The determination in his voice resonated through his skull.
‘Okay. Well, at least act that way. Sure, Arakida is just some bullshitter with no talent apart from giving out orders. But the brass is the brass. If you really do want to work with us again, you’ll need to pay him – and the department – a little more respect. We can talk after that.’
Urushibara had missed the mark. He’d shot short of any vital areas. It was a chance to open up a new line of questioning.
‘Were you ordered to stay away from the funeral?’
‘Funeral? What funeral?’
‘Toshiko Amamiya’s. I take it you know she passed away?’
‘Ah, sure, I’d heard.’
‘Why didn’t you attend? You were in charge of the Home Unit.’
‘That day, I was—’
‘A detective would have made sure to be there.’
Urushibara started to say something but stopped midway, perhaps experiencing a wave of bitter nausea. The man had done his best at Amamiya’s. No one would have seen anything else.
‘You were ordered not to go. So as not to provoke Amamiya. Tell me if I’m wrong.’ Urushibara’s breath was a forbidding rumble over the line. ‘Where is the Koda memo?’
‘Enough.’
‘Are you prepared to lose your job for a talentless bullshitter?’
‘You’re deluded. Stop obsessing over this crap – and make sure to enjoy yourself tonight.’
The line clicked off.
Mikami’s hand jumped immediately to redial, but he stopped himself from calling back. The build-up wasn’t something he could reproduce. Urushibara’s presence had begun to recede with the silence, and now he seemed as remote as the dead.
Mikami was hit by a sudden exhaustion. This was gradually painted over by a sense of futility. Mikami had tried to throw Urushibara off balance, but the man had been steady on his feet. It was only to be expected. The result would have been much the same, whether he’d had time to prepare or not. Even so, Futawatari’s lack of subtlety was maddening. Mikami wouldn’t have expected to outsmart a seasoned detective like Urushibara, not one to one like that. He’d been testing for a reaction. Out to get a sense of things. But he was reaching above his station. His empty success in Administrative Affairs had given him the confidence to try his hand at cross-examining a detective. But to what end? Urushibara had seen through him. And it wasn’t the first time it had happened. He’d been going from place to place, hawking the Koda memo, only ever managing to aggravate and irritate Criminal Investigations. Like a poor shot, he was shooting wildly to make up for an inability to aim. Mikami couldn’t help but feel discouraged. Mikami was sure Ushibara had been unnerved when he’d brought up the commissioner’s involvement, but he knew that wouldn’t be enough in itself to make a man like him give in.
That left Kakinuma. Mikami’s thoughts were already moving on. He didn’t expect him to shed any light on the matter. Kakinuma was still part of the Investigative Team. He was younger than Mikami and lower in rank, and as such it would be easy for him to put the phone down, saying that he wished to remain uninvolved. Mikami’s only hope was to appeal to Kakinuma’s sense of justice. To get the approach right, he would have to go and see him in person.
Tomorrow.
Mikami felt weighed down as he got to his feet. He put the handset back on the cradle in the hall, trying to look normal as he walked back into the living room. Minako was watching TV. The sight reminded him of how things used to be. Had she changed for the better? Or was she just trying to make an effort to do so?
‘Anything wrong?’
‘No, everything’s fine.’
‘I ran the bath.’
‘You go first.’
‘Well, I think I might be catching a cold . . .’
‘Maybe you should go to bed then. Don’t worry, I won’t use the phone again tonight.’
Mikami imagined them in five or ten years, having the same conversation as today. It had become routine for them to worry about each other while pretending everything was normal.
He took a long bath. After this he sat in the living room having a drink, then went into the bedroom. Minako was already lying on her futon, the cordless phone in its usual place next to her pillow. The slender nape of her neck appeared orange under the glow of the lamp.
Still awake. That was the impression Mikami got.
Make sure to enjoy yourself tonight . . .
Urushibara’s heartless jab had haunted him during his bath and while he’d been having his drink in the living room. He hadn’t made love to Minako for a long time. Together, they had brought Ayumi into the world. Together, they had watched her tear herself apart. They hadn’t been able to make love since, either from desire or from a will to create new life.
Mikami breathed silently as he slipped into his futon.
They would have two children. Although they’d never discussed it officially, they had shared the same unspoken understanding. But the desire for a second child had fizzled out after Ayumi, while she was still growing up. It had become clear, even though she had never said anything, that Minako no longer wanted another child. Ayumi had taken after her father. Had Minako been secretly afraid that their next child might be another girl, but take after her?
Mikami closed his eyes.
He’d been young. Working theft in Special Investigations, First Division. Minako had been based in the annexe, doing an office job for Transport Regulation. A number of cars had been broken into at the station’s riverside car park and, with the reputation of the force on the line, Special Investigations had been deployed to look into the matter. One of the cars had been Minako’s, and Mikami had been tasked with interviewing her. He only remembered her voice. He hadn’t been able to look her properly in the face. The next year, they ended up working in the same district station. They would swap greetings whenever they saw each other. That was the extent of their relationship. She dazzled him, and he’d already decided he was unworthy of a woman like her. One day, without any forewarning, she presented him with a road-safety charm. It’s a bit silly, but here you go. She’d looked embarrassed. He had been so amazed he hadn’t been able even to thank her.
He could make out her gentle breathing. She was so close.
Do you regret all this?
Again he found himself silently voicing the question, unable to bring himself to say it.
30
Mikami drove his car from the house before nine o’clock the next morning. It was Sunday.