The Devotion of Suspect X - Keigo Higashino [85]
Yukawa’s expression was twisted with worry and pain. Kusanagi had never seen him look quite so miserable.
“Just go. I’m sorry,” Yukawa asked again, his voice like a moan.
Kusanagi stepped back from the table. There were a mountain of things he could have asked, but he realized the only thing he could do at that moment was leave.
FIFTEEN
The clock showed the time as 7:30 A.M. Ishigami left his apartment, clutching his tote bag. The bag contained the thing he valued most in the world: a set of files pertaining to the mathematics problem he was currently researching. “Currently”—or, more accurately, “eternally.” He had written his senior thesis on it back in college, but even now his work was far from complete.
He had calculated that it would take him roughly another twenty years to complete his work on this particular theory. Possibly even longer. It was the kind of insurmountable problem worthy of an entire lifetime’s devotion. And of all the mathematicians in the world, he was in the best position to crack it.
How wonderful it would be to forget everything else, all other considerations, all the time sinks of daily life, and just work on that problem! Ishigami daydreamed, as he had so often before. Whenever he considered the dreary truth that he might die before finishing, it chafed at him to do anything but work on it.
No matter where he went, he took his files with him. There could be no rest, no vacation while there was still progress to be made. And all he needed to work on it was paper and pencils. If only he could have been left alone to do his research, he would have required nothing else from life.
Mechanically, he walked his usual morning route past the Shin-Ohashi Bridge and down along the Sumida River, past the shacks with roofs made from blue vinyl tarps. The man with the long white hair pulled back into a long braid was once again holding a pot over a burner. Ishigami couldn’t see what he was cooking. A mutt with light brown fur was tied up beside him. The dog sat, exhausted, leaning its flank toward its master.
The Can Man was crushing cans and muttering to himself as usual. He already had two plastic bags filled with flattened aluminum balanced next to him.
A little farther along there was a bench. This morning it was empty. Ishigami glanced at it for moment, then dropped his gaze to the ground before his feet, maintaining his steady pace.
He sensed someone walking toward him along the riverbank. Right about now was when he usually met the elderly woman taking her three dogs for a walk, but he could tell from the sound of the approaching footsteps that this wasn’t she. Ishigami glanced up.
A surprised “Oh” slipped from his mouth, and he stopped.
The other person kept on coming. Then with a smile he paused in front of Ishigami.
“Morning,” said Manabu Yukawa.
Ishigami hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to reply. He wet his lips and opened his mouth. “You were waiting for me.”
“Of course I was,” Yukawa replied, still smiling. “Well, maybe not ‘waiting,’ exactly. I’ve just walked here from Kiyosu Bridge. Figured I’d run into you along the way.”
“What ever it is, it must be urgent.”
“Urgent? Maybe. It could be.”
“You want to talk about it now?” Ishigami glanced at his watch. “I haven’t much time.”
“I only need ten or fifteen minutes.”
“Can we talk while we walk?”
“Suits me.” Yukawa glanced around him. “But let’s talk here a moment first. Just two or three minutes will do. How about that bench over there?” He immediately headed toward the bench without waiting for Ishigami’s reply.
Ishigami sighed and followed his friend.
“We walked here once before together, didn’t we?” Yukawa recalled.
“That we did.”
“I remember you saying that the homeless people here had developed routines like clockwork. You remember that?”
“I do. That’s what happens when you take clocks out of people’s lives—I believe that’s what you said.”
Yukawa nodded, satisfied. “Too bad it’s impossible for you and me ever to be off the clock. Like it or not, we’re stuck in the cogs of society.