The Dame Did It (17 page)

“You’re making me dizzy,” said her
bodyguard. “What’s the problem?”

“It’s about that host from Nanpa,” she
said.

“The one who disappeared?”

Suzume nodded. “One of the other hosts just
called me. He said there’s someone nosing about. And my name was
mentioned. Jun, you know what this means?”

Jun grumbled while he scratched his chin.
“Not really.”

She huffed and nearly screamed in his face.
“If my husband finds out about this, about what I’ve done, do you
know what that will mean? He’s already warned me once about
this!”

“Who’s asking about the host?” asked
Jun.

“Some bitch. She’s been to his apartment and
she was at the club.”

Jun shrugged. “We got cameras in the club.
Won’t be hard to figure out who she is. Then I’ll take care
of—”

“No!” she snapped. “If you get involved and
something happens, Ryunosuke will get suspicious. This can’t be
traced back to me or even the
gumi
. It has to be completely
outside.”

“I know someone,” said Jun.

“Who?” asked Suzume.

“I know her by reputation, she’s a
professional out of Tokyo.”

Suzume’s thin eyebrows crunched together.
“Can she make it look clean? Untraceable?”

Jun snickered. “That’s her specialty. Don’t
worry, within a week, this troublemaker won’t be drawing
breath.”

* * *

The next few days were a whirlwind of dead ends.
Kyoko kept surveillance on Nanpa from various points in Shinsekai,
always keeping an eye out for Suzume Tanaka, but she never showed.
Kyoko even tried following some of the other regular customers,
including the two women whom she met during her first visit to the
club. Ichiro was right, they were
fuzoku
, both working at
erotic massage parlors. And it was clear during Kyoko’s
surveillance of the soapland they worked at that they were working
for Tanaka’s operations. But still, she had nothing more to go on.
She hadn’t seen Ichiro since their confrontation. Go had also
become scarce, she only saw him go into Nanpa one of the nights
during her week of surveillance, but she never saw him come out. He
must have slipped away when she hadn’t been looking.

With the latest round of surveillance done
for the day—or night, as it were—Kyoko returned home. She treated
herself to a long, hot bath; once she finished and got into sweat
pants and a t-shirt, even though the sun was just coming up, she
needed to treat herself to a drink before getting some much-needed
sleep.

Kyoko took a bottle of Suntory whiskey from
the top of her refrigerator and set it on the small metal counter
beside the sink. From the refrigerator, she took a plastic bottle
of club soda and filled a glass about halfway with it, as opposed
to the usual three-quarters. She unscrewed the cap from the cheap
whiskey and filled the remainder of the glass with it.

She brought the glass to her lips, but as
she did, she detected something odd. There was a strange odor
emanating from the glass. It was faint, probably undetectable by
most. Kyoko grabbed the whiskey and sniffed it. The usual musky
aroma of the whiskey was gone, replaced by something decidedly
different.

Kyoko dumped out the drink and turned the
bottle upside down, allowing all the tainted alcohol to flow down
the drain. She moved from her kitchen into the narrow corridor. On
the left was the six-mat
tatami
room which doubled as both
her bedroom and living room. And the right led to the three-mat
room that she used as a home office. Kyoko went to the desk and
pulled open the center drawer, but found it was empty.

Then came the
click
.

“Looking for this?”

Kyoko stiffened at the sound. She slowly
raised her arms and turned. What she found was a young woman, about
the same age as her, and wearing a light blue business suit. Her
hair was short and dyed a dark burgundy, reaching to her jawline
and framing her face nicely. A faint smile played at her lips. And
in her extended arm was the small revolver Kyoko kept hidden in her
desk. Handguns were illegal in Japan outside of law enforcement,
but Kyoko got this one as a present from Hashimoto when she went
into business for herself.

“I was impressed that you noticed the
poison,” she said. “It’s never failed me in the past.”

“I always like to smell my whiskey before I
taste it,” said Kyoko. “My old boss told me it helps enhance the
flavor.”

The assassin looked perplexed. “Even with
cheap,
sen-en
whiskey?”

Kyoko shrugged. “Seems like the time when
you’d need anything you can to enhance the flavor,
ne
?”

The assassin couldn’t argue with that.
“Regardless, I thought you should know that you’ve earned my
respect.”

Kyoko reached out a hand, but the assassin
cautioned her. “Ah-ah! Not so fast.” Kyoko just smirked.

“Since I know you won’t tell me your name,
let’s just call you Aoi. And since I know you won’t shoot me, how
about we talk for a few minutes?”

Aoi scoffed. “In case you hadn’t realized,
I’m here to kill you, Nakamura-san.”

“I know, but you won’t shoot me,” said
Kyoko. “For one, if you fire that gun, the neighbors
will
hear it. And they
will
call the police. I doubt you’d be
able to get out of here fast enough to avoid being seen. And two,
my guess is you went with poison because you wanted this to look
like an accident,
ne
? Hard to look like an accident when
there’s a bullet involved. And even if they do suspect a suicide,
the angle is all wrong. No way I could have shot myself with a gun
from across the room.”

Aoi grinned again. “All good points. But
maybe, since everyone is asleep, they’d have some momentary shock,
assuming the shot wakes them at all, and by the time they can check
outside their apartments, I’ll already be gone. And maybe at first,
this was about making it look like an accident. But given the type
of circles you run in, you’re likely to have made many enemies. A
cheating spouse you exposed, for example? So I’d be last on the
list. Especially as I’m not even from this area.”

“True, but there’s a third problem,” said
Kyoko.

“And what’s that?” asked Aoi.

“You’ve never used a gun before, have you?
What did you forget to do?”

Aoi’s smile vanished. “You mean… ?”

Kyoko smiled. “Like you said, I mostly deal
with cheating spouses. So why would I need a loaded gun in my
home?”

The assassin quickly snapped open the
revolver and looked into the chamber. But what she saw were six
live bullets staring at her. Once she realized she’d been tricked,
before she could react again, Kyoko had crossed the distance
between them, and delivered a palm-strike to Aoi’s forehead. The
impact knocked her back and she dropped the gun, the bullets
scattering across the floor.

Aoi ducked Kyoko’s next strike and kicked at
her knee. Kyoko fell, using her other leg to keep from hitting the
ground. As Aoi reached for another strike, Kyoko drove her elbow
into the assassin’s hip, a strike which managed to cause both women
a fair bit of pain. But it gave Kyoko a brief advantage and she ran
to the kitchen and took a butcher knife from the drawer. She spun
on Aoi just as the assassin had advanced, cutting into her arm.

Aoi quickly stepped back, and Kyoko kept the
knife held defensively. When Aoi tried to go back for the gun,
Kyoko lunged forward and scored another cut. “Don’t think I’m about
to let you get out of this that easily. If you get the gun, I’ll be
able to cut your throat in the time it takes to pick up and load
even a single bullet.”

“Maybe you should think about this. You
don’t really think this will end well for you, do you?” said Aoi.
“Even if you kill me, someone else will come after you next. You
should have known better than to make an enemy of Suzume
Tanaka.”

“Maybe she should have thought of that
before she killed Shinji Kuroyama,” said Kyoko.

Aoi froze in her tracks. “What?”

“The whole reason you’re here. The whole
reason I was investigating Tanaka to begin with,” said Kyoko.
“Shinji Kuroyama was the host she was having an affair with. Either
she was jealous of his other clients or she was afraid of her
husband finding out about him, so she had him killed.”

Aoi scoffed. “You believe that?”

“Give me another explanation that makes
sense,” said Kyoko.

“She doesn’t know anything about the host,
she thought he ran off with her money,” said Aoi. “Told me as much
herself.”

Kyoko lowered the blade a little. “Are you
serious?”

“She was worried your investigation would
bring her husband’s attention to her… extracurricular activities,”
said Aoi.

“But if it wasn’t Tanaka…” Kyoko blinked,
her mouth agape in shock.

“You know what it’s like for those
yakuza
pricks. All old school samurai attitude. They can
stick it in anyone they want, but their wives have to be completely
faithful,” said Aoi. “And if they’re not, someone dies. She was
trying to protect her ‘honor’—for whatever that’s worth—by getting
rid of you.”

Kyoko tossed the knife in the sink. Aoi’s
words had struck a profound chord within her. One that made her see
the entire case in a completely new light. A much clearer one in
fact.

“Of course…” she muttered. “Now it all makes
sense.”

Aoi watched Kyoko’s every move with careful
consideration, not sure what to make of her sudden shift in
attitude. “I hate to be a pain, but what are you doing?”

“You can tell Suzume that she won’t have to
worry about me. I made a mistake investigating her and I’m going
after the person who
really
killed Shinji.”

Aoi still stayed on alert. “This… this is
pretty unusual. You want me to tell a
yakuza
wife that the
hit is called off because you had a change of heart?”

Kyoko looked up and there was a flash of
anger in her dark eyes. “Do you
really
want to push me, Aoi?
Because I could just kill you and then try my luck with the next
assassin, or just go to Suzume directly.”

It only took Aoi a few moments to think that
over. Kyoko did have the upper hand in the fight, and should they
go again, there was little doubt in Aoi’s mind who would come out
on top. Aoi relaxed her body and leaned against the wall.

“I don’t suppose you have another bottle
stashed somewhere around here?” she asked.

* * *

Misaki Kuroyama came home to her penthouse apartment
and removed her high-heeled shoes in the
genkan
. Turning on
the lights, she entered the spacious foyer and walked to the large
kitchen with a center counter island. She set her purse down and
opened the refrigerator, taking a bottle of wine. Removing the wine
stopper, she poured herself a glass.

From the kitchen, Misaki walked into the
living room. She turned on the light and gasped, jumping and
spilling the wine on the white carpet. Seated on the spacious
leather couch in front of the large television set was Kyoko
Nakamura.

“Took you a while to get home,” she said as
she reached for a glass and sipped it. “Hope you don’t mind, I
helped myself to some of your scotch. Or probably your father’s
scotch, right? Good stuff. Keep a bottle here for when your parents
visit,
ne
?”

“Nakamura-san,” said Misaki in a breathless
voice. “H-how did you get in? Why are you here?”

Kyoko stood, taking the scotch with her. She
sauntered towards Misaki. “I came here to collect my fee.”

“Y-your fee?” asked Misaki. “So you mean
you—?”

“Mm.” Kyoko sipped the scotch once more as
she walked right up to Misaki, their faces just scant inches apart.
“I solved the case.”

“Then my brother?” asked Misaki. “You found
him, yes?”

“Ohhh yeah, I found him.” Kyoko turned away,
walking around the room. “This is a very big place you have here,
Kuroyama.” Hanging from the walls were various framed photographs,
and Kyoko examined them. Mostly they were of Misaki and her parents
or her friends. “You know what’s funny? For someone who cares so
much about her brother, you certainly don’t keep many pictures of
him.”

“Yes, well… it’s for my parents’ sake,” said
Misaki. “They visit about once a week. I used to just take down the
pictures of Shinji, but it became a bit of a chore.”

“
Naruhodo
,” said Kyoko. “Well, I have
some good news and some bad news. The bad news is, unfortunately,
that your brother was killed.”

“
Eh?
” asked Misaki, her hand going to
her chest. “I-I can’t believe it—!”

“I found out who was responsible, too,” said
Kyoko, continuing to walk around the room. “Wasn’t easy. Your
brother was pretty popular at his club. Had lots of clients who saw
him outside of work. And sometimes, that can get messy. People get
jealous. I even got myself into some hot water investigating
it.”

“Excuse me,” said Misaki, bending down to
pick up the glass. She stared at the red stains in the white carpet
for several moments, then stood up suddenly. “I’ll just get a
towel, I need to clean this up before it sets in.”

Kyoko nodded. “
Dozo
.”

Misaki went into the kitchen and Kyoko heard
the water running. She spoke up so Misaki could still hear her over
the sound of the faucet.

“Jealousy is a powerful motive for murder.
Certainly there are many cases like that,” said Kyoko. “But then I
realized a few other things.”

“Oh?”

“For starters, there was no missing persons
report filed,” said Kyoko. “Now, my initial assumption was that my
first suspect had connections to see to it that the file would
disappear.”

The water stopped. Kyoko paused with it for
effect.

“Once that suspect was ruled out, I realized
something else. Shinji had a landlady.”