Masquerade and the Nameless Women

by Eiji Mikage

  It was then I realized that, even aside from the clothes, the other objects in the room also seemed to lack consistency in the same way. I had missed this upon first glance because as a whole the place seemed tasteful enough, despite the eclectic assortment of things.

  I’d never seen a room like this before.

  Yamaji had a stern look on his face and also appeared to be in tune with the faint but definite sense of unease I had.

  The forensics team had finished, and Reina’s foot was, of course, already long gone.

  I tried to sort through everything we’d learned so far.

  There were no visible abnormalities in the flooring, and from the luminol test we also knew there were no traces of blood. Maybe the killer had used a sheet of some kind to prevent blood stains. There were also no signs that fingerprints had been wiped from doorknobs or other places the killer would’ve had to touch with his hands.

  According to Shota Akiyama’s account in the report, he had received a call from Reina the previous night at 7:11 P.M. while he was in the break room at the convenience store where he worked. It was a blank call. On Reina’s LINE account there had been a 15-second call recorded in the history. But she didn’t pick up even when he called back, which Akiyama thought was strange, so he prepared to go home right away and then apparently headed to her apartment.

  He arrived at the apartment at 7:45 P.M., roughly 30 minutes later, and rang the doorbell. However, because she didn’t respond, he let himself in with his copy of the key. He had immediately come across her foot and a bloody knife. He called the police at 7:48 P.M. Five minutes later nearby officers rushed to the scene.

  The first to discover Reina Myoko’s abandoned body was a 71-year-old man who walked near that park every day. He was apparently quite shaken up after discovering the grotesque corpse, missing a foot, with its face cut off.

  The results of the investigation were still preliminary, and because one leg had been in the water, the estimated time of death had a large window. Based on the postmortem rigidity and the state of decomposition, the murder most likely happened between 6:00 P.M. and 12:00 A.M. during the previous night.

  Another critical detail was that the immediate cause of death was a cut to her chest, not the loss of her foot or face. She had been stabbed twice and a fragment of the blade of the murder weapon was found in between two of her ribs. One of the strikes had pierced her heart, which was the fatal wound. A knife that had been left in the apartment had been matched with the stab wounds, but the knife itself was mass produced, so it wouldn’t be easy to determine where it had been purchased.

  She appeared to have been bound; there were traces of rope marks all over her body. We also knew from fibers found between her teeth that she had been gagged with a towel or cloth of some kind. In addition, she had a bruise behind her left knee. It had been caused by tight binding, so we believed the perpetrator had applied a tourniquet when cutting off her foot. Also, her calves and the back of her neck had signs of injections. Detailed testing was still pending, but she might have been drugged. Her foot and face both showed signs of vital reactions, so we knew she’d sustained the injuries while she was alive.

  The DNA testing was also still incomplete. However, a dental ID card in her place, which led us to her healthcare provider, had revealed that the dental work on the corpse was a perfect match with a procedure Reina Myoko had done to fix a cavity when she was 21.

  So much for the facts.

  Based on the evidence we had so far, we could conjecture the following:

  The perpetrator broke into her apartment around 7:00 P.M. on the previous night, possibly with the intention of killing her. Reina attempted to call Akiyama, but the intruder found out and turned off the phone. He bound her, and after laying out a tarp to keep blood off the floor, he injected her calf and neck with a local anesthetic, and applied a tourniquet to her left knee. He stabbed her in the chest, and as she went into shock, he cut off her foot and removed her face. He then confirmed that she was dead, wiped the place for prints, wrapped up the tarp, left the knife and foot in the apartment for whatever reason, and was gone by the time Akiyama arrived at 7:45 P.M. The killer then abandoned the body on the tetrapods near Odaiba.

  What the hell was all this?

  It didn’t make any sense. He’d prepped the anesthetic, so it clearly wasn’t a crime of impulse. It did happen quickly, but for a premeditated killing he left a lot of evidence and the execution was also pretty crude.

  Did a crime this sloppy really have the mark of the serial killer Masquerade?

  I’d read the Masquerade files so many times that I’d nearly stared a hole right through them. All his crimes were so perfectly flawless that it was immediately clear why he hadn’t been caught yet. And more than that, although in a way that was difficult to describe, there was a kind of consistency between all of the crimes.

  I realized this might be a little strange to say, but all of his crimes had an…aesthetic.

  But there weren’t any signs of his perfectionism or that aesthetic in this crime.

  However, some aspects of the shoddy execution did feel intentional.

  Yamaji seemed to be thinking the same thing, judging from the way he kept scratching his head, the lollipop still stuck in his mouth.

  I felt hesitant about having a serious conversation in a room where someone had just recently been killed, so I led Yamaji out of the apartment.

  The garden at Reina’s building was the size of a postcard, but it was well-maintained, with roses blossoming around a small fountain. The landlord must’ve gardened as a hobby. The garden was nice, but I wasn’t exactly in the mood to enjoy the scenery. Yamaji sat down in a garden chair.

  “Masquerade always takes the body part he cuts off,” I said. “So far, there have been zero cases where he left it at the scene.”

  Yamaji chewed on his lollipop. “That information hasn’t been made public yet,” he said.

  I knew what he was trying to say.

  “I know. But do you really think there could be…others?”

  Yamaji scratched at his stubble. “Obviously he’s the only crackpot who does it as a hobby,” he said. “But by now everyone in the country knows that Masquerade cuts off his victims’ faces and a piece of their bodies.”

  “So basically what you’re saying is that the perp didn’t know that Masquerade takes the body parts away? And that someone is trying to frame Masquerade?”

  “Yeah, well,” Yamaji sighed. “I’m not going to sign my name to it. But it’s within the realm of possibility.”

  “But…” I caught myself. I thought about the sense of unease I felt when looking at the crime scene, and Yamaji’s hypothesis made sense.

  But I wanted to be the one to arrest Masquerade. So I wanted it to be Masquerade who committed this crime, even if that was an awful thing to want.

  “I’m only going to say it once, Princess.” Yamaji scratched at his disheveled hair and gave me the side-eye. “If you can’t look at this case objectively, you should bench yourself from the investigation. Everyone at the station knows you’re obsessed with Masquerade. If the brass decide that you’re some bozo who runs after every shadow that even remotely resembles him, they’ll never let you on a case again.”

  I gasped. “You’re right. I’ll be more careful…” If I was actually hoping Masquerade had committed the crime here, then I’d definitely lost perspective. “I-I’ll calm down!”

  “You really think you can?” Yamaji asked.

  “Yes!” I said. “I’ll be sure to take into account the fact that it might not have been him.”

  But with the prospect of Masquerade being apprehended just around the corner, I’d already lost some objectivity. And the fact that this time the victim also happened to be my classmate, the otherworldly Reina Myoko, really made me doubt I’d be able to do my job dispassionately.


  Yamaji surely knew this about me and was still putting me on the case. I couldn’t let him down.

  I slapped my cheeks to refocus.

  Suddenly, a voice I didn’t recognize called out from behind me, “This is some serial killer shit up in here!”

  Just inside the entranceway, a young man with dyed brown hair permed into tight ringlets stood, staring at me. I instinctively cowered at the crazy, bloodshot look in his eyes.

  “I knew he was fucking strange…” His voice was filled with anger. “He’s the one who did this!”

  Yamaji stood up, stepped in front of me as a cover, and confronted the guy. “Forgive me,” he hesitated. “But who are you?”

  “I’m Shota Akiyama, Reina’s boyfriend!”

  “Ah…the one who filed the report.”

  “That’s right!”

  Shota Akiyama was 25 years old, a year older than Reina. We knew he got by with a part-time job at a convenience store and that he played in a band that wasn’t very popular.

  I looked at him again and saw dark circles shadowing his eyes. Of course he was a little on edge: He had realized his girlfriend was dead after finding her foot in her apartment, and undoubtedly hadn’t been able to sleep well. My initial negative impression was completely turned around, and I found myself filled with sympathy for him.

  However, I couldn’t stop myself from thinking: This guy had been who Reina was dating?

  “We’re sorry for your loss,” Yamaji said, unaware of how flustered I was. “Forgive me, but…What exactly did you mean by ‘him’?” He smiled when he asked the question to show the kid he didn’t mean any harm, but he was only managing to smile with one side of his mouth, so he was probably somewhere closer to the textbook definition of a smirk.

  I’d thought this about other veteran officers in the past, too, but if you stay in the force long enough, the work will kill the smile in your eyes. If I was at this crime scene any longer, it could well happen to me, too.

  Akiyama was too distracted to notice Yamaji’s awkward smile. He raised his voice like he’d been waiting for the question. “It’s obvious! Ken Nakahigashi! Reina’s fiancé.”

  “Fiancé, you say?” Yamaji had seemed worn out up to this point, but a light flashed in his eyes and he suddenly seemed transformed.

  I flipped open my notebook. At the academy we learned that most murders involve money or sex. We couldn’t blindly accept Akiyama’s claims as fact, but they were definitely an important account.

  “Well, damn…a marriage of convenience?” Yamaji asked. He lifted his eyes and glanced around Room 202, the place Reina had called home. I could see a thought pass through him as he blatantly sized the place up: Why would a woman wrapped up with two guys like this live in such a ramshackle place?

  “Excuse me,” I interrupted. “Did you know her fiancé well?”

  “No,” he said. “I only met him once. But that was enough to know the guy’s rotten through and through. He’s garbage. A heartless, lowlife psychopath. The only reason someone like that gets married is because he thinks there’s some kind of upside to it!”

  Trouble had been brewing on the home front. Yamaji had on his poker face. “So, what about Reina?” he asked. “What did she say about Nakahigashi? Did she hate him as much as you did?”

  “No. She never talked about him around me, maybe because she didn’t want to hurt my feelings. She was a sweetheart. She really was.” Akiyama burst into tears, perhaps in memory.

  I found myself holding my breath. I still couldn’t imagine Reina dating this guy, but his feelings for her were without a doubt the real deal.

  I tried to imagine the awful circumstances he was going through. He had received a strange phone call from his girlfriend and ran to her place to find a severed foot that seemed to be hers. Fighting back his worst fears and praying that she was safe, he found out that the worst had indeed come to pass and she was dead.

  I kind of knew what he was going through.

  “I can tell you’re nice, too,” Akiyama said, which made me realize that my eyes were tearing up.

  “Oh, please excuse me,” I said. “I know officers aren’t supposed to get like this, but I’m still pretty green.”

  Yamaji scratched at his head. “It’s not great to get so worked up, but with this case, it’s basically unavoidable. I’ll cover whatever you can’t handle.” He patted me gently on top of my head.

  “Uhh…Yamaji?” I said.

  “What now?” he asked. “Has my sudden kindness tugged at your heartstrings?”

  “Please don’t touch my head. I know you’re trying to encourage me, but it makes me feel uncomfortable…on a very visceral level…sorry.”

  “Wh-What?” Yamaji opened his eyes widely in genuine surprise, and then seemed a little ashamed.

  Sorry, man, I thought to myself. But, look—basically every woman in the world hates being patted on the head by old men who don’t even register to them as a member of the opposite sex. I felt like I’d been a pretty considerate representative of women everywhere by letting him know.

  “By the way, Akiyama,” I added casually. “If you have any photos of Reina, would you mind sharing them with us? Even just a digital file would be fine.”

  I asked partly because it was necessary for the investigation, but also partly because I’d forgotten what she looked like and was curious to see. It wasn’t an unreasonable request at all.

  But her boyfriend’s response wasn’t what I expected.

  “I don’t have any photos,” he said flatly. He transformed completely and his face took on a blank look. Then he proved he had no interest in addressing the issue any further by emphasizing, with a note of finality, “Not a single one.”

  2 A play on the existing “Yofuku no Aoyama” clothing store.

  3

  After leaving Reina Myoko’s apartment, I went back to the Tokyo Bay Station where I sat at my desk. I stared at my laptop for a little while, but my focus drifted and all of the letters started to blur together.

  It was already 5:00 P.M.

  My standard-issue steel desk was as organized as I could get it. There was an open space in front of me with just enough room for my head. I planted my face down like I was being sucked into the desk.

  He didn’t have any photos at all?

  Akiyama had explained Reina really didn’t like having her picture taken. Still, it was difficult to imagine a couple not taking photos with each other.

  Then maybe he was lying about the fact that they were dating?

  I had trouble even imagining that the two had been dating, so I was slightly fixated on the idea that he was lying. But if that was the case, he would’ve been faking all that grief…which I couldn’t believe. Those tears had to be the real thing.

  We didn’t find any photos at the apartment. Nor did we find her smartphone or any trace of her on photo-sharing apps.

  I had asked that my graduation yearbook be sent from home. And when I received it, I quickly realized something: Reina’s photo wasn’t in the yearbook.

  Reina wasn’t in her class picture or picture of the entire school. She hadn’t been absent or anything, and I remembered even then I had been confused as to why she wasn’t in the photos.

  I don’t know why, but Reina had avoided leaving any traces of herself in photographs even then.

  “Hey, do you know what a misdirection is?”

  Had she purposefully been trying to make herself difficult to remember? And now, to top it off, her face had been cut off.

  This woman whose face I couldn’t remember was now dead, her face removed, and she’d left zero records of what she looked like.

  It almost felt too perfect to be coincidence. And if it wasn’t a coincidence…could it actually be possible that this case had been ongoing since we were classmates in high school? I had a hunch that somet
hing awful was happening, and my heart started to beat faster.

  I had to remember more about high school. When I closed my eyes and tried to think back, I was flooded with the saccharine, cotton-candy-like atmosphere of that time. For me, Junseiwa Academy had been an uncomfortable place full of extremely clingy relationships.

  Out of that daze, something bizarre floated up in my mind.

  Of course, I thought, Reina Myoko and her gang of girlfriends. They were always at her side, like they were in the secret service. All together they created this elegant, showy, almost sacred atmosphere, like a rose garden, one which all the students at Junseiwa Academy longed to be a part of.

  However, those girls seemed to believe that they were special because they hung out with Reina, who was special, and they wanted to keep everyone else from having access to that by separating themselves from the rest of us.

  At the center of that enclosure was Reina Myoko.

  I remembered the names of the girls who formed this exclusive girl gang: Otoha Tamachi, Miyuki Yata, Sena Hagawa, Asami Ino, and Ryoko Omura.

  Everyone called them “the Bumblebees” because they buzzed around Reina like she was a flower, or maybe because they stung anyone who tried to get close to her.

  I wondered why they did that. I didn’t really pay much attention to all the cliques at the time, but now I was starting to feel how strange it was. I felt like it might have something to do with the case.

  I put my hands over my head and wallowed in my thoughts. My laptop chimed with a mail notification. It was from Omori in forensics.

  I opened the mail: “I’m writing about the driver’s license photo—it doesn’t look like Reina Myoko had a driver’s license.”

  God, she was an idiot.

  We knew from Akiyama’s account that Reina owned a red BMW. Which now suggested she owned a luxury automobile despite not having a license?