The Daydreamer Detective Opens a Tea Shop

by S. J. Pajonas

  “Mei-chan, what’s the matter? Are you sick?” Mom raced after me as I sucked in a deep breath and the world straightened.

  “I think… I think I’m fine. I’m…” I searched for the appropriate word. “Overwhelmed. There’s the tea shop and then Amanda shows up, she tortures me with all her Yasahiro insider knowledge, and then she’s murdered. There’s just too much going on, and I’ve been working non-stop between here and the shop for the past four or five weeks.”

  I took another deep breath, winded from talking too fast, and stared at the barn. In another few weeks, construction would be complete, and Mom could buy her replacement tractor to put in it. It would feel like a new start.

  I needed to get things under control again. My life, Yasahiro’s life, all our lives were threatening to spiral into an abyss if I didn’t get involved and start making decisions. Hard decisions.

  “Mom, how am I going to clear Yasa-kun? How will I prove he didn’t do this? Definitively, because I don’t want anyone to question him again about it.” My territorial nature was kicking in and the need to protect Yasahiro grew from my gut. He’d worked hard for everything, and he never denied people help or money when they needed it. It was dumb to accuse him of something evil when all of his behavior up to Amanda’s murder had been altruistic. And I needed to believe in him too. No waffling. No doubts.

  Mom squinted her eyes and gazed past the fields to the forest on the other side of the property.

  “Seems to me that if we can find the real killer, it will exonerate him. Even if Goro-chan finds this lawyer and he vouches for him, Yasahiro-san will not escape suspicion until the murder is solved.”

  I nodded my head though the movement unsettled my stomach. The stress of this would kill me. “Yes, I think you’re right about that.”

  “Then start with Amanda.” Mom put her hand on my arm and squeezed. “She had her own demons. Find her computer, hack her phone, dig into her life. The answers are probably right there.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  I spent the morning at home resting, mostly because Mom was worried about me. I was too, not knowing why I was reacting so strongly to all the stress of the past few days. I’d been through plenty of stressful times growing up, through school, university, and work, then helping to solve murders here in Chikata. But this was the first time I was truly in love and watching Yasahiro go through the wringer was hard on me as well.

  I folded laundry while watching TV on my computer until my phone rang in the late morning.

  “Mei-chan, it’s Goro. Did you get any sleep last night?”

  I laughed, putting the phone on speaker so I could continue to fold laundry. “Of course not. Who can sleep with all this drama?”

  “Well, if it makes you feel better, supposedly Yasa-kun spent the whole evening pacing his apartment and didn’t sleep either.”

  I frowned down at the phone, holding a shirt in my hands. “No, it doesn’t make me feel better.”

  “Didn’t think so. Anyway, I’m sending Kayo out to get you. We have work to do today. Get dressed because she’ll be there in a minute.”

  I popped up from the couch and looked out the window. Goro’s patrol car approached in the distance.

  I threw on clean clothes, said goodbye to Mom, and jumped in the car with Kayo. She was on the radio the whole trip, talking to dispatch and other officers handling the media attention around Amanda’s case, so I stared out the window and tried to blank my mind.

  My stomach cramped as we rounded the corner to the police station. Reporters swarmed the front door, held back by barricades and uniformed officers, more than I’d ever seen in Chikata. They must have driven in from other towns in the prefecture. Men and women dressed in suits gave briefings on camera to satellite trucks from NHK and Kyodo News, and photographers pointed their cameras at anything that moved.

  “It’s a good thing I haven’t been watching the news,” I whispered as Kayo inched through the crowd and the barrier to the rear of the building.

  “Yeah, best not to watch it at all.”

  The area around the back entrance was quiet, but I still dipped my head and ran inside, afraid to be caught on camera when I had nothing important to say. Also, let’s face it, I didn’t want to be associated with Amanda in any way, shape, or form, unless I found the killer so Yasahiro and I could live in peace.

  Yes. I was determined to finish with this and move on. I had a tea shop to open, a community to help out, and I wanted to go to Paris with my boyfriend. It sounded petty in my head, but it was important for me to find a measure of success with these things. It would be the only way I would break free of my past problems.

  I stormed down the back hallway, a woman on a mission, ready to walk in and declare I would solve this case if it was the last thing I did.

  I swung open the inner door to the bullpen of desks and ran into a wall of Amanda, bigger than the one even at Yasahiro’s parents’ house. The Amanda shrine in their home had been dismantled since winter, but this had been erected overnight. I stared at all they had on her already.

  The timeline of her life started from when she was a child living in the United States, just outside of New York City, all the way through her Paris years with Yasahiro, to her lying dead on the side of the road in Chikata. I stopped at the photos of Amanda with Yasahiro in Paris. Whoever pulled these photos from online chose the most affectionate ones they could find, the two of them eating at cafes together, walking along streets hand in hand, engagement photos from some park not far from the Eiffel Tower.

  And I guessed what they all thought. The only reason for Amanda to be in Chikata was for Yasahiro. And the only real suspect they could think of was him. Doubt crawled over my skin like a herd of ants.

  The room behind me became eerily silent, people hushed one another and someone cleared their throat. I turned around to find everyone staring at me.

  “Now we know why you love solving murder mysteries, Mei-san,” one of the younger men piped up from the back.

  My cheeks heated so fast, my eyes boiled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You get hot for murders. Does it turn you on or something?” I didn’t know this young man. I couldn’t even remember his name. But he had been with the police force since before I moved back home.

  My heart raced like a shinkansen bullet train. I wanted to march forward, deck him, and then challenge him to see who solved the case first. I had done as much with Goro the very first week I moved back here. But I was in way over my head. I was too close. They’d even considered me a suspect at one point, so there was no way the police would involve me in anything too deep.

  I didn’t answer. I wanted to come up with some pithy one-liner and lay everyone’s doubts to rest about Yasahiro. But I had nothing left in me. I was drained, a vague film of nausea coating everything I saw or said. I blinked my eyes and took stock of myself. I wasn’t me any longer. When had that changed?

  “Come on, Mei-chan.” Kayo pulled me along. She’d stepped into the room just in time to witness her coworkers taunting me.

  “Yeah. We’ll see your boyfriend in jail before long,” the young man muttered, nodding at the others around him, and they were all agreeing with him.

  “Listen here,” Kayo said, stepping in between me and the other men and women at the desks. “Suga-san has been an upstanding member of this community for years now. He’s innocent until we have real evidence to put him in jail. Is that clear?” She raised herself up to her full height and pointed her finger at the young man. “I outrank you, and you are this close to being transferred to a new precinct. Got it?”

  He was nonplussed, smirking and shrugging his shoulders. “Yeah, whatever.”

  Kayo’s jaw flexed. “I’m putting you on bathroom duty for the rest of the week.” She grabbed a clipboard hanging on the wall, crossed off everyone’s name on the list and wrote his name in instead, “Watanabe, Kohei.” Other people in the group cheered, probably because they were now free and
clear of cleaning the toilets, and Kohei’s face grew stoney.

  “And further more, you’re off this case. Go figure out who’s been littering in the town hall park.”

  He opened his mouth to protest, but Kayo pointed at him then the door. She was fierce. Even I was both impressed and frightened by her. I had no idea a woman on the police force could do such things, but she was commanding people like she was made to do it.

  The group broke up, everyone getting back to their ringing phones and computers. Kohei grabbed his hat and coffee mug and walked out the front door straight into the throng of reporters. He bypassed them, got in a car, and left.

  “Good,” Kayo said, huffing. “I’m so tired of him and his attitude. I’ve been waiting for him to screw up so I could kick him out.” She rubbed her hands together. “So close.”

  I whistled, low and long. “I do not want to cross you, Kayo-san. Please do let me know if I ever piss you off.”

  She smiled at me, and it only contained a hint of evil. Just a hint. “Never, Mei-san. You’re on my good list. Let’s go. I’ll come back and have a talk with these guys later.”

  “Wait,” I said, tapping her on the shoulder and turning to the board of Amanda’s life. “Is this Amanda’s last boyfriend?”

  Further down the timeline from Amanda’s relationship with Yasahiro were a bunch of photos I’d never seen of her. Back when I was obsessed with their relationship, I’d cataloged almost every photo of Yasahiro with her in a tiny and jealous part of my brain. But I had never searched just for her.

  “Yeah. This is the guy she dated after Yasahiro-san.”

  We both crossed our arms and looked at the photos, Amanda walking arm-in-arm with a handsome Japanese guy. He was tall with dyed blonde hair, a bit on the skinny side, and seemed to carry himself with an air of sophistication. Perhaps it was how his long locks laid in a crisp wave across his eyes or the artful tear of his jeans? He looked expensive, the way Amanda liked her men.

  “Shōta Kimura,” I said, reading his name off the board. “She went from one Japanese guy to another.” She was an American living in Paris. I figured she’d move on to a Frenchman or another American.

  “Yeah, I guess so.” Kayo pointed to a list under the photo. “She’d been to Japan several times while dating Yasahiro-san, and a few times after, though he didn’t know about those trips. She could have flown to Tokyo and not contacted him at all.”

  I ran my finger down the list of dates, stopping on a few in the past year during the time I was dating him. And he hadn’t seen her while she was here?

  The two sides of my brain warred with each other. One side said, “He’s an awesome boyfriend. If he swears he hasn’t seen her since they broke up, then it’s the truth.” The other side said, “Run, Mei-chan. He’s been lying to you for months.”

  I closed my eyes for a moment to steady myself.

  “Was she seen in Tokyo with this man?”

  Kayo shook her head. “This week? No, not as far as we can tell. We’re still figuring him out.”

  “He looks wealthy, don’t you think? Maybe he’s her stalker?”

  “I’m not sure.” She folded her arms over her chest, and we both ignored the whispers behind us. Most of the men on the force listened in, making notes, typing away at their keyboards. “What do you think, Mei-san?”

  “I think…” I swallowed and pointed to the photo of Amanda, dead and bloody. “I think that was a crime of passion. To get that close to someone and stab them? You have to really want to kill them. And so many times?”

  Kayo leaned in to look at the young man in the photo. “Yeah. I agree.”

  “Mei-chan?”

  I pulled my eyes from the board, and on the other side of the room, Yasahiro waited with Goro and another man in a suit. He looked gray and tired, his hair disheveled, and shirt untucked.

  “Hey,” I said, a reassuring smile coming to my face easily, the doubts I had earlier erased. Seeing him here, not in handcuffs, gave me confidence. He couldn’t have killed Amanda. He was determined and successful, pushy sometimes even. But a psychopath? No.

  I left the board and went to him, careful not to hug him or dote on him in public. It wouldn’t be right, especially in this environment. But he grabbed my hand and squeezed it, the warmth of his touch spreading from my hand, up my arm, to my heart. The lawyer behind him cleared his throat, and Yasahiro dropped my hand like a brick, my whole body rocking from the quick change.

  “I had an awful night’s sleep,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “I kept thinking about what happened to Amanda and to you here.”

  “I’m fine. Really.” I smiled to reassure him, but the lawyer elbowed him in the back. Yasahiro took a step away from me. “What I’m not fine with is Yasahiro-san being under suspicion for something he plainly did not do.” I shot daggers from my eyes at Goro.

  He held his hands up in surrender. “Just doing my job, Mei-chan. And the two of you are released for now. We have more than enough video footage of you, Mei-chan, and now Yasahiro-san’s attorney vouches for him as does the taxi driver who picked him up and dropped him back at Sawayaka. We’re getting video footage from his taxi and the surrounding areas to corroborate his story. If everything works out, which I believe it will, you’ll both be free of suspicion in no time.”

  “That’s great news,” Kayo said, beaming at us both.

  My shoulders relaxed, and my muscles loosened. This was what we needed, but the fight wasn’t over. I made eye contact with Yasahiro, gauging him for the last of the secrets he held back from me. Amanda was dead. Surely this meant we could get things out in the open and move on?

  He looked away after a moment. Maybe not now.

  “Yasahiro-san has contacted the company that’s managing the property in Roppongi Hills,” Goro said, striding to his desk to shuffle through some paperwork. “We’re going there now with a team to do a search.” He jingled his car keys in the air. “Are you in?”

  “Absolutely,” I said, tugging on Yasahiro’s arm. “We both are.”

  I wasn’t letting him out of my sight.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Goro pulled up to the apartment building at the intersection of Roppongi Hills and Azabu-Juban, and my jaw hit the floor.

  “You own an apartment here with Amanda?” I looked up at the towering monolith of steel and glass as we entered the circle drive and a valet came forward to greet us. This was a whole other level of wealth I wasn’t used to. I thought his apartment in Chikata was the height of impeccable taste and size, but this was ten times more sophisticated. From the backseat of the car, I had a lovely view of the lobby, softly lit, staffed with a concierge and greeter in white gloves. Security cameras kept watch on the front entrance and driveway.

  Yasahiro was silent, staring up at the building as the valet opened his door.

  “Suga-san, it’s good to see you again. We heard about Cheung-san on the news. Very tragic.”

  Yasahiro looked to Goro, and Goro shook his head. He hesitated for a moment before exiting the car.

  “Thank you for your condolences.” He turned and helped me from the car. “Please let the manager know we’re here.”

  The valet bustled inside as Goro waved to the van full of forensics officers as they followed us into the driveway.

  I waited outside while Yasahiro entered the lobby and spoke to someone I assumed was the manager of the property. He wore a proper suit and directed people around as Yasahiro gestured to the lobby, the elevators, and the driveway.

  I tried to stay out of the way as each technician grabbed their gear and filed in. All the elevators waited for us, held open by lobby staff who kept their heads bowed and mouths shut.

  “Please let me know if you need access to anything else, Suga-san.” The manager bowed as we entered and pushed the button for the twenty-eighth floor.

  Yasahiro sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Something tells me he won’t be sad to see me sell the place when the time comes.”

&n
bsp; Goro’s only answer was to hand out purple nitrile gloves to everyone.

  The apartment took up half the floor, a ridiculous amount of space for Japan, but a place like this would cater to foreigners who weren’t used to living in tight quarters. This area of Tokyo was famous for not only the shopping but also the Tokyo American Club and international schools that brought in foreigners from all over the world.

  Yasahiro swiped a keycard and opened the main door. I noted the second exit down the hall, closer to the stairwell and the two cameras watching over both ends of the building.

  Inside, the view was breathtaking. I stood at the floor to ceiling windows and gaped at the Tokyo skyline. Unless I visited the Tokyo Skytree, I never saw the city like this. The buildings I’d worked in were maybe twenty stories high and you could see a block or two in either direction. But from here…

  “You can see Fuji-san on a clear day,” Yasahiro said, coming up behind me. “Your namesake,” he whispered, his voice low so the men and women unloading their gear around us couldn’t hear. He kept his eyes from me, too, either upset or ashamed or I couldn’t tell what. He had closed up on the ride to Roppongi Hills, sitting with space between us, not touching me at all.

  “Why didn’t you live here?” The leather couches, expensive rugs from India, and a high-end kitchen that rivaled his own back in Chikata were now crawling with forensic technicians. “You could’ve opened a restaurant in Roppongi Hills and made a fortune.”

  He lowered his eyes to his feet. “No. I didn’t want this. This was what Amanda wanted. That was what she wanted. But then I met your mom, and I spent time in your town, and I wanted that more. I wanted it for me, not for anything else.”

  I found Yasahiro so confusing sometimes. He had this drive to succeed, to be the best. Yet, he shunned the things that marked him as being the best, the fancy cars and apartments, the expensive clothing, the famous girlfriend.