The Logmaster - Chapter 13:
After Kakuta left in a hurry, Mikata was once again left alone in the Unidentified Persons Consultation Room.
The western sunlight streaming in through the window was already reddish, casting long shadows in the corners of the room.
Misumi reluctantly got up, put on his worn-out jacket, and headed towards the tent village on the riverbank.
Even though he has been incorporated into the Joint Investigation Headquarters, there is only so much he can do. First of all, he has to start by making steady inquiries.
— Riverbank at dusk
The place was enveloped in a unique silence and melancholy, as if cut off from the hustle and bustle of the city.
The wind blowing across the river was cool and chilly, and the smell of weeds was pungent.
The blue and grey tents scattered around the area blend into the evening darkness.
We interviewed Suzuki’s friends, who were the victims in this case.
Suspicious deaths to date have still been treated as accidents, so no widespread warnings can be issued.
If we make a big fuss, it will only frighten them unnecessarily and make them more wary.
“Recently, there have been a series of dangerous incidents in this area. Please be careful when walking alone at night. Also, if you see any suspicious people or notice anything unusual, please do not hesitate to let the police know.”
Mikaku chose such inoffensive words and patiently went around to each tent.
The homeless people were all emaciated and looked exhausted from their daily lives.
At first, some people were openly wary of Mikata, a police officer who had suddenly appeared.
A suspicious look, a tightly closed mouth.
However, Mikata did not show any intimidating attitude, but listened patiently and sincerely to what they had to say.
Then, gradually, their tense expressions softened, and they began to speak.
Every day worries, minor troubles among friends, and rumors about unfamiliar people.
Some of them looked enviously at the can of coffee that Sankaku was holding.
Mikaku handed them the few spare ones he had with him.
Hoping that the hot drinks would warm their hearts even just a little.
At that moment, I suddenly looked up and noticed the person I was looking for.
No, rather than being the intended target, he was an odd presence that didn’t fit in with the situation.
A short distance away, a man in a suit is sitting on an old bench.
Next to him was an elderly homeless man wearing a dirty, tattered shirt. The two seemed to be whispering something, but the atmosphere was far from friendly. The old man was nervous and seemed to be watching the suit man’s face.
Sankaku’s heart pounded loudly. His intuition as a long-time detective was telling him something.
I excused myself to the homeless man who had been listening to my story, saying, “Excuse me for a moment,” and then whispered to another homeless man in front of me, “Can I help you?”
“Excuse me, do you know that man in a suit over there?”
The homeless man followed Sankaku’s gaze and tilted his head quizzically, his eyes a mixture of anxiety and curiosity.
“No, I’ve never seen it… There have been rumors lately that there’s something strange wandering around…”
The other homeless people around looked at each other and shook their heads as if they didn’t know what was going on.
He is not a resident of this tent village. His demeanor is different from that of a volunteer.
Though he was skeptical, Misumi approached the two carefully to question them, moving slowly and carefully so as not to make any noise.
“Excuse me, it’s so late at night. I’m from the Metropolitan Police Department. Can I speak to you for a moment?”
Misumi spoke in an effort to speak calmly, while quickly showing his police badge. Even in the darkness of dusk, the golden cherry blossom crest shone dully.
The man in the suit’s face seemed to stiffen slightly for a moment.
Sankaku didn’t miss the glimpse of agitation that flashed, just for a moment, in the depths of his eyes.
However, that is also within the realm of normal reaction when approached by a police officer.
Even if people have done nothing wrong, they tend to feel at least a little nervous when they are faced with a police officer in uniform.
“Ah, yes. Is there anything I can help you with, police?”
The man in the suit looked a little surprised, but quickly regained his composure and answered in a slightly high-pitched voice.
However, Misumi immediately felt something was off about the man’s attitude.
The man is having a conversation with me.
However, most of their attention seems to be focused on the latest smartphones in their hands.
His gaze frequently dropped to his smartphone screen, and his responses seemed half-hearted.
It was as if something on the other side of the smartphone was more important than the conversation with the person in front of him. His behavior made Mikata feel wary.
“Excuse me, but there have been some sightings of suspicious people in this area recently, so we have been stepping up patrols. Would you be able to cooperate with our police investigation? If you have any form of identification, please let us see it.”
Sankaku said, observing the man’s face, his clothes, and the old man next to him with a sharp gaze. The man’s suit was well-tailored, and his shoes were polished.
This was not someone who regularly frequented this riverbank.
“Oh, yes, yes. Of course, we’ll cooperate. Would you like your driver’s license?”
The man seemed a little flustered as he took out a high-quality leather wallet from the inside pocket of his jacket and handed over his driver’s license. Was it just my imagination, or did his fingertips appear to be trembling slightly?
Misumi receives the driver’s license and checks the name, photo, and address written on it. The photo shows the driver when he was a little younger, and he looks a little plumper than he is now.
“Ummm… “Homaru Omiichi”… is that correct?”
“No, my name is Ayumaru, which is written as ‘walk’ and ‘circle’. The character for vassal, ‘vassal’, and the number ‘one’. People often tell me it’s hard to read, hahaha…”
The man who called himself Ayumaru corrected him with a friendly smile. His smile felt somehow unnatural, like it was pasted on.
“My apologies, Ayumaru-san. That’s an unusual name,” Mikaku said, pretending to be calm so as not to reveal his inner doubts.
“No, no, not at all. So, um…excuse me for being so rude, but could I have a look at your police ID again?”
This time, Ayumaru looked at Sankaku searchingly, asking for confirmation. He had already presented it earlier, but he wanted to be sure. Or was he just trying to buy time?
Although Mikaku was a little surprised, he showed no signs of being shaken and took out his police ID from his br3ast pocket, showing the page with his photograph and affiliation in front of Ayumaru.
“This is Mikata from the Metropolitan Police Department’s Unidentified Persons Advice Center.”
“Mr. Sankaku? That’s another unusual name. Thank you. I’ve heard some scary stories recently about malicious scams involving people pretending to be police officers, so I just wanted to be sure. I apologize if I offended you.”
Ayumaru said with a smile.
Contrary to his words, his eyes were not smiling.
There is a light in it that seems appraising, yet somehow frightened.
Mikata had grown tired of having to correct the pronunciation of his name every time, so he just let it go. He had never had anyone pronounce his name “Misumi.”
When Mikaku asked why he was there, Ayumaru paused for a moment and then began to explain fluently.
“Well, you see, I finished work a little early today, so I was walking down a road I don’t usually take, hoping to change my mood, and by chance, I wandered into this riverbed. Then, I saw this old man sitting on a bench, and we started chatting.”
The homeless old man next to him seemed to be responding to Ayumaru’s words as he curled up into a small ball with a tense look on his face and simply nodded silently several times.
Her appearance also looks unnaturally frightened, as if she is being forced to do something.
“I see… As I said before, there have been reports of suspicious people being seen around here recently. It can be particularly dangerous at night, so please be careful. We’ve also been increasing our patrols. Thank you for your cooperation.”
Unable to find anything specific and suspicious about Ayumaru that would warrant further investigation, Mikaku gave a formal statement and handed him back his license.
“Oh no, it’s already this late! My wife has prepared dinner and is waiting for me. Sorry, I’ll have to go now!”
Ayumaru made a deliberate gesture of looking at his expensive-looking watch, then quickly stood up and left the place as if he was being chased by something.
At that moment, he didn’t even glance at the old man beside him.
Mikaku watched Ayumaru’s back as he departed with a sharp look in his eyes for a while.
The sight of his back as he quickly walks away gives the impression that he is running away.
There was nothing conclusively suspicious about the content of the conversation or the belongings.
The man’s attitude can also be interpreted as that of a nervous civilian.
But why? His years of experience as a detective were ringing the alarm. A faint, but impossible to ignore, suspicion remained in the back of his mind.
Sankaku took out a worn-out notepad from nearby and, with trembling hands, carefully wrote down the name “Ayumaru Omiichi,” along with its distinctive pronunciation.
Then I added the color of the suit the man was wearing, his build, the tone of his voice, and above all, his abnormal obsession with his smartphone.
It could just be a coincidence, a passing businessman who just happened to strike up a conversation with the homeless person.
But this name and that man’s unnatural manner are things to remember.
Such a premonition, almost a certainty, took hold in his heart.