CHAPTER EIGHT: THE FOURTH DAY ON THE MAINLAND
1
‘Is it really all right for me to come along?’ asked Kawaminami once again.
They were sitting in the car heading from O—City to Kamegawa. Shimada, who was holding the steering wheel, kept his eyes front as he nodded several times.
‘Really. You knew Chiori and you’re also one of the “victims” of those threat letters. And having come this far, you wouldn’t want to be left out of the investigation, would you?’
‘That’s true.’
He couldn’t forget about the warning Morisu Kyōichi had given them two nights earlier.
Was it all right for them to invade other people’s privacy just to satisfy their own curiosity?
Shimada said that he and Kōjirō were much closer than Kawaminami and Morisu appeared to think. He added that Morisu’s ideas and attitude might be a bit too stuffy.
He knew what Shimada thought. To be honest, Kawaminami didn’t like Morisu’s sudden change of attitude either, despite the help he’d happily provided at the start of their deduction game. Nevertheless, Kawaminami felt reluctant and even guilty about making such an informal visit to Kōjirō once again, a mere three days after his first.
‘If you’re really so against this, Conan, then just pretend we became best of friends these last three days. And now I’m dragging my friend along against his will. Is that better?’ said Shimada with a straight face. “He’s really a strange person,” thought Kawaminami.
It wasn’t just that he was brimming with curiosity. Kawaminami was certain that this man had powers of observation and insight that far surpassed his own. When Morisu had advanced the theory that Nakamura Seiji was still alive, it appeared that Shimada had already thoroughly considered the possibility.
The decisive difference between Morisu and Shimada was that while Morisu was, in a way, a strangely conservative realist, Shimada was like a dream-gazing child, a sort of romanticist. He would let his imagination run wild on any real case that interested him and if he found a possibility he thought interesting, he would sublimate that into something like a “dream.” That was how the man appeared in Kawaminami’s eyes.
And that was perhaps the reason why, to Shimada, the question of whether his “dream” corresponded to reality was of secondary, even tertiary importance.
The car left the National Route and they drove through familiar city streets.
The characteristic smell of hot springs mingled with the wind flowing in through the half-open window of the passenger side. It was often described as “the smell of rotten eggs,” but Kawaminami didn’t dislike the smell of hydrogen sulphide.
They arrived at Kōjirō’s house just after three o’clock in the afternoon.
‘He should be here today,’ Shimada muttered, standing in front of the gate.
‘The high school he works at is already on spring holiday and even if today were a school day, it’s Saturday, so he should be home by now. And he’s not the kind of person who’d go out even if he had the time.’
‘Didn’t you call him to say we’re coming?’ asked Kawaminami, to which Shimada shook his head.
‘Kō, you know, he likes surprise visits.’
‘Oh.’
‘Odd, right? Depends on who’s coming, of course. But as I’m a close friend.’ Shimada winked and laughed.
The garden that Yoshikawa Sei’ichi had so often come from Ajimu to tend was, as always, full of blooming flowers. Beyond the roof, branches with buds of cherry blossom were visible. As they walked along the stone steps, the brittle petals of a spiraea sprinkled their shoulders.
This time, the doorbell was answered immediately.
‘Oh, it’s you, Shimada. And you too… Kawaminami, if I remember correctly?’
Kōjirō was dressed sharply today as well. Black slacks, a shirt with black stripes and a light coffee-brown Aran cardigan.
Kōjirō led the two of them to the same sitting space in the back, with no sign of surprise at Kawaminami’s presence.
Shimada dropped down into the rattan chair on the veranda. Kawaminami waited for Kōjirō to offer him a seat, and let his body sink into one of the sofas.
‘So what’s up today?’ Kōjirō asked while he was preparing tea.
‘There was something we wanted to ask you.’
Shimada leaned forward in the rocking chair, his elbows on his knees.
‘But before I ask you about that, where were you two days ago?’
‘Two days ago?’ Kōjirō looked questioningly at Shimada. ‘I’ve been home every day the last few days. School’s on vacation.’
‘Really? We stopped by two days ago, on the night of the 27th, but you didn’t answer the door.’
‘I have to apologise for that. I have a deadline for a thesis and I’ve been pretending not to be at home for visitors and phone callers alike, these past two or three days.’
‘Is that any way to treat a friend?’
‘Sorry, if I had known it was you, I would have let you in.’
Kōjirō handed them the tea cups and sat down in the sofa across from Kawaminami.
‘And what did you have to ask me? Kawaminami is here too, so I assume it’s connected to those prank letters signed with my brother’s name?’
‘Yes. But today we’re here on a slightly different matter.’
Shimada took a breath and continued.
‘Actually, we want to ask something private about the deceased Chiori.’
The hand that held Kōjirō’s cup of tea stopped in mid-air.
‘About Chiori?’
‘I’m going to ask you a very weird question, Kō. You can punch me if you think it’s unforgivable.’
And then Shimada asked straight out.
‘Was Chiori perhaps your daughter?’
‘Nonsense. What kind of question is that?’
Kōjirō replied instantly, but Kawaminami had noticed that for one brief moment his face had turned pale.