Employee at a local game centre (age 26): "He had a thing about younger women - the Lolita type - so he was always in here trying to pick up high-school girls. We used to kid him about it, but with his kind of looks, he didn't do too badly. You'd often see him with some cute little chick on his arm. He was always saying how well his business was doing, but something told me it wasn't all that great. A strange guy, too vain for his own good.'
Manager of a local bar (about 30): "He came in here just the other night, laying it on about some money he'd come into. He said something about making a big score, but I knew he was in the loan business, so I had my doubts. He's a good customer, but can be a bit of a pain sometimes.'
-
The mound of reports painted a clear picture of what Masako and her little gang had done. But lately it seemed she'd hooked up with this Jumonji character and started a little business on the side. Satake smiled to himself, admiring her resourcefulness.
Tired of reading, he pushed the papers off to one side. The loudspeaker was still blaring somewhere outside. He parted the curtains slightly and let the last rays of the winter sun into the room, setting the dust in the air dancing. He stared at the narrow threads of light, impatient for the sun to set. Still several hours until seven, when he would head for work.
The buzzer on the intercom sounded and Satake jumped up to answer it, stuffing the reports in a paper bag and shoving it under the bed as he went. Kuniko's affected voice came blaring from the speaker over the whistling of the wind.
'Sato-san? It's Kuniko Jonouchi.' He had her! Satake smiled broadly and cleared his throat.
'Hold on just a second,' he said. 'I'll be right there.' He pulled back the curtains and opened the balcony door to let in some fresh air. While he was straightening the bedding, he checked to make sure the reports were out of sight. 'Sorry that took so long,' he said as he opened the front door, allowing a gust of cold air to blow a whiff of Kuniko's cloying perfume inside with it: 'Coco' from Chanel, he recognised. Anna had been given a bottle by a customer, but he'd told her to stop wearing it at the club. Strong perfumes follow men home and cause unnecessary trouble.
'I'm sorry to barge in like this,' Kuniko said, straightening her hair and smoothing her skirt.
'Not at all,' he said. 'Come in out of the cold.'
'Just for a minute,' she said, wedging her large frame into the cramped entranceway. She wore a black suit, new boots and a heavy gold necklace, as though she were going out somewhere. By force of habit, Satake immediately appraised her outfit and accessories: all cheap copies of expensive designer labels. While she stood in the hall waiiting to be asked in, she peered curiously into the apartment. 'Quite neat and tidy,' she commented.
'My wife took everything with her, I'm afraid. That's all she left,' he said, pointing at the bed by the window. Kuniko stared for a moment and then looked away in mock embarrassment. There was something suggestive in the way she responded, but if she'd known what he was planning for her on that bed, she would have run screaming out of there.
'Did I wake you up?' she asked. 'I was wondering whether you were all right.. . since you weren't at work last night.'
'It was my night off.'
'Oh? I didn't realise. .. . To tell the truth, I just wanted to say goodbye.'
'Goodbye?' he said, startled. Was she thinking of running for it
- just when he'd got hold of her?
'I quit my job,' she explained.
'That's a shame,' he said in a disappointed voice. The sound of it pleased Kuniko no end.
'But I'm staying here in the building,' she told him cheerfully. 'And I know we'll see each other around.'
'I hope so,' he said. 'I'd like that. . . . It's not very cosy, but would you like to come in for a minute?' Kuniko immediately reached down to tug at the zipper where her boot was biting into her calf. 'I'm afraid you'll have to sit on the bed,' he added.
Without a word, she walked toward it. Watching from behind, he ran through his plans. It was all happening sooner than he'd intended, but he couldn't ask for a better chance than this. Now there was no need to come up with a pretext to get her in here; and since she'd quit her job, no one would miss her when she didn't show up for work.
'She didn't even leave me a table,' he told her.
'I kind of like it,' she said, sitting down on the bed. 'My place is so stuffed with things.' She looked around doubtfully at the empty room. 'It's like an office, isn't it? Where do you keep your clothes?'
'I don't really have anything else,' he said, gesturing at the jacket and pants he was wearing, wrinkled now from his nap. Her eyes lingered for a moment on his body.
'Men are lucky,' she said. 'They can get along with almost nothing.' She fished a cigarette out of her fake Chanel bag. Satake produced a spotless ashtray and put it next to her. 'There's a decent bar not far away,' she said, lighting up. 'Would you like to go?'
'I'm afraid I don't drink,' he said. Kuniko seemed disappointed by this information, but she quickly rallied.
'Then let's go get something to eat,' she said.
'All right. Just give me a minute.' Disappearing into the bathroom, he washed his face and brushed his teeth. A glance in the mirror confirmed that his normally close-cropped hair had grown out and he needed a shave. The Kabuki-cho dandy had vanished, and a rumpled, middle-aged security guard stared back at him. Still, in his eyes there were signs that the beast that had lain dormant inside him for so long was coming back to life. He rubbed a towel across his face and opened the door. Kuniko sat on the bed in the empty room, staring idly around her. 'What would you say to ordering something to eat here?' he said.
'What did you have in mind?' she giggled.
'How about some sushi?'
'That sounds wonderful,' she said, smiling happily. Satake, of course, had no intention of ordering anything, or letting anyone know that she'd ever come to apartment 412.
'Would you like a cup of coffee first?' he asked. He filled the kettle with water and put it on the stove. The coffee, too, was a lie: the shelves were as empty as the rest of the apartment. But he opened a door and stood there for a moment, as if considering the contents. Sensing something behind him, he turned to find Kuniko peering over his shoulder.
'It's empty,' she murmured.
'What is?' he said abruptly, in a frigid voice. She froze, as if she'd just run across a snake in the road.
'I just thought I could help. .., ' she stammered, backing away. She turned and moved toward the bed, but he slipped his arm around her neck and moved his hand to cover her mouth. Her thick lipstick smeared across his palm as he lifted the heavy body into the air. Though she struggled for a while, her own weight pulled her neck down on his arm and she soon lost consciousness. After he'd managed to lay her out on the bed, he went to turn off the stove.
He then rolled her limp body over and began carefully removing her clothes. When she was naked, he tied her wrists and ankles to the bed, just as he'd imagined doing that morning. It was a perfect dress rehearsal for what he planned for Masako; but when he saw Kuniko's large, bovine body stretched out before him, his desire withered, taking with it the elaborate plan it had given rise to. Suddenly fed up with the whole project, he crumpled the underpants he'd stripped off her and shoved them in her gaping mouth. At that, she woke up and her eyes shot wide open. She stared wildly around the room, trying to understand what was happening to her.
'Now you won't start screaming, will you?' The voice was low and menacing. She shook her head frantically, and a moment later he pulled the underpants from her mouth, leaving a thread of spittle hanging in the air.
'Please!' she gasped. 'Don't hurt me. I'll do anything you ask.' Satake ignored her. He was busy spreading plastic bags under her hips - just in case she soiled the bed. 'What are you doing?' she whispered, tossing and turning as he worked.
'Nothing. Just hold still.'
'Please,' she begged. 'Don't hurt me.' There were tears in her beady eyes.
'Tell me
,' he said, 'did Yayoi Yamamoto kill her husband?'
'Yes, yes,' she said, nodding wildly.
'And Masako and you, and Yoshie, the older one, you cut up the body?'
'Yes.'
'Masako was the ringleader?'
'Of course!'
'And how much did Yayoi pay you?'
'Five hundred thousand apiece.' Satake laughed, struck by the irony of a bunch of housewives working for peanuts - and in the process bringing down his precious empire.
'Masako, too?' he asked.
'No, she didn't take anything.'
'And why was that?'
'She's got a stick up her ass,' Kuniko said, blurting out the first words that came into her head. Stick up her ass? Satake laughed again.
'And how did Masako meet Jumonji?'
She hesitated, clearly shocked that he knew this much about them. 'I think they knew each other from before,' she said eventually.
'Which is why he lent you money?'
'No, that was just a coincidence.'
'It's all a little too neat,' he jeered as she began to cry again. 'And it's a little late for tears.'
'Don't hurt me. I'm begging you.'
'Wait a second,' he said. 'How did Jumonji find out about this?'
'I told him.'
'Did you tell anyone else?'
'No.'
'And did you know that the rest of them have set up a nice little business doing what you all did to Yayoi's husband?' As he spoke, Satake slipped the thick leather belt out of the loops on his pants. Kuniko's eyes, white with terror, watched him as her head shook violently back and forth. 'Did you?' he insisted.
'No!' she screamed.
'In other words,' he said, 'they don't trust you. They no longer need you.' As he wrapped the belt around her neck, her wail faded to a frantic gasp. Realising he might still need the gag, Satake reached down for the discarded underpants and forced them deep into her throat. As her eyes rolled back in her head from lack of air, he tightened the belt with a firm tug. He found this murder, the second he had ever committed, utterly uninteresting.
-
He untied the body and pushed it off the bed. Wrapping it tightly in a blanket, he rolled it on to the balcony, propping it carefully in a corner so that it couldn't be seen from the other apartments. When he looked up, the sun was just setting behind the mountains he had seen that morning, though now they were black and almost invisible in the fading light.
Closing the balcony door, he examined the contents of Kuniko's purse. He removed a small stack of ¥10,000 bills from her wallet and took two keys, one for the Golf and the other apparently for her apartment. Then he stuffed her clothes and underwear and shoes into a bag. Taking his own key and his wallet, he left the apartment with the bag. It was dark now, and though the wind had died down, it was cold. He climbed the emergency stairs at the end of the building to the next floor and looked down the passageway. Fortunately, there was no one in sight. Skirting the tricycles and potted plants that lined the wall, he made his way to Kuniko's door and opened it with the key he'd retrieved from her purse.
The apartment was strewn with new clothes and wads of torn wrapping paper and shopping bags. He emptied the bag of clothes he'd brought into the jumble and backed out the door. Checking again to make sure there was no one in the passageway, he locked the door and headed toward the elevator. He ditched Kuniko's key in the trash bin on the first floor and then went to find his bike in the parking area behind the building. A minute later, an ordinary security guard pedalled off to his job at a factory.
6
Jumonji was in heaven. Standing next to him was a beautiful girl in the uniform of a well-known high school. Her dyed-brown hair hung loose across the smooth white skin of her cheeks, and her pink lips were slightly parted. The arch of her narrow eyebrows set off her lovely eyes, and her miniskirt barely overlapped a pair of long, slender legs. She was so good-looking she might easily have been a model - and here she was, talking to him. It was all he could do to stay cool.
'What do you want to do?' he said, his voice low and urgent. 'I don't care,' she whispered, sweet and raspy. 'Whatever you want to.' Her whole body seemed to exude a perfume he couldn't quite place. Her accessories were all by the top designers. She was, in a word, perfect. But where could this miracle have come from? The high-school girls he was used to seemed to be a whole different species, girls who spent their time in dingy fast-food places, their hair reeking of cheap conditioner. But thanks to the money he'd realised on his little scheme, he could afford to take a girl like this to a real hotel, without so much as blinking at the ¥100,000 she wanted up front.
'What would you say to getting a room somewhere?' he said.
'That sounds fine,' she said.
'It does? You mean you'll . . . ?' The girl nodded shyly, and he began racking his brain for the name of a hotel they could reach before she changed her mind. But just then, the cell phone in his hip pocket began to ring. 'Excuse me a second,' he said. He had left everything at Million Consumers to a female assistant so he could relax and enjoy himself. She'd been with him for ever, so she ought to have been able to handle whatever it was - and she ought to have known better than to call him at a time like this.
'Yes. Jumonji,' he said, barely disguising his irritation.
'Akira? Where are you?' said a toneless but unmistakable voice.
'Soga-san? It's good to hear from you, and I want to thank you again for your help the other day.' The girl watched him grovel into the phone for a moment, then turned her back, pissed at the sudden change in his manner. Noticing her begin to slip away, Jumonji grabbed her elbow.
'Don' t mention it,' Soga said. 'Are you in Shibuya or something?' he asked, puzzled by the background noise. Jumonji wanted to howl at the bad timing.
'Something like that,' he said.
'Shibuya? Really? You're amazing. I bet you're all dolled up like a teenager.' Jumonji scratched his head. He still had the girl by the elbow, but she was looking around for a way to escape. There were any number of men like Jumonji waiting here on Shibuya's main drag, hoping to meet a girl like her. In fact, a ring of them was beginning to tighten around her now. Seeing their hungry eyes, Jumonji began to panic. 'You still got the fuzzy dice on the rearview mirror?' Soga went on, obviously enjoying the chance to tease him.
'Was there something you needed?' Jumonji said.
'You're with a girl, aren't you? Robbing the cradle again, you dope?'
'Guilty as charged,' Jumonji said. 'But I wonder if we could talk about this later?'
'Sorry, no can do.' Soga's voice was serious now. 'We've got ourselves a job.'
'What?' said Jumonji, releasing the girl's arm.
'Bye,' she said, wandering off with several Jumonji look-alikes in tow. Shit! He watched longingly as she disappeared into the crowd, saying a reluctant farewell to the short skirt, the cute little ass it covered. . . . But business was business, and he could afford ten girls like her with the money from another job. Pulling himself together, he apologised to Soga.
'Sorry, I was a bit distracted.'
'She get away from you? Well, you need to have a clear head for this anyway. You screw up and we're all dead!' Jumonji began to concentrate, imagining the look in Soga's eyes as he said this.
'I know,' he told him.
'Anyway, it seems that word got out that your first job was a success....' The phone connection began to break up, so Jumonji moved under an awning, away from the crowd. 'Just make sure you do the same thing this time. They'll have it for you by tonight.'
'Tonight?' Jumonji repeated, wondering whether he'd be able to get in touch with Masako at such short notice. Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was barely 8.00. He should still be able to catch her at home.
'It's fresh, apparently, so we have to act fast.'
'Understood,' said Jumonji.
'It'll be at the rear entrance to Koganei Park, at 4.00 a.m.'
'I'll be there,' Jumonji said.
&nb
sp; 'So will I,' said Soga, his voice more subdued than usual. 'This one turned up by a slightly different route, and I just want to make sure everything goes as planned.'
'Different how?' Jumonji asked. The people pushing past him on the street eyed him curiously, apparently unused to seeing someone talking seriously on a cell phone.
'I have a supplier I'm sure I can trust - the old guy the other day came from him. But this one just showed up, you might say.'
'Showed up? Not from somebody in the business?'
'That's what I don't know,' Soga said. 'The guy just said he'd heard about the service and wanted us to do it. He wouldn't take "no" for an answer. Even when I told him it'd cost ten million, he didn't bat an eye.' Jumonji's heart leapt at the news.
'That means an extra million for you,' he said.
'And an extra million for you,' said Soga, enjoying the role of generous patron. By now Jumonji had forgotten all about the girl. If he kept this windfall a secret from Masako, he would clear three million this time.
'Soga-san, you're a prince.'
'Yeah, yeah. But I think we have to watch it with this one. I'll be bringing some muscle with me, and you might think about fishing your bulletproof underwear out of the closet.'
Jumonji laughed, then closed the cell phone. It occurred to him that perhaps Soga wasn't joking, but he was too excited by the prospect of the money to care. And he needed to get in touch with Masako right away. He began looking for her number in his book; if he couldn't catch her now, he would have to drive around all day with another of those spooky things in his trunk. Masako answered almost immediately. From the sound of her voice, she had a cold.
'We've got another job,' he told her. 'Can you manage it?'
'It's awfully soon,' Masako said, her voice louder than usual.
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