by Kei Oishi
When she was a detective, she couldn’t care less about what outfit she wore on her way to work, and she never even looked through a fashion magazine. She only ever wore high heels to weddings, and hardly ever wore makeup.
That was all right, when she was a detective. If she was too feminine, her male colleagues wouldn’t take her seriously. But now, as a civilian office-worker, things were different. On her first day in the office, all of the other ladies were dressed up like they were going to a party, while Kyoko wasn’t even wearing lipstick. She remembered how embarrassed she felt at that time.
After fretting over her shoes at the entrance, she finally decided on black enamel sandals. They were her Yves Saint Laurent strap sandals with seven-centimeter heels. The heel was neither too high nor too low, and they didn’t look too cheap.
“Good enough,” she said to herself as she opened the door. Just then, she remembered the newspaper article she had read: Husband
and wife found dead in attic … mother found dead on first floor . .. bloody box cutter … husband stabbed through back with knife …
She was glad she’d gotten out of the police force when she did. If she hadn’t… if she hadn’t… she probably wouldn’t be alive now.
Kyoko exited the building with the businessman who was on the elevator with her, and merged with the other people all headed to work. The uncomfortably warm breeze gently blew her wavy, chestnut-brown hair. She checked her reflection in a large window as she passed by a building next to the sidewalk, and saw herself wearing her cream-colored Donna Karan suit.
Is that the real me?
Her figure still looked slim, her ankles slender, with a well-defined Achilles tendon. But that was just the outside. She imagined the fat accumulated on the inside, due to her lack of exercise. She imagined her muscle fibers, which used to be brimming with energy, completely atrophied now. She felt a sense of loneliness at the thought. She felt that she had left a big part of herself behind.
Kyoko Toyama was thirty-three years old. She lived by herself in a one-room studio apartment in Kita-Ikebukuro. She was registered with a large temporary staffing firm in Tokyo, and was currently working as a computer operator at a precision machinery manufacturer.
She did not have a boyfriend. She never did. It was not that she was unattractive. Even now, at thirty-three, she had men approach her. She had even gone out on dates with some of them. But; in her eyes, all of the men around her looked weak. Not only physically, but spiritually weak and fragile. They all had low ambitions, and not a single one of them had a sense of danger. As a former frontline detective, living like a soldier day in and day out, Kyoko
was just not interested in their weakness and lack of sense of danger.
Her parents in Toyama had not given up on their only daughter getting married. Every time her mother called, she asked if Kyoko had a boyfriend, or said that she wanted to see her grandchildren. But Kyoko could not bring herself to imagine living the rest of her life with such a weak man.
Her work as a computer operator was monotonous and boring. As a temporary contract employee, she had no rights or decision-making power in the company. She could not say that it was a very satisfying job. Recalling how hard she had worked to earn the respect of her male counterparts on the force, she now sometimes felt self-pity and a feeling of emptiness.
Yes, when she was a detective, Kyoko was hungry. She wanted to be accepted as a detective, she wanted to leave her mark, to be promoted, to contribute to society. She went after cases like a starving shark.
That’s when she was assigned to that case.
Taking care because of the height of her heels, Kyoko took the stairs, rather than the escalator, down to the subway station. As usual, the platform was full oi men and women on their way to work. She felt the stares of several men chew into her body, which was wrapped tightly in her suit.
Don’t stare at me. Who do you think I am?
But, Kyoko was no longer a detective. She was a regular office -worker now.
She raised her face and looked around. It was a mob of exhausted people with dead eyes. Male body odor. The fragrance of women’s cosmetics and perfume. Sports newspapers and business newspapers.
There were no dreams here, no hope, not an inkling of a sense of danger. Kyoko looked down, sighed deeply.
How long can I live like this? Just how much longer can 1 take it?
She looked up slowly and licked her lips. She had no intention whatsoever to remember that case, but it came back to her mind unbidden.
It was the first big case she was put in charge of. At least five people were dead and another one missing, gone without a trace. Kyoko strode gallantly onto the scene. She was determined to solve this case. But, as the investigation wore on, she realized that this was no ordinary case.
Yes. It was definitely not an ordinary case. She was sure that this time … No, she didn’t want to think about it. Everything was as it should have been. If she had stayed on that case, she would have suffered the same fate as Yoshikawa-san and Kamio-san …
Kyoko decided not to think about it anymore. She emptied her mind and stepped onto the crowded train that just arrived. She grabbed onto the strap above her even as she was being jostled about. She stared at her reflection in the window.
Her eyes were dim and very lonely.
“Kayako …” she muttered again, unconsciously.
Nakagawa
Various files and folders lay open on the desk in the file room of the police station.
“Look at this,” said Igarashi, pointing at the files and laughing meaninglessly. “Before the Tokunaga family moved in to that house, several others who lived there or had some connection with that house died or turned up missing.”
“All of them?”
“Yes. I was surprised myself.”
Igarashi looked up at Nakagawa and laughed meaninglessly again.
Meaninglessly?
No, not meaninglessly. Igarashi laughed in a desperate effort to erase the terror he felt.
“Plus…”
“There’s more?”
“Yes. The caretaker from the care center who was in charge of Sachie Tokunaga, a woman named Ayaka Takahashi, has been absent from work since last week, and no one can get a hold of her.”
“Can’t get a hold of her? What did she do, elope with her boyfriend?”
Nakagawa laughed at his own joke, but he knew that it was not a natural laugh.
“No, the last anyone heard from her, she went to visit Sachie Tokunaga in that house.”
“I see,” Nakagawa said, forcing himself to remain calm. “By the way, did you find Katsuya Tokunaga’s sister?”
Hitomi Tokunaga, the younger sister of Katsuya and eldest daughter of Sachie, had also been missing since the previous night.
“We haven’t been able to contact her yet. By the way, a security guard in the building where she works was found dead last night, in the ladies’ room. They are saying the cause of death was a heart attack.”
“Yeah. I heard. But I don’t think that the death of that security guard is related to this case.”
“Not related?”
“Yeah, a mere coincidence,” said Nakagawa, picking up one of the files from the table. It was a newspaper article from five years
ago, reporting that Takeo Saeki had murdered his wife Kayako and hid her body in the attic.
The article had facial pictures of Takeo and Kayako Saeki. They were the same adults in the photo found in the Tokunaga house. If that was so, then the child who was in the picture with them must have been …
“Didn’t Takeo and Kayako Saeki have a son?”
“Yes, they had a six-year-old son, named Toshio,” replied Igarashi, flipping through one of the files.
“Toshio?”
A memory flashed through Nakagawa’s mind.
“Yes. Toshio. Toshio Saeki.”
“Where’s the kid now?”
“He’s been missing since the murder …”
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“He wasn’t killed?”
“No body has ever been recovered.”
“Okay … you got a picture of the kid?”
“Yes, here it is.”
Nakagawa stared at the photo.
No doubt about it. It was the same child as that picture in the Tokunaga kitchen.
Nakagawa groaned. He looked back and forth between the photo of Toshio Saeki and the picture found in the Tokunaga home, and released a deep sigh. He was getting confused, and his mind ran in circles.
“I have a feeling there is a mastermind behind all of these deaths. For example, maybe Kayako Saeki had a twin sister, who shared the exact same fingerprints …”
“That’s impossible,” laughed Igarashi nervously.
“Don’t you think I know that without you telling me?!” Nakagawa yelled.
Yes, he didn’t need Igarashi to tell him that was not possible. But… what other possibility was there? What kind of trick would make it possible to leave the fingerprints of a woman who died five years ago on a murder weapon? Surely, it couldn’t have been the ghost of that woman.
Nakagawa, irritated, lit a cigarette. The file room was non-smoking, but there was no one in the station with enough seniority to enforce that rule on him.
“Anyway, I want to talk with that girl again, the one who was found next to Sachie Tokunaga’s body. What was her name?”
“Do you mean Rika Nishina?”
“Yeah. I want to talk to her again. She’s got to be out of the hospital by now. Call her now.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I also want to see the detectives in charge of the Saeki case, as well. Find them, too, would you?”
“I’m right on it, sir.”
Watching Igarashi leave the room, Nakagawa let out another sigh, mingled with smoke. He looked more closely at the newspaper photo of Kayako Saeki.
Was she really this pretty? wondered Nakagawa to himself. It’s amazing how much a woman s appearance changes with a little makeup.
When Nakagawa met Rika Nishina for the first time, in her hospital room, she had on no cosmetics and was in her pajamas. But the woman sitting in front of Nakagawa now was prettily made-up, and wearing a tight, white, sleeveless dress.
“Sorry to have to call you all the way down here,” said Nakagawa, trying not to look at her breasts, which jutted from her chest as if taunting him.
“No, no problem at all.”
Rika looked up at Nakagawa and smiled slightly. It was a lonely-looking smile.
“Let’s get right down to business, Nishina-san. I want to confirm something.”
“Confirm?”
“Yes, I want to confirm something about that boy, Toshio.”
“Uh, yes?”
“Was the boy you encountered at the Tokunaga home this boy?” he asked, showing her an enlarged photo of Toshio Saeki’s face.
“Yes,” Rika nodded as she looked at the picture.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m positive. Did you find him?”
“No,” said Nakagawa, shaking his head. His tone turned harsh, almost threatening. “Nishina-san, I’ll be perfectly honest with you. I don’t believe you.”
“Huh? Why? Why don’t you believe me?”
Rika was taken aback by Nakagawa’s words. She looked weak, like a baby herbivore separated from its mother.
“Because, Nishina-san, it’s impossible to believe what you said. Listen carefully. This boy’s name is Toshio Saeki, and he went missing five years ago, and has not been found.”
“Uh, wha—”
Rika’s breath caught, and Nakagawa saw her thin throat shudder. For a second, he thought that such a throat was just made for throttling.
“Are you with me, Nishina-san?” Nakagawa continued. “Five years ago. Do you understand what I am saying to you? Toshio Saeki was six years old at that time. If, if he is still alive, he would be eleven years old now. Do you get it, Nishina-san? Eleven! Was the boy you saw eleven years old?”
“Eleven? No, he definitely wasn’t. The boy I saw was exactly how he looks in that photograph. He was not eleven.”
Rika pleaded her case, but of course Nakagawa did not believe her. He just couldn’t believe her.
“In that case, Nishina-san, are you telling me that this boy has not aged a day in the past five years? Are you telling me that there is a child out there who does not grow an inch in five years? Do you really think that something that preposterous is even possible!”
Nakagawa raised his voice harshly, unconsciously, and Rika Nishina’s slender body shivered like a zebra that had chanced upon a pride of lions in the corner of the Savanna.
“Tell me the truth, Nishina-san!”
“Urn, but… “
“This case is troublesome enough without your lies.”
“But, I’m not lying …”
Nakagawa saw Rika’s eyes starting to fill with tears, and he suddenly remembered where he was.
“I’m sorry … sorry …”
Nakagawa took a white handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to Rika, but she did not take it. She just sat there, biting her pink lips in vexation.
“What would I have to gain by lying? I’m not lying. I am definitely not lying to you,” Rika repeated, large tears flowing from her mascara4aden eyes.
“All right,” said Nakagawa, at a loss for anything else to say. But, of course, he still did not believe her.
As Rika Nishina left, she was replaced with a pretty woman with a nice figure who appeared to be in her mid-thirties. She came into the interrogation room with Daisuke Igarashi, Nakagawa’s subordinate.
The woman was made-up, and had long, wavy, chestnut-brown hair. Silver earrings shone in her ears, and a matching pendant glittered in the open neck of her blouse. Her cream-colored suit showed off her body’s lines to their fullest potential. Her slim legs were wrapped in stockings, and dainty strapped sandals adorned her feet. Her fingernails were painted pink, and her toenails shone blue.
Who’s this?
Nakagawa cocked his head, looking at the woman. Before Nakagawa could open his mouth, Igarashi spoke up, introducing the woman.
“Nakagawa-san, this is Kyoko Toyama. She was in charge of the Saeki murder case.”
“Eh?” Nakagawa was taken aback. “You’re Toyama-san? Pleased to meet you. I’m Nakagawa,” he said as he bowed to her.
Detective Toyama had resigned from the force five years ago, not long after being assigned to the Saeki case. That was before Nakagawa had come to this station. Her resignation was for “personal reasons.” Nakagawa had heard that Toyama was a very capable detective. But, he did not realize that Toyama was a woman, until just now.
Who’s this woman? Was she really a detective? Nakagawa said to himself as his eyes roamed over the woman in front of him.
Kyoko
It’s been five years, thought Kyoko Toyama as she looked around the interrogation booth, the walls stained yellow by cigarette smoke.
Back then, she couldn’t stand the smell and the disorder of this room, but now, strangely enough, she felt a twinge of nostalgia.
The office where she worked as a computer operator was in a skyscraper in Shinjuku; it was clean, bright, and quiet. Classical music played quietly in the background, and a faint lemon scent wafted from somewhere. Plants were placed all around the office, and everyone spoke gently. But… Kyoko always felt like an outsider there. It was not where she was supposed to be. That’s how she felt.
Kyoko’s nose wrinkled.
I belong here. Yes, this place reeks of cigarettes, it is chaotic and disorderly, and everyone shouts. But, I belong here.
She felt like a bird of passage, finally back home from the other side of the world.
“Toyama-san, I am sorry. I was not aware that you were a woman,” the middle-aged detective Nakagawa laughed as he openly stared at her body. That clinging stare was the same one that she felt from the other detectives she had worked with all those years ago. I
t was a deeply rooted feeling oi slight, discrimination, and envy towards women, combined with an open expression of instinctive, male desire. Yes, nothing had changed here.
Working among such men was not easy. She had thought of quitting many times, and had been on the verge of tears on many occasions. But, she had not hated her job. On the contrary, she thought it was a career that was worth sticking to, that she wanted to follow for the rest of her life.
Yes, I liked being a detective. I really, really loved my job. But … I just had to resign. No job is worth losing my life over.
She knew that no one would ever believe her real reason for resigning. If she had heard it as a third party, she was sure that she wouldn’t believe it herself. But it was no mistake, no mirage, and no case of an overactive imagination. That case, the Saeki case, was clearly too dangerous. It was like going, unarmed, into a cage with a dozen large tigers. No, it was hundreds, thousands of times more dangerous than that. Especially that woman. The woman named Kayako.
The young detective, Igarashi, sitting beside Nakagawa, had explained the basic gist of the current case. As she listened, she felt goose bumps break out all over her made-up cheeks.
I shouldn’t have come, thought Kyoko. No matter how much they begged me, I should have refused to come.
Several hours ago, when Kyoko had left her office in Shinjuku after finishing for the day, the young detective, Igarashi, was waiting for her. “You’re Kyoko Toyama, right?” he asked as he showed her his badge and bowed low to her. “I have a few questions about the Saeki murder case that you were in charge of.”
“The Saeki case?”
“Yes, we would like to know just what happened at that house.”
“I’m no longer with the force. Please just leave me alone,” Kyoko said strongly. “I don’t have anything to say to you.”
She turned quickly and headed to the station, her steps unsteady. But Igarashi did not give up so easily.
“Toyama-san, please wait. Toyama-san, three more people have died in that house.”
Kyoko stopped in her tracks.
“Please, just talk to us. You’re the only person who knows what happened back then.”
Yes, exactly. That’s because everyone else on that case is already dead . . .