Segments of loud bangs against the door were broken up by repetitive pushes of the doorbell. Kyoko stirred in bed and slowly sat up, rubbing her eyes. She climbed out of bed and took a white yukata robe from a hook on the door of her bedroom and pulled it on. While crossing from the bedroom to the genkan, Kyoko tied the belt around her waist and opened the door. A sigh escaped her lips when she saw the man standing just outside her apartment, wearing a suit, hands stuffed in his pockets, and a stern expression on his face.
“Kyoko,” said Hashimoto.
Great. He only called her by her proper name when he was really pissed off.
“Sensei,” she replied.
“I think you’d better invite me in.” His tone showed he was in no mood for games. Kyoko gestured into her apartment and Hashimoto entered, pulling his shoes off and leaving them in the genkan.
“You want some coffee?” She turned from the door and walked across the hardwood floor to the kitchen area. Hashimoto followed her, hands back in his pockets. A small table with two chairs sat in the center and he took a seat without being offered one.
“Black,” he said. “And hot.”
Kyoko took a container of ice coffee from the refrigerator. She poured some in a coffee cup for her guest and put it in the microwave. While waiting for the appliance to do its thing, she dropped a few cubes into a tall glass and filled it with cold coffee. As soon as she finished putting the remainder back in the refrigerator, the microwave beeped.
The steaming mug she set in front of Hashimoto and she took the chair across from him. He took a few slow sips of the coffee, staring at her for several seconds before speaking. Kyoko lit a cigarette while she waited for him to make the first move.
“We going to do this all day?” she asked, exhaling smoke. “’Cause I got shit to do.”
“Oh, I’m sure you do.”
“You arrested Ichikawa yesterday.”
Hashimoto nodded.
“What happened to suicide?”
“Anonymous tip came in.”
“Someone just tells you that Ichikawa killed Akane and you believe it without checking?”
“What do you take me for?” grunted Hashimoto. “Of course we checked it out. Found out he hadn’t been back to his apartment in almost a month, found out about how he and his girlfriend were fighting the whole time, found out about what she did for a living. But you know the one thing that threw me off?”
“What?”
“The anonymous source told us if we checked his apartment, we’d find drugs in there. So we did. And there was nothing. Then I remembered the other night when you and I met for drinks.” Hashimoto fixed a hard stare on her. “Those pills you took from Ichikawa’s apartment.”
“I told you, they were planted there.”
“Well right now, to someone who doesn’t trust you, it looks like you’re aiding in the coverup of a murder. Plus, you were at Ichikawa’s family home when Arima came and picked him up. Don’t think he didn’t make a note of that.”
“I’m sure he did, and I know just where he can stick it.”
“Are you incapable of recognizing just how much shit you got mixed up with?”
“Listen to me, okay? It wasn’t Ichikawa. Nor was it that landlord. I told you, there was a third man who saw Akane that night.”
“And who the hell’s gonna believe that?” asked Hashimoto. “You removed the condoms from her apartment, so you’ve got no evidence anyone was there. That landlord? Just to keep the cops away from him, he’ll gladly tell them he saw Ichikawa go into Suzuki’s apartment and never saw him come out again.”
“Then there’s one more lead, the drug dealer I saw at Ichikawa’s place.”
Hashimoto scoffed. Shaking his head, he sipped the coffee. “Have you taken complete leave of your senses? Even if the drug dealer swears on his family shrine that he planted the drugs to incriminate Ichikawa, who the hell would believe him?”
“Then let me bring in what I’ve gathered,” said Kyoko. “I’ve recorded just about every interview I’ve done.”
Hashimoto sighed. “If I could, I would. But Arima’s the active lead on this case.”
Kyoko shook her head. “But you’ve got seniority…”
He rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t matter. The people upstairs have their eye on him. He’s very popular, or so I’m continuously told. And the last thing he or the department wants is you having anything to do with this case.”
Kyoko tapped the cigarette against the ashtray and took another drag. “You know what’s going to happen to Yuki.”
Hashimoto raised both brows while giving a nod. “Yup.”
“’Round the clock questioning, then a confession, and that’ll be it. Conviction rate preserved.”
Hashimoto shrugged. “What the hell am I supposed to do? I’m just an old cop they’re itching to throw a sobetsukai for.”
“Why would they want to give you a farewell party? You’re one of the best cops they’ve ever had.”
“Politics, as usual. You know I never had much use for that crap.”
“Then maybe you can help me out with something,” said Kyoko.
“What?” The tone in Hashimoto’s voice suggested that he already didn’t like this. Part of Kyoko hated having to ask him, but she was running low on options.
“I need to speak to Jo Miyashita, of Star Rise Entertainment.”
Hashimoto narrowed his eyes. “Wasn’t that…?”
“Akane Suzuki’s management company, yes. I found out Akane was in talks with another company, talking about making a comeback as a solo artist.”
“So what, you think Miyashita had her killed because she found another job?” Hashimoto scoffed. “That’s a real reach.”
“It probably is, but it’s also the only thing that makes any sense,” said Kyoko.
Hashimoto held up his hand. “Hold on a minute. Jealous boyfriend pissed off that his girl’s a whore doesn’t add up to you, but rich talent agent pissed off that a fired client found new work does?”
Kyoko frowned and stamped out the cigarette. It was painful for her to admit it, but he had a very good point. Jo Miyashita may be a creep, but killing Akane just because she had a chance at a comeback? Sure, it might make headlines, maybe there’d be some awkward questions, but how many performers did his company manage? What did it matter if one of them managed to find success with a competitor?
“Dammit, you’re right. That just doesn’t make a lot of sense, does it?”
Hashimoto took a long sip of coffee and set the mug down on the table. “Not even a little bit. You’re reaching, Naka-chan.”
“Something about Yuki though…just doesn’t seem to fit,” said Kyoko. “You talked to his mother?”
“Of course, but it’s his mother. Naturally she’d lie for him. Not the most reliable witness.”
“You should have seen him, Sensei. Looking at him, I just didn’t feel like I was looking at a murderer.”
Hashimoto grunted and finished the rest of his coffee. “You know how these things go. They were piss-drunk and high as fucking kites. They probably got into an argument and it got out of control. Next thing you know, he pushes her off the balcony.”
“Drunk and high…” Kyoko tapped her fingers on the table. She thought back to the dresses she found in Akane’s closet. They were all covered in plastic bags from a dry-cleaner. Except one. Yuki said he was gone before six. And Akane died around four in the morning.
That’s a large gap of time where anything could have happened.
“I can’t believe I missed it…” she muttered.
“Missed what?”
“The club, Idol,” said Kyoko.
“But she wasn’t scheduled to work that night,” said Hashimoto.
“So we think. Her and Yuki had a fight that afternoon about her work. He leaves, telling her it’s over. She gets upset, feels that now, there’s no other choice for her but to make money the way she has been. Gets dolled up, goes out to Idol, finds a guy…”
“…And that’s our third man,” said Hashimoto. But as soon as he finished her sentence, he shook his head. “No, it’s a stretch. Who’s to say he’d even be there that night? Maybe she called up one of her regulars to come over. And even if she did bring home some guy from Idol, how would you know? She obviously can’t talk, management won’t say shit or else risk spooking their other customers, and I doubt anyone’s going to walk into police headquarters and announce, ‘Excuse me, I was the last man to see your murder victim alive. No, I didn’t kill her, she fucked me for money and that was that. Just wanted to clear that up.’”
“You’re right. We need to hear from someone who would have seen them leave and is willing to talk.”
“And what, you know someone like that?”
“By a few degrees of separation?” asked Kyoko. “Yeah, I think I just might.”