“You mean... a private detective?”
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“No, that term would not be very accurate. I feel the word ‘private’ carries with it an excess of neurotic egotism... you might say that I am an unprivate detective—a detective without ego.”
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“I see...”
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In other words, he didn’t have a license.
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If she’d had a pen, she would have written “idiot” on the card, but sadly, there were no writing implements within reach, so she settled for putting it down on the table as far from her as possible, as if it were unclean.
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“So, Ryuzaki... let me ask again, what exactly were you doing down there?”
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“Same as you. Investigating,” Ryuzaki said, without the slightest change in his expression.
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His black-rimmed eyes never blinked. Rather unsettling.
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“I was hired by the parents of this house’s owner—by Mr. Bridesmaid’s parents, and am currently conducting an investigation into the killings. It seemed to me that you were here for much the same reason, Misora.”
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By this point Misora no longer really cared who this Ryuzaki was—private detective or unprivate detective, she wanted nothing to do with him. The only problem was how much of her conversation he had heard from under the bed... which in a worst-case scenario could affect her future career. If any information about the mysterious L was made public because of her, she would have to do a great deal more than simply resign. She had casually broached the subject, and he had claimed that the bed muffled the sound of her voice and he had not been able to make out what she was saying, but this was not something she could afford to believe,
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“Yes... I’m also a detective,” Misora said, feeling like she had no other choice. If she had not been on a leave of absence, she would have claimed to be an FBI agent, but since she was, she did not want to risk him asking to see her badge. It seemed safer to lie—after all, there was a distinct possibility he was lying too. She did not need to feel at all guilty.
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“I can’t tell you who I’m working for, but I’ve been asked to investigate in secret. To find out who killed Believe Bridesmaid, Quarter Queen, and Backyard Bottomslash...”
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“Have you? Then we can cooperate!” he said instantly.
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Nerve on this level became oddly refreshing.
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“So, Ryuzaki. Did you find anything under the bed that might prove useful in solving this case? I assume you were looking for anything the killer might have left behind, but...”
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“No, nothing of the sort. I heard someone come into the house, so I decided to hide and monitor the situation. After a while it became clear that you were not a dangerous character, so I emerged.”
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“A dangerous character?”
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“Yes. For example, the killer himself, coming back to get something he forgot. If that were the case, then what a chance! But apparently my hopes were in vain.” Liar.
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She could smell that lie coming.
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Misora was now almost completely convinced that he’d been hiding down there to listen to her conversation with L. In any other situation, this would simply be paranoia, but this Ryuzaki character was no ordinary man.
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There was nothing about him that wasn’t suspicious.
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“However, instead I have been lucky enough to meet you, so it was not a total write off. This is not a novel or a comic book, so there is no reason for fellow detectives to despise each other. What do you say, Misora? Will you agree to an exchange of information?”
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“No. Thank you for the offer, but I must refuse. I have a duty to keep things secret,” Misora replied. L
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had given her everything about the case anyone could have obtained—it did not seem likely she would be able to get any information from an inexperienced private detective. And of course, she had no intention of giving him anything. “I’m sure you have your secrets too.”
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“I don’t.”
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“Of course you do. You’re a detective.”
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“Oh? Then I do.”
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Flexible.
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Either way seemed to be fine with him.
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“But it seems to me that solving this case must take precedence... Very well, Misora. How about this: I will provide you with all the information I have in return for nothing.”
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“Eh...? Uh, I couldn’t possibly...”
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“Please. Ultimately, it does not matter if I solve the case or if you do. My client’s wishes are to see the case solved, and only to see it solved. If you possess a sharper mind than my own, then telling you everything will be more effective.”
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All that sounded nice, but he could hardly be thinking that for real, so Misora’s wariness of Ryuzaki grew even more pronounced. What was he after? A few minutes ago he had improvised a lie, claiming he thought she might be the killer returning to the scene of the crime, but that theory seemed to fit the man hiding under the bed far better than it did her.
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“You may decide if you wish to give any of your information to me afterward. So, first, there’s this,” Ryuzaki said, pulling a folded piece of paper out of his jeans pocket. He held it out to her, without bothering to unfold it first. Misora took it, and unfolded it dubiously. . it was a crossword puzzle. A grid, and clues in a tiny font. Misora had a hunch what this was.
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“This is…”
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“Oh? You knew about it?”
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“No... not directly.” she stammered, unsure how to react. It seemed obvious that this was the same crossword that had been sent to the LAPD on July 22nd, but L had said the original puzzle had been thrown away, so was this a copy? How had this man... how had Ryuzaki been walking around with it jammed into his pocket? While she thought furiously, Ryuzaki stared at her appraisingly. As if he were evaluating her abilities based on her reaction...
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“Allow me to explain. Last month, on the twenty-second of July, this crossword was sent to the LAPD
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by an unknown sender. Apparently, nobody could solve it, but if you were to solve this puzzle, it would give you the address of this house. Presumably it was a sort of warning from the killer to the police and to society in general. A declaration of war, one might say.”
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“I see. Still...”
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Despite what L had said, part of her had still been dismissing the thing as just a crossword puzzle, but now that she could read the clues for herself, it did look extremely hard. The clues looked so frustrating that most people would give up before even trying to crack any of them. But the man across from her had solved it all by himself?
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“You’re sure the answer shows this address?”
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“Yes. Feel free to keep it and solve it at your leisure if you doubt me. Either way, killers that send warnings are generally looking for attention, assuming they do not have some larger purpose. And the Wara Ningyo and locked room aspects of the case fit that profile. So it seems there is a very good chance of some other message... or something like a message, being left at the scene. Do you agree, Misora?”
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Same conclusions as L.
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Who was this man?
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If he’d simply stated the same deductions as L, she could have dismissed them as extrapolated from the conversation he’d heard hiding under the bed, but for him to actually have a copy of the puzzle, a puzzle that only someone like L should have been able to acquire... The question of Ryuzaki’s identity had become of critical importance to her once again.
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“Excuse me,” Ryuzaki said, putting both feet on the ground and heading, still stooped, for the kitchen
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—as if slipping out of the room to give Misora time to calm down. He opened the refrigerator with a practiced motion, as if this were his own house, stuck his arm inside, and took out a jar—and then shuffled back to the sofa, leaving the refrigerator door open. It appeared to be a jar of strawberry jam.
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“What’s with the jam?”
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“Oh, this is mine. I brought it with me and put it there to keep it cold. It’s time for lunch.”
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“Lunch?”
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It did make sense that there would be no food in the refrigerator of a man who had died two weeks before, but lunch? Misora liked am herself, but she didn’t see any bread—and no sooner had the thought crossed her mind when Ryuzaki opened the lid, stuck his hand inside, scooped out some jam, and began licking it off his fingers.
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Naomi Misora gaped at him.
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Words failed her.
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“Mmm? Something the matter, Misora?”
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“Y-you have strange eating habits.”
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“Do I? I don’t think so.”
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Ryuzaki scooped another handful of jam into his mouth.
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“When I start thinking, I get a craving for sweets. If I want to work well, jam is essential. Sugar is good for the brain.”
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“Hunh…”
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Misora was of the opinion that his brain needed specialized medical attention more than sugar, but at that moment, she did not have the nerve to say so. His body language reminded her of Pooh Bear, but Ryuzaki was neither yellow nor adorable, and less a bear inclined to doing nothing than a rather tall man with a pronounced slouch. When he had eaten four handfuls of jam, he proceeded to put his lips directly on the rim of the jar like it was a cup of tea and slurp the contents noisily. Within moments he had consumed the entire jar.