Chapter 1 - Dial "M" for Murder
"Alright everyone, that's it for today! Great job! Ms. Aino, can I see you for a moment?"
Minako tried not to wince at Tanaka Kudo's summons. For a volunteer community theater production, the guy sure was demanding, and quite frankly, this entire side-hobby was losing it luster. Trying not to roll her eyes, the blonde tucked her belongings into her gear bag and reluctantly approached the edge of the stage, crossing her arms and jutting out a hip to let her irritation show. She was literally a chorus girl. She knew her dancing was above and beyond – she was both professionally and classically trained. There shouldn't be any issues.
And dammit, she wanted to get home and see Seiji. He'd started the class with his new under-instructor today and she was desperate to know how it went since Seiji had been fretting over the new addition for months.
"Yes?" she asked, tone short.
"Aino, your work out there is excellent – beyond reproach in fact. As you know, Ms. Takeda has abandoned us, and she was my lead," he began, pulling out a kerchief and mopping at his forehead.
Minako tried not to roll her eyes again, frowning at his dramatic choice of words. She knew all about Kumiko Takeda, and wasn't keen to discuss her. The girl had half the talent Minako had, but had gotten the lead because her father had made a generous donation to the production.
Since the donation had supported their production quite handsomely, Minako didn't feel angry about it. Much. Righteously angry on her behalf, on the other hand, Makoto kept telling her to say the word. Minako wasn't sure what the word was or what Makoto intended to do if she said it, but she was getting closer to wanting to find out.
"Mr. Kudo, if you're about to ask me to fill in for her and keep up my role until she gets back, I'm going to have to decline," she muttered, trying not to let her frustration show on her face. He shook his head, wringing the kerchief in his hands.
"Not at all Ms. Aino. I'm asking you to step up and assume her role," he said. Minako blinked, staring at him. That hadn't been what she'd expected him to say.
"And what about Mr. Takeda?" she asked archly.
"He doesn't know where his daughter is either. We had a meeting yesterday, and he's given his blessing for us to move forward with her understudy," he said, his tone full of anxiety.
Minako narrowed her eyes at him. Nice of him to let her know she'd been the understudy for the main role. But more than that, if he'd had Takeda's blessing, why was he so nervous?
"All right…" she said hesitantly, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"I know you already know the part, so I'm confident you can step right in and fulfill the role to the highest standards. Your singing and acting abilities are of the highest caliber," he said. Minako raised her eyebrows at him. What was with the high praise all the sudden? This man hadn't had a nice word for anyone this entire production.
"Um, Thanks?" she said, shifting to her other hip. "Mr. Kudo, I'm a little confused. I was under the impression until pretty recently that the furthest I'd ever get in this production was your choral line. What's going on here?"
He looked miserable. Minako felt bad for his handkerchief. "Yes, well. I was previously limited in my ability to….discuss certain things," he replied. Minako raised her eyebrows again. Really? She was intrigued now, but she decided to let him off the hook.
She was, afterall, an actress of the highest caliber, and that meant that she'd do her part to ensure the show went on, no matter what. She nodded at him.
"All right, Mr. Kudo. I'll do it," she said firmly. He looked incredibly relieved.
"Thank you very much Ms. Aino. I look forward to working with you," he intoned, bobbing his head in dismissal and wiping his brow again as he turned and headed toward the Stage Manager's office. Minako watched him go for a moment with narrowed eyes.
Hmmm.
Shrugging the oddness off, she bolted backstage and went in search of a spare full-length script. With some hesitancy, she ducked into the lead's dressing room, rolling her eyes at the mess inside. She frowned as she plucked up costumes from where they lay draped over chairs or even on the floor, hanging them back up neatly and making a mental note to steam them next Friday.
The script didn't appear to be anywhere in the mess, so she moved toward a small armoire, hoping maybe it'd been crammed inside instead of somewhere with Kumiko Takeda, wherever she was. Minako pulled open the door.
And was very, very surprised to see Ken Takeda. She gasped, jumping. And then realized, to her escalating alarm, that someone had pinned a copy of the script to his chest. With a knife. A very long, very sharp-looking knife. Both the script and his clothing were saturated with a deep, dark crimson.
Minako did the only sensible thing she could then.
She screamed a scream worthy of the heroine in any A-List horror movie.
Mr. Takeda, unimpressed, took that moment to fall from his precariously arranged position. Out of the armoire. Onto Minako. Unprepared, she flew backwards and hit the floor, hitting her head hard.
She blacked out for a moment.
When she came-to, she was slowly being crushed beneath Takeda's considerable bulk, and she could feel the hilt of the dagger digging into her stomach, which was making it hard to breathe. She turned her head to see his blank and empty stare right beside her face, and couldn't help but shriek again.
"Mina-chan?! Mina-chan, where are you?! What's going on?!"
Makoto's panicked voice was music to her ears. Thank gods the woman had insisted on walking her home today after work. Minako shoved at the corpse with weak and shaking arms.
"Here! Mako-chan, help!" she wailed. The sound someone's footsteps hustling drew closer, and Minako bent her head back to catch an upside down glimpse of Makoto's feet as her friend ran into the room, wincing as the dagger hilt dug harder into her solar plexus.
"Mina-chan!" Makoto gasped, followed by the sound of cardboard hitting the gound nearby. Minako caught a glimpse of a box emblazoned with the logo for the brunette's baking company, and winced, silently apologizing to Touma for the ruined leftovers.
"Get-off her bastard!" the woman snarled, and seconds later Takeda was bodily lifted off her. Minako blinked, staring at Makoto, who was pinning Takeda's corpse against the wall, his feet dangling uselessly, with what appeared to be very little effort. She reared back with an angry fist, but halted mid-strike.
"Is that….is that a…dagger?" she breathed. She went grey. "Oh my god, he's dead?!" She yelped then, dropping the corpse and backing away, shaking out her hands, her expression queasy. She moved toward Minako and dropped to her knees beside the blonde. Minako groaned as she rolled to her side, arms wrapped around her middle as she tried to come to terms with what had just happened.
"Are you…are you ok? What happened?" Makoto's touch was gentle on her arm, questing, as she helped Minako to sit slowly. Minako simply burst into tears, burying her face in her hands.
"I don't know. I came in here looking for a full copy of the script. It was such a mess, and I couldn't find it, so I thought I'd check the armoire," here she gestured with one hand helplessly at the corpse. "I opened the door and there he was, just propped up. I screamed and he fell," she hiccupped. Makoto rubbed her back.
"Okay. It's okay girl, we're gonna get through this. I'm gonna call the cops, all right? Will you be ok?" she asked carefully. Minako nodded, hugging herself tightly. Makoto huffed out a breath. "Just stay right here, ok? The phone is just up here on the table," she said gently standing and moving a meter away. Minako shivered at her absence, rubbing her arms as she listened to Makoto explain what had happened. The conversation became white noise as she stared off into the distance, reliving the moment Takeda had fallen on her all over again.
She'd thought Kudo had been acting strangely.
But truthfully, she'd have been less surprised if it had been Kumiko Takeda behind that door, and not Ken. What was going on here?
Also who seriously murdered someone over a community theater production? Like how unhinged did you have to be?! She shivered, rubbing her arms. Pretty unhinged. Minako fervently hoped whoever they were, their feud was with Ken Takeda, and it had died along with him.
"Ok. The cops are on their way. I called Touma, and he's on his way too. He works near-by, so he'll he here really fast, all right? Do you want me to call Seiji?" she asked. Minako paused, thinking. His classes were probably over.
"Yeah. Let me call him though," she said woodenly. Makoto nodded, helping her up. Minako winced. "Ugh. That floor is hard," she muttered, making her way to the phone on the table. She dialed the number for the dojo out of memory.
"Hello?"
She'd managed to pull herself together, but for some reason, the sound of his deep voice shook her up again.
"Oh," she rasped, sniffling and managing to get her emotions under control. "Seiji, I'm so sorry, but I won't make it tonight." She'd sounded steady, at least to her own ears. She didn't want to worry him too much. After all, she wasn't the one who'd been murdered. Her eyes watered fiercely even as the thought crossed her mind and Minako put a hand to her forehead.
Gods. Was she a terrible person for thinking things like that?
"Mina-chan. What is it? What's wrong?" There was an edge to his voice now, and she rushed to reassure him.
"I'm ok! I'm ok. Just something's come up at the theater," she replied, keeping her tone as carefully neutral as possible.
"You're not ok, I can tell. You're at the theater? Wait there, I'll be there shortly," he murmured, and hung up. Minako stared at the phone and burst into tears again.
"Oh no," she breathed. She looked at Makoto, who was staring at her with an expression of complete sympathy. "I think I just ruined Seiji's night," she sniffled at the brunette. Makoto rolled her eyes then, shattering the image of empathy.
"Girl, you just found a dead body. If anyone's night's been ruined, it's yours," Makoto paused, suddenly drooping. "And his too I guess," she added quietly looking at the corpse.
"Oh no," Minako said again, exploding into a fresh round of tears. "Oh no."
"You know what? We don't need to stay in here. Let's just….let's just go….out there, in the hall or something, ok? This isn't... you shouldn't be in here like this. It's not good for you," the brunette said, putting an arm around Minako's shoulders and hustling her out into the hallway. She pressed her kerchief into Minako's hands and Minako thanked her, dabbing at her eyes.
They waited there quietly for the police to show up, Minako huddled into Makoto's embrace, trying hard not to think very much about anything.
88888888
The police's arrival brought a flurry of activity. Chaos, people, pictures.
Minako thought it was a little odd that she was the only one from the theater to be present. Not even Kudo was there, and he was the director and the production manager. Come to think of it, why had she been the only one there at all? It had been Makoto that had come running when she'd screamed. No one else had been around?
The hairs on her arms started to stand up the more she thought about it, and Minako rubbed her arms briskly, trying to ward off the weird, creepy feeling her thoughts were giving her.
Once the police arrived, Minako gave them her statement. Several times in fact, until a familiar male voice snapped at someone that she'd had enough. A large, strong hand rested on her shoulder, and then the familiar scent that clung to Touma – night wind and crisp snow – filled her nostrils. His face appeared in her vision, cutting off her line of sight to all the activity bustling in and out of the room. He looked so concerned, she thought.
"Hi, Touma," she whispered, feeling her eyes tear up at the sight of a familiar face.
"Hi Mina-chan. Rough day, huh?" he breathed, smiling at her. He straightened then, pulling her gently into a warm, secure hug. Minako hugged him back fiercely, gripping the back of his jacket in her fists, savoring that crisp smell of winter wind and trying to forget the level of creeped out she'd just been.
She stood like that for an indeterminate amount of time, sandwiched between Makoto and Touma, letting them lull her into a warm sense of safety as they stood to one side, watching the activity bustling around passively. They both hovered protectively, warding off anyone who tried to bother her, calming her nerves.
"Mina-chan!"
Minako jerked up from her lull at the sound of Seiji's voice. She looked up just in time to see Seiji hustling toward her, moving through the endless stream of police staff, ignoring the dirty looks he was getting for interrupting the activity. He came to an abrupt halt in front of her, putting his hands on her shoulders.
"Are you all right? What's happening? Why are the police here?!" he breathed, looking down to take all of her in. He went white when he looked at her, his eyes going wide, mouth dropping open. "M-Mina-chan!" he stuttered, sounding panicked.
Minako looked down at herself, wondering what he was seeing.
Her entire front was stained crimson. She brought her hands, shaking, to her face turning them as she took in the red painting them.
She was wearing someone else's blood.
She was wearing someone else's blood.
That made sense. Of course it made sense. It just hadn't occurred to her until now.
She started to pant, feeling panicked. "It's his," she whispered. "It's his. It's not mine. It's his," she breathed. Above her, Touma swore.
"Mina-chan, where's your bag? Let's go get changed, ok?" Makoto said, putting gentle pressure on her elbow.
"Wait a second. That's part of the crime scene, we need her to stay as is," someone said. Touma's face went dark.
"You've already asked her a million questions. You've gotten her story several times. If you needed anything else, then you should have gotten it. This woman has been through something traumatic. She doesn't need to be standing here watching this going on anymore. We're going to help her get cleaned up and changed. And then we're taking her home. So if you need something else, I suggest you get it – now," he growled in a low, angry voice. Seiji had turned so that he and Touma were shoulder to shoulder, effectively blocking Minako and Makoto from view.
There was more arguing, but Makoto simply tugged her away from all the activity and into the ladies' room. Minako let the brunette cut the shirt off of her with a pair of sewing scissors she produced from her purse so the blood didn't have to go over her face.
She shrugged out of the garment and wandered over to the sink, scrubbing vigorously at her hands. Makoto handed her some damp paper towels for her face and a few other places that needed attention, and then she was pulling her clean blouse from earlier in the day over her head.
They repeated the process with her pants, and when she emerged from the restroom, she had to admit she felt a lot better. Makoto curled her lip at the person arguing with Touma, who had gone toe to toe with them now, reaching out to hand the man Minako's ruined clothing gingerly with two fingers.
"Here. There's your evidence," she snapped. She looped her arm through one of Touma's. "Let's go. I want to get Mina-chan out of here."
"Are we done here?" Touma snarled. The man sputtered, but Seiji, apparently, wasn't waiting. He wrapped a sheltering arm around Minako's shoulder and hustled her toward the exit. The release into the night outside was both a balm and a shock to her system, the shock of cold air invigorating even as it chilled her.
Oh. She'd forgotten her coat inside.
Almost as soon as she had the thought, someone was draping one over her shoulders. Minako turned, smiling at Touma as he adjusted it for her.
"Thanks, Touma," she said, smiling at him and burrowing into the warmth of the material.
They all hovered around her anxiously like a pack as they made their way to the station. It seemed sort of silly, but was also exactly what she needed. She'd be ok. She just needed some time. And distance. A lot of distance. Maybe some cartoons and a slice of chocolate cake.
No strike that, she was not hungry.
They herded her onto the train. Seiji kept his arm around her as they sat side by side, and Minako cuddled into him, letting him surround her. Sitting with him while Mako-chan and Touma stood in front of them gave her the feeling of being surrounded safely on all sides, and she let out a breath, feeling herself relax a bit. Seiji tucked her head beneath his chin, and her three friends carried on quiet conversation as Minako let her mind drift.
It still didn't make sense. Why kill Takeda? Why kill him like that? What about his daughter? Where was she? Had she run off with someone bad? Minako considered.
Maybe someone needed to go find Kumiko. Maybe she was in trouble? Had she fallen in with a bad crowd? If that was the case, it was a bad crowd. Her dad had been murdered. Minako's brain went back to Mr. Kudo. He'd been super nervous when he'd talked to her. Had he been worried Minako would decline? Or was something else going on?
Still. Murder seemed like….well, overkill to make a terrible pun.
Ugh. All this intrigue was hurting her brain.
And now she had the lead role. What did that mean for her? Did she even want the role now? Did she even want to be part of this production? That assumed there still was a production. Murder seemed like a good reason not to have one.
By the time they arrived at Nasuti's, she had more questions than answers and was starting to feel overwhelmed again. To say nothing of the monumental headache that was making it difficult to keep her eyes open.
"Ugh," she muttered, leaning against Seiji as he guided them up to the door. "My head hurts."
"I'll bet," Makoto said empathetically. "You hit the floor pretty hard. There's probably a giant goose-egg back there. We should have Ami look at it."
Minako blinked, cautiously placing her fingertips near a spot that the pain seemed to radiate from. Her fingers made contact and she winced. "Definitely a goose-egg," she muttered. Seiji turned once they were inside, angling her head towards a light source.
"Here?" he asked softly, brushing strands of her hair aside. His touch was incredibly gentle, but she still flinched when he made contact. "Sorry – sorry. I just want to get a look," he said sounding regretful.
Touma and Makoto crowded around him as Minako closed her eyes against the light. Her head was really starting to pound. After a moment, Makoto sucked air through her teeth.
"Wow girl, you've got a nasty bump back here," she said after a moment. "Ami's not back yet, but let me get Nasuti." Makoto's footsteps trailed off further into the house. Someone's fingers prodded at her scalp and Minako flinched again.
"Ouch! Don't touch it!" she whined. Seiji murmured a soothing apology as Nasuti came bustling into the kitchen. The woman's delicate floral scent wafted into Minako's nose as she peered at the wound, making humming sounds.
"It looks pretty nasty but I think she'll be ok. Mina-chan, are you dizzy? Sleepy? Look at me, how many fingers am I holding up?" she asked. Minako straightened, putting a hand on her head.
"Three," she muttered. "Can I go lie down now?" Nasuti nodded.
"Yes. I think you're all right, but Seiji you should stay with her. I'll bring in some tea," the woman replied.
"Come on," Seiji said quietly, stripping off Touma's coat and handing it to the man. He guided her gently into the living room and over to the couch. Shuu and Usagi were cuddled close, playing video games, but they took one look at Minako when she entered and immediately vacated their spot, making room.
Usagi fluffed a set of pillows, arranging them for Minako as she put her head down.
"Mina-chan, are you all right?" she asked softly.
"Mmmm ok," Minako slurred, sinking gratefully into the couch cushions. "Somebody died," she tried to explain, her head pounding too hard for her to get much else out. Usagi gasped, and she heard Seiji murmur to her quietly in a tone too low for her to make out.
Then there was blessed silence. Seiji's weight carefully maneuvered itself behind her on the couch, warm and secure.
She fell asleep almost immediately.