Draw a conclusion regarding how specifically the culture is connected to the crime and/or investigation and state it as a thesis statement.

You have now read short stories about police detectives from Malawi and Japan. Choose
one of those stories, and write at least one well-developed paragraph of at least 250
words explaining the connection between the crime/investigation and the culture.

Draw a conclusion regarding how specifically the culture is connected to the crime
and/or investigation and state it as a thesis statement.

Use the rest of your post to prove that statement using the text for support, correctly
cited in parenthesis and a works cited entry.

This post is worth 20 points and will be graded using the rubric provided below.

Story

Heard at One Remove
by Nagaoka Hiroki
translated from the Japanese by Beth Cary 1.
As she exited the ticket wicket and passed by some already shuttered kiosks, she could see several cardboard shuttered kiosks, she could see several cardboard shelters come into view at the edge of the concourse.
There were five in all. One had been added about a week ago.
Sunken cheeks and unshaved chin. Age just shy of sixty. A rather tidy appearance …
Hazumi Keiko hurried along as she imagined what the new homeless man must look like.
She passed by a businessman at the exit from the concourse. He held a small mobile phone to his ear. It being the mid 1990s, more and more people carried these devices.
Maybe I should get a mobile phone. No, I dont need to pay for one myself; the department will eventually provide one. Then I wont need my pager anymore….
With such thoughts filling her mind, she walked for several minutes. She was nearly at her house when she noticed a disturbance.
A police van was parked in front of the old house on the alley, where there were few street lamps. It belonged to the crime-scene investigation unit. There was also a sedan, an unmarked patrol car belonging to the burglary section.
Some seven or eight bystanders stood at a distance, watching as the crime- scene investigators busied themselves.
It was Hazumi Fusanos house.
Identifying herself to the uniformed police officer on guard, Keiko stepped toward the entryway. At the sound of her footsteps, the investigator dusting the front door with aluminum powder turned around. She didnt recall his name, but recognized his face.
He stood up and raised his hand to the brim of his cap. Detective, why are you here? My house is nearby, right behind this one.
Is it? … Oh, the name here is also Hazumi, isnt it? he said, pointing at
HEARD AT ONE REMOVE: Nagaoka Hiroki 47 (page numbers are at the bottom of the text)

the ground. Is it a relative of yours?”
Keiko shook her head. Its a common name from way back in this area. What happened here?
Its a B and E with resident.
His mouth seemed to be stiff from the cold. It took her awhile to realize what he had said.
Again? Just a few days ago, an elderly persons house had been burglarized in this district west of the station.
What was stolen was cash. Just over one hundred thousand yen ($1,000). She had it inside a cupboard. How about eyewitnesses? Are there any?
She couldnt stick her neck much further into this investigation; she was in a different section. But this was her neighborhood. She wanted to obtain as much information as she could.
A neighbor saw someone suspicious just around the time of the burglary.
What kind of suspicious person would that be? As she asked, Keiko turned her eyes to the front door.
The lock button stuck out like a protruding belly button from the center of the doorknob. It was a cheap, simple lock, one of the least protective against break-ins.
I dont know the details. But he may have had a large scar below his eye … The detectives were saying something like that.
Could it be Nekozaki?
The person who came to Keikos mind was someone she had handcuffed in the past. A large scar beneath his eye. Within the Kinesaka precinct, the only criminal who looked like that was Sichi Yokozaki nicknamed Nekozaki, for cat. But his criminal record consisted of stalking and assaulting his ex-wife. He had no burglary conviction. If Yokozaki was in this neighborhood . . .
Detective, how is that murder case coming along? No developments, she replied curtly.
Looking at her watch, she saw that it was after ten oclock. Should she drop in on Fusano, or should she take her leave? She wavered as she thought of Natsuki.
In the end, she said, Excuse me, in a small voice, and stepped inside the house.
Fusano was seated with her legs tucked under her in the living room off the entryway. She was being questioned by the detective from the burglary section as she sat with her back to the paper shji sliding doors, whose holes had been repaired with pieces of newspaper. The stooped shoulders of the eighty- some- year-old woman trembled beneath the dim light.

Keiko waited until the questioning was over, shifting her position to stay out of the way of the crime- scene investigator.
2.
When Keiko returned to her home, Natsuki was at the dining table. Her arithmetic textbook and notebook were spread open in front of her.
Shell probably hand over a note with Welcome home written in pencil. As she thought this, Keiko spoke. Im home.
Welcome home, Natsuki answered aloud. Her head, topped with a short haircut, remained facing the table.
. . . Thats a suprise, Keiko said. Oh? What are you surprised about?
Its been awhile since I heard your voice.
48 ELLERY QUEEN
Im not angry anymore. Natsuki pointed the tip of her pencil toward the kitchen. I made supper. Its mapo tofu. Its in the microwave. Eat it when you want to.
Thanks.
With this, the current mother-daughter standoff was over.
When Natsuki had suddenly stopped speaking to her four mornings ago, Keiko was annoyed, though this happened often. She had no idea what had set Natsuki off. It turned out that it was because Keiko had missed her turn to clean up the kitchen. But it was only yesterday, when she found a postcard in the mailbox, that she learned that this was the cause of her daughters ire.
Dont you think its disgusting to have cobwebs in the kitchen? Natsukis handwriting had covered the entire surface of the back of the postcard.
Feeling the tension at her neck ease a little, Keiko entered the tatami-mat room and put her palms together in front of the Buddhist altar there.
Its been four years already . ..
That much time had passedand so quicklysince her husband, a senior detective in the violent-crimes section, had been run over by an automobile and died.
Natsuki is well and doing fine.

After reporting this to her husbands photograph, Keiko tried to think of other things to report about Natsuki during the past few days. He had so looked forward to seeing his daughter grow up. But she couldnt come up with anything. All she could do was repeat what she had said the day before.
She still has her childish moments.
Her refusal to speak and her note-writing. These behaviors seemed childish to Keiko. Natsuki would be entering middle school next year, and Keiko wished she would stop this infantile imitation of her father.
Its your fault.
If something upsets you, try writing it down on paper. Youll feel much calmer. I do that sometimes, Natsukis father had told his daughter. Natsuki had been quick to anger from birth, and once angry, she wouldnt speak. Keiko often recalled her husband teaching this way of dealing with her feelings to Natsuki.
Next she reported on her work day and told him of the case at Fusanos house, which she had happened upon on her way home.
She had finally made eye contact with Fusano after several minutes of standing in her entryway.
The elderly woman got up and came toward her and bowed her head quietly. She seemed to have regained a bit of energy, seeing all the support that had come. Fusano knew that Keikos occupation was that of detective. But she wasnt aware that Keiko was in the violent-crimes section, not the burglary section.
Ill take some money to her later, Keiko thought. Using newspaper instead of shji paper to mend her doors. Living like that, she could hardly have any savings. Her only income must be her old-age pension….
As these thoughts occupied the surface of her mind, Keiko was subconsciously counting. Three times. No, it might be four times this year, she had gone to the scene of elderly people living alone who had killed themselves. In each case, it was clear that the subject had been overwhelmed by poverty and, above all, by a sense of loneliness.
Keiko left the tatami-mat room and went to the kitchen. After warming the mapo tofu in the microwave, she also placed a can of beer on a tray and sat down
HEARD AT ONE REMOVE: Nagaoka Hiroki 49 facing Natsuki. Then she took from her handbag the postcard she had received the day before.
Natsuki was moving her thumb and index finger rapidly on the table. Keiko slid the postcard toward the fingers.
Will you stop doing this?
Natsuki looked up at her, fingers still moving.

If you have something you want to complain about, just tell me. If you cant do that, at least write me a note and give it to me right then. When you do this, I worry so much, not knowing what youre angry about until your note gets delivered.
Dont want to. Natsuki grinned. Thats what my aim is, time-lag offensive.
Now listen … You know that the mail deliverer sometimes makes mistakes between our address and Auntie Fusanos address.
I know.
Then, you remember that one of your postcards was delivered to her place by mistake, dont you? I was so embarrassed by that.
Thats the fault of the delivery person.
Its your writing thats at fault. You write our house number, 9, like a 7.
Yes, Mom. Ill be careful about that.
Accentuating her sigh this time, Keiko changed topics. Speaking of Auntie Fusano, did you hear?
Natsukis questioning expression said that she had not. The commotion seemed not to have reached this far.
Just awhile ago, her house was burglarized. Natsukis fingers slowed down a bit. A burglar?
Normally a burglar goes after a house when no ones there. But this was the opposite. The burglar went in knowing someone was at home.
Really?
Really? … Is that all you have to say? Youre being awfully cold-hearted. Who was the one who helped you get so good at calculations? Keiko said as she imitated Natsukis finger motions.
Had she forgotten about those days when she was in lower elementary school? Fusano had been a big help. She had sat with Natsuki until late into the evening and even taught her how to calculate on the abacus. Shouldnt Natsuki show some concern?
Of course, if she, Natsukis mother, could have come home earlier, her young daughter wouldnt have had to be alone at night, or have the old neighbor woman take pity on her.
As she wrote down the calculation answers in her notebook, Natsuki said, Dont you have a much more important case you should be working on?
She had jabbed at her mothers weak point. Well, yes. And Im working hard on it.

Will you catch him quickly, please? A random attacker on the street isnt cool at all. Its a pain for me. I cant even go to the convenience store after dark.
I know.
Maybe you dont have any talent as a detective, Mom.
That might be true. Maybe a murder case is too difficult for a middle-aged female detective who commutes on the train.
On second thought, it may be better for you to be a lousy detective. Natsuki closed her notebook. If you cant catch him, at least no one will come around
50 ELLERY QUEEN
here to pay their respects in revenge. If I lose you too, itll be a big mess for me.
Pay their respects, you say? Where did this child learn such an expression? The man who had run over her husband was an arsonist he had arrested, who was acting out of spite. Her husbands life had been lost to this revenge, a detectives occupational hazard.
She had told Natsuki the facts, but she didnt recall having used such slang.
Even so . . .
The random street killing had occurred on November eighteenth. Two weeks had already gone by since then. What had she accomplished during that time? Without talent… maybe Natsuki was right.
Her chopsticks suddenly felt heavy. As she placed the mapo tofu into her mouth, she thought of something, and said in a loud voice, Wow, Natsuki. This is good. You should open up a Chinese restaurant here.
Hey, Natsuki coolly squinted her eyes, youre just saying that because it doesnt taste good.
Keiko leaned across the table and lowered her voice. Right. Truth is, the flavoring could use some help.
See, what did I tell you? It sounded so fake when you said it.
Actually, it wasnt you I was talking to, Natsuki, Keiko said in even more hushed tones, and continued after glancing toward the tatami room. I wanted your father to hear it.
Then you should go in there and tell him in front of the altar. Pulled along, Natsukis voice also quieted to a whisper.
That wouldnt work. Natsuki, dont you know about the effect of overhearing something that is leaked? Natsuki shook her head.
Then you wouldnt have heard the phrase heard at one remove, either.

Listen. Lets say theres a made-up story.
Okay.
If you heard it directly from someone, youd doubt if it was true, wouldnt you?
Of course.
But how about if that same story was being told by that person to someone else, and you overheard that exchange? Then how would you take it? You might very well believe it, mightnt you?
Maybe so.
Thats the effect of overhearing something. When you want someone to believe a certain piece of information, the trick is to tell it to another person and have it be overheard. So your dad should be happy in heaven now. So, Natsuki has become a good cook, hes thinking.
Hmm. So you call that way of telling someone heard at one remove? Yes. See, youve learned something new, havent you?
Keiko put down her chopsticks. She pulled the tab on the can of beer. Just then, the telephone rang, as if that were a sign.
Is this Hazumi? It was her section chief. His tone seemed normal, but it contained some irritation. Theres been another murder, a second victim.
Keiko had stood up even before she heard those words.
3.
The meeting, which started at five P.M., ended exactly two hours later.
HEARD AT ONE REMOVE 51
Keiko was the first to dash out of the meeting room. Running into the restroom, she gargled over and over. It felt as if a needle was stuck deep inside her throat. She always felt this way when she was exposed to secondhand smoke. The man who had sat next to her was the problem. She knew his face. It was the deputy chief of the burglary section, who had questioned Fusano at her house on the night of December second, four days ago. Perhaps feeling important because he had been upped in rank to help pursue a murderer, he had smoked incessantly through the entire meeting.
Next time Ill take the seat farthest away from him. So vowing to herself, Keiko returned to the squad room and opened the morning paper, which she had yet to read. The article on the random street killer was in the middle of the city page. It was in three columns. Though several days had passed since the second victim was killed, the case was still foremost in the news.
With no progress toward its solution, there was insufficient information for the article. In such cases, reporters resorted to desperate measures. The article treated as a scoop the fact that investigators from the

white-collar crime, burglary, organized crime, weapons, and drugs sections had been temporarily assigned to the violent-crimes section to support the investigation.
Detective Hazumi.
Hearing her name called, Keiko lifted her eyes from the newspaper. The junior detective at the next desk extended the telephone receiver.
Call for you. From lockup administration.
What could they want? she wondered as she took the receiver.
This is Itami.
At the sound of his voice, Keiko pictured Itamis square-jawed face.
Can you come over here?
Whats wrong?
One of the guests staying with us insists on seeing you.
Who is it?
Number Fifteen.
I cant tell from that. She meant to tone down her voice, but couldnt avoid sounding prickly. I cant help it, its Number Fifteen. The rules say we have to call our guests by number.
Keiko hung up the telephone and pressed her temples. Separation of investigation and detention: that was the entrenched principle that caused this inevitable conflict between the Criminal Investigation Department and the Detention Administration Department. It wasnt something any of them could do anything about. Still, this kind of exchange was tiresome.
Is there a problem? her junior colleague asked with his glance. Give me some time, she told him.
Yes, but what about our interviews? When are we leaving? Wait for me here. Ill be right back.
Keiko left the room and ran down one flight of stairs, to the third floor.
Among the guests in the detention lockup there were occasionally some who had information about crimes other than those they had committed. It was possible that Number 15 had some information about the random street killer.

When she opened the heavy door leading to the holding cell, Keiko clasped her arms around herself. The heating should be the same here as on other floors, but
52 ELLERY QUEEN
this was a place full of steel bars, and no warmth could be felt.
At the guard desk was an unusually handsome-featured young police officer. His name was Sait. He lived in the same district as Keiko, west of the train station, and Keiko recognized him. His lifestyle seemed extravagant to her, as he bought new-model cars quite often. It was rumored that he was in debt to the agencys savings cooperative.
Where is Mr. Itami? Keiko asked him as these thoughts passed through her mind.
Please wait, Saito responded, unexpectedly politely. He got up and went into the office behind her. Shortly, in place of the handsome officer, the square-jawed chief emerged.
Saying only, This way, Itami began walking quickly along the hallway lined with cells.
Keiko followed him.
The bars on the cells were covered on the bottom half, but the top half was left open. This meant that the detainees could look out onto the hallway if they stood up. Seven P.M. With supper over, they were stuck with nothing to do. They stared out from their cells with curiosity.
As he walked ahead of her, Itami half turned and said, Normally I wouldnt listen to particular requests from our guests. But Number Fifteen was insistent on seeing you. Im making a special exception.
Tell that to Number 15, or whoever. But Keiko kept quiet and nodded at his patronizing words.
The cell where Itami stopped was at the farthest point from the guard desk.
Hey, Number Fifteen.
When Itami called out, a man near them turned around. It was a forty-year- old man wearing a soiled jacket. When she saw his face, Keiko swallowed her breath.
Nekozaki. A long scar under his right eye. There was no mistake. It was Soichi Yokozaki.
Yokozaki soundlessly approached the bars. From his narrow eyes an expressionless gaze was directed at her.
When were you released? Keiko said. Yokozaki didnt reply.
Just ten days ago, Itami answered in his stead. He was finally let out, but then he stole some money from an old womans house, so now hes back in here.

It was the burglary at Fusanos house. So it had been Yokozaki after all.
Wait, though. He might also be involved in the street killings. She wondered about this, but she immediately stopped short. The first killing was about twenty days ago. Yokozaki was still in prison then.
Was that case really your doing? Yokozaki didnt bother to answer this either.
Must have been. Again, Itami spoke for him. It was just decided today that his prison sentence will be extended ten days.
Even though the court had decided upon a ten-day extension of his sentence while the burglary was investigated, she still couldnt believe that Yokozaki had committed the burglary.
Where are you living now? Whats your address?
She didnt expect that Yokozaki would answer. She kept her eyes on the man inside the cell, but her voice was aimed at Itami.
HEARD AT ONE REMOVE: Hiroki 53
The station. That night he was digging in the trash bins in the area west of the station. He must have been tempted to go into the old womans house.
Wait a minute. You mean Kinesaka station?
Sure.
What do you mean, he lives there?
You know, there are four or five cardboard shelters on the concourse there. Yes.
Its one of those that is Number Fifteens address.
… Really?
The new arrival had been Yokozaki.
And, her voice went high. This was because a certain phrase crossed her mind. Clearing her throat, Keiko continued, What do you want from me?
At this, finally, Yokozakis face moved. Showing his tongue, he slowly licked his lips and spoke in a hoarse voice.
4.

Thanks. Its been a help. Quickly saying so, Keiko alighted from the car.
Boss, her junior colleague leaned across the passenger seat and said, you should take a rest.
Why?
You dont look so well. The chief is worried, too.
If I take a rest, will the killer also rest? she answered in a joking fashion, pushing aside the headache that had set in.
Her colleague closed his mouth and pulled back to sit up straight in the drivers seat.
Before she slid the key into her front door lock, she tested its strength by jiggling the doorknob. With staff being shifted to the violent-crimes section, the burglary section was now short-handed, so it was best to be cautious.
As soon as she stepped into the house, she called out, Natsu!
There was no answer. She could hear water splashing in the bathroom. Natsuki must be taking a bath.
On the dining table was a newspaper. It was opened to the same page she had seen just four hours before in the squad room. Was her daughter looking at the city page every day in order to find out more about her mothers work?
Keiko searched in her tool box and brought out a small penlight and sat down in a chair. What occupied her mind was Yokozakis face.
What is he cooking up?
After a while, Natsuki came out of the bathroom. As her hair wasnt wet, Keiko decided she must not have been soaking in the tub but rather washing the tub out.
Could you sit here for a second? Pointing to the chair across from her with one hand, with the other she pulled out a photograph from her bag. It was a mug shot of Yokozaki. When she had returned from the lockup, Keiko had rushed to the records room and opened up his case file. She had made a copy of his photograph.
Look at this, she said, putting the photograph on the table in front of Natsuki. Take a good look at this face and remember it.
Natsuki took the photo in her hand.
His name is Yokozaki. Hes a stalker, a word weve heard a lot lately. Thats what he is. Hes a bad character who pursues his target to the end. Hes persistent, like a cat, so his nickname is Nekozaki, Cat- zaki. Some time ago, he stalked
54 ELLERY QUEEN

his ex-wife and ended up slashing her with a box cutter.
Her eyes glued to the photo, Natsuki nodded.
And I caught him and sent him to prison. So he must hate me for it.
Natsuki blinked several times.
Yokozakis been released from prison and has started living at the train station. Hes one of the homeless at Kinesaka station. That means hes moved close to our house. So Im a little worried.
Natsuki lifted her eyes from the photo.
Remember what you said the other day? Paying their respects? It just may be that hes targeting me. This is only a possibility, but you may be in danger as well.
Natsuki returned the photo to Keiko.
Keep it, Keiko continued, staying her daughters hand. As luck would have it, Yokozakis in jail right now. But hell probably be released in ten days.
From what the burglary-section officer had said, the only reason for Yokozakis arrest was eyewitness testimony from a nearby resident who had stated, I saw a man with a scar beneath his eye. If no other physical evidence was discovered, it was likely that he would be released when his lockup sentence was up.
Its all right. Dont worry. Ill fight him off and protect you. But, to be safe, just remember this face. And if you see him somewhere, run away. Understand?
Not uttering a sound, Natsuki nodded her head. Keiko was perplexed. Even in this emergency, Natsuki was refusing to speak.
Cant you answer me? What are you angry about this time? Cant you give me a reason? Still, Natsuki would not speak.
Keiko slapped the table with her hands, letting her frustration out. Im going out, she said, and headed toward the front door. Outside, she first peered into the mailbox. Just as she thought, there was a postcard inside. The addressee, Ms. Hazumi Keiko, and the sender, Natsuki, were both written with penmanship that slanted up toward the right. The writing was familiar. But the postcard this time wasnt the type sold at the post office, it was a picture postcard. This differed from the usual pattern. Below the address was written: How long are you planning to pursue the burglar? The other side was a photograph of some wildflowers of no particular distinction.
She turned it over to look at the writing again. She guessed, from the question, that Natsuki was annoyed that her mother was late coming home again. Was this why she was refusing to speak? It was true that she had been coming home after midnight the past few days. Last night she had stayed overnight at the police station.

But still…
Keiko felt fatigue weighing her down. Natsuki shouldnt be behaving so childishly, throwing a tantrum over something like that. Besides, Its not a burglar. Im chasing after a killer. She caught herself talking aloud. When she thought about how hard she had worked to rise from the burglary section to the violent- crimes section, this misunderstanding was irritating.
You have a more important case. Hurry up and find the street killer, Natsuki had said the other day. So Keiko had thought Natsuki had come to appreciate her mothers work. But it seemed she had overestimated her daughter.
The misunderstanding might not be limited to Natsuki alone. The image of detectives that elementary school pupils had was probably that they pursued
HEARD AT ONE REMOVE: Hiroki 55 burglars and killers with no division of responsibilities between sections.
She shoved the picture postcard into her coat pocket and passed through the gate. She walked to the station and went deep into the concourse. The cardboard box shelters were quiet. All of the homeless seemed to be asleep. She approached the newest of the five shelters. This must be Yokozakis.
She wondered who was now living in the tidy apartment he had rented on the outskirts of town before he was sent to prison. Had he lost his belongings due to the civil suit brought against him? If so, how much compensation had his ex-wife demanded?
Keiko recalled again Yokozakis voice as she had heard it in the lockup.
Can you come to visit me?
At first she couldnt comprehend what he meant by those words, spoken in such a hoarse voice.
Wont you come to visit me, Ms. Hazumi? As he repeated his request, there was nothing threatening in his tone.
Im here now.
Yokozaki slowly shook his head. What Im asking is that you come to the visitors room.
She was at a loss for a reply. As far as she knew, there was no regulation that prohibited a detective from meeting with a suspect in the visitors room, but.. .
Thats not possible, Itami broke in. Visiting hours are until four P.M. Its way after that now. Youll have to abide by the regulations.
I dont insist on it right now. It can be on another day. Yokozaki stated this with his eyes glued to Keiko, not even glancing at Itami.

Perhaps affronted by this, Itami raised his voice in anger. It cant be tomorrow. Youre being interrogated. You should be glad she came at all. The detectives are all busy with a murder case. They cant be taking time with your petty case.
Then day after tomorrow.
Itami was quiet.
Neither did Keiko respond. She couldnt answer. Because she couldnt gauge Yokozakis true intentions.
Why did he want her to visit? What was he scheming? Was he expecting to threaten her by saying something like, Wash your neck and be waiting for the blade?
Only two points were clear.
One was that Yokozaki had targeted her. Not only had he moved close to her house, hed made a point of demanding that she visit him. There was no mistaking that he was planning his revenge.
The second point was that she had no intention of falling for his scheme.
She squatted down in front of the shelter. Just to be sure, she called out, Good evening. As expected, there was no response.
Passersby on the concourse gave sideways glances toward her. Feeling their eyes on her back, Keiko opened the cardboard door of the shelter. A sour smell stung her nose. She turned on the penlight that she had brought with her. The first thing that the weak light lit up was a dirty blanket. Stifling the nausea she felt, Keiko slowly moved the circle of light.
5.
The acrylic pane was thicker than she had expected. For its thickness, its transparency was high, and she could clearly see even the second hand of the clock on the opposite wall. The walls seemed to be insulated for sound, and no noise from
56 ELLERY QUEEN
the outside could be heard.
How many years had it been since she had come to the visiting room at the lockup? It must be since she had come on an observation tour during her police academy days. If so, it had been over twenty years.
Keiko closed her eyes. What came first to her mind was her daughter. Natsuki had refused to say a word to her since the evening of the sixththe day before yesterday. The message that had been How long are you planning to pursue the burglar? that day had become Why do you like burglars who target homes when no one is there? on the picture postcard she had retrieved this morning just as she was leaving for work.

It was Fusano who had brought that postcard. She had brought over this morning what had been delivered to her house yesterday. When Keiko looked at the house number on the address, she saw that Natsuki had deflated the circle on the 9 so that it looked like a 7.
And she said shed be careful. Keiko apologized for the trouble.
Fusano also bowed her head deeply. Thank you so much for the other day. Im really in your debt.
As Keiko hadnt done anything special and she had even forgotten to give Fusano some money, she felt uncomfortable. Keiko opened her eyes from her reverie, took out her datebook, and wrote, Withdraw money for Fusano. The tip of the ballpoint pen didnt quiver. No, she wasnt nervous.
It seemed they hadnt yet found any physical evidence that Yokozaki was the burglar. The interrogation would no doubt proceed until the extension of his sentence was up. That meant he was behind bars for another week or so. Unless someone else, who was the actual burglar, gave himself up, there was no way he would be immediately released.
We could move and go into hiding before he gets out.
Keiko closed her datebook. A moment later, the door on the other side of the acrylic pane opened. Yokozaki appeared first. Then followed Itami.
Keiko shot Itami a look that said, Are you going to be present as well? Itami answered, Its regulation.
Cant be helped.
Only attorneys could meet with prisoners without guards present.
When she entered the visitors room, Keiko had shown her identification card at the reception desk and filled out a visitor request form, just like the general public. She wasnt getting any special treatment just because she was part of the police force.
Youre not allowed to do anything like an interrogation, of course. Also, depending on the content of the conversation, I may decide to end it. Keep that in mind, Itami said brusquely, as he sat down on a folding steel chair nearby.
Yokozaki sat at the counter facing Keiko. Just as he had done the other day, through the steel bars, he stared at her with expressionless eyes. Keiko studied his thin lips and waited for them to open. Yokozaki kept quiet.
About a minute passed. There was no indication that Yokozaki would open his mouth.
Number Fifteen, Itami said as he scraped the steel chair on the floor. You want to say something, dont you? Dont hesitate.

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