“What did they say?”
“They looked at each other, and one of them, quickly, maybe too quickly, said, yes, it was all Onizuka’s idea, and he was begging them, paying them, and paying me, to do this for him. I balked, but they doubled the price. I pressed the call for C3PO and he came right away, but he just shrugged when I explained.” Emi looked up at the dummy hanging from the ceiling. “I shouldn’t have let them take him.”
Chapter 33
Hiroshi wanted to believe Emi but wondered if she was being too confessional to trust? And why was she talking so much now, after talking so little before?
Takamatsu was quiet, thinking it through.
The ballerina-like girl in turquoise zentai tights brought over another round of drinks. Emi asked her, “Do you know where C3PO is?” She shook her head. “Tell Dana to call him again. That group of drunk salarymen is starting to take things off the wall.”
The ballerina flittered off but before she got to the bar a rack of paddles crashed down from the wall. The salarymen let out a hurrah and collapsed into laughs and apologies. The younger ones tried to put them back, but each time they picked one up, they laughed at the reversed cut-out text in the leather—XOXO, BITCH, PIG—that would raise legible welts on bare, hard-whacked skin.
Emi slid out of the booth and strode to the bar. Dana handed her a multi-frond flogger and a riding crop, which she cracked on the bar top as she shouted at the salarymen. “Shut up. Now!”
The salarymen lowered their hysterics to a simmering giggle.
Emi swung the crop against the ass of the man on her right. It landed with a loud thwack that made him spin away shouting, “Ittai! That hurts!” He rubbed his butt, and his companions snickered, shocked and amused.
“Pick up those paddles and set them on the counter,” Emi commanded the cowering semicircle of sobering men.
Two of the men picked up the paddles they’d knocked from the wall and set them on the counter in a neat pile, but they had divided into two groups—obstinate and obedient.
Dana came around the bar to whisper something to Emi. She turned her head to the corner booth. Emi forgot the salaryman and strode to the booth.
The salarymen fell into a shouting match among themselves. The guy whose butt had been whacked started yelling and pushed the chest of one of his colleagues. The colleague threw a wild punch, too drunk to land it.
Hiroshi looked at Takamatsu. They stood up. Takamatsu headed toward the shoving, pushing salarymen and Hiroshi called Osaki and Sugamo to come up right away.
Through the doorway walked C3PO. He was bigger and more muscular than Hiroshi remembered. He surveyed the scene and went to stand beside Emi, leaving the salarymen to Takamatsu.
Takamatsu grabbed the arm of the guy who threw the first punch, twisted him to the ground, arm bent into the air, and reached for handcuffs.
But Takamatsu didn’t see the sucker punch that caught him in his solar plexus. Hiroshi saw him double over, coughing. He looked for something as long and hard as a kendo practice sword, but before he could find anything Osaki and Sugamo burst through the front door and hurried over to corral the salarymen in the corner.
Hiroshi looked back at Emi shouting at the guy in the booth, but he was sitting tight and didn’t respond.
“This is the guy who’s been following me,” Emi said to Hiroshi when he stood next to her.
Hiroshi pulled out his badge. The man had a delicate plump face, somewhere between masculine and feminine, with longish hair. He was decked out in a leather jacket with large zippers over a round chest.
“Who are you?” Hiroshi demanded.
The guy looked down and didn’t answer.
Before Hiroshi could ask again, the sound of escalating words and tussling turned their heads. Sugamo had two of the salarymen by their arms and Osaki had another over the bar with his arm behind him. Takamatsu was still trying to catch his breath.
Hiroshi took a step toward them, and when he did, the leather jacket guy shoved his way out of the booth and bolted for the door. Emi and C3PO grabbed at him, but he wiggled free before Emi could even swing her riding crop.
“Sugamo, help!” Hiroshi yelled as he took off out the door after the guy.
Sugamo dropped the two guys to the floor with a kick to the back of their knees and raced after Hiroshi.
Hiroshi spun down the narrow staircase, dodging liquor crates, beer kegs and boxes of canned goods. The cool air hit him as he made it out to the street. He stared in both directions along the narrow sidewalk.
Sugamo thudded out of the entryway and looked at Hiroshi. “What’s he look like?”
“Short black leather jacket with a lot of zippers on it, longish hair.”
Hiroshi noticed a small passageway between the buildings. “You got a flashlight?”
Sugamo handed him a small one. Hiroshi shone it down the narrow gap and saw someone at the other end climbing over an air-conditioning unit.
Seeing the flashlight’s beam, the leather jacket guy pushed out of the passageway and disappeared along the street at the other end.
Sugamo took off around the late-night pedestrians. Hiroshi started down the gap, but it was too narrow, so he backed out and went the opposite way from Sugamo.
He sped to the next corner and spun to the right, colliding with a group of women. With a curt apology, he cut around them and kept going. The cross street had a steep slope and he dragged himself to the top and looked in both directions. Sugamo was coming toward him at a trot, shaking his head.
Hiroshi climbed on the curbside railing and scanned both directions. There was nothing but slow-moving people in the light spilling from convenience stores and late-night eating spots.
His phone buzzed. It was Toshiko, Mayu’s mother. She’d called many times in a row, but he hadn’t felt the buzzing with all the excitement. He’d call back later.
As he put his phone away, he glanced down the narrow passageway between the buildings and cowering there was the plump guy. He’d backtracked, somehow, and returned to where they first saw him hide.
Unimpressed by this clever ruse, Sugamo sidled in, barely fitting, and dragged the guy out. He kept hold of the back of his leather jacket and lifted him up on his toes.
“Let’s see some ID.” Hiroshi stood ready for him to bolt again.
The man held out his hands wide, palms forward, and reached in his inside jacket pocket for his wallet. He flipped through and handed an ID card over to Hiroshi without a word.
Hiroshi took the ID and leaned back to catch enough of the nearest streetlight to read it. “Shibutani Detective Agency?” Hiroshi looked from the card to the guy’s face, confused. “You work for Shibutani, in Akabane? The guy who got beat up and is in the hospital?”
The short, round man nodded his head, but didn’t speak.
“Why don’t you say something?” Sugamo said and yanked on his collar.
The man pointed at his ears and with softly slurred pronunciation said, “I’m deaf.”
Sugamo looked at Hiroshi and let go of his collar.
“My name is Ota.” He used sign language as he strained to pronounce clearly for them. “I’m a private eye working for Shibutani,” he added, reading Hiroshi’s face to see if he understood. He took out his cellphone and started typing.
Sugamo looked away and took a big breath.
Hiroshi said, “You’re a deaf private eye?”
“Eyes are better than ears,” he typed and held up the screen.
“Why are you here?”
Ota typed with agile thumbs on his cellphone keyboard and held it up. “I wanted to find who hurt Shibutani. I’m checking everyone we followed before. I think someone connected to Onizuka hurt Shibutani. So, I followed Mistress Emi. But it’s not her.”
Hiroshi started to say, “I think you’re right,” but pulled out his cellphone and typed it out.
Ota nodded. “So who was it?”
Hiroshi gave him a “I don’t know” look and started to ty
pe more, but a call came from Takamatsu, who told him to get back to The Pink Lash.
Ota typed into his phone. “Was that Detective Takamatsu?”
Hiroshi nodded.
Ota typed, “Shibutani told me to contact him if I needed anything.”
Hiroshi waved him along and the three of them headed back.
At the bar, sex gear, broken liquor bottles and smashed jars of snacks littered the floor. Four of the salarymen, shirts untucked and clothes rumpled, were tied by one hand to the ropes extending from chains in the ceiling. They looked ridiculously off balance stretched up sideways.
Takamatsu was calmly checking the IDs of the salarymen, their wallets piled on a table.
Emi flicked her riding crop on the buttocks of the guy who threw the first punch. Dangling from his wrist, he tried to spin away and shouted. Takamatsu told him to shut up.
Dana and C3PO and the waitress stood to the side surveying the damage.
Hiroshi stood next to Takamatsu. “Who are these guys?”
Takamatsu shook his head and tossed the wallet onto the pile next to their confiscated cellphones. “Who’s this guy?” He pointed at Ota.
Hiroshi said, “Shibutani’s assistant. He’s deaf.”
Takamatsu turned to Ota and signed something that Hiroshi couldn’t understand. Ota smiled and they exchanged a few signed exchanges.
“One of my cousins back in the mountains was deaf. I can’t remember much.” Takamatsu sighed. “The local cops will be here in a minute.”
Hiroshi’s phone buzzed again. It was Toshiko again.
From behind the bar, Emi took a long single-tail whip, cracked it once on the floor, stepped back, gauged the distance, and landed the whip on the ass of the first salaryman. He yelped in pain, unable to move with his arm tied overhead.
“This is against the law,” he shouted, breathing hard.
Emi cracked the next in line hard on the ass. He jumped and spun by his arm.
“I’m going to file a complaint with the police,” the first man whimpered.
“We are the police,” Takamatsu assured him.
Emi gave the third one a sharp, stinging smack that made everyone wince. The single frond whip was obviously more painful than the crop. The men rubbed their butt cheeks with their free hands and started breathing fast and hard as Emi coiled the whip, considering another round.
The first guy spun angrily by his tied wrist. “You’ll regret this.”
Takamatsu walked over and got right in his face. “You’ll be doing the regretting when I report this to your workplace. Your employer will be interested to know you’re fighting, damaging property, hitting a police officer, and not paying your bill at a BDSM club.” Takamatsu turned to Emi. “What do you usually charge for this?”
Emi smiled. “Ten thousand a lash.”
Dana totaled it up with a pad and pen and held it out to Takamatsu.
Takamatsu turned to the bucho. “You’ve already bought fifty thousand yen’s worth. Keep talking and she’ll add more.”
He twisted and yanked on the rope, seething in silence.
Takamatsu turned back to Emi. “And what’s the damage for broken bottles and the disturbed gear?”
Dana and the waitress in the turquoise zentai helped total it up, counting the bottles and BDSM gear on the floor and adding it on.
Takamatsu walked over to the dangling salarymen. “Now, would you like them to send the itemized bill to your boss? Add it to your company’s entertainment expenses? Or would one of you like to go to an ATM to get the cash to pay this bill right now?”
Three local cops arrived in uniform. They sucked air over their teeth at the sight of the damage and put their billy clubs back in their holders.
Dana came over with the total bill and showed it to the local cops, who nodded.
Takamatsu explained what happened. He pointed to the pile of wallets on the table. “These fine examples of Japan’s corporate elite were just about to settle their bar tab. Can you make sure they do?”
The beat cops nodded with faint smiles, calling on a walkie-talkie for someone to bring the report forms and more backup.
Hiroshi stepped aside to take a call from Toshiko. When he heard why she was calling, he grabbed Takamatsu’s arm and pulled him toward the door, whispering something and then shouting for Osaki and Sugamo to follow.
“What about Ota?” Sugamo asked.
“Bring him along,” Takamatsu said, and explained to Ota in sign language.
Ota nodded and straightened his shoulders.
Chapter 34
“Why back to the roof?” Takamatsu asked Hiroshi as they raced down the steep, narrow stairs. Osaki and Sugamo’s heavy footfalls were close behind. Ota trailed after them.
“It’s the only place I can think of,” Hiroshi said.
They ran to the small parking lot and hopped in. Sugamo paid and Osaki got in the driver’s seat.
Hiroshi said, “Use the siren.”
Hiroshi called Toshiko back for more details.
Her voice was hysterical. “Suzuna left a message. She said she was so sorry, but she couldn’t go on.”
Hiroshi asked, “Could you hear anything in the background where she was calling from?”
“It was very quiet. Windy maybe? I called the other women in her support group but she left them the same message,” Toshiko said.
“Can you give me their contact numbers?”
“I’ll send them to you right now, and I’ll give them yours,” Toshiko said.
Hiroshi stared out the window as they sped through the Tokyo streets. It was long past the second late-night rush hour and the streets felt hollowed out and empty.
Takamatsu said, “It’s the friend of Mayu’s? With the thick blonde braids?”
Hiroshi said, “I must have spooked her when I talked with the support group. I thought a little pressure would get them to talk.”
“Looks like it got her to act,” Takamatsu said.
When they pulled up in the parking lot of Senden Central, two security guards were waiting. They waved them in and ushered them into the elevator, everyone running at a steady clip.
Takamatsu looked up at the security camera in the corner as they passed. “Where’s your chief Imasato?”
“He’s up on the roof,” one of the guards answered. “But he’s too old to be climbing out on the ledge.”
When they got on the elevator, the guard pressed the button for the top floor of the service elevator, but Takamatsu put his hand out to hold the door. “Osaki, you better stay here. Watch the parking lot. No one in or out. Keep Ota with you.”
Osaki stepped out of the elevator with a curt nod and gestured for Ota to stay with him.
The elevator doors opened onto the floor just below the roof and the guards hurried to the stairs. Takamatsu and Hiroshi looked up at the surveillance camera. A square of black tape covered the lens.
They hurried up the stairs and onto the roof. Near the edge of the roof stood Imasato, the old chief security guard, and another guard, both of them standing by the cut fence, facing the ledge.
Outside the fence, on the outer ledge, stood Suzuna, clutching the fence with both hands behind her, facing the edge, her body trembling. The office lights from the building opposite caught her blonde hair and wool sweater.
Hiroshi rushed over.
“Don’t come any closer,” Suzuna yelled. One loosened braid swung as she turned her wet red face toward them. She had taken off her shoes and placed them inside the cut-open fence. “Stay back.”
Hiroshi edged closer, wanting to yell at the guards for not re-sealing the fence with something more than tape. But it wasn’t their fault, it was his.
Suzuna crouched lower and her feet slipped on the pebbles under her socks.
Hiroshi stepped closer, trying to think what to say, edging toward the cut-open fence.
“I said, stay away,” Suzuna sobbed. Her sweater swung open and her thick cotton dress clung to her legs in the wind.
Hiroshi held his hands out and stepped closer. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s all true, what you said.” Suzuna tried to pull her sweater around herself with her free hand, but she was off balance and the wind blew it open. She was shivering in the wind, her body shaking with fear and cold.
“What’s true?” Hiroshi asked in a calm voice, stepping closer.
“About killing Onizuka.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You meant that.”
“Come inside and we can talk about that,” Hiroshi said.
“I set it all up. It’s all me. No one else had anything to do with it.” Tears rolled down her cheeks and she pulled her sleeve back and forth over her nose and eyes. She rose up to peer over the edge.
“Why not come back and tell me how it happened?” Hiroshi said, trying to sound calm and reassuring. He wanted to make a grab for her, but that wasn’t going to work if she was this hysterical. He’d have to calm her down. “Just give me your hand.”
Takamatsu and Sugamo edged past Suzuna along the inside of the fence. Takamatsu had Sugamo hoist him up, seeing if he could get over to the other side.
Suzuna saw him and shouted, “Get down. Get him down!”
Takamatsu dropped back inside the fence.
Hiroshi said, “We can work this out.”
“It was all my fault.” Suzuna wiped her face. “I’m the one who didn’t answer Mayu’s phone calls. I killed her.”
“You didn’t kill her.”
“She’s dead, isn’t she?”
“But it’s not your fault.”
“I’m the one who organized Onizuka. And he’s dead, too.”
Hiroshi ducked his head through the fence. “Suzuna, look at me.”
Tokyo Zangyo Page 22