mission report for imifumei (part 1 of 2)
Mission report for imifumei
Delivered by: albinococonut23
Title: The Eyes of 47th Street
Groups/Pairings: Arashi (with Sakumiya, Ohmiya, maybe Junba? -but pairings aren't the focus) +Yoko +OguriShun +Toma +Ryo
Rating: PG13 - R
Warnings:Character Death, violence, references to sexual acts and pornography, smoking a lot, abuse of google maps.
Summary: Private Detective Jun Matsumoto watches a red umbrella make its way through the night to his office. The seemingly simple case ends up being far more tangled than he or his partner could possibly have predicted.
Notes:This is a monster. It spiralled into something waaay bigger than it should have, and the end might be a little crappy. But I hope not. Oh, and everybody's names go first name followed by last, because I'm sticking them in America~
Thanks to my beta! (you know who you are, dearie.)
1941. Manhattan, New York
516 West 47th Street, at the third floor office of Private Detectives Matsumoto and Ohno.
It was raining; drenching the city with a haze of small droplets that lit up in the headlights of passing automobiles and shimmered in puddles on the pavement. It was getting late, and the few people still about were hurrying down the sidewalks with their umbrellas, rushing to be home and out of the weather. Private Detective Jun Matsumoto stared lazily past the rivulets of rainwater and the lettering on his office window, catching sight of and following the progress of a single, blood red, umbrella amongst the uniform black ones.
“Look, Matsumoto.” The police sergeant sighed in exasperation with the detective’s obvious inattentiveness. “If you suspected Yokoyama was responsible for his wife’s disappearance, and if you knew where to look for her body, you should have contacted us first instead of going in on your own.”
“Come now, Oguri.” Jun drawled, crossing his legs and leaning back in his desk chair with a grin. “It all worked out in the end, didn’t it?”
“Mrs. Yokoyama’s sister hired you to investigate her whereabouts-“
“-Which I did.”
“-, not apprehend her murderer. That’s not your job. The NYPD should have been called in to arrest him if you had a lead.”
Jun rolled his eyes. “Shun. I did call you.”
“Yes. After the criminal had already been incapacitated.” The policeman frowned, and Jun shrugged. “You can’t do whatever you want just to try and gain some sort of fame or notoriety.”
Jun clicked his tongue. “You think so highly of me.” He shook his head. “And what makes you so sure I didn’t do it in the name of justice, simply for the sake of putting a criminal behind bars?”
“I know you, Jun.” Oguri sighed. “You don’t risk your neck if there’s nothing in it for you.” His frown softened and his shoulders sagged. “Look, just keep us in the loop. Because I know you so well, I don’t want you getting into any trouble you can’t squirm your way out of.” He put his cap back onto his head and turned for the door.
“Don’t worry,” Jun grinned at his back. “I won’t.”
Oguri grunted disbelievingly and opened the door, pausing to nod curtly at the man standing on the other side. “Evening, Satoshi.”
“Evening, Sergeant.” Jun’s partner echoed, slipping into the room once the police sergeant had passed. He smiled crookedly, letting a cigarette dangle from his lips as he slouched against the wall and regarded Jun from beneath the brim of his fedora. “He gave you a good scolding?”
Jun chuckled. “A warning. They’re sore about being left out.”
“And no ‘thank you’ for any of our work?”
“Course not.” Jun stretched and sighed. “It’s late, you want to call it a night?”
“There’s someone here to see us, I believe. A flashy fellow.”
Jun raised his eyebrows. “Well, send him in.”
Satoshi nodded and poked his head back out the open office door. “Come on in, Mr. Aiba.”
“Thank you.” Came a warm, breathy, voice, followed by the speaker. He was sharply dressed in a green tweed overcoat, dark slacks, and shined shoes. His hair was brown and wavy; it curled about his ears and hung in his eyes in a wild, roguish manner that could have been attributed to the wind and damp weather, but was probably intentional. “My name’s Masaki Aiba.” He spoke again as he reached Jun’s desk and outstretched a hand to clasp with the detective’s in a firm shake.
“I’m Detective Jun Matsumoto, this is my partner Detective Satoshi Ohno.” Jun greeted as Satoshi shut the door and made his way over. “What brings you to our office?”
“I heard you two were some of the best on the West Side. Word on the street is that you solved a murder recently, didn’t you?”
Ohno chuckled, and Jun gestured for the man to take a seat across from him. “What can we help you with? If it’s a murder, you’re better off talking to the police.”
“No, no. Not a murder.” Aiba sat on the edge of the chair, appearing tense despite the bright smile on his face. He hooked the handle of his umbrella on the arm of the chair, and Jun noted that it was bright red. “You see… I’ve noticed that I’m being followed lately. Everywhere I go.” He fiddled with the damp sleeve of his coat. “I was hoping you could help me.”
“Were you followed here?” Satoshi asked, crossing to the window.
“No, I think I lost him on the way.”
“So you know it’s a man.” Jun crossed his arms, regarding the young man’s handsome features and the fear in his doe-like eyes. “Have you seen his face?”
Aiba shook his head. “I’ve only seen him from a distance. He’s got dark hair. Usually wears a dark coat, and a hat… I guess that’s not really helpful. I live in the Garment District, 328 West 44th street, between Eighth and Ninth Avenue. If you watch me going to and from my apartment at all, you’ll see him for certain.”
Jun hummed thoughtfully. Aiba’s clothes were stylish and colorful, to the point of being almost flamboyant, but his cuffs were a little worn with wear. “What do you do for a living?”
“I-… Well, I’m an actor.”
“An actor?” Satoshi frowned and came back to perch on the edge of Jun’s desk. “Have you been in any recent pictures?”
“No, at least not in anything that wasn’t a very minor role. I’ve done a bit of Off-Broadway theater, but not as a lead.”
“That’s too bad.” Satoshi mused.
“My luck’s looking up though. I managed to get a supporting role in a picture. I did the audition almost a month ago, and I thought they’d already cast everyone, but turns out they were held up for some reason. Near three weeks went by, and then out of the blue I got a call.” He beamed. “Filming started last week, and it’s going well.”
Jun sat up straighter. “And you’ve been followed just since you accepted this part?”
“Well… yes.” Aiba frowned. “But like I said, I’m not famous enough to have any obsessed fans chasing me around. Hardly anybody has ever taken notice of me. I was shocked when I got the call-back…”
“You’re telling me you never get noticed?” Jun grinned. “With a pretty-boy face like that?”
Aiba flushed. “Honest. I came to New York from Chicago less than three years ago, so I’m still a newcomer. I haven’t had time to build even a small fan base.”
“That may be so, but I’m not ruling out some kind of connection, Mr. Aiba.”
“…Does that mean you’ll take the case?” Aiba asked hopefully, leaning forward in his chair.
Jun pursed his lips thoughtfully. “How badly do you want our help?”
Aiba paused for a moment, bewildered. “Terribly!” He decided, eyes going a little wider with anxiety. “I’m scared to leave my apartment, and yet afraid to stay in it when he’s watching outside too… You will help me won’t you?”
Satoshi smiled crookedly and pulled the remains of his cigarette from his lips to stub it out in the ashtray on the desk. “He’s asking what price you’re willing to pay us, Mr. Aiba.”
“Oh…” Aiba breathed, and then reached into his coat for his wallet. He frowned at its contents. “I can pay you one hundred. I’m assuming you want it up front?”
“A hundred?” Jun raised an eyebrow.
Aiba glanced between the two detectives before sagging in his seat. “Fine, and another fifty once the job is done. But that’s really all I can afford, Detectives.”
Jun nodded, standing and reaching out to shake their newest client’s hand for the second time. “Get home safely, Mr. Aiba. Go about your usual business, but try not to put yourself anywhere isolated just in case this guy tries something. Detective Ohno and I will investigate over the course of the next couple days and see what we turn up.”
“Thank you.” Aiba smiled with clear relief and picked up his vibrant red umbrella. “Oh, and I’ll give you my card.” He pulled one out of his wallet and passed it over. “My phone number’s on there if you need to reach me.”
Jun pocketed the card. “We’ll be in touch.”
Satoshi walked ahead and opened the door to the small waiting area. The secretary had already gone home for the evening. “Have a nice night, Mr. Aiba.” He bid, seeing him off and then proceeding to flick off lights and check the locks.
Jun stood at the window and watched the receding back of a figure huddled beneath a red umbrella as if to shield himself from both the rain and the dark shadows of the night.
---
Masaki Aiba spent most of the next two days keeping busy. Maybe his behavior stemmed from a fear of being in one place for too long, which was reasonable when he had -not one, but- three people tailing him almost everywhere he went. In the morning he got up, hair still tousled from sleep, and made his way East to Bryant Park for a short jog, and then he spent around an hour in the public library, pouring over books and articles that pertained to either dogs or psychic abilities. His routine was then to pick up a coffee from a nearby café, wander around Times Square and past some of the theaters both off and on Broadway to see what shows were playing, grab lunch at a ratty pub near his apartment building, and then buy groceries from a shop a block over. He’d take them home, and then disappear within his house for a few hours. On the first night he went out for another walk in the evening, along with some friends and their dogs, and on the second night he met some of the same friends and went to see a musical. On both nights he returned to his apartment after dark and didn’t reappear until morning. The lights behind his closed curtains were shut off at about eleven on both occasions.
On both of these days, Matsumoto and Ohno spent as much time following him around as they could, whether together or in shifts, and by the second night they could safely determine that Masaki Aiba was being followed by a stranger.
Actually, they had caught on to him before the first day was out, but he’d noticed the two detectives on his tail and disappeared. The second day they’d lied lower, and the mysterious man had reappeared in the shadows of Aiba’s footsteps, and not shown any signs of suspicion with regards to his own pursuers.
--
At the corner of West 44th Street and Eighth Avenue.
The air was clear and cool, and the shadows were long. Lounging on the street corner, just out of sight, Jun and Satoshi kept an eye on the automobile parked across from number 328. It was impossible to tell what the figure seated inside was doing, but they hadn’t seen him leave the vehicle, or at least he hadn’t dared try and cross the street beneath the light cast by a streetlamp.
“What’s the plan?” Satoshi drawled, impatient with sticking to the shadows. He shifted his weight from foot to foot and scuffed his shoes on the sidewalk. “I don’t think he’s going anywhere. He just sits there. All night.” He shook his head derisively. “Can we just walk up and demand to know what he’s up to?”
Jun frowned at the rough idea, but then nodded. “Fine. You ask him.”
“You’re not coming?” Satoshi’s brow furrowed.
Jun nudged his partner towards the street. “I’ll cover you.”
Jun clung to the deepest shadows that fell at the base of the buildings while his partner approached the parked car with a purposefully confident swagger in his step. Satoshi noticed that the vehicle was empty upon reaching it; a minute after Jun had already realized the same. Jun watched Satoshi tense and reach towards the revolver in his belt, but not before a figure stepped out of the shadows on the other side of the same stairwell Jun was crouched behind.
“Don’t move.” The noise of a revolver’s hammer being cocked sounded loud in the quiet night. Ohno obeyed the order and put his hands up warily, listening to slow footsteps approaching him from behind. The man’s features were hidden by the shadows cast by his black fedora, but he was unmistakably the man they’d been following all day. “Who are you, and what do you want?”
“That depends on what you want with Masaki Aiba.” Jun spoke up, standing from his hiding spot with his .38 Special cartridge, S&W Victory model cocked and raised. “What are you after?”
Satoshi turned around, arms still raised, to face the man behind him. Jun caught a flash of wide eyes as the man glanced between them warily, shoulders tense. “… You won’t get away with this…”
“With what?” Jun quirked an eyebrow.
“With… whatever you’re planning to do to me.”
“Why? Are you working for someone?”
The mystery man’s Adam’s apple bobbed nervously. “…This is a residential neighborhood. If you shoot me, someone will hear and call the police.”
Jun snorted. “That’s true, and we wouldn’t want any residents peeking out of their windows and being frightened by our standoff either. Put away your gun.”
The man’s hand tightened on his revolver’s handle. He didn’t lower it. “I won’t go out without a fight.”
“You’re not going anywhere.” Jun affirmed. “We want to talk to you, but I’d rather not cause a scene. If someone sees us and calls the police, you’re going to have a lot of explaining to do.”
Satoshi nodded. “Save yourself the trip and explain to us.”
The man was silent for a moment. He looked between the two of them, eyes narrowed. “I’m going to have trouble with the police?” He paused again. “…Who are you two?”
“Why are you following Mr. Aiba?”
The man tensed angrily. “To protect him from people like you.”
“Like us?” Satoshi frowned.
“That should be our line.” Jun drawled. “Why? Why’s he so special to you?”
“He isn’t. I don’t know the man. I was just hired to keep an eye on him, so he doesn’t get himself killed.”
“Killed? Someone’s trying to kill him?”
The man shrugged. “I don’t know. The guy who hired me was concerned that something bad might befall him, but he didn’t say whether or not it’d be murder or just an accident.” He sighed. “This Aiba seems like a bit of an airhead, I spend half my time afraid he’s going to trip down a flight of stairs or leave his stove on at night.”
“Who are you?” Jun pressed.
The man shook his head irritably. “That’s my line. I’m trying to protect someone, and you guys start following him around and pulling guns on me in the middle of the night. I’m the one who should be suspicious of you.”
Jun rolled his eyes and pulled his license out of his pocket. “Private detective Jun Matsumoto. Mr. Aiba hired us to investigate the creepy guy that’s been following him around all week.”
“I’m Jun’s partner, Satoshi Ohno.” Satoshi smiled. “I’d show you my license too, but it’s in the inside pocket of my coat, and I don’t want to get shot.”
The man examined Jun’s license with a shrewd gaze before relaxing and lowering his firearm. “I won’t shoot.” He said, tucking it back in the holster at his belt. Satoshi let his arms fall and chuckled with relief.
“Good to hear.” Jun lowered his as well, but he kept it in hand. “Mind telling us who you are, stranger?”
The man tipped his hat back on his head, revealing defined features and soft eyes. He looked overworked, but hardly criminal. “My name is Toma Ikuta. I work on contract as a Certified Security Agent.” He too reached into his coat and presented the detectives with a license.
“And you’re protecting Mr. Aiba’s well-being without his knowledge?”
Toma nodded. “My employer requested I be secretive, but I guess Mr. Aiba’s got more of a clue than I would have guessed.”
Satoshi smirked. “Any idea why this employer of yours didn’t want Aiba to know he was worried about him?”
“Said he didn’t want Mr. Aiba to be unnecessarily frightened.”
“Well,” Jun scoffed. “That didn’t go as planned.”
“Evidently not.” Toma grumbled.
“Who is this mysterious employer?” Satoshi questioned with a frown. “What’s his connection to Masaki Aiba?”
Toma frowned. “I can’t reveal that. It’s confidential.”
Jun sighed. “Come on, give us a break here.”
“He didn’t want Aiba to know I was following him. He definitely doesn’t want Aiba to know who hired me to do so.”
“Then we won’t tell Aiba.” Satoshi stated bluntly. “We do need to get to the bottom of this. Our pay for this investigation is on the line if we don’t.”
Toma’s frown deepened. “And my pay for this job is on the line if I give you my employer’s name so you can interrogate him.”
Jun clicked his tongue. “You failed to tail Aiba unnoticed. I think your pay is already on the line. If your employer is at all closely connected to Aiba, he’s bound to hear that he knows he’s being followed. Just give us a name.”
Toma scowled for a long moment before grumbling an answer. “Sho Sakurai.”
Ohno scrunched his face up thoughtfully. “…Name’s familiar.”
“What’s the connection to Mr. Aiba?”
“He’s some up-and-coming big shot. Owns a production company in Chelsea.” He sighed. “Masaki Aiba has a part in the latest picture he’s throwing together.”
“Strange…” Ohno took his hat off and ran his fingers through the choppy hair on his head. “Does he keep such a close eye on all of his actors?”
Toma shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I’m only concerned with protecting the person I was told to. He didn’t mention anyone else.”
Jun considered this for a long minute while the security agent shifted impatiently.
“If that’s all, detectives… I don’t know what other information I can give you.”
Jun nodded curtly. “We’ll let you get back to work. Thank you for cooperating.” He shook Toma’s hand and turned back down the street.
Ohno smiled crookedly. “And for not shooting me.” He tipped his hat and hurried after his partner’s brisk steps.
Jun’s black 1937 Plymouth DeLuxe was parked around the corner, paint gleaming dully under the light of a flickering streetlamp. “I’ll drive you home.” Jun said, getting into the driver’s seat.
Satoshi got in once the passenger door was unlocked. “So,” He said as Jun turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life with a deep rumble, “what’s the plan now?”
Jun pulled away from the curb with ease. There weren’t many other cars on the road at that hour, and the streets seemed almost eerily quiet compared the clogged lanes normal seen in the daytime. “Tomorrow, we find the address of that production company. I’m keen on talking to Mr. Sakurai as soon as possible.”
Satoshi’s lips quirked and he turned to the window. “Yes, sir.” He said, watching the golden glow of streetlamps pass them by. “So am I.”
--
537 West 20th Street, on the third floor of the ‘Landscape I’m Seeing’ Productions Studio.
At the top of the stairs on the uppermost level of the building, there was a small reception area. A couple of chairs and a potted plant were set alongside the railing, and there were four, closed, wooden doors set into the whitewashed walls. Three led to offices, and the fourth to a washroom. A cluttered desk sat in the middle of the reception room, and the receptionist’s chair behind it was empty.
The two detectives stood around in the middle of the empty room for a few minutes. No office doors opened, and no receptionist appeared.
“…Now what?” Satoshi asked, fingering a leaf on the plant and listening to Jun tap his foot impatiently. “Maybe we should have called before showing up unannounced. They could be shooting on location today, or something.”
Jun made an annoyed noise and uncrossed his arms. “Or Mr. Sakurai is very unorganized, and needs to hire better help.” He strode purposely towards the door set in the far wall. The name plaque on its wooden surface read Sho Sakurai’s name in bold text. “Come on, I’m not leaving until we’re sure he’s not here.”
“Jun, you probably shouldn’t just-“
Jun knocked sharply on the door and promptly tried the knob. It turned, and he swung the door open. “Mr. Sakurai, I-“ He stopped dead, eyebrows rising as the two people in the room sprang apart in alarm -one shoving the other aside and nearly throwing himself off of the desk he’d been sitting on. Satoshi tiptoed to peer curiously over Jun’s shoulder, and quickly mirrored his expression. “…I’m sorry to intrude so suddenly.” Jun finished. “I’m Private Detective Matsumoto, and this is Private Detective Ohno. We’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“I…” The man standing behind the desk started, frowning and red-faced. His tie hung loose around his neck, and he tightened it self-consciously. There was a gold band on the ring finger of his left hand. “My receptionist-?“
“Isn’t here, Mr. Sakurai.” Jun answered, sure that the clean-cut man could be none other than the company’s owner. Jun wasn’t corrected.
“She’s still on her lunch break, Mr. Sakurai, Sir.” Said the shorter man standing to Sakurai’s right, the one who’d previously been seated. His hair was a mess, lips slightly swollen, and shirt partially un-tucked from his trousers. As the detectives’ gazes moved to him, he flushed with embarrassment and began gathering a stack of loose papers in his arms.
“Oh, this is Kazunari Ninomiya. My personal assistant.” Sakurai introduced awkwardly and scratched at the back of his neck.
“’Assistant’, huh.” Jun echoed, barely hiding a smirk.
Ninomiya nearly dropped his papers, and the redness of his cheeks and ears intensified. “I’ll, um… get in touch with the wardrobe people…” He bowed his head and hustled out, looking completely mortified.
An awkward pause occurred before Sakurai cleared his throat. “Um, please Detectives. Sit.” He gestured to the chairs in front of the desk and sat in his own across from them.
Satoshi caught Jun’s sleeve as he made for the chair. “If you’re okay on your own, I’ll talk to the assistant.”
Jun nodded, and Sakurai watched Satoshi go before fixing Jun with an uncertain smile. “…What can I help you with, Detective Matsumoto?”
“What can you tell me about your new movie -particularly about the celebrities starring in it?”
Sakurai raised an eyebrow. “Are you Private Eyes investigating on the behalf of tabloids now? They’re getting you to do their dirty work?”
“Everyone gets me to do their dirty work -that’s how this business is-, but no, I’m not here for gossip.”
“Then what are you here for? I’ll tell you about the film’s plot, characters, concepts… Anything but spoil the ending. What do you want to hear?”
“You’re a producer, correct?”
“And a director, for this film.”
“How well do you treat your actors?”
Sakurai paused, and a slight crease formed between his brows. “…Has there been a complaint, Detective?”
“Not exactly, I’m just intrigued.” He crossed his legs and pouted thoughtfully. “Tell me, Mr. Sakurai. What is Masaki Aiba to you?”
Sakurai frowned. “I don’t know what you mean by that… He’s an actor in this production.”
“He’s relatively inexperienced though, isn’t he? And you’re giving him a pretty big role. Supporting male lead, right?”
“He’s a newcomer, but he has potential. Is it wrong to try and give someone with talent a break in this industry?”
“No, of course not. I’ve met him, so I know where you’re coming from. He’s tall, but he’s cute.” Jun smirked and jerked a thumb towards the door Satoshi and the assistant had passed through minutes earlier. “You have a thing for cute men, right?”
Sakurai’s expression turned quietly murderous. “If you’re going to make ridiculous accusations-“
“I’m not accusing, I’m just inquiring.”
The producer’s nostrils flared. “Insinuations, then. I won’t stand for it.”
“If I’m wrong,” Jun continued calmly, “then why give Aiba special treatment?”
“I told you already, Detective. He has talent as an actor and potential to go places in this industry. I am not giving him ‘special treatment’.”
“You deny treating him differently from the other actors in this production?”
“I do.” Sakurai fumed.
“Then is it only the leading roles in your films that you secretly assign security to? Or do you splurge and hire bodyguards to follow every single one of your cast members?” Jun blinked innocently, observing the fire draining from Sakurai’s features. “I’m curious, really. You must be a very generous man. That can’t be a cheap expense.”
“… How did you hear about this?” He asked quietly, voice and expression cold. “Ikuta?”
“Oh, no.” Jun shook his head. “Aiba, actually. He was concerned that he was being followed, and asked us to investigate. A bit of snooping around your boy Ikuta and we traced him back to you. Aiba doesn’t know about what we found yet, though. I wanted to hear the whole story.”
“Meaning…?”
“Is it just Aiba?”
Sakurai shook his head. “All four of my leads.”
“You’re that paranoid that they’ll come to harm? This must be costing you a fair bit.”
“Yes, but if something bad did happen, I’d be out a lot more money. Finding replacement actors for large roles is a huge setback, especially on short notice.”
“A small expense to avoid a bigger one… So it all comes down to money, then?”
Sakurai smirked. “That’s the nature of my business, Detective.”
“Mine isn’t that different, actually.” Jun pointed out. “So I trust you’ll understand if I tell Mr. Aiba about your paranoia? I have to close the case to get my pay, after all.”
“Of course.” Sakurai said thinly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have scenes to shoot this afternoon if I’m going to stay on schedule.”
Jun stood and let Sakurai escort him from the office. In the reception room, Ninomiya and Satoshi were deep in a serious conversation. The assistant leaned back against the side of the receptionist’s desk, and Satoshi was leaning forward with his palms resting on the desk surface. The detective said something, smiled lazily, and Ninomiya grinned back along with something that resembled a giggle.
“Nino.” Sakurai said sharply, and his assistant nearly jumped out of his skin before whipping around with wide eyes.
“S-Sir! You’re done your meeting-?”
“Did you make that phone call?” He snapped, clearly still edgy from his discussion.
“No, sorry. I was talking to Detective-“
“Just hurry.” The producer heaved an irritated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’ll be late for the 2:30 shoot.”
“Right, I’ll do that right away Mr. Sakurai.” Ninomiya rushed into the smallest office connected to the reception room.
“Satoshi, we should let them work.” Jun spoke up, walking towards the stairs. On the way down, he recounted his conversation with the producer.
Satoshi followed close on his heels, listening silently until they reached the light of the street outside. “… So do you think that’s it, or is there more he wasn’t saying?”
Jun turned to him, squinting into the bright light of the outdoors after the dim lighting in the stairwell. “Definitely. He got far too defensive when I said I knew Aiba was being followed. The switch was too sudden.” He nodded confidently, squinting up at the windows of the third floor. “There’s something he’s hiding, and I want to know what.”
Satoshi hummed agreeably, beginning to stroll down the sidewalk. “Ninomiya seems like he’s got a secret too.”
“That he’s probably sleeping with his boss?” Jun questioned with a smirk. “Not really a secret anymore…”
Satoshi made an amused noise. “Maybe, but he could also know what’s really going on. He didn’t want to talk about Sakurai at all. Kept changing the subject.” He shrugged thoughtfully. “I gave him my card, in case he had information to give us later on.”
“Good idea. I would have done the same with Sakurai, except he’s probably hoping he never has to deal with us again.”
Ohno chuckled. “Well, I can’t wait to disappoint him.”
--
Washington Square Park, at the North entrance.
As they passed through the Washington Arch, it was obvious that their tip about the day’s filming location had been correct. Crew members were everywhere, setting up equipment or getting extras ready.
“Detectives!” Aiba exclaimed, catching sight of them as they approached. His wide smile was as disarmingly charming as usual, even if his shirt was tattered and his suspenders were barely holding up his dirt and paint smudged trousers. Three shaggy dogs swarmed around him, jumping and licking, tails wagging furiously. “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”
Jun smiled. Two days ago, the evening after they’d barged in on Sho Sakurai, he’d paid Aiba a visit and told him the apparent truth behind his follower. The actor had been overjoyed that his boss cared so much about his participation in the film. He hadn’t been even the least bit concerned about the basis for the paranoia. Since the revelation, however, Aiba had insisted that Toma no longer be sneaky about his surveillance. Even there on the set, the security agent was standing a couple yards away, near the fountain.
“It’s good to see you again, Mr. Aiba.”
“Did you just come to visit?” Aiba laughed, trying to keep the dogs from leaping all over the two detectives. “If you want to watch the filming, they’re letting observers stand over there.” He pointed to the left. “Out of the camera’s shot.”
“Thanks.” Satoshi spoke up, reaching out to scratch behind one of the canines’ ears. “…The dogs are part of the film?”
Aiba nodded. “My character, Tommy, is a really quiet artist. In the script he’s pale and sickly looking. But I guess they didn’t mind my suntan after all.” He chuckled. “I was surprised when they told me what character I was because I don’t really look like the character description at all, but I like dogs! Tommy can understand and communicate with dogs. Telepathically.”
Satoshi raised an eyebrow. “…Seriously?”
Aiba laughed. “Yeah. I end up getting caught up in an undercover police investigation to do with a gang. I get kidnapped later on!” He announced excitedly.
“Good for you.” Satoshi chuckled. “Sounds interesting.”
“Is Mr. Sakurai around?” Jun questioned, running his eyes through the crowd.
“He should be…” Aiba frowned, also glancing around the area. “I saw Nino earlier, he was running around trying to sort out some miscommunication with the camera crew.” He shrugged. “I don’t know where he went, but if he’s here then Mr. Sakurai is probably nearby.”
“They’re always together, huh?” Satoshi mused. “Do you think it’s weird that they’re so close?”
“Close?...” Aiba considered this. “He’s Sakurai’s assistant, but I heard he’s been working for him for years. Someone said they met when Nino was an actor in one of Sakurai’s first pictures. Maybe they’re friends too?”
“Maybe.” Jun conceded. “Have you heard anything else of interest about either of them?”
“Um… for example?”
“Any accidents that happened during productions in the past?”
Aiba frowned, deep in thought, and Satoshi shot his partner a curious look. “…No, sorry. I didn’t hear about anything like that. I’m new though, so you’d be better off asking anyone else. Even the other people working on a ‘Landscape’ film for the first time have been here longer than I have.”
“Oh, right.” Satoshi said thoughtfully. “You said you were cast weeks after everyone else was.”
Jun’s brow furrowed as he recalled their first meeting with the actor. “Hold on… You said it was because something held production up, correct?”
Aiba nodded, looking confused. “Yes. That’s what I was told.”
“Were you told why?”
He shook his head. “No, why?” He frowned, looking anxiously between the two detectives. “Should I be concerned?”
“We need to talk to Sakurai.” Jun growled, nudging his partner towards the crowd of bustling crewmembers. “Good luck with the shoot today, Mr. Aiba. Excuse us.”
They found the producer on the other side of the fountain, conversing with some crewmembers about the angle of the lighting equipment.
“Sir, the extras are in position and ready to start.” Ninomiya called, slipping out of the crowd and falling into place beside his boss.
“Good.” Sakurai replied distractedly. “Get Masaki and Takuya over here. We’re behind schedule.”
“Yes, Sir.” Ninomiya spun around and then stopped abruptly in surprise. “…Detectives?”
Sakurai turned around too and scowled. “What are you doing here?”
“Mr. Sakurai, I’d like to talk to you for a moment. I hope you’ll be cooperative.”
“I don’t have time for this right now, Detective. You’re going to hold up production.”
“And that would be such a terrible waste of expenses, am I right?” Jun mused.
“And daylight.” Sakurai growled. “Excuse me, but bystanders need to go behind the barricade over there.”
“Sure, I hear you’ve already encountered a setback in this production. I wouldn’t want to further inconvenience you.”
“…How considerate of you, Detective.” Sakurai gestured for them to move aside, smiling wryly.
“One question,” Jun continued, strolling leisurely out of the way at the producer’s direction. “Who was the original Tommy?”
Sakurai froze. “…I beg your pardon?”
“Masaki Aiba may have acting potential, but he wasn’t your first pick for the role, was he?” Jun stated, going out on a limb. Many of the crew and cast members around them looked uncomfortable, Ninomiya had gone pale, and Sakurai’s features might have well been turned to stone. “Who was supposed to be Tommy, and what happened to him?”
“… Ryo was his first name.” Spoke one of the cameramen when everyone else was silent. Sakurai’s gaze flickered to him from the corner of his eye, but he didn’t move or say anything to stop the man. “He died just a few days after we gave him the role. Poor fellow.”
Jun frowned. “How?”
“It was a mugging, I heard. He left the studio late one night and got jumped while he was walking home.”
“Ryo who?” Jun demanded. “What was his surname?”
The cameraman frowned and then shrugged. “I can’t remember… I only worked with him one day, for a couple hours.”
“Nishikido.” Sakurai spoke up icily. “He was a good kid. Could have been a star someday. Now, if you’re done prying into upsetting business, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” There was a clear warning in his tone.
Jun didn’t move, and it took Satoshi’s firm grip on his arm to snap him out of the staring match with the producer. “Come on, Jun. I think we got what we came for.”
After a brief, tense, hesitation, Jun allowed Satoshi to lead him out of the park. “Why didn’t he mention this before?” He grumbled under his breath as they walked briskly up 5th Avenue. “He didn’t want us to know, that’s why. The question is what his reason is for hiding it… We’re going to have to investigate-“
“Jun.” Satoshi interrupted gently, fixing him with a curious expression. “What’s gotten into you? Mr. Aiba isn’t paying us to investigate anymore. You know you’ve never worked a case that had nothing in it for you.”
Jun cracked a smirk and cocked his head. “… Well, we already snooped around, it’d look bad if there turns out to be something bigger beneath the surface that we just skimmed over and let lie. Also, Sho Sakurai is infuriating.”
“So, what you’re getting out of this is the satisfaction of your own curiosity, and a better reputation in the Private Eye business?”
“Pretty much.”
Satoshi considered this and then shrugged. “Sounds okay to me.”
“Good. Now, I figure we’ve got to investigate the circumstances of Ryo Nishikido’s death if we want to get anywhere with this.”
“You’re saying you don’t think he was mugged?”
“I think it’s suspicious.” Jun clarified.
“So we might have another surprise murder mystery on our hands.” Satoshi mused, sounding vaguely bewildered. “We stumble into these often lately…”
--
306 West 54th Street, at the NYPD’s 18th Precinct.
“You know, I’m doing you a favor by getting you access to these files.” Sergeant Oguri reminded him, slapping a folder down onto the table in front of Jun. The boardroom was otherwise empty. The door was shut and the blinds were drawn, but the low murmur of New York’s finest still at work could be heard through the walls.
“Thanks, Shun.” Jun said genuinely. “I know you are.” He opened the folder and squinted at the short report typed onto the first sheet of paper.
“There’s not much on this case, though. Looks like just another mugging with a bad ending.” Oguri perched on the edge of the table, watching the private detective study the paperwork. “His body was found in an alley beside an empty warehouse. It was about two blocks from the studio he was working at. He was on his way home, probably.”
“…People saw him leave by himself?”
The sergeant nodded. “Two colleagues both said he left at a little after ten.”
“Just two?”
“They were the only other people there. Everyone else had gone home earlier.”
Jun frowned and flipped the page. “Who were these colleagues?”
Oguri turned the next page and jabbed a finger at the text. “Names are there, along with their accounts.”
The bold lettered names stood out on the page. Sho Sakurai and Kazunari Ninomiya.
[ That evening I was going over the filming schedule with Kazunari, in my office. Nishikido knocked at a few minutes past ten, stuck his head in, and said he was going to call it a night. I reminded him to come in for noon the next day, and he probably left right after that. I didn’t hear what happened to him until the following afternoon. ]
Sakurai was described in the report as being solemn but composed as he gave his account. Whereas Ninomiya, who had roughly the same story to tell, had been clearly shaken by the news and interrogation.
“There was nothing suspicious about either of them.” Oguri pointed out, watching Jun re-read the page. “Their stories matched up, and other people who had been in the building and left earlier also said that the two of them had been working on something in Sakurai’s office. Nishikido had stayed behind to continue working on his lines when everyone else left.”
Jun put the accounts aside and was faced with a collection of photographs of the body and alley where it was found. Nishikido was dark haired, pale skinned, and dotted with moles. His eyes were left open, his lip was split and bloody, and his skin was covered in abrasions and dark bruises. There was a matted, bloody, patch in the hair on the back of his head, and on the column of his throat were the purpling bruises clearly left by two hands. In another photo, his wallet was shown discarded a couple yards away. There was no cash left in it.
“… This was brutal.”
Oguri nodded gravely. “The doctor that looked at the body said he had a cracked rib, a fracture in his skull, and internal bleeding from the beating he must have taken. Cause of death was strangulation though.” He pointed out. “Looks like the attacker tried to knock him out with a hit to the head first, but the kid still fought back. There was dried blood under his nails, but we couldn’t get any clear fingerprints off of him.”
Jun considered this. “So the police have no leads, in other words.”
“People get mugged in this city. It’s a fairly random act of violence, and if the victim doesn’t survive it’s hard to track the criminal down.” Oguri reasoned, though he didn’t look pleased. “Nishikido was alone late at night, in a dark and pretty deserted area, and he was dressed well. He would have been an obvious target.”
“I’m guessing you don’t have the body?”
The sergeant stood and shook his head. “We released it to his family once the medical examiner was done.” There was a knock on the door. “Come in.” Oguri called.
“Sergeant,” Said the uniformed officer upon opening the door. “Got a woman here with a necklace she bought Monday. Looks like the jewelry that was stolen last week.”
Oguri perked up. “Get her a seat at my desk, and a coffee if she’d like one. I’ll be there in a minute.”
The officer nodded and left.
“I’ll get going.” Jun announced, quickly running his eyes over the photographs again to try and commit them to memory. “Thanks for your help.”
Oguri frowned as Jun got to his feet. “…What exactly am I helping you with, Jun? It’s unlike you to come to me with any of your investigations.”
Jun shrugged. “You said I should keep you in the loop if I’m dealing with a murder.”
“You’re trying to catch the mugger? Good luck, but there were no leads…”
Jun nodded, and set his hat on his head. “I’m trying to catch Nishikido’s killer.”
“… You say it like there’s a difference. You’re telling me it wasn’t a mugging?” The sergeant demanded, scowling, and Jun smirked and walked to the door.
“Didn’t say that, necessarily.” Jun corrected, stepping out into the bustle of the precinct.
“If you suspect anything you had better let me know now, Detective.” Oguri warned, watching the man weave across the room. Jun just raised his arm and waved, not even bothering to turn around. “Matsumoto!” Oguri barked in frustration, but the detective was already turning out of sight.
Jun’s brow was creased deeply as he strode down the sidewalk of West 54th. He ran through the images still fresh in his mind, and his fingers clenched tight around the keys in his pocket at the gruesome state the young actor’s body had been left in. It wasn’t until he was sitting in his car, the doors locked and his hand hesitating to turn the key in the ignition, that he came to a grim conclusion.
Ryo Nishikido’s death had been too vicious to be done by an average mugger. In fact, Jun doubted he’d been killed for the cash in his wallet at all. Whatever had prompted his murder had clearly been something personal.
Ryo Nishikido had known his killer.
--
516 West 47th Street, at the office of Private Detectives Matsumoto and Ohno.
“Thank you, detective.” Said the woman tearfully, wrinkling the envelope containing the photo evidence of her husband and his mistress. “I still can’t believe-…”
“Here.” Satoshi offered her a handkerchief and a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry.”
She shook her head, dabbing at her eyes with the white cloth. “No, it’s better that I know the truth.” She took a deep breath, composing herself before getting to her feet. “Thank you.”
Satoshi nodded, standing and seeing her to the office door. “Good night, Ma’am.” Once she’d left the waiting area behind, he sighed and turned his gaze to the clock. It was already half past ten. He sighed again, heavily.
“Long day, Mr. Ohno?” Spoke up their secretary, and she looked just as worn out as he felt.
“I think we can call it a night.” He answered, bothered that he’d had to hang behind and close up an adultery case while Jun went to get what information he could about Nishikido from the police. “I doubt Jun’s coming back here tonight.”
Satoshi went back into the office while she gathered her coat and purse, putting on his own outer garments and tidying up the jumbled clutter on his desk. She was gone by the time he stepped out into the hallway and locked the door behind him. The hall and stairwell were poorly lit. The bulbs were dim and the corners were full of shadows. The stairs creaked and groaned as he descended, hurrying down to the ground floor and out through the doors to the street. He was met with a rush of fresh air, and a figure sitting on the curb. The man was hunched terribly, holding a cigarette that was almost burned to the filter in one hand, while the other repeatedly raised his watch towards his eyes.
Satoshi spared the man a brief glance and turned to the left. His apartment was only a couple blocks from the office, and he didn’t own an automobile, but the weather was nice and he wouldn’t mind the walk.
“Oh!” Came an exclamation from behind him when he’d not taken more than a couple steps. He turned to see that the man and heard his footfalls and gotten up from the curb. “I was waiting for you, Detective.” The man said. The breeze ruffled his short dark hair around his head, and Satoshi squinted to recognize the curve of his lips and the moles dotting his pale skin.
“…Mr. Ninomiya?” Satoshi frowned, taking a step closer to the man.
“I’m sorry.” He said, dropping his cigarette and toeing it out beneath a scuffed shoe. “I know this is completely out of the blue…”
“What are you doing out here?” Satoshi questioned, not missing Ninomiya’s tense posture. “You could have come in.”
“I was hoping to catch you alone…” He wrung his hands. “Your partner didn’t seem as friendly as you.”
The detective’s frown deepened, not sure what friendliness had to do with anything.
“…I’m sorry.” Ninomiya apologized, noticing Satoshi’s confusion. He took a step closer. “You gave me your card so I could contact you. I don’t know if I have any useful information… but I thought maybe you could help me.”
“With what?” Satoshi asked, trying not to be unnerved by the other man’s closeness. They were almost the same height, and less than a foot apart from each other.
Ninomiya bit his lip; his eyes were dark and piercing. “…I’m afraid.” He said softly, his voice almost no more than a drawn-out breath, and Satoshi could smell the cigarette he’d been smoking mingling with the musky scent of his aftershave. Ninomiya ran his tongue over the lip he’d just abused with his teeth, lowered his head and looked up through his eyelashes. “I’ll answer whatever questions I know the answers to, but I need a place to spend the night.” His eyes darted around nervously, and he picked at his gnawed fingernails. “Please, Detective.” He pleaded, shivering visibly when the breeze blew again.
Satoshi looked around too, prepared to see psychotic killers closing in on them from all directions, but there were no suspicious characters visible. Across the street a couple walked arm in arm, in the lit windows of apartments families could be seen going through the motions of their nightly routines, an automobile puttered by and lit up Ninomiya’s face in the headlights. He looked ghostly under the brief, harsh, lighting. “… First tell me who, or what, you’re hiding from.” The detective demanded, unnerved by the situation despite their seemingly harmless surroundings. He felt too exposed out in the street, and longed for the safety of locked doors, closed curtains, and four relatively sturdy walls.
Ninomiya swallowed slowly, the breeze tossed his hair, and the faintest flush appeared in his cheeks. His gaze was penetrating, odd shadows lurked beneath his brow bone, in the hollows of his cheeks and beneath his thin, pursed, lips, but Satoshi couldn’t read his expression. Ninomiya waited for the moment of dead silence after the wind had passed them by before he answered the question. “... My boss.”
Satoshi shivered.
Part 2
Delivered by: albinococonut23
Title: The Eyes of 47th Street
Groups/Pairings: Arashi (with Sakumiya, Ohmiya, maybe Junba? -but pairings aren't the focus) +Yoko +OguriShun +Toma +Ryo
Rating: PG13 - R
Warnings:Character Death, violence, references to sexual acts and pornography, smoking a lot, abuse of google maps.
Summary: Private Detective Jun Matsumoto watches a red umbrella make its way through the night to his office. The seemingly simple case ends up being far more tangled than he or his partner could possibly have predicted.
Notes:This is a monster. It spiralled into something waaay bigger than it should have, and the end might be a little crappy. But I hope not. Oh, and everybody's names go first name followed by last, because I'm sticking them in America~
Thanks to my beta! (you know who you are, dearie.)
1941. Manhattan, New York
516 West 47th Street, at the third floor office of Private Detectives Matsumoto and Ohno.
It was raining; drenching the city with a haze of small droplets that lit up in the headlights of passing automobiles and shimmered in puddles on the pavement. It was getting late, and the few people still about were hurrying down the sidewalks with their umbrellas, rushing to be home and out of the weather. Private Detective Jun Matsumoto stared lazily past the rivulets of rainwater and the lettering on his office window, catching sight of and following the progress of a single, blood red, umbrella amongst the uniform black ones.
“Look, Matsumoto.” The police sergeant sighed in exasperation with the detective’s obvious inattentiveness. “If you suspected Yokoyama was responsible for his wife’s disappearance, and if you knew where to look for her body, you should have contacted us first instead of going in on your own.”
“Come now, Oguri.” Jun drawled, crossing his legs and leaning back in his desk chair with a grin. “It all worked out in the end, didn’t it?”
“Mrs. Yokoyama’s sister hired you to investigate her whereabouts-“
“-Which I did.”
“-, not apprehend her murderer. That’s not your job. The NYPD should have been called in to arrest him if you had a lead.”
Jun rolled his eyes. “Shun. I did call you.”
“Yes. After the criminal had already been incapacitated.” The policeman frowned, and Jun shrugged. “You can’t do whatever you want just to try and gain some sort of fame or notoriety.”
Jun clicked his tongue. “You think so highly of me.” He shook his head. “And what makes you so sure I didn’t do it in the name of justice, simply for the sake of putting a criminal behind bars?”
“I know you, Jun.” Oguri sighed. “You don’t risk your neck if there’s nothing in it for you.” His frown softened and his shoulders sagged. “Look, just keep us in the loop. Because I know you so well, I don’t want you getting into any trouble you can’t squirm your way out of.” He put his cap back onto his head and turned for the door.
“Don’t worry,” Jun grinned at his back. “I won’t.”
Oguri grunted disbelievingly and opened the door, pausing to nod curtly at the man standing on the other side. “Evening, Satoshi.”
“Evening, Sergeant.” Jun’s partner echoed, slipping into the room once the police sergeant had passed. He smiled crookedly, letting a cigarette dangle from his lips as he slouched against the wall and regarded Jun from beneath the brim of his fedora. “He gave you a good scolding?”
Jun chuckled. “A warning. They’re sore about being left out.”
“And no ‘thank you’ for any of our work?”
“Course not.” Jun stretched and sighed. “It’s late, you want to call it a night?”
“There’s someone here to see us, I believe. A flashy fellow.”
Jun raised his eyebrows. “Well, send him in.”
Satoshi nodded and poked his head back out the open office door. “Come on in, Mr. Aiba.”
“Thank you.” Came a warm, breathy, voice, followed by the speaker. He was sharply dressed in a green tweed overcoat, dark slacks, and shined shoes. His hair was brown and wavy; it curled about his ears and hung in his eyes in a wild, roguish manner that could have been attributed to the wind and damp weather, but was probably intentional. “My name’s Masaki Aiba.” He spoke again as he reached Jun’s desk and outstretched a hand to clasp with the detective’s in a firm shake.
“I’m Detective Jun Matsumoto, this is my partner Detective Satoshi Ohno.” Jun greeted as Satoshi shut the door and made his way over. “What brings you to our office?”
“I heard you two were some of the best on the West Side. Word on the street is that you solved a murder recently, didn’t you?”
Ohno chuckled, and Jun gestured for the man to take a seat across from him. “What can we help you with? If it’s a murder, you’re better off talking to the police.”
“No, no. Not a murder.” Aiba sat on the edge of the chair, appearing tense despite the bright smile on his face. He hooked the handle of his umbrella on the arm of the chair, and Jun noted that it was bright red. “You see… I’ve noticed that I’m being followed lately. Everywhere I go.” He fiddled with the damp sleeve of his coat. “I was hoping you could help me.”
“Were you followed here?” Satoshi asked, crossing to the window.
“No, I think I lost him on the way.”
“So you know it’s a man.” Jun crossed his arms, regarding the young man’s handsome features and the fear in his doe-like eyes. “Have you seen his face?”
Aiba shook his head. “I’ve only seen him from a distance. He’s got dark hair. Usually wears a dark coat, and a hat… I guess that’s not really helpful. I live in the Garment District, 328 West 44th street, between Eighth and Ninth Avenue. If you watch me going to and from my apartment at all, you’ll see him for certain.”
Jun hummed thoughtfully. Aiba’s clothes were stylish and colorful, to the point of being almost flamboyant, but his cuffs were a little worn with wear. “What do you do for a living?”
“I-… Well, I’m an actor.”
“An actor?” Satoshi frowned and came back to perch on the edge of Jun’s desk. “Have you been in any recent pictures?”
“No, at least not in anything that wasn’t a very minor role. I’ve done a bit of Off-Broadway theater, but not as a lead.”
“That’s too bad.” Satoshi mused.
“My luck’s looking up though. I managed to get a supporting role in a picture. I did the audition almost a month ago, and I thought they’d already cast everyone, but turns out they were held up for some reason. Near three weeks went by, and then out of the blue I got a call.” He beamed. “Filming started last week, and it’s going well.”
Jun sat up straighter. “And you’ve been followed just since you accepted this part?”
“Well… yes.” Aiba frowned. “But like I said, I’m not famous enough to have any obsessed fans chasing me around. Hardly anybody has ever taken notice of me. I was shocked when I got the call-back…”
“You’re telling me you never get noticed?” Jun grinned. “With a pretty-boy face like that?”
Aiba flushed. “Honest. I came to New York from Chicago less than three years ago, so I’m still a newcomer. I haven’t had time to build even a small fan base.”
“That may be so, but I’m not ruling out some kind of connection, Mr. Aiba.”
“…Does that mean you’ll take the case?” Aiba asked hopefully, leaning forward in his chair.
Jun pursed his lips thoughtfully. “How badly do you want our help?”
Aiba paused for a moment, bewildered. “Terribly!” He decided, eyes going a little wider with anxiety. “I’m scared to leave my apartment, and yet afraid to stay in it when he’s watching outside too… You will help me won’t you?”
Satoshi smiled crookedly and pulled the remains of his cigarette from his lips to stub it out in the ashtray on the desk. “He’s asking what price you’re willing to pay us, Mr. Aiba.”
“Oh…” Aiba breathed, and then reached into his coat for his wallet. He frowned at its contents. “I can pay you one hundred. I’m assuming you want it up front?”
“A hundred?” Jun raised an eyebrow.
Aiba glanced between the two detectives before sagging in his seat. “Fine, and another fifty once the job is done. But that’s really all I can afford, Detectives.”
Jun nodded, standing and reaching out to shake their newest client’s hand for the second time. “Get home safely, Mr. Aiba. Go about your usual business, but try not to put yourself anywhere isolated just in case this guy tries something. Detective Ohno and I will investigate over the course of the next couple days and see what we turn up.”
“Thank you.” Aiba smiled with clear relief and picked up his vibrant red umbrella. “Oh, and I’ll give you my card.” He pulled one out of his wallet and passed it over. “My phone number’s on there if you need to reach me.”
Jun pocketed the card. “We’ll be in touch.”
Satoshi walked ahead and opened the door to the small waiting area. The secretary had already gone home for the evening. “Have a nice night, Mr. Aiba.” He bid, seeing him off and then proceeding to flick off lights and check the locks.
Jun stood at the window and watched the receding back of a figure huddled beneath a red umbrella as if to shield himself from both the rain and the dark shadows of the night.
---
Masaki Aiba spent most of the next two days keeping busy. Maybe his behavior stemmed from a fear of being in one place for too long, which was reasonable when he had -not one, but- three people tailing him almost everywhere he went. In the morning he got up, hair still tousled from sleep, and made his way East to Bryant Park for a short jog, and then he spent around an hour in the public library, pouring over books and articles that pertained to either dogs or psychic abilities. His routine was then to pick up a coffee from a nearby café, wander around Times Square and past some of the theaters both off and on Broadway to see what shows were playing, grab lunch at a ratty pub near his apartment building, and then buy groceries from a shop a block over. He’d take them home, and then disappear within his house for a few hours. On the first night he went out for another walk in the evening, along with some friends and their dogs, and on the second night he met some of the same friends and went to see a musical. On both nights he returned to his apartment after dark and didn’t reappear until morning. The lights behind his closed curtains were shut off at about eleven on both occasions.
On both of these days, Matsumoto and Ohno spent as much time following him around as they could, whether together or in shifts, and by the second night they could safely determine that Masaki Aiba was being followed by a stranger.
Actually, they had caught on to him before the first day was out, but he’d noticed the two detectives on his tail and disappeared. The second day they’d lied lower, and the mysterious man had reappeared in the shadows of Aiba’s footsteps, and not shown any signs of suspicion with regards to his own pursuers.
--
At the corner of West 44th Street and Eighth Avenue.
The air was clear and cool, and the shadows were long. Lounging on the street corner, just out of sight, Jun and Satoshi kept an eye on the automobile parked across from number 328. It was impossible to tell what the figure seated inside was doing, but they hadn’t seen him leave the vehicle, or at least he hadn’t dared try and cross the street beneath the light cast by a streetlamp.
“What’s the plan?” Satoshi drawled, impatient with sticking to the shadows. He shifted his weight from foot to foot and scuffed his shoes on the sidewalk. “I don’t think he’s going anywhere. He just sits there. All night.” He shook his head derisively. “Can we just walk up and demand to know what he’s up to?”
Jun frowned at the rough idea, but then nodded. “Fine. You ask him.”
“You’re not coming?” Satoshi’s brow furrowed.
Jun nudged his partner towards the street. “I’ll cover you.”
Jun clung to the deepest shadows that fell at the base of the buildings while his partner approached the parked car with a purposefully confident swagger in his step. Satoshi noticed that the vehicle was empty upon reaching it; a minute after Jun had already realized the same. Jun watched Satoshi tense and reach towards the revolver in his belt, but not before a figure stepped out of the shadows on the other side of the same stairwell Jun was crouched behind.
“Don’t move.” The noise of a revolver’s hammer being cocked sounded loud in the quiet night. Ohno obeyed the order and put his hands up warily, listening to slow footsteps approaching him from behind. The man’s features were hidden by the shadows cast by his black fedora, but he was unmistakably the man they’d been following all day. “Who are you, and what do you want?”
“That depends on what you want with Masaki Aiba.” Jun spoke up, standing from his hiding spot with his .38 Special cartridge, S&W Victory model cocked and raised. “What are you after?”
Satoshi turned around, arms still raised, to face the man behind him. Jun caught a flash of wide eyes as the man glanced between them warily, shoulders tense. “… You won’t get away with this…”
“With what?” Jun quirked an eyebrow.
“With… whatever you’re planning to do to me.”
“Why? Are you working for someone?”
The mystery man’s Adam’s apple bobbed nervously. “…This is a residential neighborhood. If you shoot me, someone will hear and call the police.”
Jun snorted. “That’s true, and we wouldn’t want any residents peeking out of their windows and being frightened by our standoff either. Put away your gun.”
The man’s hand tightened on his revolver’s handle. He didn’t lower it. “I won’t go out without a fight.”
“You’re not going anywhere.” Jun affirmed. “We want to talk to you, but I’d rather not cause a scene. If someone sees us and calls the police, you’re going to have a lot of explaining to do.”
Satoshi nodded. “Save yourself the trip and explain to us.”
The man was silent for a moment. He looked between the two of them, eyes narrowed. “I’m going to have trouble with the police?” He paused again. “…Who are you two?”
“Why are you following Mr. Aiba?”
The man tensed angrily. “To protect him from people like you.”
“Like us?” Satoshi frowned.
“That should be our line.” Jun drawled. “Why? Why’s he so special to you?”
“He isn’t. I don’t know the man. I was just hired to keep an eye on him, so he doesn’t get himself killed.”
“Killed? Someone’s trying to kill him?”
The man shrugged. “I don’t know. The guy who hired me was concerned that something bad might befall him, but he didn’t say whether or not it’d be murder or just an accident.” He sighed. “This Aiba seems like a bit of an airhead, I spend half my time afraid he’s going to trip down a flight of stairs or leave his stove on at night.”
“Who are you?” Jun pressed.
The man shook his head irritably. “That’s my line. I’m trying to protect someone, and you guys start following him around and pulling guns on me in the middle of the night. I’m the one who should be suspicious of you.”
Jun rolled his eyes and pulled his license out of his pocket. “Private detective Jun Matsumoto. Mr. Aiba hired us to investigate the creepy guy that’s been following him around all week.”
“I’m Jun’s partner, Satoshi Ohno.” Satoshi smiled. “I’d show you my license too, but it’s in the inside pocket of my coat, and I don’t want to get shot.”
The man examined Jun’s license with a shrewd gaze before relaxing and lowering his firearm. “I won’t shoot.” He said, tucking it back in the holster at his belt. Satoshi let his arms fall and chuckled with relief.
“Good to hear.” Jun lowered his as well, but he kept it in hand. “Mind telling us who you are, stranger?”
The man tipped his hat back on his head, revealing defined features and soft eyes. He looked overworked, but hardly criminal. “My name is Toma Ikuta. I work on contract as a Certified Security Agent.” He too reached into his coat and presented the detectives with a license.
“And you’re protecting Mr. Aiba’s well-being without his knowledge?”
Toma nodded. “My employer requested I be secretive, but I guess Mr. Aiba’s got more of a clue than I would have guessed.”
Satoshi smirked. “Any idea why this employer of yours didn’t want Aiba to know he was worried about him?”
“Said he didn’t want Mr. Aiba to be unnecessarily frightened.”
“Well,” Jun scoffed. “That didn’t go as planned.”
“Evidently not.” Toma grumbled.
“Who is this mysterious employer?” Satoshi questioned with a frown. “What’s his connection to Masaki Aiba?”
Toma frowned. “I can’t reveal that. It’s confidential.”
Jun sighed. “Come on, give us a break here.”
“He didn’t want Aiba to know I was following him. He definitely doesn’t want Aiba to know who hired me to do so.”
“Then we won’t tell Aiba.” Satoshi stated bluntly. “We do need to get to the bottom of this. Our pay for this investigation is on the line if we don’t.”
Toma’s frown deepened. “And my pay for this job is on the line if I give you my employer’s name so you can interrogate him.”
Jun clicked his tongue. “You failed to tail Aiba unnoticed. I think your pay is already on the line. If your employer is at all closely connected to Aiba, he’s bound to hear that he knows he’s being followed. Just give us a name.”
Toma scowled for a long moment before grumbling an answer. “Sho Sakurai.”
Ohno scrunched his face up thoughtfully. “…Name’s familiar.”
“What’s the connection to Mr. Aiba?”
“He’s some up-and-coming big shot. Owns a production company in Chelsea.” He sighed. “Masaki Aiba has a part in the latest picture he’s throwing together.”
“Strange…” Ohno took his hat off and ran his fingers through the choppy hair on his head. “Does he keep such a close eye on all of his actors?”
Toma shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I’m only concerned with protecting the person I was told to. He didn’t mention anyone else.”
Jun considered this for a long minute while the security agent shifted impatiently.
“If that’s all, detectives… I don’t know what other information I can give you.”
Jun nodded curtly. “We’ll let you get back to work. Thank you for cooperating.” He shook Toma’s hand and turned back down the street.
Ohno smiled crookedly. “And for not shooting me.” He tipped his hat and hurried after his partner’s brisk steps.
Jun’s black 1937 Plymouth DeLuxe was parked around the corner, paint gleaming dully under the light of a flickering streetlamp. “I’ll drive you home.” Jun said, getting into the driver’s seat.
Satoshi got in once the passenger door was unlocked. “So,” He said as Jun turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life with a deep rumble, “what’s the plan now?”
Jun pulled away from the curb with ease. There weren’t many other cars on the road at that hour, and the streets seemed almost eerily quiet compared the clogged lanes normal seen in the daytime. “Tomorrow, we find the address of that production company. I’m keen on talking to Mr. Sakurai as soon as possible.”
Satoshi’s lips quirked and he turned to the window. “Yes, sir.” He said, watching the golden glow of streetlamps pass them by. “So am I.”
--
537 West 20th Street, on the third floor of the ‘Landscape I’m Seeing’ Productions Studio.
At the top of the stairs on the uppermost level of the building, there was a small reception area. A couple of chairs and a potted plant were set alongside the railing, and there were four, closed, wooden doors set into the whitewashed walls. Three led to offices, and the fourth to a washroom. A cluttered desk sat in the middle of the reception room, and the receptionist’s chair behind it was empty.
The two detectives stood around in the middle of the empty room for a few minutes. No office doors opened, and no receptionist appeared.
“…Now what?” Satoshi asked, fingering a leaf on the plant and listening to Jun tap his foot impatiently. “Maybe we should have called before showing up unannounced. They could be shooting on location today, or something.”
Jun made an annoyed noise and uncrossed his arms. “Or Mr. Sakurai is very unorganized, and needs to hire better help.” He strode purposely towards the door set in the far wall. The name plaque on its wooden surface read Sho Sakurai’s name in bold text. “Come on, I’m not leaving until we’re sure he’s not here.”
“Jun, you probably shouldn’t just-“
Jun knocked sharply on the door and promptly tried the knob. It turned, and he swung the door open. “Mr. Sakurai, I-“ He stopped dead, eyebrows rising as the two people in the room sprang apart in alarm -one shoving the other aside and nearly throwing himself off of the desk he’d been sitting on. Satoshi tiptoed to peer curiously over Jun’s shoulder, and quickly mirrored his expression. “…I’m sorry to intrude so suddenly.” Jun finished. “I’m Private Detective Matsumoto, and this is Private Detective Ohno. We’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“I…” The man standing behind the desk started, frowning and red-faced. His tie hung loose around his neck, and he tightened it self-consciously. There was a gold band on the ring finger of his left hand. “My receptionist-?“
“Isn’t here, Mr. Sakurai.” Jun answered, sure that the clean-cut man could be none other than the company’s owner. Jun wasn’t corrected.
“She’s still on her lunch break, Mr. Sakurai, Sir.” Said the shorter man standing to Sakurai’s right, the one who’d previously been seated. His hair was a mess, lips slightly swollen, and shirt partially un-tucked from his trousers. As the detectives’ gazes moved to him, he flushed with embarrassment and began gathering a stack of loose papers in his arms.
“Oh, this is Kazunari Ninomiya. My personal assistant.” Sakurai introduced awkwardly and scratched at the back of his neck.
“’Assistant’, huh.” Jun echoed, barely hiding a smirk.
Ninomiya nearly dropped his papers, and the redness of his cheeks and ears intensified. “I’ll, um… get in touch with the wardrobe people…” He bowed his head and hustled out, looking completely mortified.
An awkward pause occurred before Sakurai cleared his throat. “Um, please Detectives. Sit.” He gestured to the chairs in front of the desk and sat in his own across from them.
Satoshi caught Jun’s sleeve as he made for the chair. “If you’re okay on your own, I’ll talk to the assistant.”
Jun nodded, and Sakurai watched Satoshi go before fixing Jun with an uncertain smile. “…What can I help you with, Detective Matsumoto?”
“What can you tell me about your new movie -particularly about the celebrities starring in it?”
Sakurai raised an eyebrow. “Are you Private Eyes investigating on the behalf of tabloids now? They’re getting you to do their dirty work?”
“Everyone gets me to do their dirty work -that’s how this business is-, but no, I’m not here for gossip.”
“Then what are you here for? I’ll tell you about the film’s plot, characters, concepts… Anything but spoil the ending. What do you want to hear?”
“You’re a producer, correct?”
“And a director, for this film.”
“How well do you treat your actors?”
Sakurai paused, and a slight crease formed between his brows. “…Has there been a complaint, Detective?”
“Not exactly, I’m just intrigued.” He crossed his legs and pouted thoughtfully. “Tell me, Mr. Sakurai. What is Masaki Aiba to you?”
Sakurai frowned. “I don’t know what you mean by that… He’s an actor in this production.”
“He’s relatively inexperienced though, isn’t he? And you’re giving him a pretty big role. Supporting male lead, right?”
“He’s a newcomer, but he has potential. Is it wrong to try and give someone with talent a break in this industry?”
“No, of course not. I’ve met him, so I know where you’re coming from. He’s tall, but he’s cute.” Jun smirked and jerked a thumb towards the door Satoshi and the assistant had passed through minutes earlier. “You have a thing for cute men, right?”
Sakurai’s expression turned quietly murderous. “If you’re going to make ridiculous accusations-“
“I’m not accusing, I’m just inquiring.”
The producer’s nostrils flared. “Insinuations, then. I won’t stand for it.”
“If I’m wrong,” Jun continued calmly, “then why give Aiba special treatment?”
“I told you already, Detective. He has talent as an actor and potential to go places in this industry. I am not giving him ‘special treatment’.”
“You deny treating him differently from the other actors in this production?”
“I do.” Sakurai fumed.
“Then is it only the leading roles in your films that you secretly assign security to? Or do you splurge and hire bodyguards to follow every single one of your cast members?” Jun blinked innocently, observing the fire draining from Sakurai’s features. “I’m curious, really. You must be a very generous man. That can’t be a cheap expense.”
“… How did you hear about this?” He asked quietly, voice and expression cold. “Ikuta?”
“Oh, no.” Jun shook his head. “Aiba, actually. He was concerned that he was being followed, and asked us to investigate. A bit of snooping around your boy Ikuta and we traced him back to you. Aiba doesn’t know about what we found yet, though. I wanted to hear the whole story.”
“Meaning…?”
“Is it just Aiba?”
Sakurai shook his head. “All four of my leads.”
“You’re that paranoid that they’ll come to harm? This must be costing you a fair bit.”
“Yes, but if something bad did happen, I’d be out a lot more money. Finding replacement actors for large roles is a huge setback, especially on short notice.”
“A small expense to avoid a bigger one… So it all comes down to money, then?”
Sakurai smirked. “That’s the nature of my business, Detective.”
“Mine isn’t that different, actually.” Jun pointed out. “So I trust you’ll understand if I tell Mr. Aiba about your paranoia? I have to close the case to get my pay, after all.”
“Of course.” Sakurai said thinly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have scenes to shoot this afternoon if I’m going to stay on schedule.”
Jun stood and let Sakurai escort him from the office. In the reception room, Ninomiya and Satoshi were deep in a serious conversation. The assistant leaned back against the side of the receptionist’s desk, and Satoshi was leaning forward with his palms resting on the desk surface. The detective said something, smiled lazily, and Ninomiya grinned back along with something that resembled a giggle.
“Nino.” Sakurai said sharply, and his assistant nearly jumped out of his skin before whipping around with wide eyes.
“S-Sir! You’re done your meeting-?”
“Did you make that phone call?” He snapped, clearly still edgy from his discussion.
“No, sorry. I was talking to Detective-“
“Just hurry.” The producer heaved an irritated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’ll be late for the 2:30 shoot.”
“Right, I’ll do that right away Mr. Sakurai.” Ninomiya rushed into the smallest office connected to the reception room.
“Satoshi, we should let them work.” Jun spoke up, walking towards the stairs. On the way down, he recounted his conversation with the producer.
Satoshi followed close on his heels, listening silently until they reached the light of the street outside. “… So do you think that’s it, or is there more he wasn’t saying?”
Jun turned to him, squinting into the bright light of the outdoors after the dim lighting in the stairwell. “Definitely. He got far too defensive when I said I knew Aiba was being followed. The switch was too sudden.” He nodded confidently, squinting up at the windows of the third floor. “There’s something he’s hiding, and I want to know what.”
Satoshi hummed agreeably, beginning to stroll down the sidewalk. “Ninomiya seems like he’s got a secret too.”
“That he’s probably sleeping with his boss?” Jun questioned with a smirk. “Not really a secret anymore…”
Satoshi made an amused noise. “Maybe, but he could also know what’s really going on. He didn’t want to talk about Sakurai at all. Kept changing the subject.” He shrugged thoughtfully. “I gave him my card, in case he had information to give us later on.”
“Good idea. I would have done the same with Sakurai, except he’s probably hoping he never has to deal with us again.”
Ohno chuckled. “Well, I can’t wait to disappoint him.”
--
Washington Square Park, at the North entrance.
As they passed through the Washington Arch, it was obvious that their tip about the day’s filming location had been correct. Crew members were everywhere, setting up equipment or getting extras ready.
“Detectives!” Aiba exclaimed, catching sight of them as they approached. His wide smile was as disarmingly charming as usual, even if his shirt was tattered and his suspenders were barely holding up his dirt and paint smudged trousers. Three shaggy dogs swarmed around him, jumping and licking, tails wagging furiously. “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”
Jun smiled. Two days ago, the evening after they’d barged in on Sho Sakurai, he’d paid Aiba a visit and told him the apparent truth behind his follower. The actor had been overjoyed that his boss cared so much about his participation in the film. He hadn’t been even the least bit concerned about the basis for the paranoia. Since the revelation, however, Aiba had insisted that Toma no longer be sneaky about his surveillance. Even there on the set, the security agent was standing a couple yards away, near the fountain.
“It’s good to see you again, Mr. Aiba.”
“Did you just come to visit?” Aiba laughed, trying to keep the dogs from leaping all over the two detectives. “If you want to watch the filming, they’re letting observers stand over there.” He pointed to the left. “Out of the camera’s shot.”
“Thanks.” Satoshi spoke up, reaching out to scratch behind one of the canines’ ears. “…The dogs are part of the film?”
Aiba nodded. “My character, Tommy, is a really quiet artist. In the script he’s pale and sickly looking. But I guess they didn’t mind my suntan after all.” He chuckled. “I was surprised when they told me what character I was because I don’t really look like the character description at all, but I like dogs! Tommy can understand and communicate with dogs. Telepathically.”
Satoshi raised an eyebrow. “…Seriously?”
Aiba laughed. “Yeah. I end up getting caught up in an undercover police investigation to do with a gang. I get kidnapped later on!” He announced excitedly.
“Good for you.” Satoshi chuckled. “Sounds interesting.”
“Is Mr. Sakurai around?” Jun questioned, running his eyes through the crowd.
“He should be…” Aiba frowned, also glancing around the area. “I saw Nino earlier, he was running around trying to sort out some miscommunication with the camera crew.” He shrugged. “I don’t know where he went, but if he’s here then Mr. Sakurai is probably nearby.”
“They’re always together, huh?” Satoshi mused. “Do you think it’s weird that they’re so close?”
“Close?...” Aiba considered this. “He’s Sakurai’s assistant, but I heard he’s been working for him for years. Someone said they met when Nino was an actor in one of Sakurai’s first pictures. Maybe they’re friends too?”
“Maybe.” Jun conceded. “Have you heard anything else of interest about either of them?”
“Um… for example?”
“Any accidents that happened during productions in the past?”
Aiba frowned, deep in thought, and Satoshi shot his partner a curious look. “…No, sorry. I didn’t hear about anything like that. I’m new though, so you’d be better off asking anyone else. Even the other people working on a ‘Landscape’ film for the first time have been here longer than I have.”
“Oh, right.” Satoshi said thoughtfully. “You said you were cast weeks after everyone else was.”
Jun’s brow furrowed as he recalled their first meeting with the actor. “Hold on… You said it was because something held production up, correct?”
Aiba nodded, looking confused. “Yes. That’s what I was told.”
“Were you told why?”
He shook his head. “No, why?” He frowned, looking anxiously between the two detectives. “Should I be concerned?”
“We need to talk to Sakurai.” Jun growled, nudging his partner towards the crowd of bustling crewmembers. “Good luck with the shoot today, Mr. Aiba. Excuse us.”
They found the producer on the other side of the fountain, conversing with some crewmembers about the angle of the lighting equipment.
“Sir, the extras are in position and ready to start.” Ninomiya called, slipping out of the crowd and falling into place beside his boss.
“Good.” Sakurai replied distractedly. “Get Masaki and Takuya over here. We’re behind schedule.”
“Yes, Sir.” Ninomiya spun around and then stopped abruptly in surprise. “…Detectives?”
Sakurai turned around too and scowled. “What are you doing here?”
“Mr. Sakurai, I’d like to talk to you for a moment. I hope you’ll be cooperative.”
“I don’t have time for this right now, Detective. You’re going to hold up production.”
“And that would be such a terrible waste of expenses, am I right?” Jun mused.
“And daylight.” Sakurai growled. “Excuse me, but bystanders need to go behind the barricade over there.”
“Sure, I hear you’ve already encountered a setback in this production. I wouldn’t want to further inconvenience you.”
“…How considerate of you, Detective.” Sakurai gestured for them to move aside, smiling wryly.
“One question,” Jun continued, strolling leisurely out of the way at the producer’s direction. “Who was the original Tommy?”
Sakurai froze. “…I beg your pardon?”
“Masaki Aiba may have acting potential, but he wasn’t your first pick for the role, was he?” Jun stated, going out on a limb. Many of the crew and cast members around them looked uncomfortable, Ninomiya had gone pale, and Sakurai’s features might have well been turned to stone. “Who was supposed to be Tommy, and what happened to him?”
“… Ryo was his first name.” Spoke one of the cameramen when everyone else was silent. Sakurai’s gaze flickered to him from the corner of his eye, but he didn’t move or say anything to stop the man. “He died just a few days after we gave him the role. Poor fellow.”
Jun frowned. “How?”
“It was a mugging, I heard. He left the studio late one night and got jumped while he was walking home.”
“Ryo who?” Jun demanded. “What was his surname?”
The cameraman frowned and then shrugged. “I can’t remember… I only worked with him one day, for a couple hours.”
“Nishikido.” Sakurai spoke up icily. “He was a good kid. Could have been a star someday. Now, if you’re done prying into upsetting business, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” There was a clear warning in his tone.
Jun didn’t move, and it took Satoshi’s firm grip on his arm to snap him out of the staring match with the producer. “Come on, Jun. I think we got what we came for.”
After a brief, tense, hesitation, Jun allowed Satoshi to lead him out of the park. “Why didn’t he mention this before?” He grumbled under his breath as they walked briskly up 5th Avenue. “He didn’t want us to know, that’s why. The question is what his reason is for hiding it… We’re going to have to investigate-“
“Jun.” Satoshi interrupted gently, fixing him with a curious expression. “What’s gotten into you? Mr. Aiba isn’t paying us to investigate anymore. You know you’ve never worked a case that had nothing in it for you.”
Jun cracked a smirk and cocked his head. “… Well, we already snooped around, it’d look bad if there turns out to be something bigger beneath the surface that we just skimmed over and let lie. Also, Sho Sakurai is infuriating.”
“So, what you’re getting out of this is the satisfaction of your own curiosity, and a better reputation in the Private Eye business?”
“Pretty much.”
Satoshi considered this and then shrugged. “Sounds okay to me.”
“Good. Now, I figure we’ve got to investigate the circumstances of Ryo Nishikido’s death if we want to get anywhere with this.”
“You’re saying you don’t think he was mugged?”
“I think it’s suspicious.” Jun clarified.
“So we might have another surprise murder mystery on our hands.” Satoshi mused, sounding vaguely bewildered. “We stumble into these often lately…”
--
306 West 54th Street, at the NYPD’s 18th Precinct.
“You know, I’m doing you a favor by getting you access to these files.” Sergeant Oguri reminded him, slapping a folder down onto the table in front of Jun. The boardroom was otherwise empty. The door was shut and the blinds were drawn, but the low murmur of New York’s finest still at work could be heard through the walls.
“Thanks, Shun.” Jun said genuinely. “I know you are.” He opened the folder and squinted at the short report typed onto the first sheet of paper.
“There’s not much on this case, though. Looks like just another mugging with a bad ending.” Oguri perched on the edge of the table, watching the private detective study the paperwork. “His body was found in an alley beside an empty warehouse. It was about two blocks from the studio he was working at. He was on his way home, probably.”
“…People saw him leave by himself?”
The sergeant nodded. “Two colleagues both said he left at a little after ten.”
“Just two?”
“They were the only other people there. Everyone else had gone home earlier.”
Jun frowned and flipped the page. “Who were these colleagues?”
Oguri turned the next page and jabbed a finger at the text. “Names are there, along with their accounts.”
The bold lettered names stood out on the page. Sho Sakurai and Kazunari Ninomiya.
[ That evening I was going over the filming schedule with Kazunari, in my office. Nishikido knocked at a few minutes past ten, stuck his head in, and said he was going to call it a night. I reminded him to come in for noon the next day, and he probably left right after that. I didn’t hear what happened to him until the following afternoon. ]
Sakurai was described in the report as being solemn but composed as he gave his account. Whereas Ninomiya, who had roughly the same story to tell, had been clearly shaken by the news and interrogation.
“There was nothing suspicious about either of them.” Oguri pointed out, watching Jun re-read the page. “Their stories matched up, and other people who had been in the building and left earlier also said that the two of them had been working on something in Sakurai’s office. Nishikido had stayed behind to continue working on his lines when everyone else left.”
Jun put the accounts aside and was faced with a collection of photographs of the body and alley where it was found. Nishikido was dark haired, pale skinned, and dotted with moles. His eyes were left open, his lip was split and bloody, and his skin was covered in abrasions and dark bruises. There was a matted, bloody, patch in the hair on the back of his head, and on the column of his throat were the purpling bruises clearly left by two hands. In another photo, his wallet was shown discarded a couple yards away. There was no cash left in it.
“… This was brutal.”
Oguri nodded gravely. “The doctor that looked at the body said he had a cracked rib, a fracture in his skull, and internal bleeding from the beating he must have taken. Cause of death was strangulation though.” He pointed out. “Looks like the attacker tried to knock him out with a hit to the head first, but the kid still fought back. There was dried blood under his nails, but we couldn’t get any clear fingerprints off of him.”
Jun considered this. “So the police have no leads, in other words.”
“People get mugged in this city. It’s a fairly random act of violence, and if the victim doesn’t survive it’s hard to track the criminal down.” Oguri reasoned, though he didn’t look pleased. “Nishikido was alone late at night, in a dark and pretty deserted area, and he was dressed well. He would have been an obvious target.”
“I’m guessing you don’t have the body?”
The sergeant stood and shook his head. “We released it to his family once the medical examiner was done.” There was a knock on the door. “Come in.” Oguri called.
“Sergeant,” Said the uniformed officer upon opening the door. “Got a woman here with a necklace she bought Monday. Looks like the jewelry that was stolen last week.”
Oguri perked up. “Get her a seat at my desk, and a coffee if she’d like one. I’ll be there in a minute.”
The officer nodded and left.
“I’ll get going.” Jun announced, quickly running his eyes over the photographs again to try and commit them to memory. “Thanks for your help.”
Oguri frowned as Jun got to his feet. “…What exactly am I helping you with, Jun? It’s unlike you to come to me with any of your investigations.”
Jun shrugged. “You said I should keep you in the loop if I’m dealing with a murder.”
“You’re trying to catch the mugger? Good luck, but there were no leads…”
Jun nodded, and set his hat on his head. “I’m trying to catch Nishikido’s killer.”
“… You say it like there’s a difference. You’re telling me it wasn’t a mugging?” The sergeant demanded, scowling, and Jun smirked and walked to the door.
“Didn’t say that, necessarily.” Jun corrected, stepping out into the bustle of the precinct.
“If you suspect anything you had better let me know now, Detective.” Oguri warned, watching the man weave across the room. Jun just raised his arm and waved, not even bothering to turn around. “Matsumoto!” Oguri barked in frustration, but the detective was already turning out of sight.
Jun’s brow was creased deeply as he strode down the sidewalk of West 54th. He ran through the images still fresh in his mind, and his fingers clenched tight around the keys in his pocket at the gruesome state the young actor’s body had been left in. It wasn’t until he was sitting in his car, the doors locked and his hand hesitating to turn the key in the ignition, that he came to a grim conclusion.
Ryo Nishikido’s death had been too vicious to be done by an average mugger. In fact, Jun doubted he’d been killed for the cash in his wallet at all. Whatever had prompted his murder had clearly been something personal.
Ryo Nishikido had known his killer.
--
516 West 47th Street, at the office of Private Detectives Matsumoto and Ohno.
“Thank you, detective.” Said the woman tearfully, wrinkling the envelope containing the photo evidence of her husband and his mistress. “I still can’t believe-…”
“Here.” Satoshi offered her a handkerchief and a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry.”
She shook her head, dabbing at her eyes with the white cloth. “No, it’s better that I know the truth.” She took a deep breath, composing herself before getting to her feet. “Thank you.”
Satoshi nodded, standing and seeing her to the office door. “Good night, Ma’am.” Once she’d left the waiting area behind, he sighed and turned his gaze to the clock. It was already half past ten. He sighed again, heavily.
“Long day, Mr. Ohno?” Spoke up their secretary, and she looked just as worn out as he felt.
“I think we can call it a night.” He answered, bothered that he’d had to hang behind and close up an adultery case while Jun went to get what information he could about Nishikido from the police. “I doubt Jun’s coming back here tonight.”
Satoshi went back into the office while she gathered her coat and purse, putting on his own outer garments and tidying up the jumbled clutter on his desk. She was gone by the time he stepped out into the hallway and locked the door behind him. The hall and stairwell were poorly lit. The bulbs were dim and the corners were full of shadows. The stairs creaked and groaned as he descended, hurrying down to the ground floor and out through the doors to the street. He was met with a rush of fresh air, and a figure sitting on the curb. The man was hunched terribly, holding a cigarette that was almost burned to the filter in one hand, while the other repeatedly raised his watch towards his eyes.
Satoshi spared the man a brief glance and turned to the left. His apartment was only a couple blocks from the office, and he didn’t own an automobile, but the weather was nice and he wouldn’t mind the walk.
“Oh!” Came an exclamation from behind him when he’d not taken more than a couple steps. He turned to see that the man and heard his footfalls and gotten up from the curb. “I was waiting for you, Detective.” The man said. The breeze ruffled his short dark hair around his head, and Satoshi squinted to recognize the curve of his lips and the moles dotting his pale skin.
“…Mr. Ninomiya?” Satoshi frowned, taking a step closer to the man.
“I’m sorry.” He said, dropping his cigarette and toeing it out beneath a scuffed shoe. “I know this is completely out of the blue…”
“What are you doing out here?” Satoshi questioned, not missing Ninomiya’s tense posture. “You could have come in.”
“I was hoping to catch you alone…” He wrung his hands. “Your partner didn’t seem as friendly as you.”
The detective’s frown deepened, not sure what friendliness had to do with anything.
“…I’m sorry.” Ninomiya apologized, noticing Satoshi’s confusion. He took a step closer. “You gave me your card so I could contact you. I don’t know if I have any useful information… but I thought maybe you could help me.”
“With what?” Satoshi asked, trying not to be unnerved by the other man’s closeness. They were almost the same height, and less than a foot apart from each other.
Ninomiya bit his lip; his eyes were dark and piercing. “…I’m afraid.” He said softly, his voice almost no more than a drawn-out breath, and Satoshi could smell the cigarette he’d been smoking mingling with the musky scent of his aftershave. Ninomiya ran his tongue over the lip he’d just abused with his teeth, lowered his head and looked up through his eyelashes. “I’ll answer whatever questions I know the answers to, but I need a place to spend the night.” His eyes darted around nervously, and he picked at his gnawed fingernails. “Please, Detective.” He pleaded, shivering visibly when the breeze blew again.
Satoshi looked around too, prepared to see psychotic killers closing in on them from all directions, but there were no suspicious characters visible. Across the street a couple walked arm in arm, in the lit windows of apartments families could be seen going through the motions of their nightly routines, an automobile puttered by and lit up Ninomiya’s face in the headlights. He looked ghostly under the brief, harsh, lighting. “… First tell me who, or what, you’re hiding from.” The detective demanded, unnerved by the situation despite their seemingly harmless surroundings. He felt too exposed out in the street, and longed for the safety of locked doors, closed curtains, and four relatively sturdy walls.
Ninomiya swallowed slowly, the breeze tossed his hair, and the faintest flush appeared in his cheeks. His gaze was penetrating, odd shadows lurked beneath his brow bone, in the hollows of his cheeks and beneath his thin, pursed, lips, but Satoshi couldn’t read his expression. Ninomiya waited for the moment of dead silence after the wind had passed them by before he answered the question. “... My boss.”
Satoshi shivered.
Part 2