The Floating Girl: A Rei Shimura Mystery (Rei Shimura Mystery #4)

by Sujata Massey

  Mars Girl stopped frequently to look at the comic books on various tables. She was shopping around, when I had hoped she would make a beeline to the Showa Story table. I realized that we’d turned the corner in the L and completely missed the area where the Showa Story table was supposed to be.

  Maybe she wasn’t stopping there because she had already seen it. I decided to make an overture. I approached her left ear, which was decorated with a delicate pearl stud earring. How funny: a conventional good-girl earring on an animation fan. Well, it did look as if many of the fans were middle-class young women. I spoke softly into her ear. “Excuse me, have you been to the Showa Story table yet?”

  She jerked her head away and attempted to dive into the crowd. Normally I wouldn’t have gone after her, but I’d seen her face. Heavy makeup couldn’t disguise the fact that the Mars Girl I’d been chasing was Rika.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  “Oh, great! You’re here, too!” Rika started to prattle but stopped when I grabbed her upper arm hard.

  “This convention was my assignment. Why are you here? Is Alec here also?”

  “No, he is not here. I’m sorry that you’re jealous of our love, Rei-san.”

  “Jealous?” I caught my breath. “No. What I feel is embarrassment for you. Did he force you into it? You really could complain.”

  “I started the thing,” Rika said coolly. “And he doesn’t know I’m here. I decided at the last minute to come and help you out.”

  “At the last minute… dressed like that?” I gestured toward her regalia.

  “Costumes are on sale in the next room. Do you want one? I’ve been here for two hours already, so I’ve gotten the layout. I’ve even done some interviews.” She briefly pulled her Palm Pilot out of a handbag she had strapped across her body underneath the cape.

  “Did you know that Toshi had to leave because the Comiko organizers don’t allow photographers?”

  “I didn’t know,” Rika said. “Oh, my goodness, now I remember something. Some people costumed like hedgehogs were trying to take a camera away from a young man in blue jeans. I didn’t look closely, but now I think about it, the boy had a ponytail, just like our Toshi.”

  “This convention is turning out to be a real headache,” I grumbled. I knew that my headache was the result of my nighttime activities. I wasn’t going to tell Rika how poorly I felt. I didn’t believe that her appearance at the convention was spur-of-the-moment. The question was whether she just wanted to take over reporting the story, or if she had another, secret agenda.

  “So you’ve been to the Showa Story table already?” I asked.

  “Yes. I’ve got plenty of stuff.”

  “Where is it?”

  “Right here.” She patted her Palm Pilot.

  “Oh, you’re talking about where you’re storing your notes. I was asking about the location of the table.”

  “Oh, I haven’t been there yet. It’s supposed to be somewhere in the middle.” She waved her hand vaguely.

  “You didn’t try to find it?”

  “I was on my way, actually. It’s just that my time has been taken up at the costume booth. I did a lot of interviews there with people who call themselves cos-play. Nicky was in cos-play when he died.”

  Again I didn’t quite believe her. I nodded and said, “Well, I’ll look for the table. If I get close enough to the wall, I may get a glimpse.” I plunged into the throng, Rika continuing to hover at my side.

  “You must be careful, Rei-san. Careful for your health.”

  “The poster ahead, six to the right—doesn’t that look like Mars Girl?”

  “No, it’s from Space Boy. Another series, sorry.”

  We probably walked only fifty feet, but because of the flurries of girls in our path, it seemed longer. I thought I blended well with the crowd, since more than half of the fans were high-school and college-age women. Then I remembered that I wasn’t that young anymore. Rika was the one who fit in.

  I cast a resentful look over my shoulder, and she smiled back at me.

  “We’ll find them, Rei-san. Don’t be nervous.”

  I checked my program one final time. The Showa Story booth was supposed to be between the tables devoted to Rainbow Moon and Hedgehog. I knew I’d passed the hedgehogs. I told Rika, and we reversed direction and got back to the two tables in question. The table between them was filled with mounds of both comic books.

  “Isn’t Showa Story supposed to be here?” I asked.

  “Cancellation,” a hedgehog of ambiguous gender said cheerfully. “We’re using the space for extra storage. Kunio told us it was okay.”

  “So you see, I didn’t need to find the table at all!” Rika sounded almost delighted. “We’ll go back to field reporting.”

  “Good idea,” I said quickly. “Why don’t we meet up in an hour by the press table?”

  I waved her off, and when she was out of earshot I leaned in toward the hedgehog.

  “What’s Kunio doing at the convention if he isn’t going to have the table?”

  “I didn’t ask that,” the hedgehog answered. “I must say, it was a nice surprise to get the extra space. Have you read Hedgehog? We’re spoofing Doraemon. Change of animal, but all the same fun.”

  “How long ago did he talk to you?”

  “Just half an hour ago. He said the tragedy with Nicky had led him to cancel the table, and he was pretty annoyed the convention organizers wouldn’t give him his money back.”

  “Is he in a Mars Girl costume?”

  “No, he is wearing an old Japanese Imperial Navy uniform.” I must have looked shocked, because Hedgehog added, “He said there’s a character in one of the stories… an officer who sends Mars Girl to a house of ill repute.”

  “I know that story,” I said.

  “If you need to speak to Kunio-san, you can surely ask Seiko Hattori where he is. She’s running around dressed up like a dog.”

  “Excuse me, do you have any volume two for sale?” A customer cut into our conversation, and the hedgehog immediately turned away from me.

  “We certainly do. Each copy is six hundred yen, but if you buy four, it goes down to five hundred yen apiece.”

  I’d heard what I needed to know. I stumbled back into the maelstrom of animation fans. I wondered if any of the interviews Rika had done were with the Showa Story circle members. I doubted it. She had probably spent the time trying on costumes.

  ***

  I checked my program to find the location of the costume shop, and made my way to it through the ninjas and rabbits and schoolgirls. A couple of clothing racks were crammed with costumes. A lot of them looked previously worn, especially the school uniforms, which had rather staggering prices. “Fetishists want those,” the costume shop’s manager told me. She wasn’t in costume, just black leggings and a T-shirt.

  “Do you take credit cards?” I hoped that I would be able to charge whichever costume I chose to the Gaijin Times.

  “Cash only. Mmm, which series do you like?”

  “I just want something to cover me up. The face, definitely,” I said.

  The manager pursed her lips, “I’d prefer if you chose a costume for different reasons. Choose a series that you like. That’s what most people do.”

  I pasted on a phony smile. “I like Showa Story, but there’s already a Mars Girl walking around and I don’t want to look the same.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes, you sold her the costume.”

  The manager shook her head. “No, that cannot be. I only brought one Mars Girl costume and it hasn’t sold yet.”

  I looked at the costume: a scoop-necked blue unitard. Rika had been wearing a turtleneck costume in the same color. Both costumes had silver capes.

  In a way, I was sorry to have discovered that Rika had lied to me about the level of planning that had gone into her appearance at the convention. I’d suspected her, sure. But now I knew for certain that she was deceptive.

  “Well, what do you
think?” the manager asked, waving the costume in my face.

  “Is there a—a mask or something?” I was desperate for cover.

  “The men who dress up as Mars Girl have to apply special makeup, sure, but since you are a lady, you don’t have a problem! There is no need for a mask,” the woman said cheerfully.

  “I think I’d rather be a cat.” A fuzzy blue cat costume on the rack included a head.

  The woman gave a long look at me and shook her head. At last she said, “You don’t really like cats.”

  “How do you know that?” I was irate. What kind of a convention was this—animated psychics?

  “There’s no crossover between Kittie Pie fans and Showa Story. Showa Story is a violent, kinky series. Kittie Pie is very sweet. You cannot enjoy both types of comic. In my experience with doujinshi people, I have never seen it.”

  “Well,” I said, switching to English, “I’m a foreigner. We are open-minded.”

  The woman looked at me hard as I examined the price tag for the Kittie Pie costume. It was about $150. It might not really be worth fighting to buy such an expensive piece of fluffy acrylic that I’d never wear again.

  “Take the Mars Girl costume,” the woman repeated. “It’s half the price of the Kittie Pie outfit, and you’ll be safe in it.”

  “What you mean, safe?” A chill ran down my back. Did she know my story?

  “It’s a safe buy. It will fit you, and if you really want to change your look, I can give you a discount coupon for hair and makeup at Power Princess Spa. They’ve got a booth here, you know. How about it?” the woman coaxed. “You can try it on behind the curtain.”

  “Okay.” I pushed my way behind a gaudy lame curtain. I didn’t have time to dither about. I wanted to get in drag as fast as possible—although would you call it drag if you were masquerading in the same gender?

  The unitard was so tight you could practically see through to the rice balls I’d eaten for breakfast. The cape barely brushed over my unfortunately visible panty lines. I was a walking fashion violation, down to my grimy pair of Asics running shoes.

  “Suteki!” The costume saleswoman screeched a compliment that this outfit was cute. I shrugged, not believing her. The only thing I could hope for was salvation through makeup.

  It was just my luck that of the two makeup and hair artists working, one was Miss Kumiko.

  “Shimura-san, waxing is not possible today.” She looked disapproving when she saw me.

  “Actually, I just need makeup.” Embarrassed that a roving group of Pocket Monsters had overheard, I handed her the discount coupon showing what I wanted.

  “Oh. By the way, how was your last beauty treatment? Are you still free of excess hair?” Miss Kumiko said loudly.

  “Fine. But I’m really in the market for artificial hair. Can we talk about that?”

  Grudgingly Miss Kumiko rented me a lavender wig that swooshed all the way to my waist. She painted my face an unearthly shade of pink that camouflaged my bruise completely. When the garish eyeliner and a rosebud mouth were drawn on, I didn’t look like myself anymore. I looked like Mars Girl. No, I realized with a shudder, I looked a lot like dead Nicky dressed up as Mars Girl. My American nose and cheekbones were more akin to his than I’d thought.

  I paid 2,500 yen to Miss Kumiko and made a second entrance into the main hall. Things seemed different now that I was in drag. Strangers smiled as if we were friends. One young man and two women friends in Mars Girl outfits stopped to chat. The man complimented me on my shoes, which made me laugh. I asked if they’d seen Seiko in her dog costume or Kunio in his vintage Japanese military costume.

  “Well, there’s a guy dressed in a blue uniform in the next room,” the young man said. “I think I saw him examining the different doujinshi tables.”

  “Was he very good-looking?” I asked.

  The young man grinned. “I don’t know; he’s not my type. I guess you could say so.”

  That was good enough for me. I wove my way back into the other room, searching desperately for a glimpse of a uniform that wasn’t schoolgirl or schoolboy

  As I drew closer, it was clear that the uniformed man was chatting with a fan dressed in a Mars Girl uniform. I couldn’t make out the conversation, but waited for it to end, which it did with the man slipping the girl a business card. Very smooth, Kunio, I thought.

  As he turned around, I saw in an instant that I’d been wrong. The man wasn’t Kunio. He was Lieutenant Hata, and the blue uniform that I’d assumed was military turned out to be police.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Lieutenant Hata nodded at me, and his eyes curiously scoped my costume. I realized then that he couldn’t see through my makeup to the old Rei Shimura he’d been trying to pin down for a police interview.

  I nodded back, and moved on quickly.

  “Excuse me,” he called after me. ”Could I please speak with you for a moment? I’m looking for someone who might be a friend of yours.”

  “Oh?” I said noncommittally. The fewer Japanese words I spoke, the more I’d come off like a native.

  “She’s called Rei Shimura. A Japanese-American.”

  “Sorry, I can’t hear through this wig,” I said loudly, nodding at him again before plunging into the crowd. I was shaking as I moved through the room. What a close call. It was disturbing to realize that Lieutenant Hata was looking specifically for me. Did this mean I was now a suspect? Even if he just wanted to take me into custody for questioning about the others I’d interviewed, it could bring a kind incarceration, because the police had a right to hold people for questioning for up to ten days.

  I slunk down the hall, glad for the huge crowds, as well as the fact that there were more Mars Girls around for Lieutenant Hata to detain. As I neared the press check-in table, I saw Rika standing patiently, her Palm Pilot tucked against her flat stomach like a talisman.

  “Hilarious!” she squealed when she caught sight of my costume.

  I didn’t respond to her left-handed compliment. I asked, “Did you find Kunio?”

  “No, but I think I found some of his fans. Two fans dressed just like us, as Mars Girl, but they refused to do an interview. Maybe it’s because they’re members of the circle,” she added darkly.

  “Doubtful,” I said. “The only living members of the circle are wearing dog and military costumes. Which brings up a question I have about your costume. You didn’t buy it here. You’d planned to come to this convention from the very beginning, hadn’t you?”

  Rika’s face flushed. “Alec suggested it would be a good idea.”

  “So he’s the one you’re loyal to. Tell me, how far would you go for him?”

  Rika didn’t move. She’d turned into a perfect statue.

  “Its very interesting how you turned up here, just as you turned up at my apartment the day after I’d been attacked.”

  The statue’s lips moved. “What do you mean, attacked? You said that you’d had an accident.”

  I stared at her and said, “I’m on to you.”

  “What nonsense is that, Rei-san? You are not on me, you are across from me. If my English is becoming better than yours, you are confused! Please take a rest somewhere. I’ll help you.”

  Anyone listening to the conversation would think that Rika was engaging in typical Japanese over-solicitousness. But I understood it was war.

  “There’s too much to do,” I said angrily. “We should split up and keep working. We’ve got no photos, no interviews with the artists, nothing. This is just a big washout.”

  “Very well,” Rika said, and gave an angry little half-bow before stalking off.

  The fight with Rika—if you could call my heated accusations and her strained responses a fight—had infused me with a strange energy. I slammed down a Pocari Sweat and began to cruise the halls. I tried to think like an insider. Why might the members of a doujinshi circle come to a manga convention if not to sell their own comics?

  They might have come to find someone. The th
ought came to me as I watched, ten feet away from me, a young man in jeans bow to another young man and then hand him a business card. Conventions were places where people convened from far-flung locations.

  Perhaps, given the circle’s financial crisis, Kunio and Seiko were looking for someone to infuse cash into their operation. Or, since Nicky had died, they were looking for someone to replace him.

  I went back to the Hedgehog table. When I smiled at the talkative hedgehog who had helped me earlier and drew only a blank, I guessed that he had not recognized me in the Mars Girl costume.

  “Excuse me, but I’m Rei Shimura. I’m the one who asked you about Showa Story earlier,” I began.

  “Oh, you do make up nicely!” His laugh sounded delighted. “So you found Kunio-san?”

  “No. But I’ve been thinking…” I paused, not sure how to phrase it. “Do any really important people come to this convention?”

  “Oh, yes. Our fans are the most important people on earth!”

  “Um, besides them. Are there businesspeople attending this convention? Persons who might help fund production of a doujinshi series?”

  Hedgehog scratched his appropriately bristly chin. “Eh to… I understand what you’re asking. The type of people who might discover a doujinshi and help the artists make money.”

  “Yes. Who would that be?”

  “Well, we are doing it on our own. We have some part-time jobs that help pay for paper and so on. Other circles might have their comics printed for free, but then, of course, they give their profits straight to the printer to cover the cost.”

  “I see.” Seiko’s father owned Hattori Copy Shop. She could have arranged the printing at a reasonable cost.

  “I don’t know if there are any printers here today. To tell the truth, I don’t think they seek out amateur manga artists like this. We’re more likely to lose money than make it.”