"All right, genius, lay off!" Takizawa jabbed Wada with an elbow, and continued his raking.
It was not until early afternoon that they got back to the station. Before that, every cinder around the point of origin of the fire had to be sorted by size. Only when it was all gathered was their survey done. The belt fragment and buckle covered with the tarry substance were turned over to the forensic scientist; determination of the ignition device and detonator would be left to the First Investigation Division.
Detectives who had observed the autopsy returned to the station about the same time. After reviewing the collective eyewitness testimony, all agreed that, while the possibility of accidental death or suicide could not be definitively ruled out, the evidence pointing to murder was persuasive. They were unanimous in recommending the incident be classified a homicide. Even if some doubt remained, it was far better to launch a thorough investigation now rather than to be too sanguine and have the case develop into a major problem later.
At 3:30 p.m., it was resolved to establish a special investigation headquarters at Tachikawa Central Station.
At 3:40 p.m., Tachikawa Central Station sent out a fax to the entire MPD jurisdiction. It outlined the case, announced the establishment of a special investigation headquarters, and called for members of a special investigative team. Such a team was always headed by the chief of the Criminal Affairs Division, and so the fax went out in the name of division chief Nagumo.
By 4:30 p.m., the headquarters had set up its operations in a large, well-equipped room. The convening team included, among others, members of the Criminal Affairs Division of Tachikawa Central Station, which would house the headquarters; the MPD Violent Crimes Unit, First Investigative Division; and the MPD Identification Division.
Detectives were mingling in the corridor as Takako arrived for this late-afternoon meeting. As a member of the Third Mobile Investigative Unit in the Criminal Affairs Division, she had been recruited for the special investigation. Her unit, which usually worked with police in the early stages of a case, accompanying them in unmarked patrol cars, followed a system of prolonged split shifts. Officers reported in the afternoon and were on duty for eighteen hours, working straight through the night and going home in the morning to crash in bed, exhausted.
The officers replacing them remained on duty for the next eighteen hours, and so on. Ordinarily, Takako, who had been off the day before, would remain on the job tonight; but once you were put on a homicide investigation, you went to work in the morning and you went home at night. She was glad for this, but the rhythm of her life was going to be interrupted all the same. And she was going to miss those regular days off.
At the door to special investigation headquarters, Takako did as she was asked, which was to write her address and contact numbers on her name card, which read:
TAKAKO OTOMICHI
OFFICER
third mobile investigative unit
Criminal Affairs Division
Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department
"Is it Officer . ..
Ondo?"
the young detective at the desk asked tentatively, looking back and forth between Takako and her name card. The ideographs for Takako's surname were not common, nor was the fact that Takako was a woman.
"It's pronounced Otomichi," Takako said straightforwardly, then turned away to join her five colleagues who had just met up with her. As they walked off, from behind her she heard the young detective say, "Thank you for coming."
"Don't let it bother you," the lieutenant, her supervisor, said to her in a low voice.
Takako glanced toward him and smiled. "I'm used to it."
If she got upset every time she was slighted or stared at for being a woman, she would never succeed as a detective. That was the first thing she learned on transferring from the Traffic Division to the Criminal Affairs Division. Come to think of it, this very same lieutenant, now taking her side, had not shown a whole lot of enthusiasm himself when Takako was placed in his unit last year.
They filed into the large meeting room and sat down. Takako glanced casually around the room. Most people present seemed to be from the MPD, but other than her five colleagues, there was no one she knew.
At 5:00 p.m., the meeting began. There was a brief greeting from Criminal Affairs Division chief Nagumo, who made an appeal for a swift solution to the case. Then Wakita, head of the Tachikawa First Investigative Division, summarized the case, reading from a script:
"As we indicated in the fax that you received, at the site of a fire that broke out early this morning within our precinct, one unidentified male body was found. The upper part of the body exhibits severe burns, some of them fourth-degree; on the lower half of the body the burning is far less extensive."
He cleared his throat.
"The location of the fire was an all-night family restaurant. There were a considerable number of eyewitnesses, and we have obtained multiple testimonies that the victim himself burst directly into flame. Furthermore, the onsite investigation this morning uncovered a piece of belt worn by the victim, along with what appears to be a timer made to look like an ordinary belt buckle. Based on these facts, this case has been declared a homicide in which the victim was killed by thermal trauma inflicted by the trigger of a timed incendiary device. Also, the origin of the fire was in a popular gathering place, and while there were no other deaths, twenty-two people were injured, some seriously. The incident could easily have escalated into a major disaster with enormous impact on society. The killer set out to take a precious human life by cruel and cowardly means, yielding to malicious, selfish urges, and is an enemy of society. This crime can even be construed to be a direct challenge to all of us gathered here as members of the police force."
It was clear, judging from their age and the way they comported themselves, that these men running the show were elite career officials. For Takako, they seemed to be from another world. There was Nagumo, the division head; Chief Wakita, in charge of the actual investigation of the case; Inspector Miyagawa, who had command of the crime site. They all sat atop the hierarchy.
Who wrote this script anyway?
As she listened to Wakita's impassioned speech, Takako entertained brief, sarcastic thoughts in a corner of her mind. She had no desire to antagonize the higher-ups, yet their speechmaking was always the same: easier said than done. And the presence of a meddlesome commanding officer on the site only made it worse; in the end, it was the ones who did the real work who would suffer. All she could do was pray that Miyagawa, who was listening impassively to Wakita go on, would prove smart enough not to get in the way of detectives in the field.
When the top guns finished their speeches, it was time to give the case a name. This name, a virtual signboard and doorplate for the investigation headquarters, would be released to all MPD stations and the media, and would be retained for posterity in police files, so it needed to have a certain cachet.
Still, what a horrific thing to do
—
fasten a timer to a belt to blow somebody up.
Watching Nagumo sit with arms folded and a severe look on his face—trying to come up with a name for the case?—Takako played with the ballpoint pen in her hand, lightly tapping it against the pages of her notebook. The profile of the perpetrator was elusive. Was he or she a specialist in explosives, or an ideologue? But either way, a crime of this nature could only be carried out by someone with a fairly high level of education. Someone who was persistent and cautious. Someone precise and determined, not a rough-and-tumble type who flew off the handle.
Thinking about the cruelty of the act sent a cold chill down her spine.
Selfish. Cruel. Takako jotted down thoughts as they occurred to her.
A maniac? A terrorist? No ordinary person would go to such elaborate lengths. What about motive?
At length Nagumo made his decision about the name of the case: "The Tachikawa Timed Combustion Belt Homicide Case." Takako recrossed her legs, tugged down the hem of her skirt, scribbled down the official name and drew a square around it.
"Name's got a real ring to it," deadpanned the older officer next to Takako, leaning toward her.
Takako gave him a sidelong glance, barely lifting an eyebrow. "Yes, much better than 'The Family Restaurant Homicide Case.'"
The man smiled, amused. This led Takako to wonder if he had noticed how nervous she was. His unobtrusive kindness was nice.
But do I look nervous? Enough to make someone take pity on me?
Although she was never aware of giving anything away, her colleagues always claimed that they could tell right off when she was nervous. Well, this time the circumstances of her being in the room were alone enough to make her nervous. It was a tough case, and her abilities were going to be tested. Even the older officer next to her was sitting with a tense expression on his face.
Usually, it was the question "why?"—spoken with head quizzically to one side—that summed up her colleagues' response to her. She was clumsy, unfriendly, incomprehensible. Especially incomprehensible. I don't get it, they would say, why do you care so much about this? Why does something like that bother you? Why are you so gung ho? Why, why, why? Over the past year they had warmed to her, a little, but behind their protests of "I don't get it," she could still hear the unspoken words: "I don't get women." Why did they obsess about it so?
Gung ho? After all this time? Give me a break! I'm not that much of a greenhorn.
Once the name of the case was settled on, headquarters staff were selected. Staff were charged with organizing the materials collected by the investigators, keeping communications flowing, and performing various subordinate tasks. Until the case was solved, it was likely they'd be too swamped with work to go home much.
Five were chosen, including a policewoman from the Tachikawa station, who immediately went into an adjoining room and returned with a large piece of paper on which she had written the name of the case. This policewoman, who was in uniform, was the only other female present.
At the end of this meeting, it was then announced, all members of the investigation would be assigned a partner to work with. Usually, those from the local precinct were teamed with backup from the neighboring precincts, and detectives from the main police office, who were professional investigators, were paired with officers from patrol units. So from this point on, she would be working constantly with a partner—who it might be was a question that loomed large. After all, until the case was solved, they would have to spend the better part of each day in each other's company. In the past, officers paired with her had made a face the moment they realized Takako was female. So naturally Takako felt herself getting even more tense. Already, she was feeling the pricks of stares as she sat there.
It's not the first time you've ever seen a woman, is it? Are your wives all men?
What would they say to that? Would they even know what she was talking about? There was little one could do. These cops were just not used to working with women.
With opening formalities wrapped up, Captain Watanuki, who would conduct the meetings from now on, got up and proceeded to write on the whiteboard the points of the investigation:
VICTIM'S IDENTITY AND ACQUAINTANCES
SUICIDE OR HOMICIDE
ARSON OR ACCIDENTAL FIRE
ONSITE INVESTIGATION
INVESTIGATION OF EVIDENCE FROM SITE
PREVIOUS OFFENDERS WITH SIMILAR MOTIVE
ANALYSIS OF CHEMICAL AND PARTS OF INCENDIARY DEVICE
While Takako was copying the list down, a screen was set up. Through a wireless mike came the gravelly sound of Watanuki's voice: "OK, I'm going to start with a rundown on the case and a damage report, and then I'll move on to the forensic examiner's report and the results of the autopsy."
The lights were dimmed, and a slide was projected onto the screen. First was an outer view of the building destroyed in the fire. Windows in the ground-floor restaurant were shattered, outside walls darkened with soot. The flames had reached as far as the fifth floor of this six-story building.
"It's something of a miracle that in a blaze of this intensity, there were no other deaths besides the intended victim. The reason is that most of the building was occupied by small businesses, and few people were there late at night."
There was a
click,
and the interior of the building showed on screen.
"The victim was found in the seating area of the fire scene."
The empty interior was burned black, and from the force of the water used to extinguish the fire, most of what remained of the chairs and tables lay heaped in a corner.
Click.
A close-up of the seat.
"The back of the curved bench on which the victim is believed to have been sitting—but not the seat—was burned far more severely than any other bench in the restaurant. Note where even the stuffing has carbonized."
The slides continued, with more explanation of the main features of the fire.
"The victim's body was found in the approximate center of the seating area, at a considerable distance from the entrance. The eighty or so customers and eight employees who were in the restaurant at the time of the fire made a speedy evacuation. During the rush to exit the building several people were injured, but only one seriously. Putting these facts together, the circumstances in which the body was found disallow any assumption that the victim, an able-bodied male, was so overcome by smoke that he alone failed to escape."
Takako was already familiar with the general conditions of the fire, yet seeing these photographs made it brutally vivid. She peered hard at the screen, determined to commit to memory all she saw.
"Eyewitnesses in the restaurant have testified that the victim burst suddenly into flames, and that he collapsed on the floor after stumbling around crying for help."
After several shots of the restaurant interior, a slide of the victim was projected on the screen, and Takako felt something rise from the pit of her stomach. The slide showed the burned body lying curled on a stretcher, just after it was carried out of the site. Bits of badly burned clothing were glued to the lower half of the body; on the face, which was completely blackened, no expression was discernible.