CHAPTER 9

In which Souji Seta learns to fetch

Yoshioka Yori was a statuesque, joyless woman nearing her thirties. She held no pretense of continuing duty or servitude following her employer's demise; she had the look of someone who had given up on something but didn't care for the loss of it to begin with. Smoke lazily rolled from her lips and puffed from the cigarette hanging loosely from her mouth. A nearby ashtray betrayed the possibility that this was only her first cigarette; from the look of it she'd been through almost a fourth of a pack recently, assuming all those smoldering butts were her doing.

Her uniform was surprisingly drab—a modest servant's attire of dingy gray blouse and cream-white apron—and it contrasted with the level of detail with which her makeup had been applied. Hues of blush-pink and chocolate eyeshadow added shadowy detail to her serious-looking face—framed impressively with curly cascades of medium-brown hair. The toe of one her slip-resistant canvas pull-ons traced along the needlessly intricate grooves of the tiled courtyard's floor.

She finished her latest cigarette with a particularly long drag and mashed the shortened result into the ashtray beside her, one of those tall-standing public 'smokeless' models. The open-aired courtyard, encircled by flashy but enchanting rows of larch and red maple, seemed to be the ideal spot for staff who favored a smoke on their break.

It wasn't Ozu's less-than-flattering description that led to pair to her, nor was it Naoto's peerless detective's intuition. Rather boringly, Naoto had simply asked Takuji.

"Head maid?" Takuji had replied as he cleaned his teeth with the edge of a fingernail. "Probably in the main courtyard. Only real place to smoke. Unless she's retired to her quarters. You seen the servant's lodging in this place? I got a good place and even I'm jealous…not that you would be, huh? If everyone's testimony is reliable then that would be she's the last one who saw Daiki Vavasseur alive so we've been keeping an eye on her. Not that we've declared her a legit 'person of interest' or anything. Not yet."

Takuji had sucked on his teeth in apparent disdain and threw a challenging half-cocked eyebrow in Naoto's direction. "Don't forget that it takes a cop to make an arrest, Shirogane. Don't overextend."

Don't overextend. It was a futile sort of half-warning, an impotent threat. Souji, as inexperienced as he was, already knew that Naoto was well-aware of the limitations of her occupation. Souji knew it meant nothing, Naoto knew it meant nothing…Takuji, more than likely, also knew this but some lingering scrap of pride or bravado compelled him sound a reminder.

Naoto replied unflinchingly. "Understood. Detective, how much longer do you plan on staying?"

"Hn? Oh, I'm not even close to being done for the evenin'."

"Good. I may or may not need your assistance."

"Heh. You may need my assistance, oh boy! Can't wait!" Takuji replied with venomous sarcasm.

"Or may not, Detective."

#

Yoshioka Yori regarded small, princely detective with hazy, half-lidded eyes. She looked tired; even through the application of her make-up Souji could identify the presence of persistent dark circles. Her posture and mannerisms, for the most part, were very relaxed and loose. Souji thought the tracing motions made by her foot might've been a kind of nervous twitch but he second guessed his own judgment as realized how slow and deliberate her movements were.

"Yoshioka Yori?" Naoto…no, Detective Shirogane. Souji…no, Mr. Seta, he had begun to pick up on how the tone of her voice shifted. It occurred to him now that he was working with two completely different people. There existed the Naoto who snuck him knowing smiles, who gushed about brilliant detectives who didn't exist, and who giggled a more freely; there also existed Detective Shirogane who didn't smile, who didn't gush, and who may on occasion elicit a boyish chuckle despite efforts to the contrary.

Yori seemed unimpressed. She was about a head taller than the one addressing her so she cocked her neck at an awkward angle to get a better look—or, more likely, to remind the detective of her height. Chestnut-colored hair spilled apathetically around the older woman's face and made a natural filter for her eyes.

"You're not a cop." Yori's voice was flat and music-less.

"Correct, Ms. Yori. However, I do-"

"I've already talked to the cops."

Detective Shirogane was undeterred. "I am aware of that, Ms. Yori, and I-"

"Then go talk to them, I already told 'em everything."

The detective cleared her throat quietly upon the second interruption before mechanically turning towards Mr. Seta. "Mr. Seta?"

"Yes, Detective?" Mr. Seta was playing his part well. He didn't turn his eyes away from the maid, continuing to stare at her with ghost-like gray eyes. He pretended to check his watch while using the face of it as a mirror to grab a glance behind him, all without losing sight of Yori for an instant.

I'm a bodyguard, he thought. The more you play the part the more it'll become a part of you. Act like a bodyguard and you'll be a bodyguard. Have to be attentive. Have to be serious. Have to be business-like. Behavior precedes essence.

Detective Shirogane continued. "Go and fetch Takuji. We don't have time to deal with a difficult suspect.

Yori huffed quietly before digging into her apron pocket for her pack of cigarettes (full-flavored, no filters). Mr. Seta had to remind himself that she wasn't just an ordinary maid, but the 'head maid'. Was this was passed for proper behavior for a high-ranking member of a rich man's staff?

Yori began to speak while in the middle of lighting the next nail in her coffin. "What do you wanna know?"

"I'll get to that in a moment," the Detective replied. "After Takuji is here. It would be more efficient to conduct this in official police presence anyway. Mr. Seta?"

Yori shrugged as she flicked away recently formed ashes. Her reaction was one of grim acceptance.

Mr. Seta adjusted his tie as he nodded, turned on his heel, and left to 'fetch' Takuji.

Fetch!

Am I a dog? He thought. Shall I sic 'em, Detective Shirogane?

#

Mr. Seta, had he the steely wherewithal, would've returned with Detective Takuji hanging from his mouth like a trained doberman with the morning paper. It would've fit the mentality he was forcing upon himself more effectively than politely asking and walking shoulder-to-shoulder with the older man.

Be a dog, why not? He thought. Be loyal, be smart, be strong, be intimidating, be obedient. Isn't that what a bodyguard does? Am I okay with being a dog?

Mr. Seta is a guard dog, Mr. Seta concluded. Souji Seta is a pathetic person but Mr. Seta is an admirable dog.

Takuji had made small talk on the brief, two-minute walk back to the courtyard. "You got hired pretty quick, didn't ya?"

"Excuse me?"

"That attack on Shirogane only happened a few days ago. Oh, or didja get transferred from somewhere?"

Mr. Seta didn't answer immediately. "Yeah…yeah, I was 'transferred'."

Takuji grinned, his broad teeth clenched. "Heard about the incident at the bistro. They, uh…they teach Shirogane bodyguards to headbutt people?"

Mr. Seta felt a slight warmness to his cheeks though he wasn't sure if it would be visible to the smiley, squinting lawman walking beside him. From his reaction he assumed that Takuji didn't but Souji (not Mr. Seta) would still think worryingly about it later. Of course he'd know. He's a cop, of course he would. Mr. Seta avoided the semi-conscious temptation of plucking at the adhesive bandages still covering his forehead.

"They do not," Mr. Seta replied while squaring his eyes forward. "I learned that elsewhere."

Takuji's eyes narrowed. "They didn't teach you to go forehead to nose?"

"They weren't particularly learned teachers. Passionate, not learned."

Mr. Seta couldn't tell if this elicited a muffled chuckle or a shiver from the detective. Either would've been good.

#

Mr. Seta thought he heard chatter from Yori and Shirogane before he arrived back with his cargo in tow, but he dismissed it as unimportant. If it's important she'll bring it up later, he thought.

Shirogane glanced back briefly to confirm that Takuji was present before snappily turning back. She began her line of questioning the moment that Takuji was within earshot.

"Ms. Yori, please tell me about the last time you saw Daiki Vavasseur alive."

"I already told the cops everyth-"

"I would like to hear it from you personally and I believe Detective Takuji will support this."

Yori, in sharp contrast to her adversary's stoicism, didn't seem to take very kindly to being interrupted. She took an extra-harsh drag of her cigarette and chewed briefly at the fatty tip of her bottom lip before she replied. "I brought him his meal at 5:30, same as I do every day. Then I left. The end."

The smooth scribbling of pen on paper communicated to the interrogating detective that her assistant was already taking notes, something that filled Naoto with a mild joy but only signaled to Detective Shirogane that it was fine to continue questioning.

"Vavasseur, from what I've been told, had a large meal with clients before returning home. Was this unusual?"

Yori wasn't making eye contact; her gaze careened off into the distance as she toyed with a strand of her hair. The head maid of the notorious Vavasseur estate had all the charm and attitude of a delinquent being lectured. "In a way…not really."

"Not really?"

"Mm."

"So it wasn't unusual then?"

"I didn't say that."

"So what was it?"

"It was what it was. Look, I brought him the meal just like I do every day then I left. I don't know if he ate it. Wasn't abnormal, wasn't normal. I just do my job. Got anything else?"

Mr. Seta, for the first time, jotted something down that wasn't verbatim what was being said: a speck of a sidenote that read 'stonewalling'.

Detective Shirogane cleared her throat softly. Briefly, she removed her cap and slid her fingers through her hair before replacing it. "Can you tell me about your relationship with Vavasseur?"

"He was my boss."

"Of course. Can you tell me about his son?"

An extra jolt of energy seemed to crackle to life within Yori. Her eyes flicked away from whatever distant nothing she had been looking at and took to regarding Detective Shirogane with a more serious attentiveness. "Ozu? He and Daiki wer-

"Not him, Aoki."

Yori stopped abruptly. She sucked sharply on her teeth and straightened her posture while using a foot to push herself away from the wall she'd been leaning on. Removing the cigarette from her mouth she began to twirl it, still-lit, in between the long, colored nails of her index finger and thumb. "Why?"

"Currently, he's the top suspect."

Takuji twitched but ultimately said nothing. He was experienced enough to know when an interrogator was being sneaky, it seemed. I'll allow it to continue, he thought.

Yori grimaced and took a quick drag of her cigarette. Smoke bubbled up from her mouth as she spoke. "Why the hell w-…you know his medical history right?"

"Ms. Yori, I find it very odd that despite my family's relationship with the Vavasseurs I was not aware of Aoki's existence until I arrived this evening. Would you happen to know why?"

Yori stammered. Her teeth clenched and, for a moment, it looked as if she'd bite her cigarette roughly in half. "What does th-…" She trailed off before resuming, answering the question properly. "Aoki's the black sheep of the family. He's not a secret bu-…but he is. They say he's not a secret but we all know he is. He has medical problems and hates to socialize. You weren't told because I guess they don't think he's that important. Now l-, why do you think Aoki did it?"

"Ms. Yori, I can't help but notice that, upon mentioning Aoki, you became much more talkative."

Yori was silent.

Shirogane continued. "Did Aoki like his father?"

"He couldn't have done it bec-"

"Because he's afraid of blood, I know."

"Then why are yo-"

"What, Ms. Yori, was Aoki's relationship with his father like?"

Yori was up in arms. She took one last drag of her cigarette before spatting it out and letting it singe into the tile floor. "Want to hear it? Fine! Daiki Vavasseur was a fat, stupid piece of shit who treated Ozu like a pet and Aoki like a burden! Daiki didn't like Aoki, Aoki didn't like Daiki. So the hell what!?"

"Ms. Yori," Shirogane pleaded emotionlessly. "Please calm down."

"How am I supposed to be calm when some…CHILD of a private eye or whatever you are just walks up to me and talks abou-" She stopped abruptly. Pinching the bridge of her nose she took in a long, shaky breath of air before allowing it to hiss back out through her nostrils. "I've helped take care of Aoki, I've talked with him, yeah, okay? I like the kid and I didn't like his dad so I get…I get worked up I guess, sorry. What else do you want to know?"

"Tell me about the last time you saw Daiki Vavasseur alive."

Mr. Seta saw some of Yori's veneer come undone, the mask she had built with bricks of apathy and uncooperative stubbornness falling away liked chipped paint.

"I brought him his meal at 5:30. He was full but that didn't matter. I brought him his meal every day at 5:30 without question. Even if he wasn't hungry he took wine with it."

"You left immediately after delivering the meal then?"

Yori took a pause. From the twitching of her fingers it looked as if she were about to reach for her cigarettes but decided against it. "No…I stayed about thirty minutes, maybe more. Then I left."

"Why so long, Ms. Yori?"

"...Because Daiki Vavasseur and I were having an affair."

Yori didn't seem ashamed to say it. She was resolute. The aura the woman exuded was far different from the vague, distant aloofness that had pervaded her before. She stood with her shoulders squared, her eyes focused and her arms held firmly to her sides.

Takuji looked away quickly, hiding the pursed lips of an 'Ooooooh!' reaction. As a cop and Shintate local the news gave him at least something of an excited, gossipy shock.

Shirogane, unfazed, continued. "Daiki is a widower, isn't he? Would you consider having relations with a single man to be an 'affair'?"

"It is when you're paid not to talk about it," Yori snarled.

Mr. Seta fought the urge to squirm. It didn't take long for Yori to go from untouchable to a volatile and threatened. It was a different kind of manipulation compared to how the detective had treated Ozu. Detective Shirogane wasn't just intellectually analytical, she was emotionally analytical. It was effective, of course, but some aspect of it, some heartlessness of it made Mr. Seta feel uncomfortable.

It's getting results, he reminded himself. It's making her honest. Honesty was always more painful than lying.

"Does Ozu know about the affair?"

"Ozu knows everything about what Daiki does, yeah. Hated him for doing it, hated me for doing it, but h-"

"Does Aoki know?"

Yoshioka Yori looked like she'd been stabbed but hadn't realized it yet. She breathed uneasily and, just for a moment, didn't seem to know what to do with herself. Her eyes scrambled, her hands flailed gently…finally, she gave a dejected sigh and brushed her hair back, hooking a handful of strands behind one ear.

"...No. No, I don't think he does, I don't thin-…that has nothing to do with the case, not really, he doesn't have to hear about it. Nobody does, I don't care, but Aoki, he…no, no I don't think he knows and I don't think he should."

"If the police find the information is relevant then it'll be brought up, but they do have a certain level of discretion that they mu-"

"Why do you suspect Aoki?"

Detective Shirogane paused but briefly before elaborating, crossing her arms as she did so. "He had the opportunity. If your testimony is true then had the motivation. Ozu was in Daiki's good graces, as far as I can tell, and you wouldn't receive any real benefit. Aoki, on the other hand, could've potentially gotten a sizable payout and gotten rid of his abusive father. It would certainly make the most sense."

Yori fumed. "Did you even see the body!?"

"Did you?"

Yori's eyes widened. Sweat dappled at the edges of her forehead, pushing stubbornly through the dense wall of her foundation. "What's everyone been saying!? What have the cops been saying!? He got beaten in the face with a golf club, right!?"

"This is true."

"Right!? Right!? Did you know Aoki was afraid of blood? That he faints at the sight of it!?"

"Yes, Ms. Yori, I was aware. However, it's irrelevant. Daiki Vavasseur wasn't beaten to death. He was strangled."