2
Kawaminami appeared not to have returned home yet. The lights of his room were out.
Morisu Kyōichi looked at his wristwatch. 10:10 p.m. His friend shouldn’t have gone to bed yet though.
He parked his motorbike near the entrance of the apartment building and went into the coffeehouse on the other side of the road.
The shop was open until 2:00 a.m. At this time of night it was usually full of students who lived nearby but, because of the spring holiday, there were only a few customers dotted about the place.
He took a seat near the window overlooking the road.
He sipped his black coffee and considered leaving once it was finished. After all, it wasn’t as if he had to see him. He could always make a call later.
He’s always quick to get all fired up, and then lose interest again. By now he’s probably had enough of playing detective.
Morisu put a cigarette in his mouth and started to reflect.
It had been the “letter from the dead” that had sparked Kawaminami’s interest. The letter was all it had taken to get him started. And, once he had found out that the members of the Mystery Club had gone to the island, he naturally couldn’t just sit still. Kawaminami had gone all the way to Beppu to visit Kōjirō and come to him, Morisu, to ask for advice. Usually, the Kawaminami he knew would start to lose interest around this point. However it was different this time.
Shimada Kiyoshi’s face appeared in his mind.
He wasn’t just some curiosity seeker. Morisu was of the opinion Shimada had a sharp mind. But his insensitive inquisitiveness, which Shimada seemed to think was acceptable, was something Morisu just couldn’t stand.
Of course it was normal to be intrigued by those curious letters. And, considering Shimada’s love of detective fiction, it was also natural he would dig into that case that happened last year.
Still, Morisu could only regret he himself had suggested a visit to Yoshikawa Sei’ichi’s wife. He had made the suggestion without thinking it through. What must Yoshikawa Masako have thought, when she was suddenly visited by strangers asking her this and that about her missing husband—who was also suspected of murder?
Morisu had proposed the “Nakamura Seiji is alive” theory after the duo’s report but, realistically speaking, it was impossible for Nakamura Seiji to still be alive. It was just a hypothesis he had posed to put an end to a silly detective game by a couple of detective story fans. But then Shimada had turned his attention to the motive behind the Tsunojima incident. He’d focused on the relationship between Kazue and Kōjirō and even suggested that Chiori might have been Kōjirō’s daughter. What’s more, he was planning to confront Kōjirō himself with that theory.
The smoke in his throat almost hurt. With a gloomy feeling, Morisu took another sip of his bitter coffee.
Thirty minutes had gone by and, just as Morisu was about to leave, a car stopped in front of Kawaminami’s building. It was a red Familia. Recognising the silhouette of the person who got out, Morisu stood up.
‘Kawaminami.’
He stepped out of the shop and yelled, and Kawaminami waved to him.
‘So it was you. I thought the bike looked familiar. There’s nobody in my building with anything off-road like that.’ Kawaminami was looking at the dirty, mud-covered motorbike—a Yamaha XT250—parked by the side of the road. ‘You came all the way to visit me?’
‘No, I was just passing by anyway,’ Morisu answered, tapping the knapsack hanging from his shoulder and pointing with his chin at the canvas holder set on the bike’s rear carrier rack.
‘I went to Kunisaki again today. On my way home now.’
‘How’s the painting going?’
‘I think tomorrow will be the last day. Come and see it when it’s finished.’
‘Hello, Morisu.’
Shimada had emerged from the driver’s seat and was looking at Morisu with a friendly smile. Morisu’s tone suddenly became solemn.
‘Good evening. Where did you go to today?’
‘Just a visit to Kō… no, a little drive to Beppu. You know, I’m getting along so well with Conan. We were planning to have some drinks in his room now.’
Morisu and Shimada followed Kawaminami up to his room. He quickly put away the futon mattress which was still lying on the floor, took out his folding table and prepared drinks.
‘Morisu, you too?’
‘No, I’m fine. I’m on my bike, remember?’
Shimada had headed straight for the bookcase and was looking at the spines of the tightly arranged books.
Watching Kawaminami preparing ice in his glass, Morisu asked:
‘And how’s the case going?’
‘Hmm.’ Kawaminami answered with a long face. ‘We went to S—Town yesterday, but we were only able to see Tsunojima from the beach and get to hear a couple of ghost stories.’
‘Ghost stories?’
‘The usual rumours, the ghost of Seiji roaming the island, that sort of thing.’
‘Oh. And today? You didn’t just go up there for a drive, I assume?’
A troubled look appeared on Kawaminami’s face and he grimaced.
‘Well actually….’
‘So you did go to see Mr. Kōjirō?’
‘Yes. Sorry for ignoring your warning.’
Kawaminami stopped mixing the whisky and water and looked down. Morisu sighed briefly and leant towards him.
‘And the result?’
‘We know most of what happened last year. Mr. Kōjirō told us. Mr. Shimada, your drink is ready.’
‘You mean you know the truth behind the case?’ Morisu asked in surprise.
Kawaminami nodded and gulped down his whisky and water.
‘And the truth is?’
‘The incident was basically a forced suicide planned by Seiji.’
And Kawaminami started to talk.