The Silent Dead (27 page)

“Lieutenant Katsumata!” Reiko grabbed Katsumata's shoulder to make him shut him up. His beady little insect eyes slid back to her, and he glowered furiously. Reiko was past caring. She shoved him off to the side.

“Lieutenant Azuma, we will provide you with a full written report only when this is officially designated as a joint investigation. Katsumata, I need a word with you.”

As she dragged Katsumata into the bleachers behind them, his middle-aged cop partner attempted to follow them. Reiko glared at him and he retreated.

“What's going on here? Why're you manhandling me?”

Every word he said only stoked her rage.

“Katsumata.” Reiko glared at him. “What the hell do you think you're doing, shooting your mouth off before a joint investigation's been authorized?”

Katsumata raised an eyebrow. “Are you really that stupid? The two crime scenes are almost identical. Of course we're going to join forces with these guys. And since when did you become the poster girl for doing things by the book? I know what this is all about—you wanting to take all the credit and not share your leads with anyone else,” Katsumata said. He spat in the direction of Reiko's feet.

Me, a credit hog? That's pretty damn rich, coming from you, Stubby
.

Reiko was seething inside. The way he kept needling her like this whenever their paths crossed was unbearable. Reiko decided to have it out with him then and there.

“Lieutenant Katsumata, why are you always barging in and getting in my way? Have I done something to antagonize you?”

“Barging in?” sneered Katsumata. “That's not very nice. You only
think
I get in the way, because you're too much of a slowpoke to know which way this thing is going in the first place. If you were willing to take a back seat, you wouldn't need to throw a hissy fit at me.”

“I got here first.”

“Bravo, wonder woman. Only because Captain Zoomzoom tipped you off.”

“How did you hear about it, Lieutenant?”

“None of your business.”

“What about Kasumi Shiratori then? I was supposed to interview her.”

“You were assing around doing something else, so I stepped in and dealt with her. Welcome to the big leagues, slowpoke. Things move fast here. You're not in Hicksville anymore.”

“What's with this ‘hick' crap you keep throwing at me?”

“If Urawa isn't Hicksville, then where the fuck is? I'm a Tokyo man, born and fucking bred. You—you're an ignorant potato-eating slut from the boonies. That's why you like to screw behind park toilets.”

“What the—” Before the words were even out of her mouth, Reiko's right hand had reflexively shot back.

I've had it with this filthy bastard! I'm going to punch his lights out!

Someone gently took hold of her wrist. “Probably better not, Lieutenant.”

She suddenly noticed Ioka standing right behind her.

“Do it and they'll take you off the investigation.”

Good old Ioka
.
He's right, of course.

Katsumata would have no qualms about presenting himself as a victim. Even if the charges ultimately failed to stick, he could kick up an almighty stink—which would be enough to get Reiko pulled off the case.

Why? Why does he treat me like this?

Reiko gritted her teeth and forced herself back under control. She turned around and began to walk away.

“Your whole approach. It's too damn dangerous.”

She knew that Katsumata was still talking to her, but she kept right on going.

 

4

SUNDAY, AUGUST 24, 7:30 P.M.

Otsuka was at the evening meeting.

“The autopsy report and forensic test results for the bodies found at the Toda Rowing Course in Saitama this morning have come in, so I will start there. There were nine bodies in total, all of which were wrapped in plastic sheeting manufactured by Minowa Building Materials—just like the two bodies found earlier. In what is believed to be the most recent of the bodies, there was an incision severing the carotid artery and another large vertical incision slicing open the abdomen. The state of decay of the nine bodies suggests that they were dumped in the water at one-month intervals. This matches the interval between the Namekawa and the Kanebara murders. The evidence leads us to conclude that the same perpetrator is responsible for the bodies found at Toda and Mizumoto. We have therefore decided that we should cooperate fully with the prefectural task force handling the Toda case and investigate the two cases jointly.

“It's not yet an official joint investigation, but I still want you to think of our two task forces as a single unit and act accordingly. The ground rules are as follows. On our side, we share all the information we have unearthed so far with the prefectural police; they, in turn, share anything new they find with us.

“I don't want to see any territorial rivalry about which task force can crack the case first. This isn't about us versus them. Our priority here is to catch this brutal murdering freak. With eleven victims to his credit already, media interest can only grow, and the longer the investigation continues, the worse we—the police—will look. Starting tomorrow, I need you to redouble your efforts. Be tough, be smart, and make me proud.”

Is this a progress report or a sermon?

During Chief of Homicide Wada's overlong speech, Otsuka's eyes wandered around the room.

Katsumata was sitting in the front row with his arms crossed and his eyes closed. Was the man smiling? What the heck was there to smile about? Otsuka had a bad feeling. No one in the task force, Katsumata included, was keen on rolling over for the Saitama police.

Let's hope Katsumata isn't cooking up a nasty surprise for our squad.

Himekawa sat biting her lip and sighing loudly from time to time. Otsuka sympathized with her irritation. She'd hit the ground running on this case. She'd solved the riddle of the sliced-open abdomen, figured out that Yasuyuki Fukazawa was in charge of dumping the bodies in the water, and predicted where Namekawa's body would be. Sure, Otsuka tracked down the Strawberry Night lead, but it needed Himekawa to connect the dots and tie it in with everything else. Their searches of empty buildings had yielded zip so far; nonetheless, Otsuka was pretty sure—scrub that, he was one hundred percent certain—that something would turn up soon. The lead he'd gotten hold of was golden. He wanted to follow it up and close this case personally.

Now, the whole case was about to slip out of their hands. While there was no guarantee that the Saitama Prefectural Police would catch the perp, it was looking likely that the Himekawa squad would lose its monopoly on the murder show lead. The bodies found in the Toda Rowing Course all predated Namekawa. Given their state of decay, the autopsies had revealed little, and so much time had passed since the actual dumping of the bodies that the neighborhood canvass wasn't yielding anything either. Nor had Forensics covered themselves in glory. Their failure to identify the bodies was preventing the investigation from moving on to the next stage—interviews with the family, colleagues, and friends of the deceased. All in all, the Saitama Prefectural Police had an investigation but almost nothing to investigate.

That only increased the chances of their wanting to muscle in on the Strawberry Night lead. It looked promising, as leads go. With eleven victims in total, it was pretty clear that they were looking at something far beyond a “normal” murder investigation. When everyone was looking for a way to make sense of the whole freaky case, the concept of a murder show suddenly seemed a great deal more plausible.

So that's why he's got that creepy smirk on his face!

Katsumata was probably desperate to pursue the Strawberry Night lead himself. He probably recognized that it was the key to the entire case. The trouble was, it was
their
lead, and Katsumata had as good as burned his bridges with the Himekawa squad. It would have been too much of a retreat for him to express any interest in their lead.

The discovery of nine more bodies had resulted in a collaborative investigation, which was going to force the Himekawa squad to be open and upfront about everything they knew—and give Katsumata access to all their intel without so much as lifting a finger. Katsumata being Katsumata, he might have some other malicious plot in the oven too. Otsuka knew one thing about Katsumata: you never knew what he was thinking.

Otsuka was feeling nervous about his rendezvous with Tatsumi. The reason was simple: the job he had asked Tatsumi to do for him was illegal.

This was Otsuka's first descent into illegality. He had his reasons, though. Good ones. Strawberry Night was the first major lead he'd dug up himself since his transfer to TMPD Homicide. His squad was under pressure with Katsumata and his goons snapping at their heels. The threat of the joint investigation with the Saitama police only added fuel to the fire. He had to do something soon to drive the investigation forward.

That didn't keep him having cold feet about the meeting with Tatsumi. It was set for five p.m. tomorrow. He would hand over the cash and get the information in return. Otsuka was afraid—but he had to go.

When had the murders been committed? Who had committed them? Why? How?

Otsuka ran through what they knew. It wasn't much: “When” was the second Sunday of the month. “How” was by slicing the carotid artery after public torture. If Otsuka's suspicions were right and one of the eight contributors to the online forum had actually attended the show—and if Tatsumi managed to identify him, then they would finally discover the “who” and the “where.” It would be a great leap forward for the investigation.

Otsuka had managed to negotiate Tatsumi's fee down to ¥240,000 for all eight. Although still a hefty sum for Otsuka, it was not unmanageable.

Tatsumi had imposed conditions in return for lowering his price. He would spend two days on the job, and Otsuka would have to pay whether or not he succeeded in identifying all eight people. Otsuka swallowed the terms, despite the risk.

Everyone in the meeting room was delivering their progress reports in turn. The current speaker was Kikuta, who was sitting directly in front of Otsuka.

Otsuka himself had nothing significant to share today. In his head he ran through what he was going to say—the vacant buildings they had visited and what they had found in them. Of course, they had found zero evidence that any of them had been used for the murder show. Getting to your feet to deliver a dud report was tough, but everyone else was in the same boat tonight—the neighborhood canvass, the interviews with next of kin, vacant properties in other parts of the city were all “nothing to reports.”

I've got to do it. I've got to go and see what Tatsumi found out.

Otsuka clenched his fists to bolster his courage.

MONDAY, AUGUST 25

Just as he had done two days earlier, Otsuka took Kitami aside to tell him that he needed time alone to take care of something. “This will be the last time I do this,” he added with an apologetic little bow.

“Officer Otsuka, I don't want you to feel that you have to treat me any different from anyone else. I'm a total greenhorn as a detective,” Kitami replied, with a relaxed smile. “You do what you think needs to be done.”

The guy's more on my wavelength than I thought
.

They agreed to meet an hour later in front of Rockman, a music club that had gone out of business. Kitami went off in one direction, and Otsuka headed back to the hole-in-the-wall bar where he had met Tatsumi.

It was five fifty-five when he pushed open the front door.

“Oh hello, Officer Otsuka.”

The mama-san gave him a friendly smile.

“Tatsumi hasn't arrived yet. Please, have a seat.”

“Thanks.”

Otsuka sat on the same stool as last time. The mama-san asked him if he was still officially on the job, and when he said he was, she poured him a glass of oolong tea.

“You're probably wondering what sort of relationship me and Tatsumi have…,” the mama-san said as she finished pouring.

“No, not really,” he replied noncommittally and took a swig of his tea.

There was a brief silence.

“Tatsumi … he helped me out when I was in trouble.”

The mama-san was clearly determined to confide in him, with or without his encouragement. She just wanted to enlighten him about the “good side” of his character.

Otsuka never got to hear that particular story. Before she got started, the cowbell on the door jangled.

“Hi, Tatsumi. Officer Otsuka's waiting for you.”

“You saying I'm late, woman?” he snapped.

Like last time, he was wearing a garish Hawaiian shirt. He sulkily swung himself up onto the stool beside Otsuka.

“Sorry for putting you to the trouble.”

Otsuka had no reason to apologize. Somehow, though, the words seemed to say themselves.

“No worries. Shit, man, the job was tough.” Tatsumi sighed wearily. “I estimated what time the contributors were most likely to access the sites, added on an hour either side as a safety buffer, and ran three PCs at full throttle. God knows how many times the site reloaded.”

“Ah,” gurgled Otsuka.

“Not the sort of job you want to do in two days.”

“Thanks a lot. I owe you big-time.”

Despite being desperate to hear what Tatsumi had found out, Otsuka couldn't bring himself to come out and say so. The mama-san poured Tatsumi a beer. After the usual display of indifference, he drank it down with obvious relish. Otsuka watched and fidgeted, aware that he wasn't any closer to getting answers. Unable to feign patience any longer, he fished a sweaty envelope full of banknotes out of the inside pocket of his suit.