Rain of Terra
Ratatosk
7. Chapter 7
Rated: T - English - Crime/Mystery - Tomo T. - Reviews: 68 - Updated: 12-15-11 - Published: 08-23-09 - id:5325016
Tomo was flipping through Asagi Ayase's case folder while Torako commanded the car through traffic. Torako did her best to ignore Tomo's vigorous and expressive gum chewing, but one loud smack over an important document later, Torako was ready to throw her out.
"Where did you get that gum?" Torako asked.
"Huh?" Tomo looked at Torako, her jawing temporarily halted. "At the convenience store, of course."
"You didn't pay for it."
Tomo grinned. "Oh, I see. You want in on the loot. Well, here." Tomo reached into her pants pocket and pulled out a pack of gum, "Chekov's" emblazoned on its side. "It's green tea gum," Tomo said.
Torako spared a glance at the pack, and frowned when she saw the label. "The worst green tea gum on the market," she said. "That stuff tastes like gunpowder."
"Oh, you just don't have the refined tastes-" and Tomo was interrupted by dispatch flaring over the car radio, requesting their location and current heading. Tomo closed the folder, stuck it between her seat and the center console, and grabbed the mic.
"Heading toward the civil office," Tomo said.
"Continue current heading. Chief Akiyama will meet you there. Out." Dispatch clicked off.
Tomo made a production of hanging up the mic, banging it around the holder, emboldening herself with encouraging comments, her voice strained like a bodybuilder trying for that one extra bench-press. "Come on, you can do it," Tomo said. "Believe in yourself." Tomo hung the mic properly when she saw that Torako wasn't going to be baited.
"Anyway, why does the chief want to meet us at the hearing?" Tomo asked.
"He wants to fire you and give me a medal," Torako said.
"What? No he doesn't! You don't know!"
"Then why'd you ask?"
"To see if you'd lie. And you did." Tomo arched her eyebrows, crossed her arms, and lifted her chin like a Marquis tossing a devastating bon mot at a hated adversary. "I guess we know who the real moral compass of this pairing is. And you're supposed to be a civil servant. For shame!"
Torako was going to mention Tomo's stolen gum, but changed her mind.
...
They walked across the walkway to the entrance of the Chiyoda ward's civil office. The stickiness had left the bottom of Tomo's shoes, and barely a squeak was heard as she walked toward the building's entrance.
Chief Akiyama was standing next to the doors of the main entrance, his arms folded across his navy blue suit. His tie, displaying blotches of purples and reds instead of an actual design, escaped from his vest and flapped around in the first chilly wind of fall.
Torako was trying to figure out the appropriate distance before she could say a greeting – she didn't want to shout and attract attention, but she didn't want to appear snotty by not saying anything – when Tomo demonstrated her own ability of handling this social question.
"Hey chief!" Tomo shouted through cupped hands. Innocent bystanders on the sidewalk spared a glance at Tomo before going about their business. The chief released a barely perceptible nod, so slight that the duo weren't sure if his movement was a hallucination.
"This hearing has gotten a lot shorter," the chief said when the two stopped in front of him. "Hasegawa got shanked."
"Hmm," Torako said. She reached into her khaki canvas jacket to pull out a cigarette, but stopped when she remembered where she was.
Tomo blinked. "Hasegawa? Who's that?"
The chief looked at Torako with a smirk and gestured his arm toward Tomo, like he was introducing a family member freshly unshackled from the basement.
"Kidnapper you arrested," Torako said. "Kicked him in the crotch."
"Oh, Baldy!" Tomo said, slapping her open hand with her fist. "Yeah, that guy. Shanked, huh? Well, so much for the hearing."
"Hasegawa didn't show up at roll call this morning," the chief said. "They sent some officers to his cell, but found him lying in a pool of his own blood on the walk way. Turns out he was stabbed five times, guts poking out. He bled to death pretty quick."
"Any suspects?" Torako asked.
"Yeah, the whole holding facility," the chief said. "No one's saying a word. Apparently the whole lot of 'em didn't see a thing. The weapon hasn't been found yet, as far as I know."
The chief made his hand like a hitchhiker and pointed his thumb over his shoulder, aiming at the entrance. "Anyway, go on in and make your statement to the prosecutor. It's going to be perfunctory stuff, shouldn't take you guys longer than twenty minutes. Later kids." The chief walked off toward the parking garage.
Tomo turned her head in unison with chief Akiyama's departing figure. She cupped her hands over her mouth, but all that came out was a muffled "ack" when Torako gripped Tomo's throat and pulled her into the building.
...
Twenty minutes later, Torako and Tomo were driving to Ms. Ando's current residence.
"Did he really have to meet us to say all that?" Tomo said. She held her open hand, palm up, at the car radio. "I mean, we have a radio right here. We have cell phones. What's the big deal?"
"The chief likes it face-to-face," Torako said. "Wants to talk directly. He's always been like that."
"Yeah, so he inconveniences us because of some weird quirks," Tomo said. "Man, he ought to think of his own people every now and then."
"We were headed that way anyway," Torako said.
"So? He delayed us from going to the hearing and getting it over with. And why are you standing up for him?" Tomo said, leaning over the center console and thrusting her face at Torako. Tomo grinned. "You got a crush on the chief, don't you? I think it's gross, going after an old man like that, but hey, it's your life."
Torako down shifted as the car approached a red light. Her face remained impassive, the one rock Tomo's jibes couldn't break. "At least I don't call Osaka in the middle of the night to tell her I love her," Torako said.
"What?" Tomo said, leaning away from Torako. "I didn't tell her that!" Tomo narrowed her eyes as the realization hit her. "Rico," Tomo said. "I'm going to kill him!" Tomo flipped out her cell phone and pounded the keys, creating a text message to put her husband in his place.
The light turned green, and Torako drove on. "We need to work out a method of investigating Asagi's murder, so we don't get caught," Torako said, when Tomo had finished her text message.
Tomo pocketed her cell phone. She looked at Torako, held her fist over her mouth, and coughed like a public speaker at a lectern.
"Well, for starters, I do think you're being overly paranoid. Think about it. If the cops in Taito, or at least the Ueno district, are in on it like you think they are, wouldn't they have started cleaning out Ms. Ayase's building before we even got there? I mean, why wait for us to show up and grab the computer?"
Tomo paused to let Torako speak, but she didn't. Tomo continued. "Secondly, no one up there knows that you and Ms. Ayase were friends. I left it out of my report, like you asked. Really, no one is going to suspect that we're working on this case. I bet they've forgotten about us already."
"They took the pictures on the wall," Torako said.
"And?"
Torako's mouth straightened into a grimace. "There was one with me and Asagi, remember?"
"Oh come on," Tomo said. "They aren't going to notice that. And I doubt they took every single item in the building. I mean, I bet some of it went with Ms. Ando. We can ask her when we see her." Tomo pounded her fist into her open palm and chuckled like a Chicago heavy working for Al Capone. "And boy, do I got some questions."
"Sounds good so far," Torako said, "as long as we can stay inside our own ward. Once we venture into Taito, though, there might be problems. We'll have to figure out how to keep a low profile and not get noticed."
"Oh, I got that figured out already," Tomo said. "We'll get Osaka. No one will recognize her, or even think she's involved with us. Total stealth infiltration."
Torako gripped the steering wheel tighter than necessary. "I don't think so," she said.
"Oh come on!" Tomo said. "She's deputized! It'll work, it'll work."
Officially, Osaka was a Civilian Assistant to the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Force. Tomo had called them deputies since the day she found out about them, and had insisted on that term despite no one else taking it up.
"Her position is a translator," Torako said. "We can't use her for undercover work, especially on something that could end our careers."
"Oh, I have a way around that too," Tomo said. She rolled down the window and spat out her gum before unwrapping another piece and sticking it in her mouth.
"See, as a deputy, she's required to assist police when we tell her to," Tomo said, smacking through her wad of gum. "It's in the contract she signed. Not doing that can get her license revoked, fines, even jail time. So, if something does happen – and it's not – she can always say we ordered her to do it. It'll give her a way out. She can claim ignorance, which will totally work when the judge takes just one look at her." Tomo leaned back in her seat and put her hands behind her head, a semi-miraculous pose in the cramped confines of the Civic. "See? It's an airtight defense!"
Torako shook her head. "I'd rather not. She's got her own life anyway, running that restaurant. No one else needs to be involved in this."
"Suit yourself," Tomo said. "Anyway, I got another plan."
"Let's hear it."
"Monsieur Chien," Tomo said, giving Torako a double dose of thumbs up. Monsieur Chien, named by Tomo, was a French Bloodhound rescued from a drug trafficker when he was a puppy. He was transferred to the kennel and trained as a tracker.
"What good will he do?"
"Oh, come on," Tomo said. "It's a last resort. We go back to the hotel room, and have him sniff that thread and button. We'll let him find the scent, and track the killer."
Torako whistled. "That is a long shot if there ever was one. Too many days have passed for a scent to be that strong, and I'm sure they've scrubbed the room clean by now."
"What?" Tomo said, turning toward Torako and pursing her lips. "Do you doubt the tracking power of Monsieur Chien?"
"Not a bit," Torako said. "Just saying, if more days pass, he won't be able to track anything in that room. Assuming there's anything left to track there now. Then you have the whole problem of going back to the murder scene of a sealed case with a tracking dog, and in the wrong district in the wrong ward."
"Aw, Torako," Tomo said, breaking out her whining voice, as cringe inducing as sandpaper on aluminum. "You're being way too paranoid. They aren't looking for us, and the only thing we need to do is not slip up and tell people what we're doing."
"I'll consider Monsieur Chien," Torako said.
Tomo turned toward Torako and smacked her gum in loud, rapid bursts, like a series of staccato beats from a snare drum.
Her symphony of annoyance was interrupted by a yelp when she bit her tongue. She held her hand to the side of her mouth and moaned, while Torako did her best not to laugh.
...
Ms. Ando was now living with her son and daughter-in-law in a two story house in an upper middle-class neighborhood. The daughter-in-law was a lawyer patent attorney. The son was a stay-at-home husband who wrote cheap sci-fi serials under an alias, and had ghost written for several popular light novel series.
The two parked the car at the edge of the curb on the small residential street, with Torako holding the manila folder in her arm. Tomo marveled at the patch of grass framing the walkway to the door.
"Wow," Tomo said. "This must cost a fortune."
"You mind letting me do all the questions?" Torako asked.
Tomo made an exasperated groan. "Go ahead, hot shot, if my interrogation technique is too advanced for you."
Tomo rang the doorbell. She put her hands in her trenchcoat pockets and flapped the edges, while rolling from her heels to her toes and back.
Torako was as still and solid as a stone fortress in medieval Europe. "They got a peephole," Torako said, and Tomo immediately straightened up.
The oak door opened, and a skinny middle-aged man wearing a white dress shirt appeared. He eyed the pair and said, "May I help you?"
...
Ms. Ando's room was breathtaking in the amount of keepsakes cluttering its small space. The kotatsu from the tearoom over her old bakery was the centerpiece, surrounded by cushions and pillows. Ms. Ando apparently spent her sitting time on the floor, since there were no chairs in the room. At night, she laid out a futon to sleep on.
On the wall next to the entrance was an antique wooden chest of drawers, its presence as weighty as a stern stare from the head nun at a Catholic school. Its design was so solid and severe that it could be drawn as a set of rows and columns in a spreadsheet program. The three movers tasked with getting her items to her new room saved that one for last. They hated it, but their hate was as effective as spitballs against Gibraltar.
The rest of the furniture lacked the drawer's sternness, although they still had their own pretentions at solidity. Nothing less than solid pine was used in the bookshelves, now holding pictures (Torako was relieved to see that Ms. Ando had rescued several of the pictures on Asagi's wall, including the one with her in it), vases, and other knickknacks. The walnut encased radio, a KLH model 8 bought in 1964 by her husband and never replaced, was on one of the shelves and played enka at low volume. This wasn't so much Ms. Ando's room as it was a museum dedicated to her past.
The curator, however, did not make the same timeless impression. She appeared hollowed out, and her movements were overly deliberate, as if they had to be decided by committee. The once sparkling, teasing eyes, full of stubborn fire, now only had the River Lethe flowing behind them.
"It's nice to see you two again," Ms. Ando said, but there was no feeling behind it. It was a perfunctory greeting to get out of the way so the conversation could be over as soon as possible. Her gaze rested on the manila folder Torako had placed on the kotatsu. "Do you have more nice things to show me?"
"When did they come in?" Torako asked.
"They?" Ms. Ando said, still looking at the folder.
"The people that took over your building."
Ms. Ando made a slow shrug, lifting her head and looking to the side. "They woke me up at 4:00 that morning, after you left. There had to be about fifteen cops there. Even more moving people. They didn't even have the courtesy to wait for the morning," Ms. Ando said. She turned to look at Torako and attempted to smile. It came out less than that. "I got dressed and saw about twelve people on my floor, rooting through my belongings. I didn't say anything. I knew what was going on. They saw me and started shouting downstairs, I guess to whoever was over the operation."
Ms. Ando paused as she looked down at the folder. "They had made a mess of my bakery. That hurt the most. I go downstairs and whoever was in charge - I don't know his name, I wasn't paying attention - asks me what happened to Asagi's computer. I tell him two detectives picked it up. He didn't like that answer."
"Do you remember anything about him?" Torako asked.
"Oh, he looked like every detective you see on a T.V. show" Ms. Ando said. "Young, close cut hair, wearing a cheap suit and a khaki trenchcoat. Cheap smelling cologne. Just a cheap brat with a badge." Ms. Ando let out a strangled laugh. "An amateur compared to Saito and Watanabe."
"Did you know them?"
"No, but they came and visited my son a week ago," she said. "Made threats against him. They wanted it to get back to Asagi, a warning on what they'd do to her. She took care of that, though."
Ms. Ando swallowed. "Anyway, they took me to the Ueno district office…" Ms. Ando furrowed her brow, and Torako could see the genetic resemblance when her son did it. It was a cavalcade of wrinkles, like canals cut through sand. "You know, I don't think it was the Ueno district office," Ms. Ando said.
Torako raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
Ms. Ando shook her head, trying to drop the mental pachinko balls into their pockets. "I'm not sure what it was. Perhaps it was a koban. Whatever it was, I was kept there for about six hours…"
"Damn," Tomo whispered.
"…and they wouldn't let me make any calls. I couldn't drink anything, or go to the bathroom. It was humiliating. Several different people came in to ask me what I knew about Asagi's business. I didn't pay attention to them. I kept telling them I was an old woman that ran a bakery. They eventually let me go. They drove me back to my old building and dropped me off. It was empty, and most of my stuff was piled up on the sidewalk. Now, why would they do that?"
Ms. Ando directed this question at the table. It was a circular question, aimed at herself instead of her two listeners.
"Anyway, I called my son and he handled everything. Yuka even took off from work to organize some movers. She wanted to put in a complaint at the Ueno police office, but I told her she'd be wasting her time. My son agreed with me." Her eyes lost focus.
"I saw that the building was purchased by Mainichi Construction," Torako said.
"Yes," Ms. Ando said. "He's wanted to destroy that building for years. It got in the way of his expansion plans. We were on good terms, though. He never tried to take it from me or threaten me. I was thinking of selling it around five years ago, when I could no longer afford the property taxes. Asagi was a customer back then, and she volunteered to buy it and let me keep the bakery and apartment, if she could use the corner room as her office. I didn't mind, I only had it for storage, and it was better than having to move out if Mr. Mainichi bought it. It was a good deal."
"Did Asagi will the property to anyone?"
"No, she didn't have a will," Ms. Ando said. Her monotone voice cracked. "Since it's commercial property and part of a criminal investigation, ownership reverted to the ward. I have no idea how Mr. Mainichi bought the property so fast. I suppose the police decided they got all they wanted out of it, and he was first in line to buy it. He probably promised to support a political campaign."
Ms. Ando rubbed one eye with the heel of her palm. Torako decided to wrap this up and let Ms. Ando get back to sleep. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out the two evidence bags, one with the green thread and the other with the black coat button, and showed them to Ms. Ando.
"Do you recognize these?" Torako asked.
Ms. Ando said she didn't. Torako opened the manila folder and showed her the picture of the suspect at Tokyo Station, the only one her source was able to find.
"We believe this is the person that made the anonymous call to the hotel that night," Torako said. The night Asagi was murdered, Torako didn't say. "Do you recognize her?"
Ms. Ando shook her head. "I can barely recognize her as a female, with those glasses and face mask."
"Do you think this could be Ryoko?"
"Ryoko?" Ms. Ando said. "What time were those pictures taken?"
"Around six p.m."
"Hmm," Ms. Ando said. "She works for me from 7:00 p.m. to closing. I still don't think that's her, though."
"Do you have an address or a phone number we can reach her at?" Torako asked.
"No, my files were taken, too, and I can't remember it." Ms. Ando pressed her hand against her forehead. "She has a day job, somewhere. I don't know anything about it."
Torako nodded at Tomo. "Thanks for your time, Ms. Ando, we'll be on our way."
"Wait," Ms. Ando said. She stood up too fast, because she tottered on one foot before regaining her balance. She stood still to let the light-headedness leave, and walked to a bookshelf holding pictures. She took the one of Asagi and Torako in front of Torako's new car, taken the first year of their university attendance.
"I'd like you to have this," Ms. Ando said, handing the picture to Torako. Torako bowed and mumbled a thank you before leaving.
...
Tomo and Torako waited in the foyer of the house for Mr. Ando to finish checking up on his mother. Torako held the manila folder and picture while Tomo snooped through the drawers of the rolltop drawer stationed against the wall.
"Boring," Tomo said, shutting a drawer. "Stamps, staples, pencils… no drugs."
"Looking for a quick fix?" Torako asked.
"Nah, if I wanted that I'd go to your house," Tomo said.
"Hmm."
"Because I mean, if someone smokes cigarettes, you know they got stronger stuff to smoke, right?" Tomo slammed the last drawer shut and turned to face Torako. Her arms were crossed and she tilted her head back and poked her chin out, the self-satisfied smile inviting a punch to her face. "Once again I hit a home run in the civil ethics world series."
Mr. Ando left Ms. Ando's room and walked down to the foyer. He didn't make eye contact with the two until he was standing in front of them.
"Will there be anything else, officers?"
"Ryoko," Torako said. "Ms. Ando's night clerk. Do you know where she is, or her day job?"
"I don't know her address, sorry," Mr. Ando said. "I do know where she works during the day, though."
Torako pulled out her notebook and pen, but Mr. Ando shook his head. "All I know about the address is that it's somewhere in Kojimachi. Maiden's Crown Flower Shop."
"Eww," Tomo said, as Torako wrote down the name.
"Good, she's in Chiyoda," Torako said. "This makes our job much easier. Anything else you can tell us?"
"It used to be a Sudohbucks Coffee shop before Starbucks sued them out of existence. I hope that helps."
...
Torako asked Tomo to punch in the street address of the Maiden's Crown Flower shop into the GPS.
"Eh? We're going to interview Ryoko anyway?"
"Might as well," Torako said. "How much of Ms. Ando's story did you believe?"
"Half on, half off. Her giving you that picture seemed sort of like a last minute peace offering, instead of being from the goodness of her heart. An emotional bribe, I guess."
"Heh," Torako said. "She lost most of her life two days ago, and we doubt what she said. When did we turn so cynical?"
"You're the cynical one," Tomo said. "I just know better than to trust old ladies."
...
Ryoko was working when Tomo and Torako entered the flower shop. Torako said they were no longer investigating Asagi's murder, but were wrapping up some lose ends concerning their limited stay in the Ueno district. They figured Ryoko wasn't bright or brave enough to dig into their business, and she proved them correct.
Ryoko had an alibi in the manager of the flower shop, a thin, salty woman who looked older than she really was. She showed the detectives security footage from the night the call took place. Ryoko was visible sweeping the floor. Ryoko didn't recognize the thread, button, or picture.
It was after 2:00 when Torako decided to head back to the office to file the report of the convenience store attack, but Tomo protested their lack of lunch and demanded that Torako stop at a taiyaki stand. Tomo grabbed a red bean paste taiyaki and a chocolate taiyaki, while Torako decided on the cheese.
They leaned against the side of the Civic while eating their food. The local high school was in the neighborhood, and the shouting from a practice baseball session was flowing down the street. They could hear the ping of a ball hitting a bat, followed by the cheers of the batter's team.
"So," Tomo said, her mouth full of a pastry fish and its bloody looking filling, "what's the plan of attack?"
"Not much we can do," Torako said. She ate her cheese taiyaki with slower, practiced bites, and would sometimes wipe her mouth with a napkin in her free hand. "I'd love to interview Saito and Watanabe, but there's no way we would ever build a convincing lie to get into the detention facility. We'd be found out in no time."
"I know!" Tomo said. "We could be entertainers sent to cheer up the prisoners! I'll dress as Mario, and you can be Luigi-"
"Tomo…"
"Nuns!" Tomo said. "We could dress as nuns and ask if we could convert the poor sinners. My husband is Catholic, he could totally give us some pointers on nun behavior-"
"You can stop right there," Torako said. "I wouldn't do it even if I thought it would work. Which it won't." Torako didn't bother to mention the destruction and mayhem that occurred last time Rico's Afro-Brazilian style Catholicism was combined with Tomo's enthusiastically irreligious nature. Tomo's probably banned from every church in the country.
"Alright," Tomo said. "How about Mr. Mainichi?"
"Almost as unlikely," Torako said. She took a bite of her taiyaki, chewed, and swallowed. "He bought that building awful quick. That sounds like some kind of insider knowledge, maybe a friend at the police station. We have no way of knowing how close he is to the cops there, and if he'd report us."
"Then that leaves Monsieur Chien!" Tomo said. She finished her red bean paste taiyaki and started on her chocolate filled taiyaki.
"Yeah, Monsieur Chien," Torako said. "We'll call the kennel master and pick Chien-"
"Monsieur Chien."
"-up when we finish our report on the convenience store vandalism."
"Good call," Tomo said. She chomped on her taiyaki. She was halfway through with her second taiyaki and Torako had barely finished hers.
"We have to go to Ueno after all," Torako said. "Back to that stupid hotel room. At least we don't have to talk to anyone outside of front desk, but we need to make sure the place isn't being scoped out by cops. Otherwise, we'll just have to call it off."
"Yeah, it'll be risky," Tomo said through a mouthful of chocolate and pastry. "I mean, we were there just days ago. I'm sure the whole staff would recognize us on sight."
Tomo changed her voice to a high-pitched, nasal squeak. "Why, there go those two detectives! With a dog! And they want that old room? Boy, that sure is strange. I guess I better call the police just to make sure."
Tomo started punching an imaginary phone in mid air, and made bleep sounds with each stab. She continued her narration.
"Hello, police? Those two detectives are back. Why yes, they are in the same room. Oh, you're sending in the riot squat to arrest them? Great idea, I'll alert the media-"
"Okay, you win," Torako said, through gritted teeth. She sighed and shook her head. "We'll get Osaka in on it. But we tell her everything, and we let her decide. I'm the one calling her."
"Oh? Why you?"
"You'll just bully her into it."
"Bully? Please, I'll have you know that's the power of friendship."
"Whatever," Torako said, as she concentrated on finishing her taiyaki. "We'll go see Mr. Ichiro and grab Monsieur Chien as soon as we finish our report for this morning."
...
After filing their report, and during Tomo's daily harassment of Kazumi Kondo, Torako called Osaka to ask for her help with the case, explaining their plan carefully. Osaka readily agreed to help, and the two planned to meet at her apartment, that day, at 18:00 hours. First, Tomo and Torako had to grab Monsieur Chien for the big night.
Tomo and Torako pushed open the glass door and stepped onto the grassy yard, a wrought-iron perimeter fence with barbed wire playing sentry, and rust colored noise-reducing plastic weaved into the iron bars.
They walked across the grass to the small metal building housing the kennel and the kennel master's office. The door to the building was open, so Tomo called for the kennel master.
"Mr. Ichiro," she said. "You in?"
A faint "dammit" coasted through the open doorway into the outside. "Yeah, come on in," Ichiro said, his voice gritty like a miner ending his twelve-hour shift. Ichiro was an old man who retired from the merchant marine twenty-five years ago, forced to find work due to the inability of his pension to pay for the cost of living, and by the need in his hands to do more than hold the remote control.
Tomo walked into his office while Torako stood at the doorway. Ichiro's office was size slightly smaller than the janitor supply closet at the Tokyo Police Force headquarters. His work area was a foldable table with a forest of papers growing on it, arranged in a file system that only Ichiro could decipher.
"Hey old man," Tomo said, raising her hand in greeting. The dogs in the kennel, the next room over, barked at the sound of Tomo's voice.
"Old man," Ichiro muttered, standing up. "You ain't thrown her out yet?" He asked, looking at Torako. The grit in his voice was polished to a shine when he spoke to Torako. Tomo made a lewd wink at Torako, who ignored it with her typical skill and expertise.
"Thinking about it," Torako said. Tomo stuck out her tongue, and nearly bit it when Ichiro shoved her out of the way to talk to Torako.
"You guys are just in time. I got Monsieur Chien back yesterday," Ichiro said. "Ken needed him." Ken worked undercover in the murky narcotic hell of the Roppongi district.
"He better not have used him for drug tracking," Torako said. "We got plenty of beagles for that."
"I did a swab on him when he got back," Ichiro said. "He's clean. You know Ken's lasted a year now? That's a record. He's gotta have an iron constitution." Ichiro chuckled. "I don't even want to think how he's doing it."
"You have to be a bit of a lawbreaker yourself to survive in that environment," Torako said. "If everyone is snorting cocaine while you're drinking orange juice, well, they'll all know you're a narc pretty quick. Once you've been marked over there, that's it."
"He's one of you guys, ain't he?" Ichiro asked. His face showed blunt uncaring of mentioning the taboo police "secret" of what Tomo called the Seven-Ups.
"Yep," Torako said. "Goes through partners like Dirty Harry, though."
Ichiro creaked into the kennel area of the building. The kennel was clean and tidy, the floors in front of the pen damp from being sprayed clean. Five dogs were in their respective pens, four German Shepherds and the French Bloodhound. Plenty of sunlight came through the gang of rectangular clerestory windows running across the top of the wall. Those opened windows allowed a stiff breeze to blow through the kennel.
A series of large cubbyholes was at the end of the wall, with each dog's name marked underneath their respective slot. Ichiro reached down into Monsieur Chien's slot and pulled out his leather harness and leash.
"Man, poor Monsieur Chien must have a really hard time of it, being around those German Shepherds," Tomo said, while Ichiro opened Monsieur Chien's pen and bent down to attach his harness. Torako knew where Tomo's trainwreck of a thought was going, but she shoveled coal into it instead of hitting the breaks. "Why do you say that?"
"Well, Monsieur Chien is French," Tomo said. "Traditionally, the French don't get along with Germans. I think they fought some wars or something."
"Hmm," Torako said. "I don't think dogs recognize nationality."
"Well, how would you know? Are you a canine behavioral scientist?"
"You're an idiot," Ichiro said, as he pulled the stubborn Monsieur Chien out of his pen. Tomo flung her fists in the air and shouted, "What did you say?" at Ichiro.
The black-and-tan Monsieur Chien huffed and bounded at Tomo, wagging his tail. Tomo made playful greeting noises at Monsieur Chien while Torako scooted away along the wall. Ichiro handed the retractable leash to Tomo.
Ichiro went to an unmarked slot and grabbed a large cylindrical navy-blue duffle bag with POLICE written in white on the side. He filled it with Monsieur Chien's effects, including several beach towels for Torako to pad the back seat of the Civic. When he was finished, he handed the bag to Torako and said, "Be sure to sign him out."
...
They arrived at the apartment complex shortly before 17:00. Torako cracked the rear windows to allow Monsieur Chien some air, and he responded by sticking the tip of his snout through the crack and sniffing heavily.
"We'll hang out at my place while we wait for Osaka to show up," Tomo said, as the two walked up the steps. "Rico isn't going to be back until late tonight, so you two can't conspire to bring me down."
"I think she's already in," Torako said, pointing at the light blaring from Osaka's living room window.
"Well, we'll go to my place anyway," Tomo said. She had her key out, ready to unlock her door, when Osaka's door open and she stuck her head out.
"Hi Tomo hi Torako," Osaka said, smiling as if she was greeting two long lost relatives. "Come on in. I got some cakes and fresh tea sittin' in a pot for you two. I mean, the tea is in the pot, not the cakes. The cakes are on the table."
"Hello, and thanks," Torako said, as she walked toward Osaka's door. Tomo frowned, and lunged at Osaka's door, pushing Torako out of the way.
Tomo scraped her shoes off with the toe of each foot and stepped onto the sad brown carpet infesting the apartment complex. She stood in front of the cherry end table at the far end of Osaka's blue cloth couch, watching Torako as she took off her boots.
Tomo saw Torako's attention wander around the room, so she grabbed Torako's elbow and pulled her toward the kitchen. "Hey Osaka, let's get some of that tea," she said. Torako made a sidelong glance at Tomo.
"Okay Tomo, I'll serve you right up," Osaka said. Assured that Torako would enter the kitchen under her own cognizance, Tomo let go of her elbow and walked back to the living room. She heard the faint chatter of Torako and Osaka, and the ascending musical scale of tea pouring into a cup. While watching the entrance to the kitchen, Tomo grabbed a picture on the end table and slid it behind the couch cushion.
Tomo entered the kitchen and pulled up a chair at the round table, covered by a white tablecloth, fresh and clean, patterned with roses. Tomo poured her some tea, grabbed a teacake and stuffed it in her mouth, watching Torako and Osaka talk while she vigorously chomped.
"Well, I better get ready," Osaka said. "I need to wash that food smell off and get some clean clothes on."
"You do that," Tomo said, taking a sip of her tea. She put her cup down and saw Osaka standing next to her, a goofy smile on her face.
"Hey Tomo, you're growing your hair out," Osaka said, flipping the back of Tomo's hair.
"Yep! I'm doing it for the winter. I haven't had long hair in a while. I might need to get a straightener to keep it from pointing outward."
"Yeah, your hair was all pointy," Osaka said. "It was like a pike formation. You coulda beat up a cavalry with that hair."
"Yeah… no," Tomo said. "How about you? You going to grow yours out?"
"Yep," Osaka said, stroking her chin while Torako reached for a teacake. "But out here, I'm working on a beard."
"A beard," Tomo said, as Torako's cake paused in mid-air before being placed back in the platter. Tomo squinted at Osaka, before brightening with her flash of inspiration. "Yeah, a beard! You should grow a van dyke beard, and get glasses with thick black frames, and carry a pipe so you'll look like a professor, and everyone will think you're a genius!"
Osaka's mouth widened into a smile of simple joy, and she held up a finger in contemplation. "That's a great idea, Tomo! Aww, but it won't work." Osaka's features shriveled into despair. "I've been trying to grow a beard for years, and not even a hair will come out."
"Gee, I wonder why," Tomo said, arranging the crumbs on her plate into an angry face. "Oh well, I guess you'll just have to find another goal. Or get a fake beard."
"Hey, I know what I could do," Osaka said. "I could start gettin' them testosterone shots."
Tomo's mouth dropped as she looked up at Osaka's sincere expression of resolve, one fist held in front of her as an expression of her adamant will. "Uh… I don't think you want to do that," Tomo said. "At all."
Torako checked her watch, deciding to ignore politeness and break up their comedy routine.
...
Osaka retreated to the washroom before Torako had her chance. After finishing her tea, Torako walked into Osaka's living room to check out her library. Tomo followed, holding her cup of tea.
"I had no idea Osaka was such an avid reader," Torako said, standing in front of her bookshelves.
"Yeah, weird thing about that is I don't think she ever read anything until college," Tomo said, as she took a sip of her tea.
"What did she major in, classical lit?"
Tomo shrugged. "No idea."
Torako slowly turned face Tomo, who was standing behind her. "You two were roommates for three years, and you don't know her major?"
"Hey," Tomo said, "That was years ago. I can barely remember what my major was." Tomo started flapping her hand at Torako as if she was a bothersome insect. "All that was just AHHHHH!"
Torako face made an expression of confusion, like a cashier recoiling from a customer's bizarre order. She turned her head to see the subject of Tomo's screaming.
Tomo jumped beside her and thrust her finger into the spine of a book. "That! What does that say!" Tomo said, a tinge of desperation making a quiver in her surprised voice.
Torako made a look of quiet disbelief, shown by a narrowing of her eyes and an uptick at the right corner of her lip, and turned to read the words Tomo was jabbing at.
"Wittgenstein," Torako said, frowning.
"And that!" Tomo said, thrusting her finger at another book on the other side of Torako.
Torako squinted. "Kierkegaard," she said. "Huh."
"Oh, okay," Tomo said. She made a big smile and sat down on a table next to the half wall separating the kitchen. "Those foreign names are really weird, don't you think?"
Torako didn't respond to Tomo's obvious attempts at misdirection. She pulled a book down from the shelf, Kant's Critique of Pure Reason. She flipped open to a random page in the middle of the book. It had yellow highlighter streaked over certain passages, jottings written in the margins of the pages, and a yellow post-it note fitted with tiny handwriting.
Torako placed it back and grabbed a book by Spinoza. A quick glance at its contents showed it to be in the same condition. "Girl's holding out on us," Torako mumbled under her breath.
Tomo had transported herself from the table to just next to Torako, her face jutting into the book. "What, find something dirty?" Torako closed the book and glanced at Tomo's grinning face. Torako's peripheral vision caught a picture frame placed face down on the table Tomo was sitting on.
Torako put the book back. "Not really," she said.
"I'm ready guys," Osaka said, as she re-entered the living room.
...
They left earlier than planned, Torako wanting to get it over with, Tomo anxious for excitement. Torako asked Osaka to sit up front, making Tomo sit in the back with Monsieur Chien. When Tomo hopped in the back seat, talking to Monsieur Chien, Torako tapped Osaka on the shoulder.
"I think I left my pocket knife in your apartment," Torako said. "May I get back in?"
"You sure can," Osaka said. She picked out the key from her set and gave it to Torako.
Torako entered the apartment, locked the door behind her, and flicked on the light. She walked to the table Tomo had sat on and flipped up the picture frame. In it was a picture of Tomo and Osaka at what looked to be Nagoya castle. They were dressed for fall weather, and Torako hazarded a guess that they were college age here, maybe second year, since Osaka was in it. Between them was a dark tanned girl with a high-octane grin, one arm around Tomo, who was flashing a peace sign, and the other around Osaka, who was delivering her patented goofy smile. The dark tanned girl looked familiar to Torako. She searched her memory, but couldn't place her. No time for that anyway, she thought, and she put the picture face up on the table.
Torako walked over to the couch and reached behind the cushion, grabbing another picture in a frame. Tomo, Osaka, and the familiar looking dark skinned girl were in this one, along with three others. They were all wearing high school uniforms, holding their diplomas. She put the picture back on the couch's end table and left Osaka's apartment, locking up behind her.