Chapter 69: The Missing Ōkawa
“That task force?” Matsushita Makoto’s ears pricked up. “You mean the one that’s been searching for that high school kid, Kimura, for the past few days?” It was clear she, too, had heard some of the rumors circulating through the precinct.
“If it were just a matter of assigning someone to that task force, there are plenty of top-notch detectives in Tokyo. They certainly wouldn’t need to be pulling anyone from our small, regional precinct,” the inspector said, his brow furrowed as he took another long, slow drag from his cigarette. “But a new missing person case has just come up on Mie Island, one that has a direct and rather peculiar connection to our jurisdiction. That’s why you’re being dispatched, Kishida. Your primary objective will be to investigate this new disappearance. Do you understand?”
“A missing person case?” Kishida Masayoshi’s expression was one of complete confusion.
“That’s right. The missing person is a man named Ōkawa Terakado. The report was filed by his wife, Ōkawa Mina. According to her statement, on the afternoon of last Sunday, June 24th, the Ōkawa family took a ferry to Mie Island for a family vacation. Approximately five hours later, at 7 PM, their ferry arrived at the Mie Island pier.”
“After disembarking, the Ōkawa family took a taxi to their reserved hotel. Surveillance footage from the hotel confirms that they checked in at precisely 7:07 PM. Then, at 7:45 PM, Ōkawa Terakado left the hotel, by himself. He never returned.”
“On the morning of June 25th, Ōkawa Mina filed her first report with the local police. But because Ōkawa Terakado is an adult, and had been missing for less than the standard 48-hour period, her case was not officially opened.”
“Because she had to look after her young child, Ōkawa Mina had very little time to search for her husband herself. On the evening of June 25th, she went to the police again, desperate. This time, the local police took down Ōkawa Terakado’s phone number. After confirming that the phone was still ringing when they called it, they concluded that the situation was likely not a critical emergency and once again refused her request for a full-scale search and rescue operation.”
“During this time, Ōkawa Mina also called her husband’s phone dozens, if not hundreds, of times. The phone always rang, but no one ever answered. And so it went, until the evening of June 26th, which was yesterday. The Gogatsu Village police station on Mie Island finally, officially, opened a missing person case for Ōkawa Terakado.”
“For the entire night of the 26th, and all day today, the local police have been conducting a search. But they haven’t found a single, solitary trace of Ōkawa Terakado.”
“An adult man, gone for three full days without a single word of contact… honestly, the probability that he has met with foul play is, at this point, extremely high.”
The inspector sighed heavily as he finished his grim account. The system was what it was. He knew that if the local police had initiated a search operation sooner, the outcome might have been different. But there was no point in dwelling on that now. What was done, was done.
Matsushita Makoto pouted. “But if it was a premeditated murder, Ōkawa Terakado might have been killed on the very first night, the night of the 24th.”
“Do the Mie Island police suspect that the person responsible for Ōkawa Terakado’s disappearance, or rather, his murder, is from our jurisdiction?” Kishida Masayoshi asked, his own mind already working through the various, grim possibilities. Based on the timeline, he, too, was inclined to believe that Ōkawa Terakado was already dead. But as for who the killer was, that was much harder to say. It was possible that Ōkawa had met his killer after leaving the hotel on the night of the 24th, a random argument or confrontation that had turned deadly. It was also possible that someone with a deep, and as yet unknown, grudge against Ōkawa had learned of his travel plans and had lain in wait for him on the island, a predator stalking its prey.
“They’ve only suggested it as a remote possibility,” the inspector said, stubbing out his cigarette with a final, weary gesture in the overflowing ashtray. He handed a thick, well-worn file to Kishida. “In any case, it’s much more convenient for us to investigate Ōkawa Terkado’s personal and professional relationships here than it is for the police over there. So, Kishida, you’ll handle that part of the investigation first. Once you have a solid lead, or if, and when, they find Ōkawa Terakado’s body, then you’ll head over.”
Of course, there was another, even grimmer possibility the inspector didn’t mention: that they might never find Ōkawa Terakado’s body at all. In that case, the matter would eventually be closed as a simple missing person case, and the homicide division would be off the hook.
“I understand, sir.” Kishida Masayoshi nodded. After watching the inspector leave, he sat back down and, with a weary sigh, began to flip through the file. “Everything else will have to wait. Makoto, you can get back to your own work.”
These files, he noted, were not from Mie Island. There was no formal, detailed statement from Ōkawa Mina. He had no real idea what the current situation on the island was. He remembered what Suzuki Koji had said: Mie Island had a population of about fifteen thousand. The police presence there was likely… skeletal.
No statement? Then I’ll have to get one myself. Right now.
With that thought, Kishida Masayoshi dialed Ōkawa Mina’s number. “Mrs. Ōkawa, hello. I’m terribly sorry to bother you at a time like this. My name is Detective Kishida Masayoshi, from the Aoyama Prefecture Homicide Division. Regarding the disappearance of your husband, Mr. Ōkawa, I’d like to ask you a few questions. Is now a convenient time?”
After a brief, polite, and deeply sympathetic exchange, Kishida got straight to the point. “I understand that on the evening of June 24th, Mr. Ōkawa left your hotel at approximately 7:45 PM. Before he left, did he happen to say anything about going to meet someone specific, or going to any particular place?”
Ōkawa Mina’s voice, on the other end of the line, was thick with a profound, almost unbearable exhaustion. “My husband… he only said he was going to collect his prize money. He said he’d be right back as soon as he got the cash. And this… this was our first time on Mie Island. I’ve never heard my husband mention knowing anyone on the island.”
“Prize money?” Kishida was taken aback. He pressed, his voice now sharp with a new and sudden urgency. “What prize money are you referring to, ma’am? Could you please explain in detail?”
“It was… it was a designated travel prize that my husband won in some kind of lottery,” she explained, her voice beginning to break. “The prize was 500,000 yen. If it weren’t for that prize money, there’s no way our whole family could have afforded to come on this trip. It was… it was supposed to be such a happy thing… I don’t know how it all turned into this…” Ōkawa Mina’s voice dissolved into a series of heartbroken sobs.
Kishida Masayoshi’s eyes narrowed, his mind now racing. “Regarding your husband’s lottery win, Mrs. Ōkawa, do you remember the specific time and circumstances? This could be very, very helpful in finding him. Please, try to recall as much as you can!”
“E-even if you say that… let me think… My husband came home from work one day and just… suddenly told me he’d won. Apparently, he’d met some promotional staff on the street, filled out some kind of form, and then got a call that afternoon telling him he’d won. The prize was a 500,000 yen designated travel grant. They gave him 50,000 yen in cash right then and there, and he was supposed to collect the rest of the money after we arrived on Mie Island.”
“That… that’s it? It was that simple?” A feeling of profound, surreal absurdity washed over Kishida. Even if the grand prize was 500,000 yen, the total prize pool would have to meet a certain threshold, which would, by law, require the organizers to register the promotion with the relevant local authorities. And the drawing process itself would have to be notarized to be considered valid. “What was the name of the travel agency or business association that sponsored the lottery? Do you know the name of the promotion, the person in charge? Do you have the winning certificate, the ticket? Can you describe the promotional staff who approached your husband?”
Faced with this sudden, rapid-fire barrage of questions, Ōkawa Mina grew flustered. “The travel agency or business association… I… I… ah, I remember now! My husband said the person who gave him the form was a very, very beautiful young woman. That’s… that’s all I know. As for the winning certificate… my husband took it with him that night. When he left the hotel.”
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