“Matsunaga speaking.”
“This is Takenaka. Where are you right now?”
The voice was cold.
“I’m near the East Wing site, sir. I heard you were out of the office…”
“Come back here right now. I have something to ask you.”
“What is it?”
“I can’t talk about it on the phone. How long will it take you?”
“About fifteen minutes?”
“You can make it sooner than that. Get over to the team meeting room. I’ll be waiting for you.”
Then he hung up. It was a most unwelcome call, but it had dragged Mitsuhiro out of his state of desperate melancholy. He gave the phone an irritated snort and parked the car in the company lot on top of the hill. His anger quickened his pace as he walked back to the company building.
He got into the elevator, wiped the sweat from his brow, and entered one of the conference rooms.
Takenaka was there, and the state of him made Mitsuhiro blink. He was wearing his usual short-sleeved shirt and slacks, but the left side of his face was bandaged up, and his left arm was covered in dressings and suspended from his neck with a sling. The second surprise came when three unfamiliar men in suits turned around to face him at the same time.
Mitsuhiro closed the door behind him with his right hand, which was holding his bag. His first guess was that Takenaka had gotten in an accident and was being questioned about it.
“What’s going on?”
Takenaka didn’t answer, his face still stern, but one of the men in suits spoke for him.
“We’re here looking into the arson at Mr. Takenaka’s house last night.”
Mitsuhiro’s mouth fell open. He stared back at Takenaka’s angry eyes.
“Detective Kitagawa, Shibuya Police Department.”
The man took out his ID, drawing Mitsuhiro’s attention. “Kazuya Kitagawa, Criminal Investigation Division” was printed on it.
“So,” Kitagawa began as he put his ID back in his pocket, “I hear you spoke to Mr. Takenaka about a problem at a construction site. A possible arson?”
“Um… When was this?”
“About the ritual hall. The one you’re so preoccupied with,” Takenaka interjected.
“I’m sorry, could you step outside for a moment, please?”
One of the other men stepped in to stop Takenaka before he could be any more intimidating. Takenaka nodded, glaring at Mitsuhiro, and then limped out of the conference in obvious pain.
“Please, have a seat,” said Kitagawa, pulling out a chair for himself. It was a conference room at his own company, but Mitsuhiro now felt like he was on a sales call to some outside firm, so he sat down and placed his bag on the floor. The other two sat a distance away, silently observing the conversation.
“Mr. Matsunaga. We heard about an incident involving you and an arson at the construction site. The site manager mentioned you during his interview. I understand that you and your boss, Mr. Takenaka, had a disagreement about whether or not to make this arson public.”
“Yes, but I apologized to Chief Sugawara for it…”
“Right, but witnesses told us it was only with great reluctance. Mr. Matsunaga, do you think you have something against your boss, Mr. Takenaka, because you were forced to apologize against your will?”
“No, not at all,” he quickly replied. Apparently, he was now an arson suspect. He remembered the looks he had received from the staff after he brought Yoshikazu Hara out of the hole, and he stiffened with discomfort. “I certainly regret making such a fuss over a small fire, yes, but I have no idea about any of this.”
“If I could ask what you were doing last night…”
“I was at home with my daughter. My wife is pregnant and feeling unwell, so she was in the hospital for observation. My mother-in-law came over for us, but I still tried to get back home as soon as possible.”
“I see.”
Kitagawa nodded, but his indifferent eyes made it clear he wasn’t ready to end the conversation.
“Do you know Tomohito Okuyama from Helping Hands Mutual Aid Society?”
“Huh? Oh. Yes, I do.”
“Mr. Okuyama told us that you are looking for a certain person.”
“Yes, a man named Yoshikazu Hara… He was working at the site, and I didn’t know he had Alzheimer’s, but I wound up letting him leave his post.”
“What kind of work does someone with Alzheimer’s do?”
Mitsuhiro reluctantly explained, even though he hadn’t been the one to hire him.
“He was working at a ritual hall underground… I found out later that he was hired by a specialist contractor.”
“A ritual hall? Like what Mr. Tamai the shaman deals in?”
“Shaman…?”
“Ah, sorry.”
He didn’t know what Kitagawa was apologizing for. He couldn’t really picture what he meant by shaman, but he frowned at the word anyway. Kitagawa quickly changed the subject.
“So he was hired by Tamai Construction?”
“Yes. Do you know them?”
“Well, they come to our station pretty often.”
The Shibuya Police Department was a stone’s throw away from the East Wing site. Kitagawa acted like this should be common knowledge since they were all neighbors, but to be honest, Mitsuhiro had no idea where this was going.
“So, Mr. Matsunaga, it seems like quite a few other people besides this Yoshikazu Hara have disappeared.”
“I heard that from Mr. Okuyama, too. I don’t know anything about it, though.”
“Witnesses informed us that people went away with you after you struck up conversations with them and never came back.”
“Oh… You know, I’d buy him some ice cream or something so I could investigate Yoshikazu Hara.”
“Did you give them alcohol?”
“Well, sometimes but not always…”
“I heard you were using a company car.”
“Um…? So…?”
“Do you think the dashcam would show anyone with you in the car?”
“Yes, I think so.”
Kitagawa was trying to pressure him, it seemed. Mitsuhiro felt like a deer in the headlights. Then the detective, attempting to elicit more of a response from him, slowed his pace a little.