Chapter 8: Suspect Hiroshi Yamamoto—A Killing That Strikes the Soul

11 a.m., Shinjuku Police Station.

Hideyuki Aoyama stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the desk while watching the surveillance footage from Paradise Karaoke three days ago.

Nowadays, surveillance footage was blurry and lacked audio, making it extremely taxing on the eyes.

Aya Asai stood beside him, animatedly sharing her discoveries. “Look, Aoyama, Hiroshi Yamamoto did enter a private room. Not long after he left, another person emerged from that room—must be the friend he mentioned.”

“About ten minutes later, Yamamoto hurriedly returned. He spoke with the manager, and when I asked the manager, he said Yamamoto claimed to have lost something important. The manager assigned staff to help him search, but nothing was found. Everything happened just as Yamamoto described.”

Asai’s eyes grew brighter, her tone more excited. “But! Yamamoto said the karaoke was crowded that day, yet from the footage, there weren’t many customers. The manager also said business was slow during the day; only at night did it get busy.”

“Could it be he exaggerated the chaos to lessen his responsibility for losing his gun?” Aoyama replied lightly.

“No!” Asai fixed her gaze on him, a smile slowly curving her lips. “It’s possible, but as you pointed out, he should’ve been anxious and distraught after losing his gun. Yet he still had the composure to tidy his home, keeping it immaculate. Comparing these two facts, his claim about a crowded karaoke is clearly a deliberate attempt to conceal something more important.”

“Looks like you’re not as dense as I thought.” Aoyama smiled gently, switching off the footage.

Asai bristled, thrusting out her chest in defense. “I passed the civil service exam on my first try, you know! I’m not stupid, just inexperienced.”

“Mm, mm, you’re right.” Aoyama nodded perfunctorily, then shared what he’d learned at the Nohara residence, concluding, “So, the current suspects are the Noguchi gang and Yamamoto.”

“Yamamoto? You suspect he staged the murder of Nohara Take?” Asai was startled, staring at Aoyama in disbelief. She’d only thought Yamamoto was hiding something, not that he might be the killer. “But as you said, Mrs. Nohara claims her husband didn’t know Yamamoto. If they had no connection, why would Yamamoto go to such lengths to kill Nohara?”

Without waiting for Aoyama’s reply, she continued, “I think Noguchi gang is more likely. They have a motive. It’s not unusual for gangs to kill for profit.”

“And why did Nohara Take go alone near Nishiyama High late at night? That wasn’t his way home—someone must have called him there, and the Noguchi gang, being his business partners, could have done so.”

Although the new Anti-Gang Measures Act had just been implemented at the start of the year, forcing gangs to be more cautious, their violence was notorious—they wouldn’t hesitate to commit crimes even under pressure.

“Mrs. Nohara didn’t say for certain that her husband had no interaction with Yamamoto, only that she wasn’t sure.” After a moment’s thought, Aoyama continued, “Let’s use process of elimination. Start with Yamamoto, at least clarify what he’s hiding. It’ll help solve the case.”

“Right!” Asai replied, then muttered, “I’m the supervisor, you know.”

Aoyama ignored her complaint.

That afternoon, Ryoichi Fujimoto returned. Asai called a meeting of all officers involved in the shooting case.

“Assistant Chief Fujimoto, any discoveries on your end?” Asai looked to him.

Fujimoto shook his head, his expression grim. “It was too late that night. Nobody witnessed anything. We’ll expand our canvassing tomorrow and check surveillance on other streets.”

“We’ve found a clue, though,” Asai motioned for him to sit, then turned to Aoyama. “Aoyama, you explain.”

Fujimoto instinctively looked at Aoyama.

“Yes.” Aoyama stood, glanced around the room, and began, “Today, I…”

After he finished, the room erupted in murmurs, everyone whispering to one another.

“This is an absurd conjecture!” Fujimoto scoffed, sneering, “You suspect a colleague of being the killer just on these grounds? Aoyama, your reasoning is reckless. According to Mrs. Nohara, he didn’t even know Yamamoto—why would Yamamoto kill him? What’s the motive? Suppose it was premeditated; if so, why risk using his own gun?”

He paused, then intoned dryly, “Aoyama, I know you’re eager to redeem yourself and return to the Metropolitan Police, but since you were demoted for mistakes, you should reflect and do your work diligently, not chase rewards by sacrificing your colleagues’ reputations!”

The atmosphere in the conference room grew tense. Everyone sensed Fujimoto’s displeasure with Aoyama, which wasn’t surprising; since Aoyama had arrived at Shinjuku, Fujimoto had never warmed to him.

“Assistant Chief!” Aoyama raised his voice, his face composed. “I’m just following leads and making deductions. As for Yamamoto’s motive and why he’d use his own gun, isn’t it our job to investigate? If he’s innocent, our inquiry will clear his name.”

He added coolly, “Yet you, Assistant Chief, seem overly defensive about my reasonable suspicion. Anyone else might think you and Yamamoto are accomplices.”

Although challenging superiors was taboo in Japan, Aoyama had already stood up to Asai, the division chief, so he certainly wasn’t afraid of Fujimoto.

“Idiot!” Fujimoto exploded, standing and shouting, “You insolent fool—”

“Enough!” Asai slammed her hand on the table. “Quiet! The clues were found by me and Aoyama together, and the theory is ours. Are you questioning him—or me?”

“No, of course not!” Fujimoto quickly lowered his head.

“Hmph.” Asai snorted, her icy gaze sweeping the room. “Our focus will be a discreet investigation of Yamamoto. Because he’s a colleague, we must clear him as quickly as possible.”

“Yes!” everyone replied in unison, heads bowed.

“Meeting adjourned.” Asai turned and left.

Everyone rose to bow her out.

“Inspector.” Fujimoto shot a baleful glance at Aoyama, then hurried after Asai, catching up to her in the corridor and handing her two movie tickets. “Inspector, there’s a new film out. Shall we see it tonight? Proper relaxation helps us investigate better.”

“I’m sorry…” Asai began to refuse.

At that moment, Aoyama’s voice rang out from behind, “Take them. I’d like to see it.”

Both Asai and Fujimoto turned to see Aoyama approaching with a cheerful smile.

Meeting Aoyama’s eyes, Asai was reluctant but didn’t dare contradict him. She accepted the tickets from Fujimoto and bowed politely. “Thank you, Assistant Chief, for your kindness.”

Fujimoto was bewildered, his thoughts in disarray.

“Look on the bright side—at least she accepted your gift. Even if she’s going with me, you bought the tickets, so you have a bit of involvement.” Aoyama smiled gently at Fujimoto, then walked away arm-in-arm with Asai.

Vengeance, subtle and cutting.

Fujimoto remained frozen, hand still extended, staring blankly at their retreating figures. His anger flared, his face twisted.

“Idiot!”

He kicked over the trash bin in the corridor.

The loud crash drew curious heads from offices up and down the hall.

Fujimoto sheepishly righted the bin.

His molars were clenched so tightly they might shatter. Why?

Why was everything so easily handed to Aoyama—both women and career—while he himself was left wanting?

Was it simply because he wasn’t from the career track?

The inferiority bred by his background and the discrimination he suffered had warped his psyche.