Kkotboda Namja: A Detective Story
Chapter 1. The Body
Detective So Yi Jeong
5 Jan.
0600 hours. The phone rings. It's the Captain. A body was found washed up on the beach near the pier. He tells me to hurry before the crows descend.
0640 hours. I'm late. The scavengers don't even feel the cold; they get their warmth from the heat generated by their bulbs. The uniforms hold them back and guide me pass the barrier. Song salutes me as I struggle down a shifting dune, and then greets me in his usual way:
'Yo, my bro.'
Detective Song Woo Bin. My partner, and my best friend since childhood.
Song gestures towards my eye—she must have hit me harder than I thought—and shakes his head knowingly.
'Never interrupt a woman's beauty sleep,' the bastard says. I ignore him and approach the Captain.
'So Yi Jeong,' he reprimands. He doesn't comment on my bruised eye. He looks tired. I glance at the crows. They're squawking. I can tell the Captain's tempted to throw them a slice of the meat, so his lined mug doesn't grace the papers tomorrow morning. I turn to my side. I don't want that bitch's mark to grace the papers either.
Under the pier stands a young couple. The man holds the woman close. It's a cold morning, and they've just witnessed something terrible, but he doesn't hold her only for comfort. The way he holds her, he wants her close, just so she's close. I remember that feeling.
'Yo, Yi Jeong.' Song calls me to the body. Korean male, late 20s, tall, slim build. He's dressed in cream trousers and white socks, but his torso's naked. The skin is smooth; he mustn't have been floating long. I look at Song. He kneels down and gestures towards the back of the head.
'Blunt trauma,' I say. Song nods. 'What else?'
'Signs of a struggle. Defensive wounds on the hands and arms, clean cuts,' he pulls on a glove and carefully turns the head, 'and this.'
I remember the face I had seen on billboards as I drove to the pier, a face a million females dream about each night as they lay beside their husbands, a face reportedly worth 500 billion won in endorsements alone. I remember that face, but it's not the face in front of me now.
It probably began as a simple cut, a swipe cheek to cheek. It was not the cause of death. If it had been treated, it would have left a scar, but he'd still be more handsome than most of us can ever dream to be. Instead, he was killed, left to fester in the sea. The saltwater curled the skin back and the little critters were grateful.
I turn to Song.
'You know who this is.' He nods. I gesture to the crows. 'Do they?'
'They will soon enough, not to mention us as well.'
'What?' He grins.
'Come on bro, a case like this? It'll make our careers.'
I'm used to Song's indifference to murder. He'd seen a lot worse than a blunt force floater before even reaching the age of five. To him, another stranger was dead. To me, well, dead men still get to me.
Song has a point though. This case, the media it will generate… I'm getting ahead of myself.
'If we solve it,' I say.
'Yo, man,' Song slaps my back, 'positive thoughts. We're Song and So, you think we can't solve some pretty boy murder? Hell, I'd put down money right now. It was the missus.'
'You think so, Song?' says the Captain. He wears a severe look that Song is well accustomed to. 'How about you two pretty boys go find out.' He hands us an address. It's to a hotel, and to the dead man's wife: Mrs Geum Jan Di.
The investigation begins in…
Chapter 2. The Wife.