I felt hesitant about having a serious conversation in a room where someone had just recently been killed, so I led Yamaji out of the apartment.
The garden at Reina’s building was the size of a postcard, but it was well-maintained, with roses blossoming around a small fountain. The landlord must’ve gardened as a hobby. The garden was nice, but I wasn’t exactly in the mood to enjoy the scenery. Yamaji sat down in a garden chair.
“Masquerade always takes the body part he cuts off,” I said. “So far, there have been zero cases where he left it at the scene.”
Yamaji chewed on his lollipop. “That information hasn’t been made public yet,” he said.
I knew what he was trying to say.
“I know. But do you really think there could be…others?”
Yamaji scratched at his stubble. “Obviously he’s the only crackpot who does it as a hobby,” he said. “But by now everyone in the country knows that Masquerade cuts off his victims’ faces and a piece of their bodies.”
“So basically what you’re saying is that the perp didn’t know that Masquerade takes the body parts away? And that someone is trying to frame Masquerade?”
“Yeah, well,” Yamaji sighed. “I’m not going to sign my name to it. But it’s within the realm of possibility.”
“But…” I caught myself. I thought about the sense of unease I felt when looking at the crime scene, and Yamaji’s hypothesis made sense.
But I wanted to be the one to arrest Masquerade. So I wanted it to be Masquerade who committed this crime, even if that was an awful thing to want.
“I’m only going to say it once, Princess.” Yamaji scratched at his disheveled hair and gave me the side-eye. “If you can’t look at this case objectively, you should bench yourself from the investigation. Everyone at the station knows you’re obsessed with Masquerade. If the brass decide that you’re some bozo who runs after every shadow that even remotely resembles him, they’ll never let you on a case again.”
I gasped. “You’re right. I’ll be more careful…” If I was actually hoping Masquerade had committed the crime here, then I’d definitely lost perspective. “I-I’ll calm down!”
“You really think you can?” Yamaji asked.
“Yes!” I said. “I’ll be sure to take into account the fact that it might not have been him.”
But with the prospect of Masquerade being apprehended just around the corner, I’d already lost some objectivity. And the fact that this time the victim also happened to be my classmate, the otherworldly Reina Myoko, really made me doubt I’d be able to do my job dispassionately.
Yamaji surely knew this about me and was still putting me on the case. I couldn’t let him down.
I slapped my cheeks to refocus.
Suddenly, a voice I didn’t recognize called out from behind me, “This is some serial killer shit up in here!”
Just inside the entranceway, a young man with dyed brown hair permed into tight ringlets stood, staring at me. I instinctively cowered at the crazy, bloodshot look in his eyes.
“I knew he was fucking strange…” His voice was filled with anger. “He’s the one who did this!”
Yamaji stood up, stepped in front of me as a cover, and confronted the guy. “Forgive me,” he hesitated. “But who are you?”
“I’m Shota Akiyama, Reina’s boyfriend!”
“Ah…the one who filed the report.”
“That’s right!”
Shota Akiyama was 25 years old, a year older than Reina. We knew he got by with a part-time job at a convenience store and that he played in a band that wasn’t very popular.
I looked at him again and saw dark circles shadowing his eyes. Of course he was a little on edge: He had realized his girlfriend was dead after finding her foot in her apartment, and undoubtedly hadn’t been able to sleep well. My initial negative impression was completely turned around, and I found myself filled with sympathy for him.
However, I couldn’t stop myself from thinking: This guy had been who Reina was dating?
“We’re sorry for your loss,” Yamaji said, unaware of how flustered I was. “Forgive me, but…What exactly did you mean by ‘him’?” He smiled when he asked the question to show the kid he didn’t mean any harm, but he was only managing to smile with one side of his mouth, so he was probably somewhere closer to the textbook definition of a smirk.
I’d thought this about other veteran officers in the past, too, but if you stay in the force long enough, the work will kill the smile in your eyes. If I was at this crime scene any longer, it could well happen to me, too.
Akiyama was too distracted to notice Yamaji’s awkward smile. He raised his voice like he’d been waiting for the question. “It’s obvious! Ken Nakahigashi! Reina’s fiancé.”
“Fiancé, you say?” Yamaji had seemed worn out up to this point, but a light flashed in his eyes and he suddenly seemed transformed.
I flipped open my notebook. At the academy we learned that most murders involve money or sex. We couldn’t blindly accept Akiyama’s claims as fact, but they were definitely an important account.
“Well, damn…a marriage of convenience?” Yamaji asked. He lifted his eyes and glanced around Room 202, the place Reina had called home. I could see a thought pass through him as he blatantly sized the place up: Why would a woman wrapped up with two guys like this live in such a ramshackle place?
“Excuse me,” I interrupted. “Did you know her fiancé well?”
“No,” he said. “I only met him once. But that was enough to know the guy’s rotten through and through. He’s garbage. A heartless, lowlife psychopath. The only reason someone like that gets married is because he thinks there’s some kind of upside to it!”
Trouble had been brewing on the home front. Yamaji had on his poker face. “So, what about Reina?” he asked. “What did she say about Nakahigashi? Did she hate him as much as you did?”
“No. She never talked about him around me, maybe because she didn’t want to hurt my feelings. She was a sweetheart. She really was.” Akiyama burst into tears, perhaps in memory.
I found myself holding my breath. I still couldn’t imagine Reina dating this guy, but his feelings for her were without a doubt the real deal.
I tried to imagine the awful circumstances he was going through. He had received a strange phone call from his girlfriend and ran to her place to find a severed foot that seemed to be hers. Fighting back his worst fears and praying that she was safe, he found out that the worst had indeed come to pass and she was dead.
I kind of knew what he was going through.
“I can tell you’re nice, too,” Akiyama said, which made me realize that my eyes were tearing up.
“Oh, please excuse me,” I said. “I know officers aren’t supposed to get like this, but I’m still pretty green.”
Yamaji scratched at his head. “It’s not great to get so worked up, but with this case, it’s basically unavoidable. I’ll cover whatever you can’t handle.” He patted me gently on top of my head.
“Uhh…Yamaji?” I said.
“What now?” he asked. “Has my sudden kindness tugged at your heartstrings?”
“Please don’t touch my head. I know you’re trying to encourage me, but it makes me feel uncomfortable…on a very visceral level…sorry.”
“Wh-What?” Yamaji opened his eyes widely in genuine surprise, and then seemed a little ashamed.
Sorry, man, I thought to myself. But, look—basically every woman in the world hates being patted on the head by old men who don’t even register to them as a member of the opposite sex. I felt like I’d been a pretty considerate representative of women everywhere by letting him know.
“By the way, Akiyama,” I added casually. “If you have any photos of Reina, would you mind sharing them with us? Even just a digital file would be fine.”
I asked partly because it was necessary for the investigation, but also partly because I’d forgotten what she looked like and was curious to see. It wasn’t an unreasonable request at all.
But her boyfriend’s response wasn’t what I expected.
“I don’t have any photos,” he said flatly. He transformed completely and his face took on a blank look. Then he proved he had no interest in addressing the issue any further by emphasizing, with a note of finality, “Not a single one.”
2 A play on the existing “Yofuku no Aoyama” clothing store.