Salvation of a Saint by Keigo Higashino Page A

tense.
    ‘Did you get some sleep last night?’ the senior detective asked after a sip of coffee.
    ‘Not much.’
    ‘I understand. You must have been in shock.’
And in tears,
if Utsumi called it right.
‘It’s not every day you see a dead body.’
Especially your lover’s
.
    Hiromi was looking down at the table, chewing her lip.
    ‘I was hoping we could ask a few questions we didn’t get around to yesterday, if you don’t mind?’
    Hiromi took a deep breath. ‘I really don’t know anything more than what I’ve already said. I can’t imagine how I’d be able to answer any more questions.’
    ‘You might be surprised. The questions aren’t that difficult. That is, as long as you’re willing to answer them honestly.’
    Hiromi looked up, her gaze almost a glare. ‘I haven’t lied.’
    ‘Then we’ll be just fine. So, I was wondering: you’ve told us that you discovered Yoshitaka Mashiba’s body at eight o’clock last night, and the last time you were in the Mashibas’ house before that was the party on Friday. Is this correct?’
    ‘It is.’
    ‘Are you sure? Ms Wakayama, the shock of seeing someone dead can play with our memories in strange ways. Try relaxing and thinking about it a little harder. Are you
sure
you didn’t visit the Mashiba household from the moment you left on Friday night until yesterday evening?’ Kusanagi watched Hiromi’s face.
    Her long eyelashes fluttered. After a few moments of silence, her lips parted. ‘Why are you asking me this? Why do you keep asking me when I’ve told you the truth?’
    Kusanagi smiled slightly. ‘Let’s keep it to just me asking questions, if we could. Do you have an answer?’
    ‘But—’
    ‘Think of it as a simple confirmation. I’m asking you again because I want you to very carefully consider your answer. If it turned out later that there was an inaccuracy or omission in what you’ve told us, well, then it would be a bit of a difficult situation for both of us.’
    Hiromi’s mouth snapped shut. Kusanagi could almost hear the cogs whirling in her head, as she ran the calculations.
She’s considering the possibility that her lie will be uncovered, wondering whether it might be better to admit everything here and now.
    She maintained her silence, the scales in her head refusing to settle to one side or the other. Kusanagi was growing impatient.
    ‘When we arrived at the scene yesterday, in the sink there was a single coffee cup and two saucers. When we asked you if you knew why, you said you didn’t know. Yet, your fingerprints were found on the coffee cup. So naturally I wondered, when did you touch the cup?’
    Hiromi’s shoulders slowly rose and fell with her breathing.
    ‘You saw Yoshitaka Mashiba over the weekend, didn’t you …? When he was still alive.’
    Hiromi put her hand to her forehead, her elbow on the table.
Trying to find a way out of this one?
Kusanagi was confident that she wouldn’t be able to slip free, no matter how much she squirmed.
    She nodded, eyes following her hand down to the table. ‘Yes. I did. I’m sorry.’
    ‘You saw Mr Mashiba?’
    A pause, then: ‘Yes.’
    ‘When?’
    Her reply didn’t come immediately.
She’s a sore loser,
Kusanagi thought, growing irritated.
    ‘Do I have to answer that?’ Hiromi looked up again at the two detectives. ‘It doesn’t have anything to do with what happened. Isn’t this an invasion of privacy?’
    She looked ready to cry, but there was also growing anger in her eyes, a sharpness to her words. Kusanagi remembered something another detective once told him:
no matter how soft she may look, never underestimate the power of a cheating woman
.
    They didn’t have time to do this carefully. Kusanagi played his next card.
    ‘We know the cause of death,’ he said slowly. ‘Mr Mashiba was poisoned.’
    Hiromi flinched. ‘What?’
    ‘Traces of poison were found in the coffee he was drinking when he died.’
    Her eyes opened wide. ‘I don’t – that’s