by Joel Jenkins
Kyoko lowered her head and gave a shake. “You know I can’t do that.”
* * *
“Yes, yes, I understand. Just stay out of sight and try not to cause me any more trouble.”
The woman disconnected the cell phone call and threw it on the coffee table. Suzume Tanaka was in her fifties, but with her toned body and youthful features, as well as graceful poise, she could give any woman half her age a run for her money. The man who sat on her leather couch was burly and had a shaved head with a mustache. He wore a pair of dark sunglasses, even though he was indoors, and a gray suit that shone slightly under the lights of Suzume’s living room.
Suzume paced in front of him, one hand on her hip while the other rubbed her forehead. She wore a simple white dress that hung loosely on her body and extended to just above her knees.
“You’re making me dizzy,” said her bodyguard. “What’s the problem?”
“It’s about that host from Nanpa,” she said.
“The one who disappeared?”
Suzume nodded. “One of the other hosts just called me. He said there’s someone nosing about. And my name was mentioned. Jun, you know what this means?”
Jun grumbled while he scratched his chin. “Not really.”
She huffed and nearly screamed in his face. “If my husband finds out about this, about what I’ve done, do you know what that will mean? He’s already warned me once about this!”
“Who’s asking about the host?” asked Jun.
“Some bitch. She’s been to his apartment and she was at the club.”
Jun shrugged. “We got cameras in the club. Won’t be hard to figure out who she is. Then I’ll take care of—”
“No!” she snapped. “If you get involved and something happens, Ryunosuke will get suspicious. This can’t be traced back to me or even the gumi. It has to be completely outside.”
“I know someone,” said Jun.
“Who?” asked Suzume.
“I know her by reputation, she’s a professional out of Tokyo.”
Suzume’s thin eyebrows crunched together. “Can she make it look clean? Untraceable?”
Jun snickered. “That’s her specialty. Don’t worry, within a week, this troublemaker won’t be drawing breath.”
* * *
The next few days were a whirlwind of dead ends. Kyoko kept surveillance on Nanpa from various points in Shinsekai, always keeping an eye out for Suzume Tanaka, but she never showed. Kyoko even tried following some of the other regular customers, including the two women whom she met during her first visit to the club. Ichiro was right, they were fuzoku, both working at erotic massage parlors. And it was clear during Kyoko’s surveillance of the soapland they worked at that they were working for Tanaka’s operations. But still, she had nothing more to go on. She hadn’t seen Ichiro since their confrontation. Go had also become scarce, she only saw him go into Nanpa one of the nights during her week of surveillance, but she never saw him come out. He must have slipped away when she hadn’t been looking.
With the latest round of surveillance done for the day—or night, as it were—Kyoko returned home. She treated herself to a long, hot bath; once she finished and got into sweat pants and a t-shirt, even though the sun was just coming up, she needed to treat herself to a drink before getting some much-needed sleep.
Kyoko took a bottle of Suntory whiskey from the top of her refrigerator and set it on the small metal counter beside the sink. From the refrigerator, she took a plastic bottle of club soda and filled a glass about halfway with it, as opposed to the usual three-quarters. She unscrewed the cap from the cheap whiskey and filled the remainder of the glass with it.
She brought the glass to her lips, but as she did, she detected something odd. There was a strange odor emanating from the glass. It was faint, probably undetectable by most. Kyoko grabbed the whiskey and sniffed it. The usual musky aroma of the whiskey was gone, replaced by something decidedly different.
Kyoko dumped out the drink and turned the bottle upside down, allowing all the tainted alcohol to flow down the drain. She moved from her kitchen into the narrow corridor. On the left was the six-mat tatami room which doubled as both her bedroom and living room. And the right led to the three-mat room that she used as a home office. Kyoko went to the desk and pulled open the center drawer, but found it was empty.
Then came the click.
“Looking for this?”
Kyoko stiffened at the sound. She slowly raised her arms and turned. What she found was a young woman, about the same age as her, and wearing a light blue business suit. Her hair was short and dyed a dark burgundy, reaching to her jawline and framing her face nicely. A faint smile played at her lips. And in her extended arm was the small revolver Kyoko kept hidden in her desk. Handguns were illegal in Japan outside of law enforcement, but Kyoko got this one as a present from Hashimoto when she went into business for herself.
“I was impressed that you noticed the poison,” she said. “It’s never failed me in the past.”
“I always like to smell my whiskey before I taste it,” said Kyoko. “My old boss told me it helps enhance the flavor.”
The assassin looked perplexed. “Even with cheap, sen-en whiskey?”
Kyoko shrugged. “Seems like the time when you’d need anything you can to enhance the flavor, ne?”
The assassin couldn’t argue with that. “Regardless, I thought you should know that you’ve earned my respect.”
Kyoko reached out a hand, but the assassin cautioned her. “Ah-ah! Not so fast.” Kyoko just smirked.
“Since I know you won’t tell me your name, let’s just call you Aoi. And since I know you won’t shoot me, how about we talk for a few minutes?”
Aoi scoffed. “In case you hadn’t realized, I’m here to kill you, Nakamura-san.”
“I know, but you won’t shoot me,” said Kyoko. “For one, if you fire that gun, the neighbors will hear it. And they will call the police. I doubt you’d be able to get out of here fast enough to avoid being seen. And two, my guess is you went with poison because you wanted this to look like an accident, ne? Hard to look like an accident when there’s a bullet involved. And even if they do suspect a suicide, the angle is all wrong. No way I could have shot myself with a gun from across the room.”
Aoi grinned again. “All good points. But maybe, since everyone is asleep, they’d have some momentary shock, assuming the shot wakes them at all, and by the time they can check outside their apartments, I’ll already be gone. And maybe at first, this was about making it look like an accident. But given the type of circles you run in, you’re likely to have made many enemies. A cheating spouse you exposed, for example? So I’d be last on the list. Especially as I’m not even from this area.”
“True, but there’s a third problem,” said Kyoko.
“And what’s that?” asked Aoi.
“You’ve never used a gun before, have you? What did you forget to do?”
Aoi’s smile vanished. “You mean… ?”
Kyoko smiled. “Like you said, I mostly deal with cheating spouses. So why would I need a loaded gun in my home?”
The assassin quickly snapped open the revolver and looked into the chamber. But what she saw were six live bullets staring at her. Once she realized she’d been tricked, before she could react again, Kyoko had crossed the distance between them, and delivered a palm-strike to Aoi’s forehead. The impact knocked her back and she dropped the gun, the bullets scattering across the floor.
Aoi ducked Kyoko’s next strike and kicked at her knee. Kyoko fell, using her other leg to keep from hitting the ground. As Aoi reached for another strike, Kyoko drove her elbow into the assassin’s hip, a strike which managed to cause both women a fair bit of pain. But it gave Kyoko a brief advantage and she ran to the kitchen and took a butcher knife from the drawer. She spun on Aoi just as the assassin had advanced, cutting into her arm.
Aoi quickly stepped back, and Kyoko kept the knife held defensively. When Aoi tried to go back for the gun, Kyo
ko lunged forward and scored another cut. “Don’t think I’m about to let you get out of this that easily. If you get the gun, I’ll be able to cut your throat in the time it takes to pick up and load even a single bullet.”
“Maybe you should think about this. You don’t really think this will end well for you, do you?” said Aoi. “Even if you kill me, someone else will come after you next. You should have known better than to make an enemy of Suzume Tanaka.”
“Maybe she should have thought of that before she killed Shinji Kuroyama,” said Kyoko.
Aoi froze in her tracks. “What?”
“The whole reason you’re here. The whole reason I was investigating Tanaka to begin with,” said Kyoko. “Shinji Kuroyama was the host she was having an affair with. Either she was jealous of his other clients or she was afraid of her husband finding out about him, so she had him killed.”
Aoi scoffed. “You believe that?”
“Give me another explanation that makes sense,” said Kyoko.
“She doesn’t know anything about the host, she thought he ran off with her money,” said Aoi. “Told me as much herself.”
Kyoko lowered the blade a little. “Are you serious?”
“She was worried your investigation would bring her husband’s attention to her… extracurricular activities,” said Aoi.
“But if it wasn’t Tanaka…” Kyoko blinked, her mouth agape in shock.
“You know what it’s like for those yakuza pricks. All old school samurai attitude. They can stick it in anyone they want, but their wives have to be completely faithful,” said Aoi. “And if they’re not, someone dies. She was trying to protect her ‘honor’—for whatever that’s worth—by getting rid of you.”
Kyoko tossed the knife in the sink. Aoi’s words had struck a profound chord within her. One that made her see the entire case in a completely new light. A much clearer one in fact.
“Of course…” she muttered. “Now it all makes sense.”
Aoi watched Kyoko’s every move with careful consideration, not sure what to make of her sudden shift in attitude. “I hate to be a pain, but what are you doing?”
“You can tell Suzume that she won’t have to worry about me. I made a mistake investigating her and I’m going after the person who really killed Shinji.”
Aoi still stayed on alert. “This… this is pretty unusual. You want me to tell a yakuza wife that the hit is called off because you had a change of heart?”
Kyoko looked up and there was a flash of anger in her dark eyes. “Do you really want to push me, Aoi? Because I could just kill you and then try my luck with the next assassin, or just go to Suzume directly.”
It only took Aoi a few moments to think that over. Kyoko did have the upper hand in the fight, and should they go again, there was little doubt in Aoi’s mind who would come out on top. Aoi relaxed her body and leaned against the wall.
“I don’t suppose you have another bottle stashed somewhere around here?” she asked.
* * *
Misaki Kuroyama came home to her penthouse apartment and removed her high-heeled shoes in the genkan. Turning on the lights, she entered the spacious foyer and walked to the large kitchen with a center counter island. She set her purse down and opened the refrigerator, taking a bottle of wine. Removing the wine stopper, she poured herself a glass.
From the kitchen, Misaki walked into the living room. She turned on the light and gasped, jumping and spilling the wine on the white carpet. Seated on the spacious leather couch in front of the large television set was Kyoko Nakamura.
“Took you a while to get home,” she said as she reached for a glass and sipped it. “Hope you don’t mind, I helped myself to some of your scotch. Or probably your father’s scotch, right? Good stuff. Keep a bottle here for when your parents visit, ne?”
“Nakamura-san,” said Misaki in a breathless voice. “H-how did you get in? Why are you here?”
Kyoko stood, taking the scotch with her. She sauntered towards Misaki. “I came here to collect my fee.”
“Y-your fee?” asked Misaki. “So you mean you—?”
“Mm.” Kyoko sipped the scotch once more as she walked right up to Misaki, their faces just scant inches apart. “I solved the case.”
“Then my brother?” asked Misaki. “You found him, yes?”
“Ohhh yeah, I found him.” Kyoko turned away, walking around the room. “This is a very big place you have here, Kuroyama.” Hanging from the walls were various framed photographs, and Kyoko examined them. Mostly they were of Misaki and her parents or her friends. “You know what’s funny? For someone who cares so much about her brother, you certainly don’t keep many pictures of him.”
“Yes, well… it’s for my parents’ sake,” said Misaki. “They visit about once a week. I used to just take down the pictures of Shinji, but it became a bit of a chore.”
“Naruhodo,” said Kyoko. “Well, I have some good news and some bad news. The bad news is, unfortunately, that your brother was killed.”
“Eh?” asked Misaki, her hand going to her chest. “I-I can’t believe it—!”
“I found out who was responsible, too,” said Kyoko, continuing to walk around the room. “Wasn’t easy. Your brother was pretty popular at his club. Had lots of clients who saw him outside of work. And sometimes, that can get messy. People get jealous. I even got myself into some hot water investigating it.”
“Excuse me,” said Misaki, bending down to pick up the glass. She stared at the red stains in the white carpet for several moments, then stood up suddenly. “I’ll just get a towel, I need to clean this up before it sets in.”
Kyoko nodded. “Dozo.”
Misaki went into the kitchen and Kyoko heard the water running. She spoke up so Misaki could still hear her over the sound of the faucet.
“Jealousy is a powerful motive for murder. Certainly there are many cases like that,” said Kyoko. “But then I realized a few other things.”
“Oh?”
“For starters, there was no missing persons report filed,” said Kyoko. “Now, my initial assumption was that my first suspect had connections to see to it that the file would disappear.”
The water stopped. Kyoko paused with it for effect.
“Once that suspect was ruled out, I realized something else. Shinji had a landlady.”
Misaki came back into the room with a wet rag and knelt down, dabbing at the wine stain. “A landlady? Is she a suspect, too?”
“No, not at all. But there were two things about her that caught my eye upon reflection. The first is that you told me you spoke to Shinji’s landlord.”
Misaki paused the scrubbing but didn’t look up. “I did? I must have just been nervous—”
“That’s what I thought, but then I realized the second part,” said Kyoko. “The landlady had no idea Shinji was missing, but you told me you asked her about him.”
Misaki had completely stopped scrubbing now. But Kyoko didn’t cease her explanation.
“You also said you were supporting Shinji and that your parents had disowned him. But after I ruled out that other suspect, I was able to get some info on his bank records from a contact I have. And it turns out there was a bank transfer made to Shinji’s account a few months ago. But it wasn’t from you. Would you like to know who it’s from?”
Misaki stood, gripping the damp towel so tightly her knuckles started to whiten. “Yes, of course. If it will help you find who did this horrible crime.”
“Daisuke Kuroyama. Your father.”
Misaki kept her gaze on the towel, like a child who was being scolded by her teacher. And Kyoko circled around her while she spoke.
“Let’s look at these facts: you said your parents disowned Shinji, yet your father was making regular bank transfers. Not one came from you, though. The last transfer was made shortly before Shinji disappeared. You said you filed a missing persons report, but there was no record of it. You said you spoke to his landlady about his disappearance, but she didn’t know
anything about it until I told her. And I come here to find no photos of the brother you claim to love so dearly.
“You were the one who felt Shinji brought shame on the family. The last time your father sent him money, that crossed the line. So you killed him or you paid to have him killed. Then, you hired me to investigate his disappearance. This gives you a cover, because why would you hire someone to investigate the murder you were responsible for?
“How does that sound? Pretty accurate?”
Misaki offered a slight nod. “I suppose I underestimated you, Nakamura-san. You only had a reputation for cases of infidelity. I expected you’d be over your head, and then once the body was found, you would just take the money and finish the case. But the problem is all you have is your own guesswork. What this comes down to is your word against mine. You have no hard evidence connecting me to Shinji’s murder. All you have are things you claim I said to you in private.”
Kyoko sighed. “You’re right, there’s not much I can do on that front. Except…”
She reached inside her leather jacket and produced a smartphone. On the display was the word RECORDING. “I have such a problem with these phones. I keep forgetting to lock them. And then I’ll accidentally call someone or the voice memo app will start running…”
Kyoko stopped the recording and went into her email. “Oh, now look at that. Clumsy me, I just sent the file to my friend with the police department.”
Misaki’s eyes were burning with righteous indignation. “This… this is nothing. You have nothing on me. My brother was a scoundrel, he was shaming his entire family. Why do you care so much about him?”
“Because that’s my job.” Kyoko finished off the last of the scotch and handed Misaki the glass. “Thanks for the drink. I’ll see myself out.”
“Nakamura,” said Misaki. “Whatever happened to shikata ga nai?”
Kyoko smirked. “I decided that wasn’t acceptable.”
# # #
About the Authors
— :: —
JOEL JENKINS lives in the heron-haunted shadows of the Rainier Mountains, and finds the perpetual twilight conducive to writing. He is the former front-man for several obscure rock bands, was once nearly shot by the law for appearing ‘intimidating,’ and impersonated a ghost on a number of occasions. For a free ebook check out his website at JoelJenkins.net.
