Salvation of a Saint Read Online Free PDF

asked them to wait while she went to get the car, which she had left in a nearby car park.
    While they were waiting, Kusanagi kept an eye on the woman next to him. She looked crushed – and he didn’t think her shock at finding a body was entirely to blame.
    ‘Are you cold?’ he asked.
    ‘I’m fine, thanks.’
    ‘Were you planning on going out anywhere tonight?’
    ‘Tonight? Are you kidding?’
    ‘I was just wondering if you might’ve had any prior engagements.’
    Hiromi’s lips moved slightly. She looked hesitant, uncertain.
    Kusanagi said: ‘Sorry if you’ve already heard this a hundred times, but if you don’t mind me asking …’
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘What exactly made you call Mr Mashiba tonight?’
    ‘Oh, well, since Mrs Mashiba left her key with me, I thought she wanted me to check in now and then. I think she was worried about leaving her husband all by himself, so if there was anything I could do to help …’ Her voice trailed off.
    ‘So when you couldn’t reach him, you came to the house?’
    ‘Yes,’ she said with a little nod.
    Kusanagi raised an eyebrow. ‘But surely people don’t always answer their phone – mobile or landline. Maybe he was out and couldn’t pick up for some reason? Didn’t you consider that possibility?’
    After a moment’s silence, Hiromi shook her head. ‘I guess I didn’t.’
    ‘Why not? Were you worried about something in particular?’
    ‘No, nothing like that. I guess I just had a strange feeling …’
    ‘A “strange” feeling?’
    ‘Is it wrong to come to somebody’s house because something didn’t feel right?’
    ‘No, of course not. I was impressed, actually. Not everyone who is given a house key feels so much responsibility. And, as it turned out, your strange feeling was right on the money, so I think you deserve praise for what you did.’
    Hiromi looked away, apparently disinclined to take Kusanagi’s words at face value.
    A dark red Mitsubishi Pajero SUV stopped in front of the house. The door opened and Kaoru Utsumi stepped out.
    ‘Four-wheel drive?’ Kusanagi gaped.
    ‘It’s a smoother ride than you might expect,’ Utsumi said. ‘Ms Wakayama?’ She opened the back door and Hiromi got inside. Kusanagi followed her in.
    Utsumi got in the driver’s seat and began setting the GPS – apparently she already knew Ms Wakayama’s ad -dress. It was an apartment near the Gakugei Daigaku train station. Not long after the car had started moving, Hiromi leaned forward. ‘Was what happened to Mr Mashiba not an accident or … or a suicide?’
    Kusanagi glanced towards the driver’s seat. His eyes met Utsumi’s in the rearview mirror.
    ‘We can’t really say,’ he told her. ‘Not without an autopsy report.’
    ‘But you’re in Homicide, right?’
    ‘True, but we’re only here because there’s a
possibility
of murder. I can’t say any more – which is to say, we really don’t know anything more than that.’
    ‘I see,’ Hiromi said in a small voice.
    ‘That reminds me,’ Kusanagi said as casually as possible, ‘I wanted to ask you, Ms Wakayama: if this
was
a homicide, do you have any idea who might have been responsible?’
    He thought he sensed her holding her breath. His eyes went to her mouth.
    ‘No,’ she said, her voice soft and thin in the quiet interior of the car. ‘I really don’t know much more about Mr Mashiba other than that he’s the husband of my quilting teacher.’
    ‘Of course. Well, if anything does occur to you, I know we can count on you to let us know.’
    Hiromi sat in silence, not even nodding.
    *
    They dropped her off in front of her apartment building, and Kusanagi moved to the passenger seat.
    ‘Well,’ he said, looking straight ahead at the road, ‘what do you think?’
    ‘She’s tough,’ Utsumi replied as she steered the car back into traffic.
    ‘You think?’
    ‘She didn’t cry once. At least, not in front of us.’
    ‘Maybe she just wasn’t that sad.’
    ‘No, she was crying before