the fire broke out. So at this stage I don't think Yosuke can be linked directly to the fire. But if it
is
determined to be arson then the question of motive…”

“But what about Mr. Saga's death? Yosuke would never—”

“I know. But the police on the case don't know Yosuke. They're just grasping at straws. I know he's not the type of person who would do that kind of thing. This is just my own hunch, but I don't think it was arson at all.” Onodera smiled, trying to cheer Ryohei up. “Don't worry, I'll figure something out before Yosuke gets dragged into this mess. I just wanted to let you know… confidentially.”

With that, he ended the conversation.

Outside the restaurant, the two men parted and walked away in opposite directions. After a while Onodera checked to make sure Ryohei was out of sight. Then he returned to the restaurant.

“Good work,” said a young detective, sitting just behind where Ryohei had been seated. Without attempting to hide his displeasure, the detective sat down across from him.

“There, I told him.”

“I'm sorry to have put you through that,” the man apologized.

“I just think this is going a bit too far—Yosuke Kokufu has nothing to do with this case.”

“But that's all we've got to go on for now… Anyway, there's Yoshimura's testimony.”

“That's just a malicious accusation. Is this how Tokyo cops always operate?” Onodera asked sarcastically.

“C'mon. Look, wasn't it
you
who was saying there was something fishy about two ukiyo-e experts dying one right after the other?”

“That's true. But I never said Kokufu had anything to do with it.”

“Yeah. But right now we don't have any other leads to go on. At least if we find out he's not involved then we'll have gotten somewhere. Just bear with me a bit,” the younger man said, bowing his head repeatedly.

“Anyway, what makes you think Tsuda will say anything to Kokufu? He claims he hasn't seen him for a while.”

“Maybe, but at least I've done what I can, so the chief can't complain.” The younger man paused thoughtfully for a moment before adding: “Let's see what Kokufu does if and when Tsuda talks to him. Then we'll know what our next move should be.”

When Ryohei returned to the temple the memorial service had just ended and mourners were pouring out through the main gate. Breaking into a jog, he hurried over to the reception table but it had already been cleared away. Iwakoshi and the professor's other students stood huddled around a small stove taking a break.

“Did you hear about Yoshimura?” Iwakoshi asked abruptly when Ryohei appeared. “Seems he's going to start teaching at Musashino in the spring.”