Points And Lines Read online

  All that you have told me about the man called Tatsuo Yasuda and how he made certain persons witness the departure of Sayama and Otoki from Tokyo Station, I find most interesting. I too am convinced that this Yasuda played an important part in the double suicide case. I also believe, with you, that he was on the beach at Kashii that night and in some way participated in the incident.

  This brings something to my mind. I still believe that of the two couples who left Kashii main station and Nishitetsu Kashii Station on January 20, the night of the suicides, one was Sayama and Otoki and the other Yasuda and an unidentified woman. These two couples got off the trains at almost the same time and both walked in the direction of the beach.

  I wonder what part was played by the woman who accompanied Yasuda. If Yasuda was involved in the double suicide he would need a woman accomplice; he could not execute his plan without her help. Now, what was his plan? After I received your letter I went to Kashii Beach once again. I chose to go late at night. It was pleasantly cool, very different from the temperature at the time of the incident. Probably tempted by the weather, several couples were strolling along the beach. The lights of the town were faint in the distance and the couples were mere shadows. An ideal spot for young lovers, I decided. What I want to say is that our two couples, Sayama and Otoki and Yasuda and his woman companion, on the night of January 20 were also mere shadows, moving along the beach like the couples of today. And I also want to point out that it is very dark at that spot, so dark that at a distance of six or seven meters the couples cannot see each other.

  I regret that I have nothing more to contribute at this time. I have some vague opinions, but they would be of no help to you.

  Let me now refer to your question concerning the inn where Yasuda stayed the night of the twenty-first. I have done all I could but so far I have been unable to identify it. It happened several months ago, many people register under false names and some inns do not even keep a register. I shall continue to check, of course, but I hold out little hope of finding it.

  Until recently I believed that the woman who telephoned Sayama the night of the twentieth was Otoki, but could it not have been the woman who accompanied Yasuda? This is just an idea, of course; I have no evidence. But it occurs to me that if Yasuda had had previous contacts with Sayama and knew he would register at the inn under the name of Sugawara, it would be simple to have his companion ask for Mr. Sugawara when she telephoned. It did not have to be Otoki.

  And, if we carry this assumption a little further, the person for whom Sayama waited all week at the inn in Hakata need not have been Otoki, with whom he committed suicide, but this mysterious woman. If this is the case, then we can understand why Otoki did not travel with Sayama all the way to Hakata but got off either at Atami or Shizuoka. Isn't it possible that Otoki's part in the tragedy was simply to get on the train with Sayama at Tokyo Station and travel a short distance with him? This possibility answers the question why Yasuda wanted to have someone else observe Sayama and Otoki entering the train together. Perhaps he wanted the witnesses to see these two start off together gaily, like lovers. Why? I don't know. I have no evidence to support my theory. I must give it more thought.

  If my assumption is correct, then the next question is where was Otoki from the time she got off the train at Atami or Shizu-oka until she committed suicide on Kashii Beach the night of the twentieth? If we can find the answer to this, we will have a real basis for the assumption. That Otoki did not accompany Sayama all the way to Hakata can be shown by the dining car receipt, made out to one person, which was found in Sayama's coat pocket. I stated this as my opinion when you were here.

  As you say in your letter, if it is essential that Yasuda be situated at the scene of the double suicide on the night of the twentieth, then it would be impossible for him to have arrived at Sapporo by the Marimo Express on the twenty-first. If there is no evidence that he used planes then I'm afraid we have overlooked something, while taking other facts for granted. This is what I meant by the ancient story of the old woman and her winter jacket. Please do not leave a stone unturned.

  I've been carried away by the pleasure your long letter gave me and fear I have written you a lot of nonsense in return. I am embarrassed to have made you listen to such idle chatter. Unlike you who are young and alert, I am an old, worn-out hack, and you must make allowances for my humble opinions.

  If there is anything I can do for you here in Kyushu please do not hesitate to let me know. I would be happy to cooperate to the extent of my ability.

  I sincerely hope that your hard work will be rewarded and that soon you will be able to break the case. Please come on a leisurely visit to Kyushu when you have the time.

  Sincerely yours,

  Jūtarō Torigai

  Mihara was tired. The wall still blocked his way. He had been unable to find even the smallest crack in it.

  He put Torigai's letter in his pocket, left the office and walked to his favorite coffee shop.

  It was still lunchtime and the place was crowded. A waitress noticed him looking for a seat and indicated a table to him. It was already occupied by a young girl, sitting alone and drinking tea. The chair opposite her was vacant. Ill at ease at sharing a table with a strange girl, he seated himself on the edge of the chair and drank his coffee self-consciously, aware that his perplexity showed in his face.

  Although Jūtarō Torigai's letter had helped to raise his flagging spirits it was not very encouraging. The old man's ideas were too general. His suggestion that one of the two couples who got off at the two Kashii stations, minutes apart, the night of the twentieth, included an unidentified woman was interesting but, as the old detective himself admitted, there was no proof. The couples might have happened to leave the two stations at about the same time and need not be related in any way. Or, again, it could be that Sayama and Otoki were first seen leaving the Kashii main station, then seen again by a different witness as they walked past the other Kashii station. According to Torigai's own measurement of the distance between the two stations, this was possible.

  Mihara was certain that Yasuda was on Kashii Beach that night and that he was in some way connected with the suicides, but to bring a mysterious woman into the situation now seemed too fantastic. Yasuda was not the sort of man to have an accomplice. Why was not clear to Mihara; he just felt it was so. Moreover, Torigai's suggestion that the woman who telephoned Sayama at his inn was not Otoki was based on the vague assumtion that the four people emerging from the two Kashii stations were Sayama, Otoki, Yasuda and the unknown woman.

  More interesting was Torigai's opinion of why Yasuda had wanted a witness at Sayama and Otoki's departure from Tokyo Station. He was suggesting that it was to make the witness believe that they were lovers. Torigai was intimating that they were probably not lovers. If that were true, it would be all the more necessary to have a witness observe them gaily boarding the train together. They ended up committing suicide near Hakata, the destination of the super-express. Looked at from any angle, there could be no doubt that it was a double suicide. So here was the problem. Why would two people who were not lovers commit suicide together? As he asked himself the question Mihara could see Yasuda's figure flitting behind the contradictions.

  The reason why Otoki got off at Atami or Shizuoka was still unanswered, but it was unimportant. The question had been raised by old Torigai merely on the evidence of the dining car receipt made out to one person. It was an interesting lead, prompted by his daughter's comments, but there was no proof. It was simply an assumption. The old man's perceptions were sharp but he was short of facts, of evidence. He wanted Otoki's movements traced after she left the train either at Atami or Shizuoka, but so much time had elapsed this would not only be difficult to do, the investigation itself would be meaningless.

  Mihara, drinking his coffee and still looking glum, had reached this point in his reflections when a shadow fell across the table and a young man took the vacant seat opposite, next to the young gi
rl.

  "Sorry to be late," he said to the girl.

  She had suddenly come alive, her face radiant. "What will you have?" she asked, looking at him eagerly.

  "Coffee."

  He gave the order to the waitress, "Have you been waiting long?" He was smiling at her.

  "About forty minutes. Too long for one cup of coffee, so I ordered a cup of tea too."

  "I'm sorry." He looked apologetic. "The bus was a long time coming. They're so irregular on that line. They can be as much as twenty minutes late. It's very annoying."

  "Since the bus is to blame I have nothing to say." She looked at her watch. "The show has already started. Let's hurry."

  Mihara listened idly to their conversation. There was nothing unusual about it. In the time it took him to light a cigarette the young man had sipped a mouthful of coffee and was on his feet. Mihara settled back and relaxed. Their cups were still on the table, one only half empty. The young man must live in the outskirts if the bus schedules were so irregular, Mihara was thinking. His mind, unconcerned for the moment with his own problems, was filled with idle thoughts.

  No, not entirely idle. Mihara came to with a start. An idea had suddenly entered his mind. Yasuda did not have Kawanishi meet him on the railway platform at Sapporo; in his telegram he clearly indicated the waiting room of the station because he feared the plane might be delayed by bad weather.

  Mihara stared at the painting on the wall, as if afraid to move. Since Yasuda planned to arrive by the Marimo, it would have been more effective to have Kawanishi meet him on the platform. That he did not have him do so was because planes are often delayed by the weather. Had the plane been seriously delayed, he would not have had time to travel from Sapporo to Otaru and catch the Marimo there. And if he were not on the Marimo and Kawanishi had come to meet him on the platform, it would be obvious he had not arrived by train. A very cautious Yasuda had foreseen this possibility and in his telegram had asked Kawanishi to meet him in the waiting room.

  Mihara's eyes brightened with the joy of discovery. This is it, he thought. Yasuda's devious plan has only served to reveal that he actually used a plane.

  He left the coffee shop feeling unusually elated. Outside, the sun was bright and inviting.

  But wait a moment, he said to himself. From where did Yasuda send that telegram?

  Mihara decided to check again on Yasuda's trip to Hokkaido. He had played tricks on that trip, which showed he had expected to be investigated. The encounter with the Hokkaido governmerit official on the train was one, but the most obvious was the request for Kawanishi to meet him at Sapporo Station. Kawa-nishi had admitted the business was not urgent and there was no need for him to go to the station. From where did Yasuda send the telegram? When Mihara had talked to him, Kawanishi had said he had thrown it away without noticing where it had been dispatched from.

  Yasuda left Fukuoka by plane the morning of the twenty-first. Did he send it from the Fukuoka or Hakata telegraph office, or perhaps from the local airport? No, that could not be. He was a careful man; Kawanishi might notice the name of the dispatching office. He would probably send it from Tokyo. He had an hour to spare between the time his plane arrived at Haneda and his connecting flight left for Sapporo. No, that was not possible either. Upon arriving at Haneda he would know if the Sapporo plane was leaving on time. And if it left on time, he would be able to turn back from Sapporo and catch the Marimo at Otaru. There would be no reason, therefore, to have Kawanishi meet him in the station waiting room. It would be more convincing if he were met on the platform and actually seen getting off the train.

  Mihara opened his notebook. Kawanishi had told him he thought the telegram had been sent at the ordinary rate and that he had received it about eleven o'clock on the twenty-first. Eleven o'clock meant that it was probably dispatched about nine in the morning, assuming that an ordinary telegram took two hours from Tokyo to Sapporo. But at that hour, Yasuda was in the plane that had left Itazuke Airport. He would be flying over Hiroshima or Okayama prefecture. He could not possibly have sent the wire himself from Tokyo.

  How about Fukuoka? Since it could also be assumed that it took about two hours for a telegram to get from Fukuoka to Sapporo, if Yasuda had sent it around eight o'clock from Itazuke Airport, before the takeoff, it would be delivered to Kawanishi about eleven o'clock. Could he then have sent it from Fukuoka?

  It would be unnaturally careless of him to reveal the dispatching office. Nevertheless, Mihara decided to ask the police at Fukuoka to check all outgoing telegrams on January 21.

  He returned to the Metropolitan Police Board and outlined his plan to Kasai.

  "A good idea," Kasai commented with a smile. "You've found the reason why Kawanishi was told to meet him in the waiting room. We'll have the Fukuoka police check the telegrams. As for Tokyo, if Yasuda didn't send the telegram himself from here, there is always the possibility that he had someone do it for him."

  Mihara agreed. "I was about to say so. For that reason, I'd like to check the telegraph offices in Tokyo also."

  "All right." The chief was still smiling as he sipped his tea. "You seem to get bright ideas in coffee shops."

  "Coffee stimulates me, when I drink it outside the office," Mihara replied in the same bantering tone.

  "Even if we find that the wire was sent from Tokyo, it still won't mean much. It wouldn't be unusual. On the other hand, if Yasuda telegraphed from Fukuoka, then his presence there would be established and that would be important."

  "No." Mihara interrupted him. "Even if sent from Tokyo it would be important. He couldn't possibly have sent it himself, so it would mean he had asked someone to do it for him. I'd want to know who that was."

  "It could be someone in his office."

  "That's not possible."

  "Why?"

  "It was two o'clock on the afternoon of the twentieth when Yasuda left his office, saying he was going to Sapporo. It would be possible if the wire were sent on the twentieth; but it would look strange to ask someone to send it at nine o'clock on the following morning. Yasuda is very careful, even in minor details. Besides, he'd be afraid of an investigation."

  A few days later the detectives reported that no such telegram had been dispatched on that day from any of the telegraph offices in Tokyo. The Fukuoka police forwarded a similar report: both the Fukuoka and Hakata telegraph offices had no record of the telegram.

  Mihara's face bore a vacant look. "A telegram which was not sent could not be delivered," he muttered to himself. "Where did he send it from?"

  Mihara clapped both hands to his head. "I've been a fool! I should have checked the receiving office; that would have been simpler." The disappointments and the rebuffs seemed to have dulled his senses. Immediately, he requested the Sapporo police to investigate. The reply came the following day.

  "The telegram in question was sent from Asamushi Station in Aomori Prefecture at 8:50 A.M. on January 21." Not Tokyo, not Fukuoka; it had been sent from Asamushi Hotspring in Aomori Prefecture. This was one station before the Aomori terminal.

  Mihara was nonplussed. Had he given it thought, however, it should not have surprised him. The station was on the main line between Tokyo and Hokkaido. He noted the time of the dispatch: 8:50. According to the railway timetable, the Towada Express from Ueno, Tokyo, would be leaving Asamushi Station at that hour. The telegram was sent by the train conductor, at the request of a passenger, Mihara decided. The Towada, which passed through Asamushi on the morning of the twenty-first, was the train Yasuda said he had taken. It connected with the Sei-kan ferry No. 17.

  So Yasuda was on the Towada, as he had declared! Mihara did not know what to think. The further he investigated, the more evidence accumulated that Yasuda was telling the truth.

  Mihara buried his head in his hands. The chief interrupted his thoughts. "By the way, Mihara, do you believe it was Yasuda who sent that wire?"

  "What?" Mihara raised his head.

  "Remember saying that you'd like to know w
ho might have sent the telegram for Yasuda? A stand-in, perhaps…"

  Mihara stared at Chief Kasai. "Of course. I had forgotten."

  "You shouldn't forget your own words." The chief was laughing quietly.

  Mihara picked up the telephone and called Ueno Station. He asked to be connected with the train conductors' office.

  "Hello! The conductor on the Towada express on duty between Sendai and Aomori: to which division would he belong?"

  "He would work out of Ueno."

  Mihara took a police car and hastened to Ueno Station. In the office he questioned the official on duty.

  "No. 205, the Towada, on January 20 of this year, is it? Just a minute, please." The man consulted the duty records.

  "Kajitani was the conductor. He should be around today. I'll have him called."

  "Please do so." Mihara waited with mounting excitement.

  The conductor presently arrived. He was not over thirty and looked intelligent. "Let me see. I don't remember the contents of the telegram but I do recall being asked to send one to Sapporo. That must have been from Kominato Station, near Asamushi. I believe it was the morning of January 21. I don't remember sending any other telegrams for passengers from up north."

  "Do you recall the face of the passenger who gave it to you? Anything at all about him?" Mihara hoped the conductor would remember some detail.

  "Let me see. It was a passenger in a second class sleeper."

  "Yes."

  "I believe he was tall and rather slim."

  "What, slim? Quite sure he wasn't stout?" Mihara was secretly pleased but repeated the question to make certain.

  "No, certainly not stout. I'd say he was thin." The conductor's memory seemed to be clearing. "It was a party of two."

  "Two people?"

  "I'm sure because I was checking the tickets. The man was holding his companion's ticket as well. No, not exactly a companion; the other man seemed more like his superior. He looked important. The slim man spoke to him very politely."

  "Then it was the subordinate who asked you to send the wire?"