The Daydreamer Detective Braves the Winter

by S. J. Pajonas

  “I am! Hi! How are you?”

  “Oh good. I was hoping I would catch you still awake. I’ve been trying to get away from people for the last two hours so I could text in peace.”

  Smiley face. “I miss you.” I finally had the chance to say so.

  “I miss you too.”

  “What are you up to?”

  “That restaurant opening I was telling you about. One of my more famous fellow graduates just opened his third restaurant in town. Michelin star. All that stuff.” A sticker of a dog rolling his eyes.

  “Oh come on. If you had a Michelin star, you would be pretty happy too.”

  “Lol. I DO have one. That’s why I roll my eyes.”

  “Oh. I totally forgot! Sorry!” Sticker of an anime girl banging her head against a desk.

  “Anyway, tell me about home.”

  “Home misses you. It’s quiet here without you. There’s lots of snow on the ground. I spent a lot of time shoveling.”

  “I’m going to hire someone to do the restaurant and the apartment building.”

  “It’s okay. It’s good for me. Builds character.” Sticker of a man flexing his muscles.

  “I’ll come home and you’ll be all buff.”

  “Don’t count on it.” I remembered laughing here and wishing we had chosen to Skype instead.

  “What else?”

  “I’m getting creative with the microwave and the packaged goods you have. Murata-san has been teaching me to bake bread, but I’m scared to turn on the oven.”

  There was a long pause here. “Do you want me to teach you how to cook?”

  “Hmmm. Yes? Maybe? I’m sweating just thinking about it.”

  “We’ll talk about it when I’m home. I leave tomorrow and I’ll be home around 10:00 on Thursday. I can’t wait to see you!”

  “I have to take care of Yamida-san on Thursday morning, but hopefully, I’ll see you right after.”

  “Hey, so, I wanted to let you know that Amanda is not here. She’s in the States. And I’m glad I didn’t run into her. I don’t want to see her, as much as you don’t want me to see her.”

  “Okay.” Smiley face.

  “And there was a camera crew at the pre-party at the restaurant, so sometime tomorrow, you should check the Paris news and see if you can find me.” Smiley face.

  “Okay! I’ll look tomorrow afternoon!”

  “Good night. Keep the bed warm for me.”

  “I will. Night!”

  I set my phone down on the table, as a wave of jealousy rolled over me. He was so lucky. He was practically made of luck. He had a good, strong family, and he had a wholesome, easy upbringing. He got to live and study in Paris. He’d already made a name for himself in his field and made money with investments. He had a Michelin star and a famous restaurant. People paid him to travel the world and teach students what he’d learned. There were days when I was afraid to touch him or even look at him, that I would taint him with my eternal, bad luck.

  To drive the point home, I checked my email and my inbox did not contain job offers or even responses to my resume. Right. That was the balance of the world, right there. I was here by myself and he was in Paris without me. I knocked my head on the table a few times. Why hadn’t I just gone with him? I needed to renew my passport and be ready the next time he was called on to travel or I’d be bitter and unhappy forever.

  I glanced around his apartment again. I had to live here one more day without him — just one more. I picked up my phone again, dialing Chiyo. She answered the call immediately and greeted me by name. “Hi, Chiyo-san. I know my mom’s at work, but did she turn her phone back on?”

  “No. She’s determined to save every cent. She even sold the car yesterday.”

  My stomach sank to my toes. That was news I was hoping never to hear.

  “Oh, really?” I stood up from the dining table and plopped onto the couch. “That was fast.”

  “She put the money right in the bank.”

  “Of course she did. Anyway, I was wondering if you could bring her over here to Yasahiro’s this afternoon or for dinner tonight? I miss her and wanted to spend some time with her.”

  “Sure, Mei-chan. She misses you too. I’ll be sure to let her know you want to see her.”

  “Thanks. Call me when you’re on your way, okay?”

  “Yes, sure. She’ll see you later.”

  My phone didn’t stay silent for long. Goro called me a moment later.

  “Are you up and dressed?” he asked, abrupt and direct.

  “I’m up and fed. I can be dressed in five minutes. What’s going on?”

  “I’m pulling up on your block. Get dressed. We’re going to Sumida Ward to have a look at Etsuko’s place of business.”

  I jumped up from the table and put my coffee mug and soup bowl in the sink. “I’ll be down in ten minutes.”

  I brushed out my hair, braiding and pinning it over my ears, and put on jeans, a shirt, and sweater. I grabbed my boots by the door, hat, scarf, and coat, and got dressed on my way down the stairs.

  When I pushed the door open, I immediately groaned, and Goro rolled the window down on his car. “I need to shovel the sidewalk.” At least eight centimeters had accumulated overnight, and if I didn’t shovel, the neighbors would complain. I couldn’t leave Yasahiro with that earful when he came home from Paris.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Goro said, waving to me and picking up his radio. “Kayo-san!” I was sure this was not the correct way police officers were supposed to talk over the radio, but whatever worked for Goro.

  “Yes, boss!” Kayo’s voice echoed through the car and bounced off Yasahiro’s building.

  “I need you and one of the new recruits to come and shovel the sidewalk outside of the building at Kawamida-dori and Twenty-three.”

  “Suga-san’s place?”

  “Yeah. You’ll be doing me a huge favor. I’ll bring back doughnuts.”

  A chorus of happy cheers screeched through the radio. Goro turned it down and rolled his eyes as I got in the car. “Don’t tell them I was going to bring back doughnuts regardless.”

  I laughed and buckled myself in. “Thanks. My whole body hurts from shoveling.”

  He threw the car into gear. “Don’t mention it.”

  He peeled away from the curb and followed the signs leading to Tokyo.

  We arrived in Sumida Ward an hour later. The streets of Tokyo were slushy and gray, the snow almost gone from the roads and sidewalks except in little mountains near street corners. I wished Goro was a less angry car driver, though. Riding with him was an exercise in patience because he was constantly weaving in and out of other vehicles, laying on the horn, or swearing at other drivers. At one point, he threatened to turn on the sirens and lights to get us to Tokyo faster. I rolled my eyes and concentrated on my phone the entire trip. I never got carsick, so I was lucky to read in the car and have this distraction.

  Goro slowed down in the shadow of the Tokyo Skytree, the tallest structure in Japan. Sumida was an interesting enclave of artists and craftsmen. The ward was a collection of one and two-story buildings, absent of high-rises. Tokyo Skytree was the highest thing around here, and whatever street you ended up on, your eye was always drawn to it in the distance. I’d only been here two times prior, and only ever to the area around the Skytree. A restaurant up in the tower was worth checking out. Great views, and all that.

  “I think it’s around this corner…” Goro mumbled, making a turn and pulling up to the curb. He threw the car into park without even caring where he was.

  “Do you never have to park your car in a garage?” I craned my neck to look out the window at the stretch of small factories that lined the street. Some were open for business. Others were closed up and appeared as if they’d been that way for years.

  “Nope. I get a special exemption.” He patted the dashboard of the car and smiled. “It was one of my happiest days when they finally gave me a car. Kayo is jealous, but I keep telling her she’s
got to work hard, and she’ll get one too someday. That’s the way it works.”

  That’s the way the system worked for most of Japan. Work hard, work late hours, work on the weekends, spend the night at work, anything for work. I had worked a lot when I had an office job, but it never seemed to be enough. People would sleep at their desk overnight, and I just couldn’t. There was something alien about giving away so much of my personal life for a job. So, it was my own fault I kept getting downsized and fired. I should have cared more about the companies I worked for.

  “Goro-chan, what do you think of my idea to help the elderly around town? I actually like working hard, putting in the hours, as long as it’s for a good cause. I don’t think I had it in me to slave away for a corporate job, but I could work hard for people who need me.”

  He sighed as he pulled on a pair of knit gloves. “This is why I wanted to become a police officer. I couldn’t see myself in a suit and tie, commuting to work in the city, and doing the same thing every day for the next fifty years. As a police officer, I’m doing something new all the time, I’m helping people in our town, and I’m solving mysteries. It’s the best job on earth. You should think about joining us.”

  “That’s not the first time you’ve mentioned this.”

  His smile was smooth. “Because I mean it when I say I think you have a gift for this stuff.”

  “Really?” I had always thought of the police as being peacemakers, but before moving home to Chikata, I’d never spent any time with a police officer, and I appreciated how varied Goro’s job was. “A gift?”

  “Don’t take it lightly. I mean it.”

  “Okay, okay. But I… I don’t want to go back to school.” I had believed that part of my life was over.

  “That’s understandable. Anyway, I like your idea. More involvement with the town and the elderly is a noble cause. They often need more than their families can provide. Let’s go.” Goro cut the conversation off and opened his door, swinging his feet out onto the street. A noble cause? Pride swelled in my chest. I wanted to help. I wanted a bit of nobility.

  I followed him along the sidewalk as we examined each building and tried to figure out where Etsuko’s shop was amongst the tiny factories. A lot of the places manufactured small hand goods like bags or cups, and they recycled cast-off materials from larger factories. Three-D printing and die cutting were popular around here, and I peeked in doorways to see if I could spot anything cool or interesting. I let Goro take the lead, and he muttered to himself as he glanced up at each building we came across. He stopped, looking at a piece of paper in his hand, and pointed across the street.

  “There it is.”

  Etsuko’s office was one of four in a squat, brick building. Goro pulled open the glass door and headed into a short hallway that divided the building in half, two offices on each side. Inside the door, on the wall, a directory listed Etsuko’s business, Bento Number Nine, as office number four, in the back right corner of the building.

  We were halfway down the hallway when one of the offices opened and a young woman called to us.

  “Who are you here for?” she asked, waving in our direction.

  “Not to worry, ma’am,” Goro said, bowing to her. “We’re here to check out office number four.”

  The woman softened as Goro pulled out his police officer badge.

  “Is Etsuko-san in trouble? I haven’t seen her in over two weeks, and she’s usually in the office at least twice per week.”

  “Well, I’m afraid to tell you that she died two weeks ago.”

  I was glad I didn’t have to deliver this information because she gasped and covered her face with her hands, a distraught moan leaking between her fingers.

  Goro didn’t move to comfort her, so I took a few tentative steps forward and patted her on her arm. “Did you know her well?”

  “Yes, we were friends.” She brushed her long bangs away from her teary eyes. “She’s had this office for two years, and we would often go out to lunch together. Does her boyfriend know what happened? They lived apart.”

  I glanced at Goro and he nodded. “Yeah. He knows. Did she have any business partners or anyone else she worked with here? Anyone else we should inform of her death?“

  The young woman shook her head, dabbing at her cheeks with the sleeve of her sweater. “No. She worked alone. She told me once that she only keeps the office so she has space to box up orders and store her inventory. She still did a lot of business out of her own apartment because that’s how she started.”

  She took a deep breath and let it out. “Was there a funeral? Did I miss it?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry,” I said, stepping away and giving her space.

  “That’s too bad. I would’ve contributed to her family for the funeral. She was so nice, and I liked hanging out with her. Do you need to open her office?” She fumbled at her sweater’s pocket, keys jingling inside.

  “We have a key.”

  The young woman retreated into her office as we approached Etsuko’s. Goro shuffled through a ring of keys until he decided on one he was willing to try first. Three keys later, the door opened and he turned on the light.

  The office space was small, about fifteen square meters in total. Every available centimeter of wall space was packed with cardboard boxes, from floor to ceiling, minus room for a tall filing cabinet and a table and chair. To the right of the table, Etsuko had carved out space for packing boxes and supplies. Folded up cardboard boxes, packing tape, a box knife, and a stack of labels were ready and waiting to be used. There were no windows for natural light and the only door to the place was the one we had come through. The office didn’t feel miserable or neglected, but the place lacked cheer or any kind of personalization — no photos on the table, posters on the wall, or anything I might associate with Etsuko.

  Goro and I slipped on the purple, disposable gloves he kept in his pocket and searched the place in silence. He headed directly for the table while I peeked in the boxes along the wall — bento boxes, hundreds and hundreds of bento boxes. She had such great taste. I loved that she collected a variety of shapes, sizes, and colors, and she hadn’t been short on inventory. Picking up the top two or three bento boxes from each box, I opened them. No money. Perhaps she hadn’t taken deliveries of money here? She might have only done that at home.

  “This looks legitimate,” Goro said, rifling through the papers on her desk. “If we had never come here, I would’ve believed her bento box company was a front. But she has invoices from several companies and individuals. It’s funny that she never told Kumi about this. I knew she liked bento boxes. You saw them in her apartment…”

  I nodded as I closed another cardboard box.

  “What if she thought it was silly?” he continued. “She had a job at her parents’ restaurant. Perhaps she was afraid of people telling her that having her own business was too much? You know how people can be.”

  He moved on to the filing cabinet, pulling on the top drawer but it didn’t open. Taking the key ring from his pocket again, he found a smaller silver key that opened the filing cabinet. The two bottom drawers were filled with hanging files of paper. He glanced through them, not finding anything interesting. I looked over his shoulder, and the folders were labeled “inventory,” “taxes,” and “past due.” The next drawer up contained a folder for each of her suppliers. The third drawer from the bottom was filled with teabags, ramen noodles, napkins, and feminine hygiene products. Goro didn’t even flinch as he shuffled through her personal goods and closed the drawer. The top drawer contained a cashbox.

  He placed the cashbox on the table, unlocked it with another key on Etsuko’s ring, and inside the box, neat stacks of bills took up the available space. Goro eyed each stack, mumbling and counting on his fingers. I suppressed a smile.

  “Looks like… She had about 300,000 yen on hand. That’s not a little bit of money, but it’s also not a lot of money. Not the kind of money we found in her apartment.” He hummed and drummed
his fingers on the table. “I bet this was her legitimate storefront, and that she got into money laundering later after her business was already established. She probably kept the legitimate business coming in and out of here, and everything else happened in and out of her home.”

  I looked at the money, all that money. Etsuko had worked hard, trying to build a future for her and Hisashi. Getting caught up in the money laundering was secondary, as far as I was concerned. There was no reason her money should get caught up in this investigation, especially if the police had already confiscated the cash in her apartment.

  I grabbed a stack of money and held it between us. “Hisashi-san deserves this money. They were going to marry and start a family. She was going to use this to take care of her loved ones. If we add this money to the investigation, Hisashi-san will never see it.”

  “No way, Mei-chan. That goes against every rule and regulation we have. This is all evidence.” Goro’s eyes searched mine, probably hoping I was joking. I wasn’t.

  “No one ever has to know. Etsuko worked alone, and when we came here, the cashbox was empty.” I said it with confidence, believing that if I was convinced the lie was true, it must have been. I pushed the cash at Goro. “Hold onto it for Hisashi-san. There is no way he killed her. He deserves this money. She obviously worked hard for every yen she made.” I waved to the room around me. “There’s no reason to throw away the money now.”

  Goro looked between me and the money in my hands. “I have a better idea.” He grabbed my bag and threw the cashbox inside of it. “You take the whole thing.” Amazingly enough, the box fit in my sack of a purse. “When the investigation is over, you give it to him. If something happens and he goes to jail, you keep the money.”

  “What?” I drew back with my hand over my chest. “I can’t keep this. I’ll donate it or something.”

  “Fine.” He opened both upper drawers of the filing cabinet and moved the food and tea to the top drawer, keeping the personal products in the second one. “If anyone asks, this is what we found here.” He closed the drawer and pressed his forehead to the cold metal. I immediately felt guilty for suggesting we take the money.