She’d made lieutenant at the unusually young age of twenty-seven, despite not being on the management fast track. Soon after that, she’d been tapped by the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department and was made a squad leader in the Homicide Division.
A young woman lieutenant—younger than many of her subordinates—working Homicide got tongues wagging. Inside the department, there were plenty of people ready to grumble about her being a “little miss” who “just knew how to ace tests.” Whenever she messed up, her colleagues judged her far more harshly than they did her male counterparts. Everyone talked pointedly about “the unbridgeable gap between exams and real-life experience.” Within earshot, naturally.
The working environment was hardly comfortable, but it never even crossed Reiko’s mind to put in for a transfer. She was proud to be a detective and couldn’t conceive of doing anything else. Like Dr. Kunioku, she wanted to be able to say, hand on heart, that she enjoyed her work. Luckily, she got on well with the men in her squad. That was largely thanks to her direct boss, Captain Haruo Imaizumi, head of Unit 10, who was responsible for bringing Reiko into Homicide in the first place. She had a superior officer and subordinates she could trust. That made her one of the lucky ones.
With all the grief her family gave her for not being married, these days she had more stress to deal with outside of her job. Next year she’d hit thirty. Still living at home, she would graduate from a “singleton” to an “over-the-hill.” The time was coming when she wouldn’t be able to laugh off their criticisms any longer.
After working on a stalker homicide case in Itabashi, she’d spent the three days’ leave she’d wangled at the family home in Minami-Urawa. Not a relaxing time. Now she was on standby at the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department HQ in central Tokyo, waiting to be called in on a case. If nothing came in today, it would be her sixth day just cooling her heels. No murders was good news for society at large but bad news for Reiko, who ended up spending more time stuck at home with her parents. If nothing came up, she’d have to traipse back to Minami-Urawa again tonight. Maybe it was because her neuralgia was acting up, but recently her mum seemed to be more hostile than ever.
Please, God, give me something to do!
No, God wasn’t in the business of doling out work to homicide detectives. Murderers were the people who sent jobs her way.
“Hey, darling, anyone home?” No sooner were the words out of Kunioku’s mouth than the cell phone in Reiko’s breast pocket started to vibrate. She pulled it out with glee. It was the TMPD.
“Himekawa speaking.”
“It’s me. Where are you?”
It was Captain Imaizumi of Unit 10.
“I’m having lunch with a friend.”
“With Dr. Kunioku? You available?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Kusaka’s been rushed to hospital with acute appendicitis.”
Mamoru Kusaka, like her, was a lieutenant in the Tenth with a squad under his command. He was also Reiko’s second least–favorite person in the universe. There was no love lost between their squads. The news of his appendicitis actually brought a smile to her lips.
“You mean we get to step in?”
“That’s right. I may need to bring in Katsumata too. We’ll see how things go.”
Lieutenant Kensaku Katsumata was a squad leader from Fifth. In the department, though, his nickname was Stubby. Everyone referred to his team, which was made up of intel experts, as Homicide’s Public Security Bureau. Joining forces with them would be bad news for Reiko. They’d suck up any leads that she and her boys dug up and give them nothing in return. That’s how they operated. Even with a head start, Reiko’s team would need to be careful not to have a march stolen on them.
“I understand. We’ll try to work fast.”
“The crime scene’s in Kanamachi. The local police station is Kameari. Here’s the address.”
Reiko jotted down the details in her notebook and consulted her watch. She’d need just under an hour to get to the place.
“I’ll be there before three.”
“Good. I’m heading over there now myself.”
She clapped her cell phone shut. Kunioku was smiling at her.
“You look like the cat who got the cream.”
Did she? Macabre though it was, nothing gave her as much pleasure as heading out to a crime scene.
“No, it’s just—I’m just thinking that this case saves me from having to go home to my misery-guts parents’ place.”
She wasn’t ready to go all out and admit to being happy.
2
TUESDAY, AUGUST 12, 2:37 P.M.
Reiko got off the train at Kanamachi station and hopped on a bus heading north. She checked the address of the crime scene and saw that the body had been found very close to Mizumoto Park. The park was next to a flood control basin.
Smothering heat enveloped her the instant she got off the bus and momentarily stopped her in her tracks. Something cold and nauseous welled up inside her. She hated summer. It brought back memories of that awful night. That summer when she was seventeen.
It’s okay. You’re not in high school anymore.
Reiko forced the demons down. That was her old self. Just memories. She was weaker then. It had gotten easier over the years. She was more able to keep those memories at bay, particularly since making lieutenant. That she was a police officer, and the pride she felt in her rank helped her stay in control.
These damn freckles I get in the summer are a much more serious problem now.
She gave a toss of her chin and held her handkerchief over her eyes like a sun visor. The gesture was of little practical use, but it made her feel better. Although this neighborhood was within the twenty-three wards that made up Tokyo, there were fewer tall buildings this far out. That meant less shade—and more sweltering heat.
She crossed the main thoroughfare and caught a glimpse of water—it looked like a river—through the railings. That had to be the inner reservoir. It was nothing more than a triangular fishing pond ringed with concrete. Twenty or so rowboats—probably for fishing—were moored along the bank, the paint peeling on all of them. No one was actually fishing.
Normal enough on a weekday afternoon.
As she walked along the pond, she spotted the police on the far side. Why weren’t there any police cars? Had they all parked somewhere else? She walked over to the scene.
METROPOLITAN POLICE. KEEP OUT.
The familiar yellow tape blocked her path. The uniformed officer on guard gave her a skeptical look as if to ask, Who’s this damn woman?
“Afternoon, Lieutenant.”
Officer Yuda, one of her subordinates, hailed her from over the uniformed officer’s shoulder. “Lieutenant! Over here!”
“Yuda? You got here quickly.”
The uniform now realized he had a lieutenant from the Metropolitan Police on his hands. The condescending look vanished. Suddenly he was all respect. The change was almost too obvious.
Reiko took her time as she ducked under the tape he was holding up for her.
That’s what I love about an organization with a tight chain of command.
The police force, like the army, had a strict hierarchy. It had nine levels, and from the bottom up, they were officer, sergeant, lieutenant, captain, superintendent, senior superintendent, chief superintendent, superintendent supervisor, and superintendent general. A local police commander was the equal of a division head at the National Police Agency, while the director of any major department at the Metropolitan Police outranked the chief of any of the smaller prefectural headquarters. This system made it clear who had seniority and enabled the rapid establishment of a chain of command. In this case, the Kameari precinct, which was the local police station, and the Metropolitan Police, the citywide police force in Tokyo, were going to set up a joint task force, and it would run like clockwork.
The badge on the left side of his chest indicated that the officer was two ranks below her. Age, gender,
looks, experience, character—none of that mattered. Reiko outranked the man. That was that. She loved the sheer certainty of it.
Once you made lieutenant, the police force became an almost agreeable place to work. Reiko had to work twice as hard to get there, but her efforts paid off when she made lieutenant at only twenty-seven. She had no qualms about pulling rank. She’d earned her place, owed nothing to connections, and there was no reason to hold back.
Following Yuda, she strode over to the crime scene. She guessed that the plainclothes officers standing around were from the Kameari Precinct Major Crimes Squad. She didn’t recognize any of them. She was getting some stares, but she decided to ignore them. Introductions could wait.
“Where’s everyone?” Reiko asked Yuda, without turning her head.
“Everyone” meant her squad, which was part of Unit 10. Four men worked for Reiko: the forty-seven-year-old Sergeant Tamotsu Ishikura; Sergeant Kazuo Kikuta, thirty-two; Officer Junji Otsuka, twenty-seven; and, last but not least, Officer Kohei Yuda, twenty-six.
“Ishikura and Kikuta are making the rounds with the Mobile Unit. As for Otsuka…”
Yuda gestured.
Otsuka was standing at the edge of the pond about twenty yards up the lane. A blue tarp, strung between the railings on the left and a utility pole on the right, blocked the way.
So that’s where the body was found.
At this stage, the forensics team from the Met was probably still inside the makeshift tent. Officer Otsuka came over to them, running down the walkway.
“Good to see you, Lieutenant,” he panted, nodding at Reiko.
“How’s it looking?”
“They’ll be done any minute now.”
“Which team is it?”
“Komine’s crew.”
Lieutenant Komine, of the Criminal Identification Bureau, rubbed Reiko the wrong way, but he was experienced and good at his job.
“What’s the state of the body?”
“Well, that’s…” Otsuka shot a glance at Yuda, then turned back to Reiko.
“It’d be quicker if you had a look for yourself, Lieutenant.”
“Really? Then let me do just that.”
Reiko walked over and down a pathway marked out in yellow tape. Her men followed. On either side, forensic investigators from the local precinct and the Met were down on their haunches, hunting for the tiniest piece of evidence. The investigators from the Metropolitan Police all nodded at her. The blank and leery stares she got were all from the local police.
They stopped in front of the blue tarp.
“Lieutenant Komine, this is Reiko Himekawa from Homicide. Can we come in?”
A pause.
“I guess so,” replied a low and sluggish voice from inside.
Reiko parted the tarp and peered inside.
At first glance, it looked as if it was empty except for the forensics team. She couldn’t see a body. Taking a more careful look, she spotted a bundle wrapped in blue plastic sheeting about the size of an average adult.
She stepped into the tent, looking over at the blue bundle.
“Is that our body?”
“Yup.”
“Why is it wrapped up with sheeting?”
“Search me. Only the perp knows that.”
“Sorry?”
“Only the killer knows why he bothered to giftwrap the victim.”
“The body was in this condition when it was dumped here?”
“Not exactly. It was tied tight with plastic cord—at either end, then around the neck, the elbows, the waist, and the knee area. Other than that, yes, it was like this.”
A young investigator was holding up the cord, plastic and white, that Komine was talking about. They’d cut it off and rolled it into a ball.
Reiko took a step forward. “Could I have a look?”
“Be my guest.” Sullenly, Komine peeled back the sheet to reveal the corpse. The body was a welter of different colors, a camouflage pattern of white, red, brown, black, and purple blotches against the blue of the tent.
Reiko grimaced involuntarily.
“That’s quite something,” she said.
“Yeah, and take a whiff of it. He’s pretty ripe.”
Reiko took a closer look at the body. It was completely naked; clearly male. Midthirties, around five feet six, medium build. Innumerable small lacerations on the face and the upper body. The blood from the cuts had dried, caking the whole body in a reddish-black crust. There were multiple contusions and abrasions, and several of the cuts had something glittering embedded in them. None of them, however, appeared to be fatal. The fatal wound was probably the one to the throat—the left carotid artery was sliced open, the incision made by a sharp blade.
The weirdest cut, though, was the long broad one that went from the solar plexus to the hip. The wound appeared to have been inflicted after death, and, unlike the incision at the throat, the edges of the wound were not puckered. The corpse’s lower body was almost wholly uninjured. It was high summer, and the wounds were all in a state of advanced decay.
Komine cleared his throat. “Reckon he’s been dead a couple of days.”
“And the cause of death … blood loss?”
“Most likely. This was the fatal wound,” Komine said, pointing briefly at the throat. He then directed Reiko’s attention to the abdomen.
“This cut here was inflicted postmortem.… But you probably already noticed that, given your fetish for corpses.”
A corpse fetish? Me?
Reiko refused to let her annoyance show and went on with her questions.
“What’s the shiny stuff?”
“Glass fragments. I’ll need to get the lab to take a look, but my guess is it’s just ordinary window glass. It’s not going to be easy to trace. The sheeting and the plastic string probably won’t help us much either.”
That type of blue sheeting could be found on any construction site, and anyone could get their hands on it. The homeless frequently used discarded pieces to rig up shelters. If they were lucky, this particular variety would have been made by a small manufacturer. If it was from a larger firm, though, it would be hard to trace. All Reiko could get from the choice of the sheeting and the cord was that the killer was careful.
Reiko gazed into the victim’s face, moving in close enough to touch him.
“Oh, here we go,” spat Komine.
This was how Reiko always communed with the murder victims. She couldn’t avoid it. It was a ritual she had to observe.
You can tell me. What was the last thing you saw? Tell me.
The man’s face was expressionless despite rigor mortis having worn off. His cloudy, half-open eyes gazed at a single fixed point in space. In her experience, corpses sometimes expressed emotions like terror and resentment. How about this man? Was he regretful? Sad? Scared? Angry?
Didn’t you feel anything at all?
The body in front of her remained silent. What would Kunioku be able to learn from it? The man had been murdered—that much was obvious—and as such his body would be sent to the forensic pathology laboratory for examination, rather than to the coroner’s office. But there was nothing she could do about it. Kunioku, she was sure, would have been able to get the corpse to speak to him.
* * *
Legwork was the first stage in any investigation and often the most crucial. That meant canvassing the neighborhood, knocking on the door of every house in the area.
Sergeant Kikuta called out to all the investigators scattered around the crime scene.
“Everyone, fall in.”
In Reiko’s squad, Kikuta was in charge of giving orders. Soon after her promotion, Reiko had humiliated herself when she’d tried to bark an order only to have her voice crack and go shrill. Ever since, Kikuta made it a point to give orders for her. He was little bit older than she was, honest, and always willing to help. He was her number two, her most reliable subordinate, as well as the biggest of them physically.
“I want Homicide and
the Mobile Unit in the front row. Everyone else, line up behind them. On the double.”
Reiko waited in silence for the men to form up. The next step would be to assign two-person teams, each with one officer from the Met and another from the local precinct, to canvass a specific area. Reiko did a headcount: four investigators from Homicide, six from the Mobile Unit, and from the local precinct—
“—eleven from Kameari,” Reiko reported to Captain Imaizumi, who had just arrived.
“Okay, add yourself to the group then.”
“Yes, sir.” Reiko walked over to the one local officer who did not yet have a partner. She gasped when she saw who it was.
Kikuta, who was standing next to her, looked over. “Oh. My. God. You?”
The officer smirked, mumbled something incoherent, then stuck his tongue between his teeth. “Yeah … um … me.”
It was Senior Officer Hiromitsu Ioka. They had worked on a homicide together in Setagaya last year. Ioka was an odd-looking fellow—bug eyes, buckteeth, and jug ears. Ioka was a year or two older than Reiko. His title of senior officer wasn’t even official. He was at the same level as an ordinary patrolman.
“Aren’t you based in Setagaya?”
Ioka scratched his head. “Yeah, well, I got transferred to Oji in April, then was moved here last month.”
“What’s with all the transfers?”
“Everyone wants a piece of my investigative talents?”
“Doubtful. You probably just piss people off everywhere you go.”
“That’s enough of that,” Captain Imaizumi called out to her, squaring his shoulders impatiently.
“Sorry, sir.” She got a grip on herself and took her proper position in the lineup. Ioka snickered and winked at her.
That’s Ioka for you, thought Reiko. Despite his rank, the man didn’t just make off-color remarks, he even flirted with her. He wasn’t a bad guy—just not cut out for the police.
“Himekawa, you take the first sector. Houses one through eight in Block 40.”
“Understood.”
“Understood,” Ioka chimed in, stretching out the last syllable of the word.
The man was hopeless! He constantly played the fool. It was infuriating. Last year, Kikuta almost punched him a few times. Now Reiko was worried about how this investigation was going to go.
The Silent Dead Page 2