Red Tea

by Meg Mezeske

  Even when she loudly dropped her tray and utensils in a nearby washtub, he didn’t so much as blink. For a few minutes, Jordan hovered at the opposite end of the room and waited as the other teachers filed out.

  Since her conversation with Toshihiko at the izakaya, and his decree that they could no longer be together romantically, Jordan had heard nothing from the inspector. She had likewise refrained from contacting him, despite the occasional urge fueled alternatively by anger or regret.

  She wasn’t proud of how she had left things with Toshihiko. Storming out like a petulant child didn’t leave the best impression, and Jordan’s gut churned at the thought that that would be the ultimate moment of their relationship. She had never plainly expressed the fondness she had felt for him, even at the best of times. But she hoped she would have the grace to do so now, even if it were in goodbye.

  As the inspector began to remove files from his briefcase and set up a makeshift workstation, Jordan finally strode over.

  “Toshihiko.”

  “Good afternoon, Ms. Howard,” he said, giving her a placid, level look, free from any whiff of emotion. The address caught Jordan off guard and she came up short of words. The ensuing silence felt brittle and Toshihiko’s eyes silently entreated her to leave.

  “Do you have a moment?” Jordan finally managed.

  “I’ll be conducting interviews with all the teachers, as before. Perhaps later today.” He looked away, piling files onto a squared-away stack.

  “Very well, Inspector.” Jordan turned on her heel and closed the door hard enough for the glass to shudder in its frame.

  “Ms. Howard.”

  Jordan didn’t look up from her papers when the inspector called to her. She tucked a rebellious lock of hair behind her ear and took a leisurely sip of tea.

  “Ms. Howard?” Louder this time.

  With a sigh, Jordan stood up from her desk and made her way toward the break room, where Toshihiko waited at the entrance. He flipped through his notebook as though her presence were of no consequence as he motioned her toward a seat and closed the door.

  For a moment, neither one spoke. The whispering of the inspector’s notebook pages was the only sound. Finally, Toshihiko looked up.

  “Jordan, was there something you wanted to say before we proceed?”

  “Oh, so we’re back to ‘Jordan’ now?” She made an effort not to cross her arms.

  “Yes, well…” He didn’t finish the thought.

  All the apologies and proclamations Jordan had been mentally rehearsing dropped away. She opened and shut her mouth twice before words finally surfaced.

  “I understand why you said we can’t see each other anymore, and I agree.” She spoke softly. “I won’t try to change your mind.”

  “Thank you, Jordan,” Toshihiko said with visible gratitude. He gave a fleeting smile that held some of their old familiarity and a calm quiet followed.

  When Toshihiko at last broke the silence, the cool veneer had returned to his voice.

  “I’ll be recording our conversation and taking notes,” he said, and Jordan nodded to show she understood. She felt marginally grateful that his professional demeanor had returned—at least it was predictable. Her simmering emotions settled further as she watched Toshihiko methodically switch on the digital recorder, organize his notes, and uncap a pen. “As you already know, the investigation has reopened. In light of compelling new information.”

  “What new information?” Jordan felt a thrill in her chest. Toshihiko hesitated for just a moment.

  “This is now a homicide investigation,” he said and continued over Jordan’s open-mouthed fumble for words. “Emi and Ryusuke both died of cyanide poisoning, not carbon monoxide asphyxiation as originally thought. I believe Yuki and Junichi did as well. However, their bodies were not autopsied before cremation, so I do not have the forensic evidence.”

  “I don’t understand.” Jordan finally managed to speak past the choking feeling that grabbed her throat. “Cyanide?”

  “Yes. Extremely fatal even in small quantities. With the amount the victims ingested, they likely suffered cardiovascular collapse within minutes.”

  “Why weren’t Yuki and Junichi autopsied?” She felt a twinge as she asked.

  “Actually, it’s quite common for no autopsies to be performed. Cause of death appeared clear in Yuki’s case. His body was found in a closed room, windows sealed shut with tape, door partially blocked, kerosene heater on: apparent suicide. Also, a small town like Ogawa doesn’t have the resources to perform thorough testing. Emi’s parents, however, are quite wealthy and personally know the Superintendent Supervisor General of the Yamagata Prefectural Police. They demanded an autopsy for their daughter, insisting it wasn’t suicide.”

  “And they were right.”

  “As it turns out, yes,” the inspector said with increasing animation, caught up in the details of the case. “By the time I made the connection between Emi and Junichi, his body had already been cremated. But the circumstances of Ryusuke’s death were nearly identical to theirs. The results of the autopsy produced striking similarities to Emi’s.”

  “So you were definitely able to rule out suicide.” Jordan suspected Toshihiko had already explored every facet of the case, and she wasn’t hoping to find holes, but she felt compelled to press for more details. If only to reassure herself with his answers.

  “Of course someone could take their own life with cyanide,” Toshihiko said and nodded thoughtfully. “In fact, that’s why my superiors lowered the priority of the case. They concluded from the available evidence that it was a suicide. Except when you consider other details.”

  “Like, if they purposefully killed themselves with cyanide, why would they go to the trouble of setting up a kerosene heater and making it look like they had asphyxiated? Why cover it up?”

  “Exactly right,” Toshihiko said empathically. “Also, cyanide is not widely available—especially not to teenagers—due to its extreme toxicity. It’s unlikely that a few high school students from a small town would have the resources to acquire it. And, perhaps more compelling, there was no vehicle for the poison found near the bodies.”

  “Vehicle? I don’t quite understand…” Jordan leaned forward, intent.

  “If the victim injected the poison, for instance, we could reasonably expect to find a syringe at the scene, not to mention puncture marks on the body. Such a large dose of cyanide is so fast-acting that they wouldn’t have had time to clean up. Plus, it would have been…challenging for the victims to take the poison elsewhere before entering their bedrooms—where we found the bodies. The bedroom doors were securely shut and partially blocked by blankets, and their kerosene heaters were lit. The effects of the cyanide would have been too debilitating for them to prepare their rooms. Impossible, really.”

  “So how were they poisoned?”

  “That’s exactly the detail that leads me to believe murder has been committed.” His voice grew low and he paused. If Jordan didn’t know him better, she would have thought he was being dramatic, like a teller of a ghost story. “The autopsies revealed that both Emi and Ryusuke drank the same tea shortly before death. A red hibiscus tea.”

  “So the tea was poisoned. But there were no teacups near their bodies?”

  “No. Also, neither family had such a tea in their household.”

  “Meaning there must have been another person—the murderer—to remove his traces, secure the rooms, and light the kerosene heaters.” Jordan ticked off the points on her fingers.

  “Precisely.” Toshihiko seemed to be on the verge of smiling, impressed.

  “If Emi and Ryusuke—and the other boys—sat down to tea with their killer, they must have known him.”

  “Premeditated homicides are seldom carried out upon strangers. It’s not unheard-of, of course, but it’s not incredibly common, either,” Toshihiko said and thumbed a file, reverting to a calm and professional tone. “Which is why I’m back in Ogawa.”

  �
�Is that the only reason?” Jordan said smoothly, unable to help herself. The inspector shot a glance over his glasses but said nothing. “I don’t get it, Inspector. When this was a case of a mysterious suicide club, it was like pulling teeth to get one word out of you about the investigation.”

  “Yes, well…” He squinted and then frowned, which for him amounted to being flustered. Instead of finishing his thought, he tapped a paper against the table rhythmically. Jordan flattered herself to think that perhaps he had accidentally let his guard down in her company. Finally, the inspector continued. “Even back then, I suspected there was more than met the eye. But I couldn’t let my speculations influence your, or anyone else’s, testimony. Now that my office is officially pursuing a homicide case, some details must come out.”

  “And you trust me.”

  “Ms. Howard.” Toshihiko’s words grew an edge that cleaved between him and Jordan. “You will not be in my confidence and we will not see each other outside of a professional capacity while this investigation is ongoing, not even as friends. After all, no one can be outside the realm of suspects.”

  “Oh, really?” She snorted. “I wasn’t even in Japan when Yuki died. Or did you forget that little detail?”

  “Be that as it may—”

  “You do trust me, though. If you thought I was at all involved, you never would have told me about the poison, or the tea.” Jordan’s voice quickened. “I could go back to my apartment right now, flush my stash of hibiscus tea and cyanide, and get the first flight back to America. You didn’t tell the principal any of this, did you? Or Ms. Nakamura?”

  “Owning tea is hardly conclusive evidence. But you’re right. I shouldn’t have…” He dropped his head and took in the blank notebook page before him. “At any rate, I do have some questions to ask.”

  “Where was I on the night of the fifth?”

  “Something like that.” He pushed the digital recorder closer to her in one precise motion, like moving a chess piece across a board. “You seemed to spend a great deal of time with the victim Ryusuke Suzuki, more so than your other students. How would you describe your relationship?”

  Jordan’s first encounter with Ryusuke swam up to the surface of her memory—his large hand swallowing hers, his lopsided smile—as she answered the inspector’s questions. The interview didn’t last long, despite her tendency to wander into anecdote before he steered her focus back to the question at hand. True, she had known Ryusuke better than she had her other students, but she knew nothing of his home life, his interests outside of baseball, or even what his favorite band or food was. What she did know was that any portrait of Ryusuke would be half-developed without Kenji.

  “You should really speak with his best friend, Kenji Ito. They were inseparable,” Jordan said as she stood to leave. “He lives in Tsuruoka, with his parents.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Howard. I will.” He smiled politely but made no note, likely well aware of Kenji, if he hadn’t spoken to him already.

  “I’ll let you know if I have any more information.”

  “Please do,” he said hesitantly, and his eyes narrowed, as though to show his disapproval at the hint that she would involve herself in the investigation. Jordan let the look slide off her as she opened the door.

  “Goodbye, Inspector.”

  Nineteen

  What am I doing? Jordan asked herself for the third time as she picked up the teacup that had just been placed before her. She brought the cup to her mouth but paused as the tea’s delicate fragrance touched her nose and lips. Jordan hastily set the teacup back down without taking a sip, and a few limpid drops splashed onto the worn table.

  She looked away, embarrassed, and let her eyes roam across the unfamiliar living room before coming to rest on the woman sitting across from her.

  “I have to admit that I’ve never met an American before. Much less an American reporter,” the woman said modestly. “Thank you for taking an interest in my son’s story.”

  “Well, I’m more of a blogger than a reporter, really. I do appreciate you taking the time to speak with me, Mrs. Sato.” Jordan felt the words grow bitter in her mouth, and she grimaced at her own deception as she looked into the earnest face of Junichi’s mother. It had been months since Jordan first saw the woman’s image in the online news article, but her face was still lined with grief and shadowed by the muted sunlight that soaked through the drapes.

  Jordan hadn’t gone to Sagae with the intention of tracking down Junichi’s mother. In fact, it was not in her mind at all as she entered the gym near Sagae’s train station for her workout, Ogawa not having one of its own. But with each thud of her sneakers against the whirring treadmill, thoughts of her students had pulsed through her. Murder, poison, death—the words surged up between each heartbeat. With her hair still wet from the showers, she found herself thumbing through a local directory at the gym’s front desk.

  Even then, she was hesitant to go, but Junichi’s family house was just a block from the station. Also, she knew she’d be unable to ask questions of Emi’s and Ryusuke’s parents in the same way, being known to just about everyone in Ogawa.

  Junichi’s mother had been surprised by the unexpected visit but had welcomed Jordan and was pleased to hear of her interest.

  The woman now stared at Jordan expectantly but said nothing. Her daughter, Junichi’s younger sister, sat in the corner at a small desk. At first, the sister appeared to be poring over her notebooks, but her pencil was still, and her head was turned just enough for the cup of her ear to collect their conversation. Jordan rapped her pen against her own notebook and continued.

  “Could you tell me a little more about Junichi, please?”

  The mother began to speak warmly of her son, saying he was gregarious and studious, and Jordan jotted down notes. She doubted her impressions would be very useful later but had to keep up the appearance of being an amateur journalist. Soon the older woman came to the subject of her son’s death and her strong belief that bullies were to blame for pushing him to suicide, much as she had said in the previous interview Jordan had found online.

  So Toshihiko must not have informed the mother of the homicide investigation yet. Even though there was no autopsy evidence in Junichi’s case, the inspector was sure to follow up with Mrs. Sato. Regardless, Jordan had no intention of being the one to tell her that her son had likely been murdered, or that his death was tied to those in Ogawa. She thought a moment before formulating her next question.

  “Were there any other student suicides in Sagae recently? Any of Junichi’s classmates?” Jordan asked, wondering whether the murderer’s sinister touch had reached even farther outside of Ogawa than she already suspected.

  “Recently? No. There were three high-schoolers who took their lives four, maybe five years ago. Junichi didn’t know them. He wasn’t part of a suicide club if that’s what you’re thinking.” She made an exasperated noise and grimaced. Her daughter sighed from the corner.

  “I wasn’t suggesting as much. I apologize,” Jordan said quickly. “Do you happen to remember any of these students’ names?”

  “Haruka Hidaka I remember. I used to work with his mother.” Jordan added the boy’s name to her notes.

  “Did Junichi have any friends in Ogawa, or does your family?”

  Mrs. Sato nodded. “We used to live in Ogawa, and Junichi kept in touch with some of his old classmates. Why?”

  “Some students at Ogawa High School died within a few weeks of your son,” Jordan said, and Mrs. Sato’s eyes narrowed. “My article will be about suicides in the region, so I’m trying to create a complete picture of Yamagata Prefecture’s teenagers—there might be a social connection.”

  “I see.” She nodded, the answer seeming to satisfy her.

  “Did Junichi make any new friends or acquaintances recently? Maybe you saw him with someone unfamiliar in the days before his death?”

  “I don’t believe so.” As Mrs. Sato answered, her daughter’s gaze twitched toward t
hem, her head turning fast enough to flick her hair over one shoulder. She didn’t look at them directly, but it was impossible for Jordan to miss the girl’s sudden interest.

  Jordan continued chatting with the mother, asking questions she felt were appropriate of a reporter but doubting their usefulness for her real purpose. The longer she spoke with Mrs. Sato, the more she wished she could talk to Junichi’s sister. The girl kept silent, but several more furtive looks betrayed her interest.

  After almost an hour, Jordan excused herself to leave. As she stood from the couch, she placed her pen on the coffee table and made for the door.

  “Will you let me know when your article is published, Ms. Johnson?”

  “Yes, of course.” Jordan lowered her head into a bow. She was grateful for the chance to hide her face, feeling both guilty and embarrassed about using a false name and pretense. “Thank you for your time, Mrs. Sato.”

  Soon she was descending the apartment building’s stairs, going slowly to avoid tripping in the dim light. A single, rattling light bulb did little to illuminate the stairwell, despite its noisy efforts.

  As soon as she exited the stairwell, she heard light footsteps padding toward her. Jordan turned to see Junichi’s sister, short and bird-thin, scramble around the corner. The girl stopped abruptly to avoid running headlong into Jordan.

  “Oh, Ms. Johnson! I’m glad I caught you—you forgot your pen.” The girl thrust the pen into Jordan’s hand then retracted her own instantly, as though it had been bitten. She was clearly anxious, wringing the hem of her shirt in tight fists.

  Jordan was so pleased that her “forgotten” pen had worked as hoped that she had to rein in a satisfied smile.

  “Thank you—” Jordan started but was cut off.

  “That question you asked, about whether Junichi had any new friends…”

  “Yes?” Jordan felt her heartbeat quicken.

  “Well, on the night that Junichi…died, I left the house to study at my friend’s place. Like I always do on Wednesdays.” She paused and looked around the stairwell nervously. Already soft-spoken, she lowered her voice even more. “As I was coming down the stairs, I bumped into someone. It was my fault—I was using my cell phone and didn’t see him, so I apologized. He passed me and didn’t say anything at all. It was kind of creepy, so I just left. Anyway, I got downstairs and was unlocking my bike when I saw the same person at our door, but then Junichi let him in right away. I didn’t think much of it until now.”