Masquerade and the Nameless Women

by Eiji Mikage

  “But our appointment with the three people of interest is approaching. Let’s talk more about your theory on the way to the station. Yuri, my apologies for making our talk secondary, but would you be okay with this?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  Before I even finished speaking, Dr. Higano drained the remainder of his coffee, tucked his tablet computer under his arm, and stood up. It was a single, nonchalant gesture, but it was so refined that I couldn’t resist watching him in fascination.

  “Um, Dr. Higano…Can I ask something?”

  His movements were so elegant that it felt like a crime to interrupt him.

  But I had to ask him.

  “Have you already identified a suspect?”

  Dr. Higano answered without looking at me. “Yes. I’m going to pin it on her father.”

  Naturally, I was taken aback by how summarily he rendered this verdict.

  Dr. Higano winked to clear things up for me: “That was a joke.”

  5

  “What a cute car!” Erika squealed.

  “You’ve got great taste, Erika,” Yamaji beamed. “Some young lady once called it a P.O.S., but I like what I like. It’s not used, it’s vintage.”

  God, I wished he would stop flirting with her. She wasn’t being serious. There’s no way a flashy woman like her could appreciate the finer points of this supposed vintage car with its loud engine and air conditioner that only pumped out stale, warm air.

  I looked at Dr. Higano, in the back seat on the passenger side. The “Doc” didn’t really match the jalopy, which seemed like it might disintegrate at any moment.

  But even if it didn’t suit him, he was supposed to be there.

  “So…Why is Erika with us?” I asked.

  Erika was sitting shotgun and adjusting her bangs in the side mirror. She turned to look at me sitting in the back seat on the driver’s side and smiled. “I’ve got three people stalking me right now,” she said.

  “What?”

  “So it’s dangerous for me to walk alone. Plus, my place is in the same direction.”

  Three was a pretty impressive number of stalkers—but she seemed like someone who might actually be able to pull that off.

  Whether she was lying or not, her presence posed a problem.

  “There are certain things related to the investigation that we won’t be able to talk about,” I complained.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “I heard everything from the waiting room.”

  Everything was definitely not okay. It was basically all classified information.

  “This is probably far enough, would you mind getting out?” I suggested.

  “What? No way! I mean, wouldn’t it be dangerous to leave Dr. Higano alone with a woman?”

  She was unbelievable…Dr. Higano was right there, but she was still openly buttering him up. And her comment ignored Yamaji’s existence altogether.

  “It’s okay, Yuri,” Dr. Higano assured me. “She knows how to keep a secret, despite how she may appear. She also happens to be very clever and has excellent intuition…Ah, my apologies, it was rude of me to mention your looks.”

  “Oh, Dr. Higano. Thank you. I love you.”

  “Thank you,” he replied.

  Judging from Dr. Higano’s quick thank you, they seemed to both be quite used to displays of affection.

  This only reconfirmed that these two were living in a different dimension than the one I was in.

  “Yuri, why don’t we pick up where we left off?” Dr. Higano continued. “About Masquerade. The serial killer. First, we should look at the definition of serial killer, which I think we can safely say has nothing to do with the victim-offender relationship, correct? By this I mean that serial killings are multiple, consecutive killings in which the killer isn’t acquainted with the people he targets. According to profiling theories developed by former FBI Special Agent Robert K. Ressler, serial killers can be loosely divided into two types: organized and disorganized. The characteristics of these two types are—”

  “I’ve studied that,” I interrupted. “Masquerade would be classified as an organized serial killer. One characteristic of organized serial killers is that they target strangers. Organized serial killers are generally intellectually average or above average, have a stable outward appearance, and are employed in a job that requires a certain level of proficiency. There are many cases where they even have girlfriends or wives. Naturally, I think Masquerade is one of those cases.”

  “Yes, I’m of the same opinion,” Dr. Higano said.

  “However, I don’t think that analyzing Masquerade with current profiling theories is meaningful.”

  Dr. Higano raised an eyebrow. “Hmm. Why not?”

  “Both organized and disorganized serial killers are motivated by sexual desire. Even the serial killers who helped coin the phrase ‘serial killer’ were motivated by sex. Like Ted Bundy, the representative example of an organized serial killer, or Ed Gain, who fashioned dead bodies into clothes, utensils, and furniture and was the model for Buffalo Bill in Silence of the Lambs. In Japan, Seito Sakakibara’s murders of two school children in Kobe were also based on sexual desire. But I don’t think this is the case for Masquerade. His motivation is different from the main premise of profiling theory, so I don’t think it applies here.”

  Yamaji was still sucking on his candy and cut in. “Princess, you do realize Masquerade has only targeted beautiful people, right? And he’s got some fetish for taking their most beautiful body parts with him. To me, that’s a clear sign of sexual deviance.”

  “Um, can I say something?” Shirasu interrupted. She pressed one finger up against her lips cutely. “To be honest, I feel the same as you, Yuri-chan. People generally only fall for one type of person, don’t you think? But for Masquerade, his victims are all different sorts of women. It kind of feels like a music producer casting as many different types of cute girls for a supergroup so that they can attract as many different fans as possible.”

  She had a funny way of putting it, but on this point, we did agree.

  And was she seriously calling me “Yuri-chan”? When did we become BFFs?

  “Maybe he just appreciates many types of women? To be honest, I wouldn’t mind if he killed a hottie from a strip club next time,” Yamaji joked.

  Yamaji was the absolute worst. I wanted him to die already.

  Dr. Higano completely ignored the crass remark and continued, “Even if Erika is right, I don’t think we can rule out Masquerade’s sexual desire. I say this because when you take into account the fact that he takes body parts, he does have the quality of a collector. Perhaps he’s sexually satisfied by attacking many different women rather than targeting one similar type.”

  “Masquerade as a collector is the first theory that comes to mind when considering his methods…” I said. “But could I finish elaborating on my thoughts about the case?”

  “Of course. I’d like to know more.”

  I nodded. “Up until now, there have been seven Masquerade victims total. All of them beautiful women. Partially because of that, whenever he kills one, it riles up the public and monopolizes the media conversation. However, no matter how many permutations he comes up with and no matter how brutal the killings are, they gradually start to lose their novelty.”

  “People still do get pretty worked up over it I guess,” Yamaji said. “But there is a slight sense of ‘This again.’”

  I nodded to acknowledge him and continued, “But then we come to Reina Myoko. She wasn’t just beautiful, she was also incredibly enigmatic. She was mysterious even in high school, and one of her mysteries is why she refused to leave behind any photos of herself. It’s also strange that she owned a luxury car but didn’t have a driver’s license. All this has riled up my suspicions and made me think about new possibilities. Dr. Higano has suggested Masquerade was a c
ollector, that the act of killing a new, different kind of woman satisfied him sexually. However, I find it more convincing that—” I paused for a beat. “—he was biding his time and finding the victim who’d have the biggest splash with the public. What do you think?”

  There probably would’ve been plenty of splash if he’d kept killing the same kind of woman over and over again. But I felt like Masquerade’s methods hooked the public, providing endless opportunities for discussion—What kind of hot chick would he pick next? Which body part would he take with him?

  Not to mention the fact that Reina Myoko was his latest victim?

  The world would find out quickly how different she was from the others, and it would pique their interest.

  I thought Masquerade must be going for that effect.

  Dr. Higano covered his eyes and nodded deeply. “I see,” he said. “So this is connected to your previous comment—that Reina would have been a convenient victim for Masquerade? Masquerade is selecting and killing remarkable individuals as the world desires.”

  “Exactly. This is why Masquerade differs from a traditional serial killer who operates on sexual desire. He almost seems like an intellectual who’s totally lost it, who’s making decisions based solely on how he can most influence society rather than any personal desires. He’s basically a terrorist at his purest essence. At least that’s what I think.”

  Dr. Higano re-opened his eyes, impressed. “Brilliant. No one has suggested that he’s a terrorist before. Incredibly interesting theory. However, and I don’t mean to quibble, but what do you think he’s trying to accomplish by killing these beautiful women? Killing women on Odaiba without getting caught is far more difficult than setting off a bomb in a crowded area. If he’s operating out of political beliefs, his approach is the highest risk, smallest reward.”

  He had a point.

  “Ooh ooh, let me!” From shotgun, Erika’s hand shot up in high spirits. “I just realized something. Okay, so, I really don’t think such a weird guy who kills people is acting based on his political beliefs.”

  “But then you do agree with me that he’s operating out of sexual desire?” Dr. Higano asked.

  “Maybe he’s something like an athlete?” she countered.

  I furrowed my brow with confusion.

  “Yuri, you’re making a super serious face right now,” she remarked. “But I swear I have a point. Like, there are people who can run the 100-meter dash in under eight seconds, right? That’s amazing, but it’s not super helpful around the house. But they’re so talented they could win a gold medal and their name would go down in history, and that alone gets them to train like crazy. See?”

  “So what you’re trying to say then,” I murmured, summarizing her main point, “is that he kills people because he’s good at killing people.”

  What was going on? Her logic was, to be perfectly honest, ridiculous.

  But I had to admit it made some sense.

  Say Masquerade’s crimes were, as I thought, a sort of terrorism. As Dr. Higano said, a terrorist wouldn’t normally choose Masquerade’s methods of murder.

  However, if he’d chosen to kill in this way because of his talents as a killer, that would solve the mystery. He was such a skilled killer that there would be nothing preventing him from putting it into action.

  “I’m…not so sure,” I hesitated.

  The logic remained ridiculous.

  We’d never understand Masquerade’s intentions from conjecture alone.

  Dr. Higano saw me frown and smiled encouragingly. “Whatever the case, we can’t let ourselves get down. A criminal who keeps killing so recklessly will eventually be caught. No matter how good a serial killer he is. That much I’m sure of. And I think the one to catch him will be someone like you, who’s completely obsessed with him.”

  Yamaji stepped on the brake. I looked out the window of the slowing vehicle and saw the familiar concrete walls of the Patchwork Fortress.

  “Here we go,” Yamaji said and crunched his lollipop. “That’s all the time we have for your deduction dreams right now, Princess. Time to solve the case that’s right in front of our noses. One step at a time, that’s the way to get to Masquerade.”

  “Got it!” I said, trying to pump myself up.

  For now, I decided to forget the fact that Masquerade might be related to the Reina Myoko case. I needed to investigate without anything clouding my mind.

  I had to focus on solving the riddle of my mysterious classmate.

  Yamaji’s vintage Toyota Crown threaded through the opening in the rugged gate and pulled into the parking lot. I unbuckled my seatbelt and opened the door, and Dr. Higano followed me out in his white coat.

  I paused. “You’re bringing that thing with you?”

  Dr. Higano had his glass puzzle cube in one hand. “Yes, I find it easier to think if I have something to do with my hands. And I guess it’s also a kind of superstition. I’ve solved a number of cases fairly quickly when I have it with me.”

  He spun the cubes in his long, bony fingers. For some reason the smooth movements of his fingers were captivating.

  “Shall we?” Dr. Higano said. Strangely, he smiled brightly, like a blossoming flower. “Let’s pull this case apart, and expose it for what it is.”

  6

  “Photos? It’s like I told you already, lady. I don’t have any of us…and yeah, I realize that’s not exactly normal for people who are dating, but it is what it is.”

  * * *

  —

  “Photos of Reina? Now that you mention it, I don’t think I have any…not a single one.”

  * * *

  —

  “Photographs of Reina? I don’t have any. I think she might’ve thrown them all out during the crazy point in time when we were selling our house. She was a third-year in high school. She had some kind of hangup about them I think, never took any after that. So I don’t have any. Ah…now that I think about it, what are we going to use for a funeral portrait?”

  * * *

  —

  8:00 P.M. Erika immediately left for home as though she’d just finished some tiresome errand. The rest of us stepped through the automatic front door into Building Three.

  Tokyo Bay Station Building Three was a relatively new building that was only about ten years old. However, the wanted posters and miscellany pinned on top of each other, the overflowing piles of documents behind the reception desk, and the large, fist-shaped hole in a partition from some unknown person gave the place a worn-in feel, like the building itself had taken on the character of the officers within.

  Naturally, it had the tense, anxiety-inducing atmosphere typical of police stations, and the houseplants and sad attempts at levity did nothing to break up that threatening air.

  The three men we’d asked to come in voluntarily as witnesses, and the officer watching them, stood in front of the blue lamp that read “Reception.”

  Shota Akiyama, Reina’s self-proclaimed boyfriend. 25 years old.

  Ken Nakahigashi, Reina’s fiancé. 27 years old.

  Koichiro Myoko, Reina’s father. 57 years old.

  Nakahigashi was R&D Director at the Yokohama branch of Central Construction, a major general contracting company. He was the the third son of Heiji Nakahigashi, president of Central Construction, and thus a candidate to be the next president of the company.

  Nakahigashi was wearing rimless glasses on his pale, white face, which seemed untouched by the sun. He was short and skinny and was wearing an expensive-looking suit. Something about him reminded me of bank workers from back in the day. He appeared calm, but I saw his eyes darting about and could tell he was nervous about the questioning that was about to start.

  I looked to his left.

  Koichiro Myoko. He was an independent member of the Tokyo Metropolitan Assembly, and also Reina’s father.

 
He was only 57, but the streaks of gray in his hair and deep wrinkles that cut into his face made him seem older. He gave the impression of being unconfident and unreliable. He seemed more like a small shop owner than a politician. I didn’t feel any of the sense of mystery Reina had. The color of his face was awful and he was acting strangely, constantly wiping the sweat away from his face with a green handkerchief, the opposite of Nakahigashi.

  All three had been very close with Reina.

  Which is why we’d asked them for any photos they had for her. But unbelievably, none of them had even a single one.

  The fact that not even her own father had any was a sign of how obsessive she was about never having her picture taken.

  “So it’s like, I can refuse to answer, right?” Shota Akiyama barked at Yamaji angrily. “Just let me go home, all right? You’re treating me like a criminal, man. This sucks.”

  “It’s voluntary, so legally speaking you can,” I told him. “But you came all the way out here, you should help us out. Don’t you want to find the killer?”

  “I’m not worried about it. It was this guy.” He gestured to Ken Nakahigashi with a movement of his jaw.

  Nakahigashi sighed openly. “Harsh words, but empty. I wish you’d stop letting your emotions get in the way of your thinking.”

  “Lady,” Akiyama blustered. “This guy is messed up. Reina got murdered, and I just heard him fucking blame her for dying at an inconvenient time.”

  Nakahigashi furrowed his brown and shook his head wildly as if to suggest the idea was ridiculous. “I did not say that. He doesn’t like me, so he’s twisting my words. Stop trying to trick them. I just meant that I’m only being considered a suspect because of my connection to Reina.”

  “What?” Akiyama cried. “That’s the same damn thing! You’re not even sad she died! That’s what I hate the most about you!”

  “I am sad. I just think there’s more to sadness than openly performing your emotions like you.”

  I thought what Nakahigashi said was reasonable. But I didn’t get the sense that he was really all that torn up either, from the cold expression on his face.