Fallen Angel (9781101578810)

by Patrick, Jonelle

  A deep voice from the next room cried, “There you are, Gonta! Did you miss me, buddy? I brought you a little treat.”

  The weedy-looking cashier frowned and moved to the window that looked into the café on the other side of the reception booth. “Excuse me, sir? Sir? Can I remind you: Please don’t feed the cats anything but the snacks available in the vending machine downstairs? Chibbi has a delicate stomach.”

  A giant with cropped, platinum-bleached hair appeared at the inside window, wearing a hula girl-bedecked Hawaiian shirt and cradling a gray tabby in one beefy arm. Leaning on the counter, he said, “How long have you been working here, kid? Two weeks? Three? I’ve been bringing treats for Gonta every week for a year and he never looks sick to me.”

  “Her name is Chibbi,” the clerk said.

  Zoro stuck his chin in the clerk’s face and glowered. “Look, if I say his name’s Gonta, it’s Gonta. You got a problem with that?”

  The cashier’s thin goatee twitched. He swallowed and backed off. “Whatever you say, sir,” he replied, waiting until Zoro had retreated down the stairs with the tabby before muttering, “even if you can’t tell the difference between a female cat and a male one.”

  The clerk turned back to Kenji and Oki and recited a practiced spiel. “Please wash your hands at the sink to your right before and after your visit, and take advantage of the courtesy lint roller to remove any fur from your clothing. There are twenty-five cats on duty right now. You can pet them, but please don’t pick them up. If you’d like to feed the cats, we have nutritious snacks for sale downstairs. Any questions?”

  “No. Thank you,” Oki said.

  They swapped their street shoes for slippers, and made their way downstairs, past shelves draped with sleeping cats. The room below was furnished with low seats, tables, and carpet-covered platforms occupied by kitties of every size and color. The enforcer was ensconced at a low table, a half-finished latte before him, the tabby settled on his wide lap.

  “Where are you going to sleep when I go to work, you big lunk?” the man-mountain purred, scratching the tabby behind the ears as it closed its eyes and rewarded him with a smug smile.

  “Excuse me, are you Zoro?”

  The man looked up, wary. “Who’s asking?”

  Oki and Kenji flashed their IDs, but only Oki introduced himself. They had decided it would be better if Kenji stayed in the background, in case the bodyguard was offended by the way he’d interrupted the meeting with Cherry’s parents at the funeral.

  The big detective explained they were doing a routine investigation of Cherry’s accident, trying to tie up loose ends before closing the case. At the mention of Cherry’s name, a shadow crossed the bodyguard’s face. He nodded.

  “We understand from Cherry’s parents that your…colleague…forgave Cherry’s loan. Why did he do that?”

  “He didn’t,” Zoro said. He frowned, petting the cat. “I paid it off. With my own money.”

  “Why?”

  He sighed. “Cherry was way out of my league, but she was always nice to me when I came around to her club to, uh, sell ‘vacation rentals.’”

  Ah. Zoro was the Kurosawa-kai foot soldier who collected protection money from Club Heaven.

  “One night last August, I found her crying in the alley behind her club, and she told me her old man was in deep shit with his bank because he couldn’t pay back his loan. I told her I’d set her up with this guy I know, offered to get her a good deal on the interest. After that, she started meeting me every Friday, after she got off work. At first I thought I didn’t have a chance, but…Cherry was different from the other girls. She liked me. She really liked me.” He fell silent for a moment, then said, “Last week she was late and I could tell she wasn’t feeling well. Finally she admitted she was pregnant, but she hadn’t told me because she hadn’t decided what to do about it yet. I asked her to marry me. I told her if we got married, she could quit the hostess biz and have our baby. I said I’d square her loan. I know I’m not God’s gift to women, and—” He sighed. “—I think she was having trouble deciding. So I decided to show her how serious I was. I paid off her loan.”

  “Before she said yes?”

  “Yeah.”

  He’d taken a huge chance, betting his investment would buy him Cherry’s affections. Kenji wondered if he’d been waiting for her when she came home that Friday night. Maybe he told her the good news and Cherry wasn’t quite grateful enough.

  “What did she say when you told her?” Oki asked.

  Zoro shook his head. “I didn’t get a chance. She never knew. I was going to surprise her when we met at our usual place on Friday, but…she never showed.”

  “Did you know she’d asked her astrologer to draw up a marriage compatibility chart?”

  “Really?” His sad face brightened a little. “For her and me?”

  “Madame Lily didn’t know the guy’s name, but she gave us his birthday.”

  “Was it March fourteenth?”

  White Day.

  “Bingo,” the big detective said.

  Putting the cat aside, Zoro abruptly stood, hit hard by the news. He walked away and shoved his hands in his pockets. The tabby followed, meowing. It rubbed its face against his legs, looking up at him. He picked it up, then slowly returned to his seat.

  As Zoro downed a slug of his now-cold latte, Oki asked, “Where were you last Thursday night, between midnight and six A.M.?”

  “Thursday?” Zoro thought for a moment. “I was in an interview room with two of your buddies from Shinjuku Station, ‘voluntarily’ telling them I didn’t know anything about the truckjackings they’ve had trouble with lately. They didn’t cut me loose until around four.”

  Oki regarded him thoughtfully.

  “Why are you asking where I was the night Cherry died?” Zoro demanded, suddenly alert. “I thought it was an accident.”

  “There are a few things that make us think she had some help falling down those stairs,” Oki replied. “Last Wednesday, another Club Heaven hostess was assaulted. The guy who we think knifed her was also Cherry’s last customer the night she died. We’re trying to track him down, but we don’t have much to go on—all we know is he’s around forty, tall, and ugly, and his tastes tend toward the kinky. The girls at Heaven all call him The Zombie, but his name’s actually Matsu-something. You know him?”

  “That motherfucker,” Zoro growled with distaste. “I know exactly who you’re talking about. He’s day-old fish at half the shops in Kabuki-chō. Doesn’t mind paying for what he wants, but doesn’t understand some things aren’t for sale.”

  “For example?”

  “Trying to order off the menu at the sex salons. Confusing hostesses with prostitutes. Banned at the touch pubs because he doesn’t know when to quit.”

  “You know his name?”

  “Not his real one.” Zoro laughed. “Nobody uses their real names when they go out to play in Kabuki-chō. But everyone in the neighborhood knows the pricks with bottomless pockets, and this guy’s rolling in it. Family’s got serious money, been richer than God since forever. Tells everybody that his grandfather-times-ten was a daimyo or something. They own a bunch of companies, but he’s with the one that does building, contracting, something like that.” He stopped, suddenly bug-eyed with fury. “That asshole was one of Cherry’s customers?”

  “Yeah. He went to her club that Friday night and bought her out. She had some bruises on her that make us think he roughed her up before she fell down the stairs.”

  Zoro slapped his hands flat on the table. “He hit her?” The tabby bolted as he rose out of his seat, his face livid. “I’ll kill him!”

  “Don’t be too hasty. We don’t know yet,” Oki said. “But we’d sure like to have a chat with him.”

  Zoro slowly sat back down. He slugged back the rest of his coffee, then set the glass on the table and watched the remaining foam slide down the sides, thinking. “There’s a hostess at the Sugar Club who used to entertain him. Anna.�
�

  “Do you think she’ll talk to us?”

  “No. She doesn’t like cops.”

  “Will she talk to you?”

  “Guys like me…aren’t very welcome at the Sugar Club.” Meaning, it was Yamamoto-gumi territory, not Kurosawa-kai. “But I hear Anna gets pretty talkative with salarymen who buy her a few drinks. Send someone who doesn’t look like he won the police judo championship three years running, and she might tell him the prick’s name.”

  Chapter 54

  Sunday, November 17

  4:00 P.M.

  Kenji

  Assistant Detective Suzuki turned scarlet all the way to his monk-like haircut. “Oh no, not me, sir! I wouldn’t know what to do. I’ve never been to a hostess club before.”

  A slow smile spread across Oki’s face. “Perfect. A Kabuki-chō virgin. And with the excellent acting experience you’ve been getting in Traffic Section, she’ll never guess you’re a policeman.”

  Suzuki choked on his tea.

  “Don’t worry,” Oki continued, “you won’t have to dress in a stinky animal suit for this gig. Get a decent tie, though. That one looks like it was left over from your high school uniform.”

  Suzuki looked down at his red-and-blue-striped neckwear. It was actually his middle school uniform tie.

  “You’ll have to go in alone,” Oki said, “but I’ll station myself out in the Sugar Club’s bar. If you get stuck, tell the girls you’ve got to go to the little boys’ room and come to me for help.”

  “Yes sir. But…” Suzuki looked at him uncertainly. “How are we going to pay for this? Aren’t hostess clubs expensive?”

  “You can charge it to the assault investigation expense account.”

  “Drinks at a hostess club? The section chief will never approve that!”

  Oki grinned. “Want to bet? I always charge the department for drinks I buy informants. They speed up the arrest process so much I call them ‘expressway tolls.’”

  “But sir!” Suzuki was scandalized.

  “Think of it as an essential part of your training. A detective who can’t lie convincingly is doomed to wear a bunch of gold braid on his uniform and swat flies at a desk in Chiyoda-ku.”

  Kenji knew that being promoted to a post at the downtown Police Administration headquarters in Chiyoda Ward was Suzuki’s main goal in life, but his kohai swallowed his objections and meekly said, “Hai.”

  “And don’t be stingy,” Oki warned. “According to Zoro, Anna will only tell you what we need to know if you buy her drinks early and often.”

  “Yes sir. I’ll do my best, sir.”

  Chapter 55

  Monday, November 18

  9:00 A.M.

  Yumi

  Yumi waited in the hall outside Erika’s hospital room, listening as Hoshi charmed his way into her confidence. Shinya had asked around among the Club Nova customers and discovered that Erika had entertained “Matsu” after Cherry died, but was now in the hospital. Shō found out from Erika’s favorite host at Club Lestat that she liked lilies more than roses, and was somewhat vain about her straight teeth. Hoshi insisted on stopping at a florist on the way to the hospital this morning, and within the first five minutes, he had mentioned to Erika what a lovely smile she had.

  Yumi couldn’t help but admire his skill. He understood perfectly why Erika couldn’t reveal the name of a customer to the police, even though she admitted she was worried she was protecting the man who’d attacked her. Assured that Hoshi would never let the leak be traced back to her, in less than twenty minutes Erika was telling him everything she knew about The Zombie.

  “…it was a professional trick of hers,” Yumi heard through the slightly open door. “Cherry called him ‘Matsu’ because the way she remembered her customers’ names and what they did for a living was by imagining how they resembled the businesses they were in. Matsuda was an easy one. Matsu-da: ‘pine field.’ He’s tall and skinny like a pine tree, and his family owns a big lumber company. They grow sugi cedar in Shikoku.”

  “Why was Cherry always out of cigarettes on the nights he came to Heaven? I always knew when she’d been entertaining him, because she’d bum the rest of mine. Was he always pushing for sex?”

  “No, it’s not that. It’s just that he’s really hard to talk to. Once he gets drunk it’s easier, so usually he knocks back a few Hennessys like they’re medicine, stays for an hour or two, then Kita-san tells him it’s time to go home.”

  “Kita’s his driver?”

  “Uh, not exactly. I mean, he always drives Matsuda around, but he’s not like a servant. They’re about the same age, but it’s more like he’s Matsuda’s protector or something.”

  “Protector?”

  “It’s hard to describe.” She paused. “Matsuda’s the client—he always pays—but Kita’s the one who introduced him to Heaven. None of us can figure out what their relationship is. They’re not friends, but they don’t seem like business colleagues, either. Kita doesn’t drink; he always orders green tea, some special expensive kind from Shizuoka we have to keep around just for him. Matsuda never comes without him, but Kita usually just sits in the bar until he’s needed. He only comes to Matsuda’s table for the last ten minutes or so, when it’s time to take him home.”

  The conversation turned to good-natured complaints about demanding customers, jealous co-workers, and the hardships of working nights, and Yumi retreated to the hospital lobby to call Kenji.

  “Ken-kun, it’s Yumi. If you take Hoshi off the suspect list, I’ll tell you the real name of that guy Cherry called ‘Matsu.’”

  “How did you find that out?”

  “I have my sources.”

  “Yumi, it’s my day off. I don’t have time for games.”

  “If I tell you, will you at least investigate this guy and ease up on Hoshi so he can go back to work without being worried you’re going to storm in and arrest him?”

  “I can’t promise anything.”

  Yumi fumed. What was his problem?

  Kenji relented slightly. “Look, I tried to check out Hoshi’s alibi, but the people who can verify it work the graveyard shift and I’ve been too busy to go out to Koenji in the middle of the night. Unless you’re going to tell me Matsu’s real name, I’m going to get back in the bath.”

  She reluctantly said, “It’s Matsuda. And his family owns a big lumber company.”

  “Not a contracting business?”

  “No, lumber. They grow sugi. In Shikoku.”

  “How reliable is your ‘source’?”

  “She works at Club Heaven. Its just that she trusts Hoshi more than she trusts the police.”

  “That’s supposed to give me confidence?”

  “Hoshi didn’t do it.”

  “I’ll let you know if his alibi checks out.”

  “When will that be?”

  “I don’t know. I’m in the middle of another case right now, and it’s not my top priority.”

  “What would it take to make it your top priority?”

  “Look, Yumi, this Matsuda guy probably had the opportunity to kill Cherry, but as far as we know, he had no motive.”

  “Isn’t it your job to find one?”

  “Yes, but not today.” He paused, then added, “And if I find anything that doesn’t add up about the timing of Hoshi’s visits to Nakano General, not anytime soon.”

  She hung up without saying good-bye. Why was he so hell-bent on infuriating her when she was trying to help him? He hadn’t even said thank you.

  Chapter 56

  Monday, November 18

  10:00 A.M.

  Kenji

  Kenji joined Detective Oki and Assistant Detective Suzuki in the fifth-floor conference room. Suzuki was slumped over with his head on the table, his teacup and a can of Ukon No Chikara hangover cure sitting untouched before him. Detective Oki had noted what they knew about The Zombie on the whiteboard, next to the sketches of Cherry’s and Erika’s scars.

  Matsu-?

  —lat
e 30s/early 40s

  —build: thin, tall

  —wavy hair, long

  —crippled hand?

  —wealthy family

  —descended from daimyo?

  —contracting business?

  —banned from which clubs/shops?

  “Anything else?”

  Kenji pulled out a chair and said, “I found out yesterday from a source that his real name is Matsuda. And Erika told me he’s taller than I am. That would put him over a hundred and eighty-three centimeters.” He looked at Suzuki and said, “Looks like you spent some time at the Sugar Club last night. Did you find out anything interesting?”

  The big detective grinned. “Anna spilled all kinds of information, didn’t she, Suzuki-san?”

  Suzuki groaned and ran for the men’s room.

  “He really took one for the team last night,” Oki said, pulling out his mobile and cycling through the stored photos. He passed it to Kenji, who burst out laughing at the sight of the assistant detective on a tiny stage, shirt untucked, tie long gone, karaoke mike in hand, belting out Michael Jackson’s “Bad” with a cleavaged-up hostess singing backup.

  The assistant detective slunk back into the room, looking slightly less green, his face washed and hair damp. “Sorry,” he muttered, sliding back into his chair. He took a cautious sip of his tea, and when that didn’t make him heave, took a bigger one.

  Cracking the cap of his Ukon No Chikara hangover elixir, Suzuki began, “Anna told me that this guy Kita started coming to the Sugar Club last January, and on his second or third visit, he brought along a tall, ugly man he introduced as Matsuda. Anna said Kita was easy to talk to, but talking to his friend was like dragging a refrigerator uphill. All he did was drink. The last night Anna entertained him, he ordered really expensive whiskey. She said she must have had too much, because she can’t remember leaving with him.

  “She woke up on a table in the middle of a room she’d never seen before. The room was dark. The only light was from…” He squinted at his notebook, which Kenji could see was nowhere near as obsessively neat as Suzuki’s notes usually were. “…‘some lighted windows with swords behind them.’”