Lady Joker, Volume 1 Kaoru Takamura (ereader ebook .TXT) 📖

for rehabilitation. Three billion of a twelve-billion-yen loan that the former Chunichi Mutual Savings group had made to Ogura Development in 1990, in the guise of a land purchase and development of a golf course, was suspected of being in violation of the investment law, and the latest investigation would inevitably have an impact on the outcome of the trial of two suspects arrested and indicted in this case—the former Executive Managing Director Koichi Yasuda and former Company Auditor Tatsuo Sakagami, both of Chunichi Mutual.

“I glanced at it, but—” Monoi said.

“What an useless article,” Handa finished for him.

Ordinarily the Ogura-Chunichi Mutual Savings scandal would have had nothing to do with either Monoi or Handa, but the reason they were forced to pay attention to it had to do with Hiroyuki Hatano.

When Hiroyuki Hatano committed suicide back in November 1990, Monoi had been called in by the police, and was suddenly questioned about his relation to Seiji Okamura—what kind of person Okamura was, when was the last time Monoi had seen him, whether he knew about the letter Okamura had written to Hinode Beer back in 1947, and so on—leaving him utterly bewildered. That was when Monoi learned that Hiroyuki Hatano had somehow acquired this old letter of Seiji Okamura’s, recorded the letter onto a tape, and sent it to Hinode. At his age, Monoi had assumed he would never again experience such a change of heart, but this document written by his elder brother Seiji Okamura, whose face at that point he could not even remember, caused a small waver in his chest, and since then, having tucked away his memory of the transcript of the letter that the police had shown him in a corner of his mind, he had often found himself sitting before the family altar in his home, at a loss for what to do.

Then, at the Buddhist memorial service held forty-nine days after Hatano’s death, Monoi found out that Handa was handling the investigation into the letters and the tape that Hatano had sent to Hinode Beer. Handa told him that Seiji Okamura’s letter had been given to Hatano by a corporate extortionist, but when it came to the crucial points such as the circumstances of how the extortionist came to be in possession of the letter sent to Hinode Beer over forty years ago, and why he had given it to Hatano, these were not yet clear to him.

Furthermore, Handa explained that when the extortionist had given the letter in question to Hatano—a dentist whom he had never met before—he had apparently referred to the financial difficulties of Chunichi Mutual Savings Bank and Ogura Transport. This was the point from which Monoi’s interest in the sequence of the Ogura-Chunichi Mutual Savings scandal originated.

At the same time, it seemed that Handa had been chewed out pretty well by his superiors after Hatano had killed himself the same day they had questioned him about Hinode Beer’s complaint letter. Handa might have been driven more by his own dissatisfaction about the case rather than a particular interest in the substance of the scandal. This was probably also why he had spoken to Monoi in such detail about the investigation, which he normally would have kept entirely confidential.

These being the circumstances, the two of them had kept an especially close eye on articles that appeared in the newspaper, but the mysterious connections between the Ogura-Chunichi Mutual Savings scandal, the dentist, the extortionist who had made contact with the dentist, Seiji Okamura, and finally Hinode Beer remained as indistinct as ever, and frankly Monoi was starting to lose interest.

Handa was a different story, though. As he himself would say, he had always had a tenacious personality, and despite having dismissed the article as useless, now he asked, “I bet that dude from the credit union knows all about this kind of money circulating underground. Do you think he’ll be at Fuchu today?”

“It’s the Tenno Sho. Of course he’ll be there.”

“I’ll be there today too. The Emperor’s Cup will go to either Biwa Hayahide or to Narita Taishin, right?”

Since Hatano’s suicide, Handa had seemed somewhat lackluster about his work. Last year, he had transferred to the Kamata Police Department, and even though he said things had picked up a little again, if he was sneaking out of work to go to Fuchu, then he must not be so busy after all.

Then, as if he had just remembered, Handa changed the subject. “By the way, what did the private detective say?”

“They found an old man who fits the description at a nursing home in Akigawa, but I’m sure it’s the wrong person again,” Monoi replied.

Last year during the Obon holiday—the festival of the dead—when he went to visit his family graves in Hachinohe, Monoi had decided to seek out Seiji Okamura’s grave as well. When he’d inquired with Okamura Merchants about its location, they told him that the last contact they’d had with Seiji was a postcard sent from Tokyo around 1953. Since his long-lost brother’s family register was still listed in Hachinohe, Monoi decided he would spend some time looking for Seiji. This was how, after New Year’s, he came to hire a private detective agency, but after three months there had been no solid leads, and he no longer expected much.

“I hope they find him,” Handa said.

“Thanks.”

“Well, see you at Fuchu.” With that, Handa hung up the phone.

Just then, the bell in the pharmacy rang, and when Monoi stepped outside he found Yoshiya Kanemoto, in golf attire, standing by his parked Mercedes.

“Big brother, have some of this ginseng. It’ll perk you right up,” he said and thrust a paper bag at Monoi. It was obvious he had been gambling in South Korea again.

“I’m well enough, but thanks anyway,” Monoi said, taking the bag. Inside the Mercedes was another man going to play golf with him, and he nodded perfunctorily at Monoi. He knew the faces of a few of the yakuza whom Yoshiya ran around with; today it was