‘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.
27
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 . . .?’
He bowed his head, bending formally from the waist. ‘Sorry to disturb you, ma’am. My name is Mikami, and I work for Administrative Affairs in the police headquarters. I understand that your son used to work in Forensics. Is he in, perhaps?’
‘Oh, I see.’ Her eyes seemed to double in width. ‘Police. What could you possibly want with my son?’
‘I need to talk to him about something that’s come up.’
‘Talk to him? I can’t imagine there is anything left to say, not at this stage. Really, we’re the ones who need to talk to you. Treating him with such cruelty . . .’
‘I understand your anger, ma’am.’