Red Tea

by Meg Mezeske

  As she turned and made for the end of the hallway, a sharp bang resounded behind her. She yelped with surprise as she spun to face the noise. One of the chairs had fallen from the precarious heap, still rocking on its side from the force of the impact. Jordan heard nothing else beyond the creak of the settling chair and her heartbeat in her ears, but worry that someone else was there clutched at her.

  “H-hello?”

  She swallowed. There was no answer, no movement. Just as her anxious muscles began to loosen, the bell signaling the end of class rang, and every nerve spooled tighter than before. Without a backwards glance, she sprinted back to the teachers’ room.

  She wondered whether she should slow down—whether her haste would draw unwanted attention—but decided she must replace the keys, above all else. Despite the distance she had to cover, Jordan arrived well before most of her colleagues, and she sagged with relief to see Ms. Tatsuya’s vacant chair. Not even Ms. Nakamura was there to chide her for running, or for failing to excuse herself as she rushed to her desk.

  Jordan slid open Ms. Tatsuya’s drawer, shot one more glance over her shoulder, and placed the keys inside. Just as she was about to push the drawer shut, someone called her name.

  “Jordan-sensei, can I help you?”

  “Tatsuya-sensei!” Jordan squeaked and grabbed a pen from the pile under the keys. She whipped around and schooled her expression to be as calm as possible. “I was just looking for a pen.” She wiggled the pen in her fingers, as though that proved anything.

  “Oh.” Ms. Tatsuya didn’t look angry or offended by the intrusion, but her expression left Jordan uneasy. Her eyebrows were drawn down, her lips pressed closed over her teeth, like she was thinking hard on something.

  “I-I’m sorry. I should have just waited for you to come back,” Jordan said, feeling genuinely sorry that she had bungled everything. But her body had been between the desk and Ms. Tatsuya as she had replaced the keys. There was no way Ms. Tatsuya had seen her with the keys—was there?

  “Oh no! It’s quite all right, Jordan-sensei. No need to be sorry.” Ms. Tatsuya’s lips pulled back to offer a timid smile. “I was just a bit confused for a moment…”

  “Thank you, Tatsuya-sensei,” Jordan said and bowed before taking her own seat. Not wanting Ms. Tatsuya to dwell on her rummaging through the dusk, Jordan diverted her attention. “What do you have planned for Home Ec. club today?”

  “Oh! We’re just about to start sewing. Have you used a sewing machine before? No? Well…”

  Ms. Tatsuya was her usual self as she spoke—at one moment animated and in the next abashed by her own excitement, swinging between these poles every few sentences. Sometimes her words would wander off with her thoughts. Nothing was amiss, Jordan convinced herself, and let Ms. Tatsuya’s stream of chatter sweep away her worry.

  Twenty-Two

  The winter sun was setting early. Jordan noted the lowering light with a melancholy that sometimes came upon her when she got wrapped up in thinking about the case. She had spent all day fixating on the storeroom and what she had found there, or didn’t find.

  This stoked a familiar sense of uselessness, one that led her thoughts back to Aiden yet again. She sighed as she shut the door to her apartment, toeing off her shoes in the sunken entryway.

  With the reflexive, thoughtless movements born of routine, Jordan placed her shoes in the in-wall rack and shrugged off her jacket. As she tossed the jacket over the back of a chair, something fluttered out of its side pocket and landed on the floor softly.

  Curious, Jordan bent to inspect the item. It was an envelope—one she had not placed in the jacket herself. The envelope was unaddressed and sealed. Jordan was surprised that she hadn’t noticed it upon putting on the jacket and was now eager to open it, running her finger under the flap.

  The envelope gaped open, and a dusting of red specks drifted out onto her hand and the floor. She plucked one from her cuff: a flower petal, dried and strawlike. With a tilt of the envelope, she saw hundreds more petals piled inside and a folded slip of paper poking out from the mound. Jordan felt a shiver of inexplicable nervousness as she removed and unfolded the paper. In its center was a single typed word: STOP.

  A cold numbness embraced her as the message’s meaning found purchase. The dried petals were hibiscus petals. Hibiscus tea.

  The envelope slipped from her fingers, falling to the ground in a spray of red.

  “Thank you, officers. I’ll see you at the station shortly.” Toshihiko spoke to the uniformed men who bowed as they exited Jordan’s apartment, sealed evidence bags in hand. Toshihiko closed the door behind the policemen and gave Jordan an apologetic look.

  “I called you to be discreet, not to have the whole police force tromping through my apartment,” Jordan said and crossed her arms. She wasn’t angry, not with Toshihiko at least. Just overwhelmed, and shaken. She attempted a smile to show she was joking, but she couldn’t hold it.

  “And I called the forensics team to be thorough. To do this right.” Now that the two of them were alone in the apartment, Toshihiko’s voice warmed. He was still firmly professional, but for once, Jordan found his unflappability comforting. He had dealt with this type of thing before. He would know what to do.

  “Do you think they’ll find anything? Any evidence that can point to the murderer?”

  “As I said before, we first have to see whether any trace evidence can be recovered—fingerprints, fibers, hair, cyanide.” The last word gave him pause. “Then we can evaluate whether this is connected to the homicide investigation.”

  “How can you say that? It’s obviously connected,” Jordan said with a huff, gesturing toward where the envelope had fallen on the floor, though there was no remaining sign of the scattered tea.

  “It could be a prank.” Toshihiko adjusted his glasses, not sounding entirely convinced himself.

  “A prank? You said you hadn’t told anyone else about the poisoned tea, so who would know to threaten me with it?” As much as Jordan wished for a benign explanation for the envelope, it was unthinkable that someone uninvolved with the murders could be so cruel to her. She hurried on before she could dwell on the idea. “And that’s exactly what this is: a threat.”

  Toshihiko gave a thoughtful nod. “Few people know of the tea—true—but it’s possible that someone else working this case divulged information when they shouldn’t have. It’s not unheard-of,” he said, his disapproval clear. Jordan wondered whether he included himself in that rebuke. Wondered just how much he regretted allowing her to peek into the investigation.

  “I didn’t tell anyone about the tea, if that’s what you’re suggesting,” Jordan said, feeling agitated, defensive.

  “I didn’t think that you had.”

  “So you really believe this is all just a prank? Because if you’re saying so just to make me feel better, it isn’t working.” Now she was angry with Toshihiko. Jordan could understand if he wished to ease her fears, but not if it meant misleading her. She hardened her voice. “Please be honest with me.”

  Toshihiko was silent for a long moment, deep in thought. When he at last spoke, his voice was low and careful.

  “I believe the message should be taken very seriously.” He nodded grimly and then fell quiet once more. It was obvious he was weighing what to say next, painstakingly so, and Jordan’s nerves knotted tighter the longer he stayed silent. Finally, he met her eyes with reluctance. “Jordan, what did you do to provoke this?”

  “I investigated the case, obviously,” Jordan said sharply. She wasn’t sure if she was more annoyed by the gall of the question or by how justified Toshihiko was in asking.

  “You’ll have to be more specific,” he said with an airy dryness as he pulled a notepad and pen from his jacket pocket.

  “You already know—I spoke with Junichi’s family, and…” Jordan was about to tell Toshihiko about her excursion to the school’s storeroom, but stopped short. When he had confronted her before about speaking with Mrs. Sato, he
had been livid—or as close as he could be to such an emotion, at any rate. She shuddered to think how he would react to her latest snooping.

  Toshihiko sensed Jordan’s hesitation and his eyebrows rose.

  “Anything else?”

  “Promise you won’t be too angry with me?”

  “I don’t tend to make promises. Or get angry,” Toshihiko said with a sigh.

  Jordan worried her lip as she considered what to say. As little as she wanted to be reprimanded by Toshihiko, again, she couldn’t withhold information that might be helpful. She took a breath and steeled herself.

  “I went into the school’s old storeroom yesterday, to look for clues. Ms. Nakamura knew something had gone missing from that storeroom, you see, which was how she found out Yuki had been stealing. I thought she might be using, or hiding, something in there,” Jordan said, hurriedly pushing past a flash of embarrassment. It all sounded rather absurd when said aloud, and Toshihiko looked more perplexed than irritated.

  “Someone saw you do this?”

  “Well, no. At least, not that I know of.” Jordan felt even more mortified, having exposed herself for possibly no reason at all. But then she remembered the chair that had tumbled to the floor—how she had felt watched. “Actually! I did hear a noise and thought there was someone in the hallway outside the storeroom. But I didn’t see anyone.”

  “And did you find anything of interest in the storeroom?” Toshihiko said. Jordan couldn’t tell whether he was asking with serious intent or just shining a light on her failure. He continued with his notes, head down.

  “No. Did you?” Jordan fired back.

  “I really can’t say one way or the other,” Toshihiko said, not taking the bait. He was unbelievably calm.

  Not only did Toshihiko’s failure to reprove Jordan surprise her, it irked her. Usually, the closer she got to the investigation, the more agitated he became. If Toshihiko was completely unfazed by Jordan visiting the storeroom, it could only mean that he thought she was on a wild goose chase. Granted, nothing had stood out to her amid the dusty vials, but that didn’t mean the trail was entirely cold. She tried again to persuade him.

  “It all makes perfect sense if the murderer is someone at the school,” Jordan said, ignoring Toshihiko’s attempt to interject. “They saw me snooping around the storeroom. They got nervous, decided to scare me off. Everyone knows which locker is mine and can easily get to it without anyone batting an eye. In fact, if the murderer isn’t connected with the school, this threat would’ve been a lot harder to pull off.”

  She ended with a decisive nod, rather impressed with her own argument. At the very least, she didn’t sound quite so foolish anymore.

  “Well, it’s not a bad theory,” Toshihiko said, closing the notebook and raising his eyes to meet hers.

  “Must not be a good one either—looks like you’re ready to move on.”

  “I am taking this seriously, Jordan, trust me.” He looked over his glasses as he spoke, as he sometimes did when he wanted to convey his sincerity. As though he wanted no barrier between them—not even a thin circle of glass.

  “I know you are,” Jordan said quietly, and she did. If no other reason than because of his dedication to his job.

  Toshihiko didn’t reply, but neither did he make any move to leave, and a taut silence stretched through the room.

  Without the distraction of conversation, thoughts of the envelope and its message swarmed into every crevice of Jordan’s mind. The same numb disbelief that had swallowed her as she had read that single, sinister word crept upon her again, this time with an undercurrent of real fear. She quelled an urge to run up to the window and shutter it—each car’s headlights like eyes staring at her through the dark.

  Her discomfort must have shown because Toshihiko’s brow creased and he took a tentative step toward her.

  “Would you like me to stay?” he asked cautiously.

  “No, thank you, I’ll be all right…” In truth, Jordan longed not to be alone that night, but not if it meant imposing upon Toshihiko, of all people. Jordan realized with a stab of regret that this was the first time Toshihiko had set foot in her apartment. She had imagined such a moment going much differently, and under much better circumstances.

  For the first time since Toshihiko had dissolved their relationship, Jordan was gripped with a need to embrace him, to feel his arms fold her against his chest. It was a sensation she had experienced seldom, but the memory of it was so sharp she could almost feel the warmth of his palms pressing against her.

  She sighed, hugging her own arms across her chest, and angled a look at Toshihiko. “Don’t you have to meet those officers at the station?”

  “Yes, I suppose I shouldn’t keep them waiting,” Toshihiko said without conviction. He looked at her a moment longer, came to a decision, and deferred with a polite nod. Soon, he had donned his shoes and jacket, and Jordan held the door for him as he exited the apartment.

  “Thanks for coming, Toshihiko,” she said with a flit of a smile.

  “Of course. Call me anytime if you feel unsafe or… Just call me, if you like.”

  “Sure,” Jordan said and paused. “It’s all going to be okay, right?”

  She looked to Toshihiko expectantly, hoping for some measure of reassurance, but his unguarded expression darkened with a whisper of concern. His hesitation encased Jordan in icy worry.

  “I don’t know.” Toshihiko’s face was set with a grim, apologetic look. “But I will do everything I can to keep you safe.”

  Jordan let out a nervous laugh.

  “You should’ve just said everything would be fine.”

  “I thought you wanted me to be honest,” Toshihiko said with a wistful smile and turned to leave. “Goodnight, Jordan.”

  “Goodnight.” Her tongue grew so thick in her throat she could barely draw breath past it.

  She watched the inspector retreat down the landing with a tense feeling of foreboding, as though something was lurking just around the corner. Waiting until she was alone.

  Jordan heaved the door shut and secured the deadbolt with a loud clack.

  Twenty-Three

  “Fancy seeing you here,” Jordan said and sat down in the seat facing Toshihiko, feeling the train thrum as it pulled away from the station. He looked up from his notebook with surprise, and unless Jordan was flattering herself, he seemed pleased to see her.

  “Going to Yamagata City?” he said.

  “Your skills of deduction never fail to impress, Inspector,” she said around a teasing smirk.

  “You look much better than…” Toshihiko cleared his throat. “You’re doing well?”

  No doubt he was going to say Jordan looked better than the last time he had seen her, which was when he had responded to her plea for help upon finding the envelope. He hadn’t been to the school in the two weeks that had followed, but they had communicated by phone during that time.

  “I’m fine, thanks,” she said. It almost sounded convincing. At least she had slept through the entire night, for once. And she could look her colleagues in the eye without obvious suspicion or distrust. Most of the time. “I’d be even better if that damn envelope had turned up anything.”

  “Though no foreign hairs or fingerprints were discovered, the envelope and its contents may still prove useful when securing a conviction, as I’ve said.”

  “If you arrest someone for the murders, you can compare their envelopes and tea and whatever else with the stuff planted in my jacket and…”

  “And see if they match, yes,” Toshihiko said with a touch of exasperation. They had already been through the same conversation before, after all, but he seemed to regret his impatience and softened his expression. “It’s good to see you, Jordan. But if you’ll please excuse me, I need to finish this before we arrive in the city.” He gestured to his notebook.

  “Sure. I’ll shut up.” Jordan smiled wanly, then directed her attention out the window. Toshihiko may have wanted to change the subjec
t, but Jordan could think of nothing else. Rather than deter Jordan, the threat had brought the murders into sharp focus before her.

  It wasn’t always fear that kept her up at night, but careful consideration of every morsel of information about the case. She turned over each thought, again and again, until she was sure she had scrutinized it from every angle. Still, shadows remained that only other people could shine light upon—Toshihiko, in some instances.

  Jordan fidgeted in her seat. She wiped her hands on her pants, imagining she could still feel the sticky black residue that had coated her fingers after the local policeman had fingerprinted her—to identify any marks left on the envelope.

  A few minutes passed. Surely Toshihiko had concluded whatever it was he had hoped to get done. She piped up.

  “Why do you think Emi and the others were targeted?”

  Toshihiko spared her a brief, schooled glance over his glasses, his pen stilling against his papers.

  “You see, I don’t think they were targeted at random,” Jordan continued, undeterred. She wasn’t about to let the opportunity to speak with Toshihiko face-to-face slip by, after all. “Yuki was caught stealing, Emi was pregnant, and Junichi was the illegitimate father. They were being punished.”

  “And Ryusuke?” Toshihiko said, hesitant to take the bait.

  “I haven’t figured that one out yet. If only I could talk to Kenji,” Jordan said hurriedly. “But Ryusuke must have done something. Ms. Nakamura really has it out for unruly students—”

  “Ms. Nakamura—the vice principal?” Toshihiko closed his notebook with a defeated look.

  “Yes. She discovered Yuki’s theft and she’s the school disciplinarian. She really broaches no misbehavior. She practically jumped at the opportunity to reprimand Kenji and that boy he was fighting with.”

  “Yet those two boys are fine.”