Yaeko Kato’s looks surpassed all expectations.
It was the next day when Yanagi’s parcel arrived containing the prints. The quality was incredible, considering he’d had to use an infrared camera.
Perfect.
Shindo headed out a little after midday, driving south down the national highway. Yamamoto, having contracted a throat infection, was forcing his listeners to endure an unpleasant stream of pop hits.
The traffic was, thankfully, light. And there was no need to look for the hotel; it slipped into view the moment he exited the highway. It was an odd structure, designed to look like a temple from Southeast Asia. Shindo swung around and into the parking area, crossing the sheets of multicoloured plastic which functioned as a barrier. He was familiar enough with this kind of place. As a young officer in district, he’d often made the rounds of these ‘love hotels’ when investigating cases of sexual misconduct.
He entered and called out as he approached the counter. After a short pause a stubbled face appeared, tilted sideways in the narrow aperture which connected the room on the other side. Shindo wasted no time in showing his ID.
‘Don’t worry, it’s nothing to do with you,’ he said. During the course of living a normal life, of working for a wage, most people ended up with a blip or two that could be of interest to the force. That was why the first thing you did was make sure they felt at ease, get them to drop their guard.
Stubble proved no exception. He emerged from a side door, looking placid and half asleep. ‘What do you want?’
Shindo decided to skip the introductions. He held out one of the photos of Yaeko Kato. ‘Have you seen this woman here?’
Stubble nodded to confirm he had.
‘Is she a regular?’
‘I guess.’
‘Okay. What about this man?’ Shindo held out a photo of Sone, taken in profile. It was from his file in Internal Affairs, cropped neatly around the chin. He couldn’t show the man’s police uniform.
Stubble cocked his head to one side. ‘Hard to say.’ He didn’t appear to be lying.
‘She comes here with someone else?’
‘I mean, there are a few of them . . .’
‘More than one?’
‘Sure, why not? She’s a good-looking woman. This some kind of case?’
The man seemed to be waking up, which indicated to Shindo that this was a good time to stop asking questions. During any normal investigation he would have ordered a warrant, requested a list of car registration numbers alongside the log of calls from the room.
This time, his hands were tied.
Still, he’d made progress. Yaeko Kato frequented the hotel with various partners, yet Stubble had not recognised Sone’s red face. If nothing turned up linking him to the bar, the letter could probably be dismissed as a case of unfounded slander.
Shindo allowed himself to relax during the drive back.
That leaves finding out who wrote the letter.
Shindo entered his apartment. There was a fax from Kanako asking him to call, followed by a single blank sheet. The signal that Yanagi wanted him to get in touch.
When the man answered, he said the words matter-of-factly: ‘Sone has been frequenting Mumu.’