“What is it, Naomi Misora?”
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The synthetic voice.
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Lowering her voice and hiding her mouth behind her hand, Misora said, “Something I need to report.”
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“Progress in the case? Very fast work.”
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“No... well, a little. I may have stumbled across a message from the killer.”
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“Wonderful.”
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“But it wasn’t me that figured it out. How can I put this... a kind of mysterious private detective...” A mysterious private detective.
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The expression nearly made her laugh.
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“…just showed up.”
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“I see,” the synthetic voice said, and fell silent.
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It was an uncomfortable silence for Misora after all, she had made the decision to show Ryuzaki the picture and attempt to test him. When L said nothing, Misora proceeded to explain what Ryuzaki had said about the autopsy photograph. And that he had a copy of the crossword puzzle. This piece of information at last produced a reaction from L, but since it was a synthetic voice, she couldn’t read the emotion behind it.
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“What should I do? Frankly, I think it’s dangerous to take my eyes of him.”
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“Was he cool?”
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“Hunh?”
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L’s question came completely out of left field, and he was forced to ask it a second time before Misora answered, still unable to work with what he was driving at.
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“No, absolutely not,” she said, honestly. “Creepy and pathetic, and so suspicious that if I weren’t on leave, I’d move to arrest him the moment I laid eyes on him. If we divided everyone in the world into those that would be better off dead and those that wouldn’t, there’s no doubt in my mind that he’d be the former. Such a complete freak that it amazes me he hasn’t killed himself”
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“…”
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There was no answer.
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What was this about?
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“Naomi Misora, your instructions.”
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“Yes?”
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“I imagine you are thinking much the same thing as I am, but let this private detective do what he likes for the moment. Partly because it is dangerous to let him out of your sight, but more importantly because it is important to observe his actions. I believe the credit for the autopsy photograph deductions belongs to you more than it does him, but he is clearly no ordinary person.”
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“I agree.”
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“Is he close by?”
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“No, I’m alone. I’m calling from the bathroom, upstairs and to the back of the house, away from the bedroom.”
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“Go back to his side soon. I will follow up on him, and try to discover if a detective named Ryuzaki has actually been hired by Believe Bridesmaid’s parents.”
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“Okay”
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“You can use the same line the next time you call.” And he hung up.
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Misora snapped her phone shut.
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She needed to go back soon, so he would not be suspicious, but she had left his side with rather unnatural timing, she thought, leaving the bathroom.
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Ryuzaki was standing just outside the door. “Eek...!”
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“Misora. You were up here?”
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He was not on all fours, but even so, Misora gulped. How long had he been there?
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“After you left the room, I discovered something interesting, and was unable to wait. So I came to get you. Are you quite finished?”
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“Y-yes…”
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“This way”
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He trotted off, still hunched, toward the stairs. Still shaken, Misora followed him. Had he been listening through the door? This question tortured her. He discovered something interesting? That might just be a turn of phrase... she had kept her voice so low there was no way he could have heard her, but either way he had almost certainly been trying to. Which meant...
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“Oh, Misora,” Ryuzaki said, not turning around.
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“Y-yes?”
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“Why didn’t I hear the toilet flush before you left the room?”
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“It’s rather rude to ask a girl something like that, Ryuzaki,” Misora managed, wincing slightly at her mistake. Ryuzaki did not appear to be phased.
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“Is it? Nevertheless... if you forgot to flush, it is not too late. You can still go back. The genders are equal when it comes to sanitary behavior.”
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What a horrific way of putting it.
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In every meaning of the word.
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“I was on the phone. Just a regular check-in with my client. But I did not want to you hear some of it.”
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“Oh? But either way, from now on, I recommend flushing. It provides good camouflage.”
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“I suppose it does.”
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They reached the bedroom. Ryuzaki went down on all fours as lie crossed the threshold. It looked less like an investigation method modeled on Sherlock Holmes than some sort of religious jinx.
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“Over here.” Ryuzaki scrabbled across the carpet toward the bookshelves.
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Believe Bridesmaid’s bookshelves, with their fifty-seven tightly packed books. It was the first place Misora had checked after talking with L.
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“You said you found something new?”
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“Yes. Something new—no, let us be bold. I have uncovered an important fact.” His attempt at sounding cool annoyed her. She ignored it.
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“So you found a clue of some kind on the bookshelf, you mean?”
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“Look here,” Ryuzaki said, pointing to the right side of the shelf second from the bottom. There was an eleven-volume set of a popular Japanese comic book named Akaukin Chacha.
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“What about it?”
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“I love this manga.”
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“You do?”
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“I do.”
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How was she supposed to respond? In direct contrast to her wishes, she felt her expression softening, but with no attempt to probe her inner struggle, Ryuzaki continued.
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“You’re Nikkei, aren’t you?”
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“Nikkei...? My parents are both from Japan. My passport’s American now, but I lived in Japan until after high school...”
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“So you must know this manga. Min Ayahana-sensei’s legendary creation. I read every issue as it was serialized. Shiine is so adorable! I liked the anime just as much as the manga. Love and courage and hope—Holy Up!”
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“Ryuzaki, are you going to go on like this for a while? If so, I can wait in the other room...”
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“Why would you do that when I’m talking to you?”
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“Er, um… I mean, I liked Akazukin Chacha too. I watched the anime. I also experienced the love, courage, hope and Holy Up.”
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She longed to inform him exactly how little interest she had in his hobbies, but it was doubtful whether this private detective would be able to understand opinions directed at him from anywhere near common sense. As questionable as Ryuzaki himself.
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Or was that overstating things?
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“Good. We shall discuss the pleasures offered by the anime in detail on some other occasion, but for the moment, look here.”
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“Hunh…” Misora said, obediently looking at the volumes of Akazukin Chacha on the shelf Notice anything
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“Not really...”
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It was just a bunch of comics. At most they could tell that Believe Bridesmaid was fluent in Japanese, and liked manga... but there were lots of people like that in America. Reading the original Japanese instead of a translated version was not terribly unusual, either. With the advent of Internet shopping, it had become extremely easy to obtain them.
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Ryuzaki’s dark-rimmed eyes were staring fixedly at her. Uncomfortable, Misora avoided his gaze, checking each volume individually. But even after she’d finished checking them out, she’d found no curious facts or anything like a clue.
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“I don’t see anything... something about one of these comics?”
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“No.”
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“Hunh?” There was more than a hint of anger in her voice. She did not like being made fun of.
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“No? What do you mean?”
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“Not one of these,” Ryuzaki said. “Something that should be here, but isn’t. Misora, you’re the one who figured this out—any messages from the killer are indicated by the absence of what should be here. You’re the one who figured out that this must refer to the body of Believe Bridesmaid. I didn’t think I would need to explain this to you—look closely, Misora. They aren’t all here. Volumes four and nine are missing.”
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“Eh?”
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“Akazukin Chacha ran for thirteen volumes. Not eleven.”
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Misora looked down at the books again, and the numbers went from one, two, and three to five, six, seven, and eight to ten. If Ryuzaki was right, and there were thirteen volumes in all, then two volumes were missing—volumes four and nine.
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“Hmm... right. But... Ryuzaki, so what? You mean the killer took those two volumes with him? It’s certainly a possibility, but it seems equally likely they were missing in the first place. Maybe he planned to pick them up soon. Not everyone reads manga in order, you know. I mean, he seems to have stopped halfway through the Dickwood series, up here...”
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“Impossible,” Ryuzaki said, firmly “No one on earth would ever skip two volumes in the middle of Akazukin Chacha. I am absolutely sure this fact would pass muster in court.” Had this man ever been in a court?
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“Or at least, if the members of the jury knew much about Japanese comics.”
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“What a biased jury.”
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“The killer has obviously taken them with him,” Ryuzaki said, blatantly ignoring her.
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Misora wasn’t about to let this pass. Her feet were firmly planted on more realistic ground.
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“But you have no proof of that at all, Ryuzaki. It’s equally possible he just loaned them to a friend.”