After all was said and done, it only took one day to arrest the killer.
The following day, we restarted our investigation with Koichiro Myoko as our primary suspect. He seemed to have no interest whatsoever in denying what he’d done, so it was almost too easy to assemble a case against him. However, I still got an email from Yamaji bitching about Koichiro’s lack of remorse.
The media went wild as well.
An incumbent member of the Tokyo Metropolitan Assembly had killed his beautiful, mysterious adopted daughter in a copycat crime imitating the serial killer Masquerade. That was more than enough to whet the public’s appetite. No photos of Reina had turned up yet, but that didn’t matter for the public’s interest in the case. Conversely, everyone who’d known her said she was beautiful, which only stirred everyone up and hyped the media up even more. Television news covered the case relentlessly.
News of their physical relationship hadn’t leaked yet, but given the intensity of the coverage, it was only a matter of time until someone sniffed it out. Of course, I felt like it would’ve been best for my old classmate’s sake if no one ever learned the truth.
After the arrest, Section Chief Otawara gave me two days off as an acknowledgement of my hard work. The day after we caught Koichiro (which was, technically, just later the same day) I was totally beat, so the only thing I felt capable of was passing out in my room.
However, there was something I had to take care of.
So the day after the arrest, I took my trusty bike out for a spin at noon. I didn’t feel like going straight to my destination, so at first I cycled randomly along Odaiba’s coast. Odaiba had become one of the leading tourist destinations in the world, and the artificial parks filling the manmade island, funded by casino-derived tax revenues, were designed for maximum architectural, environmental, and psychological pleasure. Next to these unnatural displays of nature sprawled the sparkling casino hotels, which went beyond bad taste. There were no words to describe their level of kitsch and gaudiness. Their maws seemed to gape open and swallow up all those who gave into their desires. Fortunately for public workers like us, it was these gambling machines, which blessed the lives of some and destroyed others, that paid our salaries.
And somewhere in this warped idea of a town lived my adversary, a serial killer.
As I rode my bike, I saw news vans double parked all over the place, covering the murder. I couldn’t help but be reminded of the fevered coverage of my own sister’s murder. I couldn’t even spare any sympathy for the press guys hurriedly lugging cameras around.
Please, I thought, use your freedom as the press to save as many people as you can, instead of hurting anyone.
Despite my lengthy detour, I still managed to arrive at my destination precisely at 2:00 P.M., the time I had pre-arranged. Foreign pines lined the front of the pleasant wooden building.
The psychiatry clinic that looked like a café.
Also known as the detective agency without a sign.
I rang the bell next to the copper door, and someone quickly opened it. It was the cute woman whose dyed brown hair was put up into a bun.
“Hello there,” she said. “All by yourself today?”
Erika Shirasu looked around with her big, smiling eyes and moved her whole body exaggeratedly, checking to see whether I was alone. The superfluous thought came to me that this over-the-top attitude was perhaps a method she’d developed to win over the opposite sex.
“It’s, uhh, kinda non-work related…”
I found myself trailing off the end of my sentence; her effusive femininity always brought out my inferiority complex.
“Oh, non-work related? You’re meeting Dr. Higano for private reasons? Then maybe I should leave you two alone?”
“I’d…appreciate it if you wouldn’t.”
She snickered. “I’m joking. Please, come in. I’ll make coffee.”
Erika held open the door with her right hand and beckoned me in.
“Thanks…I thought that the clinic was closed today. You don’t have the day off?”
“It is closed. But the detective agency is basically open 24/7.”
“Do you help out with that as well?”
“No, no. As if. Dr. Higano’s around, so I’m just taking a break here. He said it was ok for me to use this place as I would a café.”
Erika walked behind reception with as much assurance as though she owned the place. She quickly took out coffee cups and put the water on boil. “I’m pretty particular about the temperature of the water when I do a pour over. The correct temperature varies depending on the degree to which the beans are roasted. These beans are medium, so 183 to 186 degrees would be an orthodox temperature.” She continued her coffee talk in a sing-song voice, evidently not caring if I was listening or not.
“Umm,” I said.
I didn’t really need to ask the question I was about to ask. And if I bungled it, Erika might start keeping her eye on me.
But I couldn’t keep myself quiet. I had a surprising need to make sure everything was black or white.
Erika had her back to me, so I went ahead and asked, “You’re Noi-tan, right?”
She paused, holding the drip kettle mid-air. She turned to me with a serious look I’d never seen her make before and stared at me for a second.
But then she said “What do you mean?” and tilted her head cutely as always.
✦ ✦ ✦
Erika said she had a date with her boyfriend (so she actually had one!), and headed out soon after she finished making coffee. I honestly couldn’t tell from the vague look on her face whether she was leaving to get away from the investigation or to give me time to be alone with Dr. Higano.
After she left, I watched the ceiling fan spin round as I sipped my coffee. I felt bad, but the coffee Erika had made so carefully only tasted bitter to me. I alternated between taking sips of it and sighing.
Was I confident enough?
I’d probably say something ridiculous and disappoint him.
“Yuri, please come in.”
Dr. Higano called for me, but it took me a second to muster up my courage and stand up from the leaf-green sofa.
I knocked on the door and went into his office. I noticed all of his things: shelves of academic tomes, the SLR camera, his puzzle, a coffee mill, and a can of coffee beans. The monotone room hadn’t changed from when I visited the day before yesterday. The only difference was that today Dr. Higano was sitting at his black desk in his Armani suit, without his white coat.
“You wanted to talk to me about Masquerade?”
Dr. Higano looked up from the medical records on his desk and smiled at me.
He gestured for me to sit on the white leather sofa. I realized I’d balled my fists up without knowing it. I slowly, carefully opened them, like I was solving one of the puzzle cubes on his shelf.
I got straight to the point. “Yes. But before that, there’s something I wanted to confirm with you.”
“Hmm,” Dr. Higano sounded focused, but he also seemed to be trying to guess what I was about to say.
I took a deep breath. I had no idea what would happen once I said my piece. I was aware that everything I’d gone to the trouble of building up might come toppling down.
However, I wanted to know the truth.
✦ ✦ ✦
“Koichiro Myoko wasn’t the killer…right?”