Nocturne of Remembrance (12 page)

“Uh-Uhm, the murder wasn’t motivated by money …”

“So you didn’t bother to touch on that in the deposition? That’s carelessness. If there was any financial gain to be had from his death, it’s supporting evidence regarding her motive. I want you to immediately look into Akiko and Shingo’s assets and loans and debts.”

“Um …”

“There’s something else, too. The actual interrogators of the accused and persons of interest: Lieutenant Kamiyama, Sergeant Takagi, and Sergeant Kuroda. Bring them here. I want some details
about the questioning straight from them.”

This, as one might expect, ruffled Hatsuda, who had presided over the investigation, and he showed it by glaring at Misaki as he said, “Excuse me, but why are you being so insistent about this case? We scored a complete victory in the first trial, and we even have the accused’s confession.”

“The defense attorney for the appeal trial is a guy named Reiji Mikoshiba. Do you know him?”

Hatsuda scowled right away when he heard the name. “Him? Of course I know his name. But isn’t he still in the hospital?”

“Following his discharge the other day, it seems he was assigned immediately to this case. It was a sleight of hand, perpetrated at lightning speed.”

“Was this change of attorneys at the request of Akiko Tsuda? Ah, I bet she got his name in jail from some nasty character.”

“No, he offered himself via her previous attorney. The switch was all Mikoshiba’s doing from the start.”

Hatsuda thought about it with a puzzled look on his face. “That really is strange,” he admitted. “Akiko Tsuda is nothing like Mikoshiba’s other clients. He couldn’t demand exorbitant fees from her.”

“That’s exactly why you have to look into the Tsuda family’s assets again. Who’s to say there aren’t any that our side overlooked? Although the chances are probably slim.”

“Why is that, sir?”

“If she were aiming for financial gain from the outset, the deed wouldn’t have been so clumsy. She would’ve planned and gone about it in a way that would deflect suspicion from her, at least.”

“In that case, Mikoshiba has some other goal in mind …”

“Which isn’t clear to me, which is why I’m here.”

This alone seemed to have convinced Hatsuda, and he nodded. The name Reiji Mikoshiba elicited the same impression across disparate standpoints and institutions. “I’ve been burnt more than once by that lawyer, too. We arrested a gang boss for violating the Swords and
Firearms Control Law, and before we knew it he was out on probation. It felt like a big catch we’d finally reeled in had been snatched from us and released. I can’t tell you how much that lowered the team’s morale.”

“And Mikoshiba’s compensation? He defended a gang. In any case, it would not be modest.”

“It’s unconfirmed, but reportedly the boss looked pretty pale when they let him go. He must have been billed a king’s ransom.”

“With clients like that, he’s lucky not to get garroted.”

“If you’re the type who would hate to live behind bars and need reinforcements, I guess no one is more dependable. For the other side, though, there’s no worse nemesis. Whoever stabbed him was probably one of them.”

“So he’s an avaricious daredevil, which makes it all the more perplexing that he’d stick his nose into this case.”

“I wonder whether he has some grudge against the force or the prosecution.”

“You mean he’s venting his anger by embarrassing us? No. I remember his expression when he won a decision against me. He didn’t even throw a glance our way. If he really wanted to get back at us, a guy like him would make a show of it.”

Looking at Hatsuda, who sank into silence, once again Misaki had misgivings. A simple incident with a simple motive, an uncomplicated first trial—rereading the court records hadn’t revealed any flaws in the prosecution’s claims. What on earth about this case was enticing Mikoshiba, and where had he found a hole?

Misaki shook his head. Since thinking about it yielded no conclusions, he could only attend to whatever he could think of. Fill the inner and outer moats, and post troops at every gate. Then wait for the other side’s next move.

“When he took over, the only thing he asked for was the court record. I’m in the midst of reviewing it, but I want to be ready to rebut any additional evidence that he might produce. It might be a hassle for the precinct, but given who we are up against, there is no such thing
as being too cautious.”

“I will go get the three interrogators right away.”

“It goes without saying, but you might want to mention Mikoshiba by name. I think that will make it easier to secure the investigators’ full cooperation.

Hatsuda’s expression warmed a bit, and then he sat up straight. “Certainly.”

After Hatsuda left, Misaki sank deeply into his chair. A bit of friction didn’t stand in the way of unity among organization men when they faced a common threat. This was particularly true of civil servants. The more allies Misaki had, the better.

With a self-deprecating smile, he silently plunged back into thought.

Having interviewed the three police personnel, the next place Misaki headed for was the Tokyo District High Court, which was on the same block as the District Prosecutor’s Office.

The person he was looking to see was waiting for him in the judge’s chambers on the fifteenth floor of the government office building.

“Please excuse me for intruding suddenly, Judge Sanjo.”

Judge Mamoru Sanjo came away from his desk and invited Misaki to sit down on the visitor’s sofa. The fact that he was courteous to someone who was seven years younger than him was one of his virtues, but Misaki felt a bit embarrassed.

“No problem,” the judge said. “As a university junior of mine, you’re always welcome to come pay me a courtesy call.”

He was, though, implying that he hadn’t let Misaki come to his office as a prosecutor. This fastidiousness was also one of his good points, but again Misaki felt embarrassed.

The so-called “out-of-court oral argument”—a prosecutor in charge of an on-going case visiting the presiding judge in his chambers to mix small talk with discussion of the case—was a practice that legal observers had criticized from long ago. Every year, about forty judges
were transferred to the Ministry of Justice for one tour, during which several served as investigation and trial prosecutors. Conversely, some public prosecutors went on loan to the courts. Naturally the fence between the two sides grew porous thanks to such exchanges, and out-of-court oral arguments became the norm.

From the defense’s perspective, however, the setup was pure and simple collusion. Judge Sanjo, who was known for his integrity, had a record of strictly refraining from out-of-court oral arguments. And it was not hard to imagine that he was guarding against one when he addressed Misaki without referring to his title.

“Even so, what turn of events brings you here today? I think this is your first visit since your official greeting upon being transferred here in April.”

“I’m always ready to learn at your knees when it comes to recent judicial affairs. Judge Sanjo, about the Setagaya murder case appealed a few days ago—”

“Oh, my!” the judge exclaimed with exaggerated surprise. “Fully aware that I preside over it? Well, I’m a bit troubled. Because I’m afraid we won’t be enjoying any small talk today.”

“You mean, even if it isn’t recorded?”

“The most reliable recording machine is not sold in stores. It’s right here,” said Sanjo, pointing to his heart. “There’s a recording machine in here. Mine is of particularly high quality. So much so that fellow judges and prosecutors frequently find it irritating.” He peered into Misaki’s eyes and added, “You must know this doctrine of mine. Isn’t that why you’ve been steering clear of my chambers?”

“There’s no need to switch on your recorder, sir. What I hope to learn at your knees today are your private views of a person related to the case rather than the case itself.”

“A related person?”

“The attorney Reiji Mikoshiba.”

“Ah, him.” Sanjo looked at Misaki meaningfully. “Is he the reason why we’re being treated to the rare sight? A Tokyo District Deputy
Chief Prosecutor, taking point in court?”

The judge had gotten to the heart of the matter, and Misaki was at a loss for words. Judges and prosecutors—their positions differed, but the legal community was a small world. News that Misaki was prosecuting the appeal trial must have spread like wildfire.

“Are you ‘avenging in Nagasaki a grudge from Edo’?” pressed Sanjo. “No, someone of your caliber would hardly be so blinkered. Perhaps you felt that no other prosecutor would do?”

“… Either way, I was taken aback when the attorney changed right after they appealed. I thought he was still in the hospital.”

“It’s like a dead man coming back from the grave, isn’t it?”

“If there’s any dead man who can argue like that guy, I want to meet him. Judge Sanjo, what do you make of it?”

“Hm. It did seem rather sudden to me, too. I heard that it was such a bad injury that for a while there he went back and forth between life and death. He must have made a fortune by now, so he could take his time healing up and still pay his bills. You’ve got to give it to him that the case he jumps into upon being discharged is this one.”

“So the defense is indeed at a disadvantage?” lobbed Misaki, fully aware that his question touched upon the case itself. This was easy to return though, and he hoped the judge would play.

“You hardly need to ask a judge. As far as one can tell from the foregoing materials and statement of verdict, the appeal was merely procedural. They objected that the punishment was inappropriate, but that was in fact the court’s view, too. In the sense that it should have been heavier.”

Misaki mentally patted his chest in relief. The judge was discussing the case in general terms. This much didn’t infringe on his doctrine, and he had returned the ball to Misaki.

Sanjo continued, “The prosecution must be quite satisfied with that judgment. A confession, physical evidence, an eyewitness, a motive, everything was there. Fine pieces all of which fell in place. So it’ll be very interesting to see what kind of argument the defense puts
up at the appeal trial.”

“Is that because Mikoshiba is the attorney?”

“The facts couldn’t be worse, the defense just got up from his sick bed, and both public opinion and the jury are on the prosecution’s side. It’s a full-blown siege, but considering Mikoshiba’s track record, you have to be on your guard.”

“So even a man like you thinks highly of him.”

“Highly, no. It’s more that I don’t know what to think of him,” the judge replied amusedly. “Over the years I’ve met numerous denizens of this legal world of ours: people who’re obsessed with their status or their compensation or their own sense of justice … But he’s the odd one out who doesn’t fit into any of those categories. His tactics are singular, too. He lets loose his arrows from where the prosecution least expects. It’s almost like guerilla warfare. And if you fumble at removing one of his arrows, the poison that covered its tip courses through your body, and you end up dead.”

“… As someone who’s been pierced by one of his arrows, I can’t help but agree with you.”

“According to what I heard, for one case he brought a huge medical device into the Supreme Court. At that point, you’re going beyond ordinary notions of mounting a defense and entering street-performance territory. Yet that performance convinces the judge and the jury. I can only call him a unique talent.” Eyeing Misaki mischievously, Sanjo asked, “Well? Is the erstwhile champion of the Nagoya District Prosecutor’s Office so quickly raising a white flag against his guerrilla tactics?”

“Even if my opponent is a guerilla, as things stand, my side can only counter with rulebook measures. But what’s bothering me right now is not the enemy’s tactics but his motive for adopting the cause.”

“And what do you mean by that?”

“I don’t see any merit, whatsoever, for him.”

“Hm. I’ve heard that almost as if to atone for milking shady people of means, he has a thing for taking on court-appointed cases that don’t
pay. It’s not one of those?”

“Certainly he has taken on such cases, but only where the accused claims to be innocent and the verdict itself is at issue. Not cases like this one where the accused has confessed to the crime.”

“Why are you assuming that someone would never take up a case if there’s nothing to be gained from it? That’s the whole point of the court-appointed attorney system.”

“Do you really think that miser would go into court when he has nothing to gain?”

“Well, that, indeed, is unlikely.” Although Sanjo folded his arms, he didn’t appear to be taking the matter very seriously and readily maintained his third-party act. “Why a slave to money might defend an absolutely disadvantageous case in the absence of any gain—is that what you wanted to learn through our idle chit-chat?”

“If I may be so bold, I’d love to hear your views on countering guerrillas. In general would be fine.”

“A man of your caliber, begging for advice? I’m rather stunned.”

“Even eminent and successful men invite the teachings of others. Why shouldn’t a man who is neither?”

“Well, now, that’s quite worldly of you. As someone who’s close to retiring, I ought to follow your example. That said, I’m awfully sorry to disappoint you, but what’s stuck in your throat is a mere small bone that I advise you just wash down with something.”

“But—”

“Whatever his motive for coming to aid, your opponent’s armaments are limited, aren’t they? No matter how loudly he yells that it’s a holy war for the motherland, he’s still charging at a tank with a bamboo spear. You just need to watch which way that spear is pointing, no?” Sanjo unfolded his arms and leaned back against the sofa. “In any case, the first hearing is like a game of wait-and-see. It wouldn’t be too late to strategize after you’ve scouted out your opponent’s next move.”

Sanjo’s words made a lot of sense, and Misaki could only nod. He did so sullenly, but the judge was not the kind of person to miss that.

“Oh, is my answer so dissatisfying?”