It feels like a traditional restaurant here, Komatsu thought as he looked around.
The rental property was a Japanese-style residence, but the rooms had been converted to Western-style, presumably for the comfort of guests from abroad. The room they’d been shown to had European-style sofas and a carpet laid over the tatami mats. But Komatsu spotted a quintessential Japanese garden beyond the outer corridor, complete with vibrant fall foliage and a shishi-odoshi. The clunking sound of bamboo on rock accented the pitter-patter of the falling rain.
Even when it’s raining, Japanese gardens are still atmospheric, huh?
After coffee was served, Liming smiled and said, “Actually, this isn’t my first time meeting you.”
“Indeed.” Kiyotaka smiled back. “We met at the party at the Tiandi hotel in Shanghai. Unfortunately, I had to leave for New York right away, so I didn’t get a chance to properly greet you.”
Oh, the party at the end of our Shanghai trip? Komatsu thought.
He scanned the room. Komatsu, Kiyotaka, Aoi, and Yilin were sitting on two-seater sofas, while Ensho was standing by the wall as usual. Meanwhile, Yilin’s relatives were all sitting in individual armchairs.
Mr. Jing’s older sister, Liming, was a broad-shouldered woman whose sharp gaze conveyed her strong personality. Her husband, Haoyi, was a gentle-looking man with graying hair.
Mr. Jing’s younger sister, Zhulan, had a small frame and seemed good-natured. Her husband, Bowen, was in his forties but looked considerably younger. His baby face gave him a friendly aura.
“It’s a pleasure to have one of Zhifei’s favored artists visiting us,” said Liming. “At Takamiya’s party, I was surprised to see that you’d grown out your hair. You look much better this way.” She flashed Ensho a smile.
Komatsu had his earbuds interpreting for him, but judging from the frown on Ensho’s face, the painter didn’t know English.
“She says you look better with your hair grown out,” Kiyotaka quickly explained.
Ensho shrugged. “Thanks.”
“Why don’t you use earbuds too?”
“Eh, I’m good with you translating for me.”
Kiyotaka smiled at Liming. “He always acts rude like this, but he’s actually very shy.”
Everyone’s expressions relaxed. They were probably thinking, That’s an artist for you.
“By the way, we were told that you have something to ask us,” said Liming.
“Yes,” Kiyotaka replied with utmost seriousness. “Despite appearances, Komatsu here is a skilled detective, and I occasionally act as his assistant.”
Yilin’s relatives glanced at Komatsu, their lack of interest apparent.
“Nice to meet you,” the detective said awkwardly.
“Komatsu received a special request from Mr. Jing,” Kiyotaka explained. “We’re here as part of our investigation.”
At the mention of Mr. Jing’s name, Yilin’s relatives grew tense. They were clearly determined to be of use to him.
“I’ll take notes,” Komatsu muttered to himself, taking his laptop out of his bag and opening it.
After confirming that the detective was ready, Kiyotaka continued, “Mr. Jing appears to be searching for the jewel he once gave to Keqing.”
Everyone’s expressions stiffened.
“Huh?” Yilin furrowed her brow. She was confused but said nothing more.
“He gave Keqing a jewel?” Bowen asked. “I had no idea. Did everyone else know this?”
“Oh...” Liming pressed a hand to her forehead. “Yes, it all started when Keqing saw Ailee’s Sun-Drop and said she wanted a rare gem too.”
“That’s right,” said Zhulan. “So I told Zhifei, ‘Keqing wants a jewel. Why don’t you give her one?’”
“Oh, I remember this.” Haoyi nodded.
“Did he do so?” Kiyotaka asked.
Yilin’s relatives all shook their heads.
“Keqing died before she could receive it,” said Liming. “She was devastated when she learned his mistress was pregnant. Poor Keqing,” she emphasized, glaring at Yilin, who lowered her gaze in shame.
I can’t believe she’d say that stuff right in front of Yilin, Komatsu thought bitterly. He turned to Yilin, worried, and saw Aoi firmly holding her hand.
“That’s strange.” Kiyotaka tilted his head.
“How so?” Liming asked.
“There are three aspects of the testimonies that don’t match up. First, the matter of Zhilin’s existence and her pregnancy. When I spoke with Mr. Jing the other day, he said his wife had been aware that Zhilin was pregnant. He and Keqing had already been discussing divorce. Even so, Keqing had told him, ‘I can’t believe you knocked up another woman while we’re still married. You’re going to compensate me well for that. And don’t forget: Even if she gives birth to a boy, Xuan is still your heir.’”
Yilin’s relatives exchanged confused looks.
“But Zhifei acknowledged that Keqing committed suicide out of shock that Zhilin was pregnant,” Bowen said, bewildered.
“Yes, he did,” Kiyotaka replied. “However, his reasoning was ‘I cannot claim to understand a woman’s feelings or true intentions, so perhaps she truly was shocked.’”
“We were with Keqing that day at the villa,” Liming said. “We watched her furious phone call with Zhifei. She said, ‘I hate you. I’m going to die now.’”
“It’s true,” Bowen added solemnly. “We desperately tried to calm her down.”
“Yes.” Zhulan lowered her gaze. “I called Zhifei right away and told him to come as soon as possible, but he said it was unlikely he could arrive by the end of the day.”
Haoyi grimaced. “After that, Keqing left the house, saying she wanted to be alone, and got on a boat...”
And then she jumped into the lake.
“Let’s backtrack a bit,” said Kiyotaka. “The second contradiction lies in those words she said.”
“Which words?” Yilin’s relatives all frowned.
“Keqing didn’t tell Mr. Jing, ‘I’m going to die now.’ She screamed, ‘I’ll kill myself now!’”
Liming snorted. “Isn’t that the same thing?”
Kiyotaka shook his head. “While the outcome may be the same, the nuance is quite different. The latter carries considerable anger. Also, what she actually said was ‘I can’t believe it. You despised me that much? I hate you too. Just like you want, I’ll kill myself now.’ Mr. Jing said he didn’t understand what she was talking about.”
“Huh?” Yilin’s relatives looked at each other.
“Did she really say ‘just like you want’?” Liming asked, bewildered.
“She did.” Zhulan nodded. “I assumed Zhifei said something like ‘I don’t want to see you anymore.’”
“Me too,” Bowen murmured. “Either way, she was definitely mad at Zhilin. She kept ranting about her afterward.”
“Yeah, why does it matter that the nuance is different?” Haoyi glared at Kiyotaka.
Kiyotaka held up three fingers. “Here is the third oddity. The story goes that Mr. Jing arranged to send his wife a rare jewel, but she died before she could receive it. However...Mr. Jing claims he has no memory of ever doing so.”
“Huh?” Everyone’s eyes widened.
“But Keqing said, ‘Zhifei bought me a jewel. I can’t wait for it to arrive,’” said Zhulan.
“Yeah,” Haoyi agreed. “I remember hearing that too.”
“Thirded,” Liming declared firmly.
Kiyotaka pressed his hands together. “Let’s organize the information we have. Keqing was jealous of Ailee’s Sun-Drop and said she wanted a rare jewel for herself. So Zhulan suggested to Mr. Jing, ‘Why don’t you buy her one?’ After that, Keqing was delighted because Zhifei had bought her a jewel. Is all of that correct?”
Everyone nodded.
“Regarding the jewel...” Kiyotaka took a stack of documents out of his briefcase. “We investigated the dealer who arranged the jewel for Keqing, and it turned out to be the same individual who sold the Sun-Drop to Ailee. This in itself isn’t surprising—if you want a jewel equal in rarity to Ailee’s, the simplest solution is to ask the same dealer.”
No one objected to this.
“However, by a strange twist of fate, that dealer happened to be Takamiya’s son.”
Everyone stared blankly at him.
“Takamiya?” Liming asked. “The one who hosted the party the other day?”
“Yes,” Kiyotaka replied. “His son was a jewelry dealer, but he died twenty-three years ago. It seems he died in a traffic accident while on his way to deliver the jewel to Keqing.”
“Huh?” Everyone gasped. From the look of it, they knew nothing about Takamiya’s son.
“In addition to the ledger for the jewels, he also kept a customer file where he recorded interactions in detail. Allow me to read out what was written regarding this request.”
Kiyotaka looked down at the documents and cleared his throat before reading its contents.
“Request from Zhifei Jing. July 20. Mr. Jing himself called me and said, ‘I want to give my wife a gem rarer than the Sun-Drop.’ He said payment would be made after delivery. I requested advance payment, but he refused, saying he wouldn’t pay without seeing the item. I could have declined, but I accepted because Mr. Jing is a valuable connection to have. During the long phone call, he confessed, ‘Actually, my marriage isn’t going well. To be honest, I don’t want to give her anything.’ I couldn’t help but empathize since I was in a similar boat.”
Kiyotaka paused for a moment, then continued reading.
“Speak of the devil, though. I’d just acquired an extremely rare jewel. I’d already examined it, so I was eager to get rid of it too. I suggested it to him, and he gave his approval. I was glad to find a buyer for it. Since I promised my family I’d take them on a trip, I’ve decided to go to Italy, where Mr. Jing’s wife is staying. My business partner will probably want to come too, but I’ll make him stay behind.”
Here, Kiyotaka added, “The partner he mentions is another jewelry dealer. Takamiya’s son worked as a director at his father’s company, so he teamed up with someone else for his jewelry trade.” He looked up from the documents. “Now, when I asked Mr. Jing about this request, he said he had no recollection of it. It seems he never made that phone call.”