“So I get to the bar where the partner’s at, and it’s a pretty swank little affair. Which, for Zushi, means it’s mostly deserted, since everyone else is drinking at the cheap beachfront bars. It’s just him, two women, and the bartender. A big burly dude. I tried to get the guy to come with me, but right away the women and bartender start giving me static. I shot the bartender in the knee and had to pistol-whip one of the ladies just to get them to shut up.”
Masa noticed Sachiko flinching when he got to the violent bits, and remembered that she didn’t care for violence. He always seemed to forget.
“Anyway, long story short, I finally get him to take me to his place and give up the documents. So I kill him and throw him in the trunk of the car. Trouble is, it’s already packed with the bartender and two other women. So by the time I get back to Satoshi and the developer, the car is totally full! We had to drive him out to the hole we dug seated in the front seat with his mistress propped up in the backseat. Man, we were hoping like hell no cops saw us with all those bodies. Not to mention all the extra digging we had to do …”
Masa looked wistful. “We finished burying them right as the sun was coming up. Remember, this was before they started building that fucking Barrier. Back when you could still see the sun from the Kanto region. We got breakfast at this place nearby, and—”
“Wasn’t he pissed?”
“Who? Satoshi?”
“Yeah. I thought you said he didn’t like violence.”
“Well, a little. He said I went overboard with the people at the bar. But he wasn’t there, didn’t see how it went down. Anyway, he seemed to get over it. I mean, I did do all the heavy lifting in terms of killing in the end. He just had to do some extra digging.”
“Now he’s trying to bury you.”
Masa looked away. “Seems that way. Did I tell you he almost got me the other day? I set up a camera facing the entryway to Ozu’s building. If I hadn’t, he might have caught me. But I almost got him, in the end.”
“What, like killed him?”
“Well … I was aiming to wound. Figured laying him up for a while might make him reconsider. But talking to you now, I wonder if I shouldn’t just end it.”
“Why not just go to his apartment and be done with it? You know where he lives, right?”
“It may come to that, if this keeps up. But lately, I’ve been …”
“What? In another one of your episodes?”
“Yeah. A bad one, too. Now I’ve got some work to take care of that’s overdue, so it’ll have to wait.”
Sachiko smirked. “Work? What, big presentation at the office?”
“No, couple of jobs for an old friend. We’re looking to … go into business, you could say. Plus, the Festival of Knives is coming up soon. Training’s kept me busy, when I’ve been able to keep up with it.”
“I’m just surprised, is all. You’ve always had a temper and have never been shy about acting on it. Now you have someone actively coming after you, and you won't hit back.”
Masa just looked away. He was growing irritated with this line of questioning, but trying not to show it.
“It’s different with Satoshi.”
“Why?”
“Look, I haven't forgiven him for what he did to you, to us. Probably never will. But you’ve got to remember, that for a long time he was the only one who kept me sane, kept me alive. He was the only one who ever gave a shit about me. And that means something to me. Even if it doesn’t mean anything to him anymore.”
Chapter Four
“Where is he?” Mei demanded.
She strode over to where Kameko stood with her arms crossed over her chest, her respirator off to one side. They had agreed to meet in Yoyogi Park, by the bridge spanning the pond. The water was a grim mirror of the sky, gray and lifeless. Even the water spurting up from the fountain looked ashen.
“We let him go,” Kameko replied.
“Bullshit! What did you do to him?”
“Bought him dinner. Asked him a few questions. Quite a talker, that one. But he gave us some—”
“Why’d you take him? Huh? Afraid of what I might find out if I talked to him? Afraid of what he saw?”
“No, we were afraid of what you’d do to him.” Kameko spat the accusation with malevolence.
It was the first time Mei had seen her sardonic veneer slip. The effect was disconcerting.
“What are you talking—”
“Don’t play dumb with me. We know what you did to Ozu, the beating you gave him. Frankly, Kimura, I thought better of you. Beat a man hard enough and he’ll tell you anything you want to hear. But that doesn’t make it true. Trust me on that.”
Mei felt chastised, but tried not to let it show. “My men got ahead of me on that one. I should have stopped it sooner than I did.”
“I thought you were in charge there.”
“I am. Don’t try to change the subject. If he’s unharmed, let me talk to him.”
“Be my guest. You might find him back at Tsukishima. But then, you might not. I advised him to make himself scarce for a while.”
Mei angrily shook her head.
“You know, on account of what you did to Ozu.”
“Alright,” Mei said slowly. “Then what did he tell you?”
“He said that he heard people moving around in the factory below him, so he crawled over to see what was up. There were three men working on a body.”
“What do you mean ‘working on’?”
“Said they were cutting it up. Had tarps down too, professional-like.”
“So mutilating it. Removing its organs, like the others.”
“Seems that way, yes.”
“Would explain the lack of evidence at the crime scenes.”
“Yeah. They’re being careful. Anyway, another guy came across them like that. Seemed to recognize them. They started arguing about something, and a fight broke out between the newcomer and one of the men. The newcomer was wounded. But it ended when he opened up the other guy. The other two—”
“What do you mean, ‘opened up’?”
“Opened him up. Slit him open from top to bottom. The guy bled out almost instantly, and the interloper got away.”
“What happened next?”
“He said the other two rolled up their friend and left. And that was it.”
“That would explain the three distinct blood types.”
“And Masa’s DNA at the crime. If it was him.”
“What do you think?” Mei asked. Not really to hear her answer, but more to see if she would answer honestly.
“Yeah, could be. Slicing a guy open like that isn’t exactly beneath him. That would also explain the trail of blood leading away from the scene. A traumatic chest wound like that could also produce the splatter pattern seen behind the body.”
Mei was impressed at her candor. “You don’t think Masa was the guy who was killed. Why not?”
“We should only be so lucky,” Kameko said. “But no. He was seen recently.”
“By who? I’d like to talk to them.”
“An anonymous source. And they don’t want to talk to you. But if this Ebina guy is correct, that means you have another dead body out there somewhere. Anything come in about a guy who had been eviscerated?”
“I’ll ask around at the Homicide Department. But assuming these guys are professionals …”
“The body wouldn’t have been found.”
“Well, let me ask you, as a professional. Where do you hide your bodies?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, I’m just Mr. Loginovski’s business associate,” Kameko said with feigned innocence. “Nice try, though.”
“Worth a shot.” Mei paced around a bit. “A team would explain the quick turnaround.”
Kameko looked at her quizzically.
“These have been taking place roughly every five days. That’s unusually fast for murders with this level of … complexity. A team would help explain how they’re do
ing it.”
“I see.”
“Of course, getting back to Ebina’s testimony—how do I know anything you just told me is the truth? How do I know you’re not just trying to cover your own asses?”
“This suspicion is getting old.”
“Questioning everything is what makes a good detective. And right now I still don’t know if I can trust you. I don’t know your angle in all this, and that makes me wonder.”
“Our angle is stopping this serial killer. Or serial killers, I should say. And Mr. Loginovski takes this latest murder rather personally.”
“His ex-girlfriend.”
“The mother of his child. He’s a controlled man, rarely gets upset. But this …” She trailed off, shaking her head. “You’ve seen the body, I take it?”
“Yes.”
“What was removed this time?”
“Liver, gallbladder, lungs, heart. Why?”
“I want to see her.”
“Out of the question. Even if I wanted to help you, there’s no way they’d let me bring someone off the street into the morgue.”
“Well, find a way. After hours, bribe the guard, I don’t care how, just get me in there. I want to examine the body myself.”
“I can’t just let someone with no medical training—”
“I’m a licensed cardiothoracic surgeon. Finished med school and everything.”
Mei’s eyes widened. “What the hell …”
“Cardiothoracic means I specialize in the organs in the chest cavity. See—”
“I know what it means. I mean why are you doing this if you’re a licensed surgeon?”
Kameko smirked. “The pay is better. Plus—and keep your opinions to yourself here—I really enjoy my work. So I need you to do this for me, so I can help you.”
“Again, how do I know—”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Let me see her after the ME has taken a look. I’m not trying to tamper with evidence here.”
“You steal my witness, now you want a favor?”
“Yeah. You can still be transferred to Fukushima at any time. Just one phone call.”
Mei gritted her teeth. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Anything else?”
“No, let’s go.”
They began walking back to the park entrance.
“Something is with you today,” Mei said as they walked. “You’re not your usual smartass self.”
“I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
“Just strange is all. Usually people are happy when an ex is out of the picture.”
“Why would I give a shit about his ex? It’s not like …” Kameko trailed off when she saw the smile on Mei’s face.
“Oh, clever. How did you know?”
“Just a hunch.”
Kameko nodded. She didn’t look happy. “Maybe you’re not as dumb as I thought, Kimura.”
Chapter Five
Jun looked up from the kitchen table when Vasili and Kameko arrived home late at night. He was sitting in the kitchen of Vasili’s house in a residential street of Azabu Juban.
“He arrived a little while ago. I let him in. I assumed that’s what you wanted.”
Vasili almost didn’t hear him. He just looked at his son standing by the large window overlooking the backyard, gazing out.
“That is what you wanted, isn’t it?” Jun asked again after a long moment.
“Huh? Oh, yeah, good. Thanks.”
He turned back to look at his son. He could only see the barest outline of his face in the glass. His son’s face had always struck Vasili as more Asian than Slavic. The impression in the window was how he saw himself in his progeny: as only a mere suggestion, a dim reflection in glass.
He walked up to the boy and placed a meaty hand on his slender shoulder. Shoichi didn’t look up. He just kept staring at the empty pool in the backyard lit by floodlights.
“Back from exile,” Shoichi said flatly in Japanese.
Vasili’s few attempts to teach him some Russian hadn’t gotten very far, so now the two always spoke in Japanese. He would have liked to be able to speak to his son in his own tongue. Because even with fluent Japanese he felt like he was painting with broad brushstrokes in the language.
“Let’s not start that again. It’s good to have you back, despite the circumstances.”
“The pool’s empty,” Shoichi said.
“Yeah, it’s got a crack in it from a strong earthquake. Drained right out. I’ve been meaning to get it fixed.”
“It’s been like that since I was a kid.”
“Guess I should maybe get around to that, then. Come, sit.”
He led his son over to the table. Shoichi didn’t resist, just walked tractably along.
Vasili took two crystal glasses from the cupboard and fetched a bottle of vodka. He set all this down on the table between them and began to pour two glasses.
Shoichi held out his hands. “None for me, thanks, I really—”
“Nonsense. Drink, you’re a Loginovski. You’re still part Russian. This is what we do in the face of death.”
Vasili handed him one of the glasses. Shoichi reluctantly accepted the drink, and tried to clink glasses. But Vasili put his hand in front of his glass and shook his head.
“I thought you—“
“Not when someone has died.” Vasili held his glass up at a distance and quietly said, “Vechnaya pamyat.” Then he downed his in one smooth motion, like he was drinking water, and poured another. Shoichi coughed and sputtered, nearly spitting out his first sip when the harsh liquor hit his lips.
“Guess I’m not much of a Russian,” Shoichi said.
“It takes practice,” Vasili replied. “There’s a few cans of chu-hai and beer in the fridge, if you prefer.”
Shoichi came back with a can of lime chu-hai and sat down across from his dad.
“How are you holding up?” Vasili asked.
Shoichi just shrugged and looked away. “Alright, I guess, considering.” Almost as an afterthought he said, “How about you?”
“I’m … dealing, I guess.”
They sat there for a while, sipping their drinks, not knowing what to say to one another. It was Shoichi who finally broke the silence.
“I should have been here. Instead of over in Kyoto at that damn private school you shipped me off to.”
“And what would you have done? You, against seasoned killers?”
“What do you mean, ‘killers’? Do you know who did this? Were you involved in this somehow?”
Vasili sighed. “I didn’t kill your mother, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Did they kill her to get at you? Because you’re gokudo?”
Vasili stared at his son for a while. He had always tried to shield the boy from the truth about himself. Even now, he considered denying it, but he saw no point in this. He began nodding slowly.
“I … think it may have something to do with that.”
“Dammit, Dad. Did my mother get killed to send you a message? Is that it?”
Vasili just shook his head. “I don’t know, son.” But probably.
Silence again. This time longer.
“How do you deal with it?” Shoichi finally asked.
You get used to it after a while, go numb. You find who did it and make them pay. Then when that doesn't help you throw yourself into your work to take your mind off it.
“Time,” is what Vasili actually said. “Only time.”
The next morning, Vasili was alternating between absentmindedly cooking breakfast and staring out at the backyard, with its leaf-choked swimming pool. He would have gotten around to fixing that long ago, but he was always too busy. Besides, he was hardly ever around to use it.
Shoichi came down after a while, looking drained.
“Morning. Get some sleep?”
“A little.”
“There’s a pot of coffee brewing.”
“Thanks. Do you have any green tea?”
“Right. Um, yea
h, Jun drinks it. Should be some around here.”
Shoichi looked over into the living room, where Jun was reading a paper in the far corner.
“Does he sleep here?”
“Sometimes, if it’s a late night.”
“He’s pretty devoted to you.”
“We go back a way.”
“The son you never had, eh?” Shoichi said with a tired smile.
“Don’t say that, you know—”
He was interrupted by a knock at the door. Jun sprang up and went to answer it.
“It’s Detective Kimura,” he said, peering through the peephole. “With some others.”
Vasili sighed. “Let them in.”
“How do you know this detective?” Shoichi asked in a low voice.
“She’s working on the serial killer case.”
“I guessed that. But how do you know her?”
Vasili hesitated. “As a pillar of the community, I take an active interest in matters that affect it.”
“Good morning, Vasili,” Mei said. She was flanked by two younger, surly-looking detectives that Vasili didn’t recognize.
“Good morning, Detective.”
“I’m sorry for your loss. I was hoping we could talk to you on the record, if you don’t mind.”
“I do mind, actually. I’m kind of in the middle of something.” He motioned towards Shoichi.
“Oh, and who is this? One of your up-and-comers in the—”
“He’s my son,” Vasili hissed.
Mei looked his way. “Ah, Michael Corleone, I presume.” She turned back to Vasili. “Schooling him to take over the family business?”
“You presume too much, Detective. He’s here because his mother is dead.”
“And I intend to catch her killer. Which is why I am requesting your cooperation so that we can do that as quickly as possible.” She turned to Shoichi, her tone softening considerably. “I’m sorry for your loss, truly. But if you don’t mind, I’d like to speak to your dad for a bit. Won’t take long, and it will go a long way towards catching her killer.”
Tokyo Noir: The Complete First Season Page 36
