Rain of Terra
Ratatosk
8. Chapter 8
Rated: T - English - Crime/Mystery - Tomo T. - Reviews: 68 - Updated: 12-15-11 - Published: 08-23-09 - id:5325016
Like a peeping tom, the setting sun sneaked glimpses through the gaps in the high rises at the maroon civic. Torako maneuvered the car with the same assurance and skill people had come to expect from the Tiger, but her constant checking of the rearview and side mirrors betrayed a tired professional walking on the tightrope of recycled adrenaline and frayed nerves. Only her willpower kept her balanced.
Next to her was Osaka, friend and registered civilian assistant to the police, ready to perform her simple duty of taking a trained scenthound to the room of a murder scene. She had dressed down in a pair of dark blue jeans and a thin black jacket, a change for a woman who usually preferred dresses. While not necessarily a chatterbox, she was uncharacteristically quiet as she watched the play outside of her window, performed by tired workers going home, cars passing by, and large buildings made red and gold by the slow demise of the day's sun.
"Hey, are we there yet? I need to pee," Tomo said. She squirmed in the back seat, pressed against the door. The French Bloodhound Monsieur Chien, folding his paws underneath his body after tiring of Tomo grabbing them and making them dance to her rendition of a Round Table song, occupied the rest of the backseat.
Torako downshifted. "Do you really need to go pee, or are you being a nuisance?"
"Hey, I'm not a nuisance!" Tomo said. "I really do have to pee."
"Hold on to the dog," Torako said, and Tomo barely had time to hold down Chien while Torako made a sharp right into a service station. She pulled neatly into a parking space. "Make it quick," she said, but Tomo had already left the car.
...
Tomo came back to the car carrying a plastic bag. She jumped in with enough force to make the placid Monsieur Chien lift his head.
"I got us some drinks," Tomo said. The instant the latch clicked on Tomo's door, Torako reversed out into the street and shifted into drive, squealing the tires and leaving behind a wisp of oily smoke.
"Geez Torako," Tomo said. "At least wait for me to put on my belt."
Torako accelerated through a yellow light. "It's going to rain tonight," she said. "If Chien makes the scent, it'll wash away before he gets the chance to track it outside. We got to get there now."
Tomo leaned forward and put a soft drink on Osaka's shoulder. Osaka, while still looking out of the window, reached over her shoulder and took the drink. "Thank you, Tomo," she said, her breath fogging the window.
Tomo put a can of juice on Torako's shoulder. Torako grabbed the can and slammed it down into her cup holder.
Tomo frowned and leaned forward into Torako's ear. "Stop," she said. "You're acting like a jerk again."
"Sorry," Torako said through closed teeth. "Thanks for the drink."
"You better thank me," Tomo said, as she leaned back in her seat. She laid her left arm on top of the seat, and took a sip from her bottle of milk tea with her free hand while Monsieur Chien stretched his head toward Tomo's drink and sniffed. "We've got nothing to worry about," Tomo said, pushing Monsieur Chien's head away. "This will be too easy. I mean, I wouldn't have got Osaka involved if I knew it was going to be dangerous."
"Awful considerate, Tomo," Osaka said, her window fogging again.
A secret border was crossed, and no welcoming sign was needed to advertise it.
"We're in Ueno now," Torako said. She twirled the knob on the car's police radio until it hit the Ueno police frequency. "If you see anything suspicious, tell me. Don't worry about being too careful."
"Ha," Tomo said. "You're careful enough for the three of us. Four, actually." She rubbed Monsieur Chien's head.
Osaka slowly turned her head away from her window, her eyes bright and smiling. "This is almost like a noir," Osaka said. "That means I'm hard boiled."
"Nah, it's not like that at all," Tomo said. She leaned over into Osaka's ear and said, "Don't make Torako anymore paranoid. It's just a simple recon mission."
"Can the back talk, Nancy," Osaka said, making her voice deep and scratchy to sound like Bogart. "Or I'll treat you to a little chin music. The five finger symphony, to be precise."
"Ugh, stop talking like that," Tomo said. "And don't call me Nancy."
"Heh heh, sorry," Osaka said. Some blather came through on the police radio. They listened to it in silence, making sure it wasn't about them.
"So, how paranoid do I have to be?" Osaka asked.
"Not at all," Torako said. "That's our job."
"That's your job, you mean," Tomo said. "I'm not worried."
"So you say," Torako muttered. No one heard her.
...
Torako pulled into the hotel's guest parking lot and parked near the street. A recon of the area revealed no cops, uniformed or otherwise. The police radio, set to the Ueno district frequency, had remained silent on the subject of an out-of-ward police vehicle driving through Ueno (although there had been some drama concerning a naked man running through the Ameyoko shopping center). Torako, careful to not park underneath a streetlight, pulled the trunk release latch. The four got out of the car like a synchronized swimming team, performing to the sickly pipe whistle music of the opening trunk.
Torako dug through the cavernous trunk while Tomo held the leather leash leading to Monsieur Chien, who snorted and shook himself. Osaka milled around behind them. She looked up at the granite building, the monotony of its grey surface only broken up by the yellow light escaping from several windows.
"Whoa," Osaka said, appraising the building like a buyer at an auction full of farm equipment. She shaded her eyes despite the sun having already disappeared over the horizon. "It's like it could fall on top of ya at any moment!" Osaka closed her eyes, and goofy smile broke across her face.
Tomo put her free arm around Osaka's shoulders. "It's not going to fall over, so stop imagining it. It'd kill us anyway."
Osaka looked at Tomo, blasting her with a broad open-mouthed smile. "Well, we could stand where the windows are."
"Those windows don't open, dummy," Tomo said, holding her hand at the building like an M.C. introducing the latest vaudeville act. "We'd still get killed."
"Not if Torako gets her gun out in time," Osaka said, making her point by holding up her finger like a cheap political analyst. "She could shoot them out while it falls, and we could run under them."
"Yeah, that is a good point," Tomo said. She cupped her chin in thought. "Of course, there'd be broken glass falling toward us, but I could pull my bokken out and swat them away."
"You guys get over here," Torako said. She reached into the trunk and opened Monsieur Chien's duffle bag, grabbing a stab-proof police vest, custom made for the French Bloodhound who had a much broader chest than the Akita Inus and German Shepherds making up the K9 force of the Tokyo Police. "Here," she said, tossing it to Tomo. "Put that on him."
"Why are you telling me what to do?" Tomo said, picking the vest off the ground. "We're partners, remember? That means we're equals."
Torako picked up a human sized stab-proof vest from the trunk, stuffing a pair of vinyl gloves in one of its spare pouches. She took a miniature GPS unit from Monsieur Chien's duffle bag and turned it on. She glanced at the pugnacious Tomo before turning her attention to Osaka.
"Could you put this on, please?" Torako asked, holding the police vest to Osaka.
"Sure I can," Osaka said, as she took the vest.
Tomo mumbled promises of violence while hooking the police vest around Monsieur Chien's chest. Monsieur Chien stood at attention while Tomo fastened the bright blue fabric around him, POLICE written in reflective tape on the back. Osaka put her vest on with minimal fuss, the back and front emblazoned with the same reflective message of POLICE. When she had finished, Tomo handed her Monsieur Chien's leash, and walked toward the open trunk, rubbing her hands.
"This is a tracking device for Chien," Torako said, holding the GPS toward Osaka. The bright light of the GPS screen projected a simple street map on Osaka's face, with a red dot in the middle of her forehead like a sniper's target. "His vest has an inbuilt tracker that supposedly works up to a kilometer. If he gets away, use that to find him."
"Okay," Osaka said, her face taking a serious turn, with downturned eyebrows and a pressed bottom lip. She put the GPS in a spare pouch, and snapped it shut.
"Make sure your ID badge is up front," Torako said. She turned her heard, eyed an elderly couple putting a large suitcase onto a cart, and decided they were okay before looking back at Osaka.
Osaka grabbed the string around her neck holding the ID badge, and pulled it in front of her vest. She accidentally grabbed a simple chain necklace she was wearing under her shirt. At the end of it were two gold bands, which she cusped and quickly stuffed back into her shirt. She turned her head away from Torako's gaze.
"Hold on, don't make her do that," Tomo said, her words echoing as she bent over the cavernous trunk. "They don't need to see her ID. The police vest should be enough."
"Yeah, let's keep that hidden," Torako said, as Osaka put her ID badge back underneath her vest.
"What if they ask to see it?" Osaka said.
"Point to the words on your vest and tell them to stop interfering with police work," Tomo said. She arose from the trunk holding a blue box with analog readouts, knobs, and a number pad. Piled on top of that was a cylindrical satellite with a long, thick, curled cord and a simple pair of headphones. She walked to the front passenger side of the car, opened the door, and sat down. She put the satellite on the dashboard and plugged the box's power adapter into the cigarette lighter. The readouts lit up, the headphones crackled, and Tomo started twisting some knobs.
Torako pulled out two heavy-duty radios from the trunk, and shut it. She clipped the smaller of the two to her belt. She used her free hand to unsnap the shoulder strap on Osaka's vest. She worked the strap into the clip of the larger radio, and snapped the strap back into place. She pressed the power button on Osaka's radio, and the power light lit red.
"Yours is two-way," Torako said, "so you don't have to push any buttons to talk or hear." Torako stepped back from Osaka and powered on her radio. She pressed the send button and Osaka's radio answered with a faint, airy hiss.
"Okay Osaka," Torako said, speaking into her radio. Her growly tenor came out of Osaka's radio. "Say something back."
"What do I say?" Osaka asked, her voice rising out of Torako's radio. "Wow, do I really sound like that? I sound funny."
"That'll work, thanks," Torako said.
Tomo's head appeared over the roof of the car, headphones hanging around her neck. "Good on this end," she said. She thrust a thumbs up at Torako and Osaka, knocking her off balance and slamming her butt first into the asphalt parking lot. "Ouch," she said, not so much a cry of pain as it was an announcement.
Torako reached into the side pocket of her brown leather American fighter jacket, a risqué choice even in a Japan nearly seventy years removed from the war. She pulled out the two evidence bags, one holding the green thread and the other holding the black coat button. She handed them over to Osaka. "Put these in one of those pouches," Torako said, pointing at the police vest. Osaka took the two bags and unsnapped a pouch. "When you get to the room, put on the vinyl gloves, which are here," she said, tapping a buttoned pouch to Osaka's left, "and hold the materials in your hand. Have Monsieur Chien sniff them. He'll know what to do after that."
Torako took a deep breath, and exhaled. She patted Osaka on her shoulder. "Okay," she said. "We say abort, you leave immediately. You get into any trouble or any physical confrontation-"
"I say tacos," Osaka said.
"…okay, that'll be fine," Torako said. "Tacos. We'll be right up to get you." Torako sighed again. "Good luck."
Osaka held up her hand in salute, smiling a cute, reassuring smile. "Roger wilco," she said, and her and Monsieur Chien headed toward the entrance of the hotel. Torako leaned next to the door of the civic, and went through the motions of lighting a cigarette.
Tomo rolled down the window. "Your drink's going to get warm and gross if you don't drink it now."
...
The chirping voice of the desk receptionist came through Tomo's headphones, accepting a cancelled reservation from a customer who sounded like he expected a difficult confrontation. Tomo glanced over at the hotel, but could only see Torako's scrawny behind and cigarette smoke. Tomo reached over to roll up the window, but Torako opened the door and sat down. Her right hand held the lighted cigarette outside.
"Eh? You're going to smoke inside?" Tomo said, her eyes darting from the cigarette to Torako.
"Leaning against a car, watching a building and smoking probably won't look good," Torako said. She pulled the cigarette to her lips and inhaled. She turned her head toward the open window and exhaled, a plume of smoke rising into the dark sky.
Osaka's downy voice came through her radio as she spoke to a clerk, asking permission to enter the room.
"Anything?" Torako said, nodding at the blue box.
"Nothing about us," Tomo said. "You going to drink that?"
"Nah, you can have it," Torako said. Tomo grabbed the lukewarm bottle of milk tea and unscrewed the cap, taking long, loud gulps.
"Deputy Osaka reporting," Osaka said. "Permission has been granted to search the premises."
Torako lifted the radio to her mouth and pressed the send button. "Roger," she said.
"Boy, Osaka sure is official sounding," Tomo said. The creamy foam liquid of her milk tea marked a border in the middle of the bottle.
"She's enjoying herself," Torako said. "She gets to play spy."
"See? It was a good idea to get her to come along." Tomo reared back, the bottle at her lips, ready to finish it off for all time.
"So," Torako said, "Osaka was married."
Tomo gagged, and milk tea sputtered out of her nose and mouth. "Dammit, Torako," Tomo said. "You did that on purpose." She put the tea in the spare cup holder and opened the glove compartment, pushing away an old dirty ball to grab a stack of napkins to clean her mouth and shirt.
"She had a necklace with two gold bands," Torako said. "Her and her husband's. I'm guessing she's a widow, huh?"
Tomo vigorously wiped her face like she was trying to remove her skin. She balled up the damp napkin and grabbed another from the fresh stack sitting on her knee.
"She has a picture of him in her bedroom," Tomo said, rubbing her shirt. "Aw man, I hate when this happens." Tomo picked off little bits of napkin from her shirt. "They look like tiny worms. You need higher quality napkins in here."
"You need to learn how to drink," Torako said. "So… Osaka."
"Yeah," Tomo said. Her headphones buzzed, and Tomo said "Wait." She listened to the chirpy receptionist, and then the call ended.
"I have the key card to the room now," Osaka said over the radio. "I'm going to the room."
Torako spoke into the radio. "They're not going to escort you?"
"Naw," Osaka said. "I mean, no ma'am. She said no one wants to go up there. The police didn't clean the room properly."
"Huh," Tomo said, balling up her last napkin and dropping it in the empty bottle of milk tea. "I wonder why? Well, score one for us. That'll make Monsieur Chien's job that much easier."
"Thank you, officer," Torako said. "Continue as planned." She put the radio down and said, "Osaka being married. Did you know about it?"
"I kinda figured," Tomo said, fidgeting her leg like a jackhammer. "Just some vibes I picked up."
"And you didn't ask her," Torako said.
"Well, no," Tomo said, flinging away the idea with a flick of her hand. "I already told you, I don't ask about her past-"
The police radio buzzed, and the two listened to the dispatcher narrate the continuing tale of a drunk naked man terrorizing shoppers.
"You know, this is a real conundrum," Torako said, when the report was finished.
"I hate that word. Don't use it anymore."
"It's a conundrum because you're in a job that requires difficult, searching questions, questions that are painful to ask and painful to answer. You aren't asking them. She's your friend, and you don't even want to know what happened to her. Why is that?"
"If she wanted to tell me, she'd tell me," Tomo said. "Why are you being such a pain? I mean, I don't ask what you do at all those gay bars on the weekend, do I?"
Torako's eyes narrowed, and her mouth tightened. "I'm not falling for that. Does any of this… this not asking her… have to do with those pictures you tired to hide from me?"
It was dark inside the car, the only illumination being from Torako's lit cigarette, the green illumination of the readout on Tomo's blue box, and the tiny red power button on the radio. The rising moon was blocked by the overcast clouds in the sky.
And yet, Torako could see Tomo's face clearly, as if it cast its own light. Tomo had an expression Torako had never seen before, and it chilled her to the core. It was if Legion had found something besides a herd of swine to possess. The air in the car became suffocating and stagnant, like ancient congealed wind blowing past archeologists opening Pharaoh's tomb.
Tomo spoke, but it was not her voice. It was if a lost door, deep underground, had been opened, and some primeval being, asleep for millennia, awoke and decided to speak.
"We will never discuss this again," Tomo said. A simple, unassuming statement delivered as if from a prophet of death.
Torako felt cold hard steel meshed with warm rubber, and realized, without thinking, that she had reached for her gun. She slowly removed her hand, not once taking her eyes off Tomo. Osaka was saying something over the radio, but Torako didn't hear it.
Torako pointed at herself, to her face. "Who do you see?"
Tomo's eyes crisscrossed in confusion before answering in her own voice, lightening as the outside controller slipped away.
"Torako," she said.
Still pointing, Torako said, "Torako. Your partner. You can trust me with your life."
"I know all that," Tomo said. She sat deep into her seat as if sinking into a feather mattress, facing the windshield into the outside of dark sky and streetlights. She rubbed her face with both hands, as if removing sleep. "I just don't want to think about it right now," she said, distant and muffled like a long distance phone call.
"Okay," Torako said. Her hand reached out to touch Tomo's forehead, but she pulled away and picked up her radio instead.
"Could you repeat that?" she said.
"I got the card key," Osaka said. "I'm going over to the escalators."
"They have escalators?"
"…elevators," Osaka said.
"Roger," Torako said, and when she put the radio back into the drink holder, she saw the manic smiling Tomo, invigorated like a field of dandelions after much needed rain.
"Oh, and when you asked me who I saw, I meant to say 'a lesbian', because that's totally what I see. And don't think I didn't see you trying to touch me. Pervert."
Torako's frown made another frown, piling disbelief and irritation on top of each other. She pulled in her hand and took another drag from her cigarette.
Osaka's voice came through the radio. "Okay, I'm in the elevator and Monsieur Chien is in the elevator and we're in the elevator together. I just hit the number three button, and it lit up yellow like it's a firefly, but who would paint a number on a firefly? I bet that's against firefly union rules. Now the elevator's moving. Let's see… still first floor… first floor… okay, now it's the second floor… second floor…"
Tomo snatched the radio. "Osaka, you don't have to narrate every little thing you do. Just the important stuff."
"…Nancy squawked over the blower," Osaka said in her Bogart voice. Torako made a half smile while Tomo's narrowed eyes and curled lip could only be described as a look of disgust.
"She's a pushy dame," Osaka said, "and one day she's gonna flap her gums at the wrong hood. Somebody will buy her concrete boots, and before you know it, Neptune's got himself a new daughter."
"You're right," Torako said to Tomo. "Bringing her along was a good idea."
The elevator made a brassy ding when its doors opened, and Osaka, in her normal voice, said "Okay guys, I'm on the floor. Going to the room."
"She dropped the professional act pretty quick," Tomo said. "I knew she couldn't keep it up."
Tomo held the radio, staring at it as if it had a view screen. Torako stared at the dark hotel, as if she could see Osaka through the walls. Eventually, they heard the squeaky sound of flimsy plastic sliding through a card reader, and then the squeak and whine of the door opening.
"Propping it open," Osaka said. She made a grunt of exertion, and then said, "Wow, that receptionist was right. I can see a faint blood stain. Okay, getting the evidence and maybe Chien will commence to sniffin'."
"Glad you don't have to go up there?" Tomo said, diverting her attention from the radio to her partner.
"Yeah," Torako said. "I was dreading it." She sighed and looked at Tomo. "I've broken more procedures these past couple of nights than I have in my entire career."
"Oh, that's nothing," Tomo said. She thumped herself on her chest. "I've been breaking procedures since day one."
"You're proud of that?"
"Well, yeah," Tomo said. "It means I'm indispensible, if you think about it. A lesser detective would've long since been given the old heave-ho, but my talents are so vast that they let me get away with anything."
"I doubt that's the case," Torako said, straight lipped.
"Well, it's no big deal, anyway," Tomo said. "So don't let it get to you."
Torako looked around the parking lot. "It's some ethical stuff too. I've lied too much."
"Deception is part of the job," Tomo said, bright and sunny like it was the most wonderful facet to police work. "As long as you're doing it for justice and to protect the innocent, it's completely okay."
"Heh," Torako said. "I signed up for the traffic division anyway. I only wanted to drive fast cars and chase after speedsters. Glad I was able to do that for about three years."
Both of Tomo's eyebrows raised in query. "You were in traffic? Why did you move to investigation?"
"They didn't… you don't know?"
"Hey Torako, Torako!" Osaka said. Torako took the radio from Tomo and answered, "Torako here."
"Hey Torako, did Ms. Ayase speak English?"
"Um, no," Torako said. "She didn't when I knew her."
"Oh, okay," Osaka said. "I guess that wasn't her ghost, then."
"What? Ghost?" Tomo shouted, and Torako winced. Tomo snatched the radio from Torako's hand. "Did you say ghost?"
"Yep," Osaka said. "It floated through the bathroom wall, said some stuff in English, and then disappeared. I hope it flushed, because I just don't want to think about it."
"English?" Tomo said. "What did it say?"
"Something about… wire hangers?"
"Wire hangers?" Tomo said. She took turns looking at Torako and the radio, like the ill-equipped third participant of a Mexican standoff. "What does that mean?"
They heard a hollow snort. "Whoa, Chien's got something," Osaka said. Torako took the radio from Tomo and held it close to her ear. "He's coming out into the hall." They heard thick, heavy stomps and light padding, along with an occasional low growl from Monsieur Chien.
"Crap, I dropped my cigarette," Torako said, arcing her head over the door. "I'll get it later," she said, and rolled up her window.
A heavy door opened, and it made a creaking, mechanical sound. "Okay, we're on the back stairwell," Osaka said. "He's leading me downstairs."
"That goes out to the service entrance," Torako said into the radio. "We'll meet you there."
Torako put the radio into the cup holder and buckled her seat belt. She was going to tell Tomo to buckle up, but saw her stiffen and widen her eyes.
"Tomo?"
Torako heard a rapping sound right next to her head. She turned and saw a uniformed officer tapping his wooden nightstick on the driver side window. He was not smiling.
Torako rolled down the window. She could not show hesitation, but Tomo's deer in the headlights act was going to make the cop suspicious... as if the blue box and police radio weren't.
"Good evening officer," Torako said.
"Evening ladies," the policeman said. "Are you two having a good night?"
"Yes," Torako said.
"No," Tomo said.
The policeman made a mirthless chuckle, out of politeness. He shined the flashlight into the cockpit of the car. It rested on Tomo's phone box.
"Okay guys, we're outside," Osaka said. "Where are you?" Torako reached down and twisted the volume knob. It made a click, and the red power light went out.
"What was that?" the policeman said.
"Friend of ours," Torako said. The policeman shined the light on the radio sitting in the cup holder. He then moved it back toward the box sitting in Tomo's lap.
"I'm just a beat officer, ladies," the policeman said. "So I don't have access to the nice things rich folks get. Not on my salary. But I'm not stupid, and I know what a phone tapping box looks like. You, ma'am, have a nice high model one." He shined the light on the cylindrical satellite sitting on the dashboard. "And it's turned on. From my understanding, that sort of behavior is significantly less than legal. Do we have a consensus on that?"
"Yes sir," Torako said. A border of perspiration formed at her hairline.
"Good," the policeman said. "Now, having established that, I must ask; what are you two ladies doing with all of that equipment?"
"We're pulling a prank!" Tomo said, like an elementary student at recess. "Our friend is staying at that hotel, see, and we decided to make him think his hotel room is haunted."
"Yes sir," Torako said. "That girl on the radio was a friend of ours, and she was hiding the equipment in his room."
"Yeah! We borrowed this," Tomo said, patting the box, "to hack into his hotel room phone and cell phone, to prevent him from calling outside people. See, we're going to use a voice modulator to trick him."
The policeman was winning the frowning competition between him and Torako. He shined the light on the driver.
"Ma'am, if you could, please step out of the car."
Torako reached for the door handle and opened the door. She stepped out into the cool air, painfully aware of the gun strapped in her holster. She put her hands on the roof of the car.
"Ma'am, what are you doing? Turn around."
Torako turned around, her hands at her side.
"Show me your pack of cigarettes."
The words were heard, but they travelled slowly through Torako's ears to her brain. She reached into her jacket and grabbed the pack of cigarettes, holding it out the policeman like an offering at a temple.
"I don't want them," the policeman said. "Take one out and show it to me."
Torako did what she was told.
"You see that?" the policeman said, shining his light on the cigarette.
"Yes sir."
"Good. You see this?" the policeman said, shining his light on an extinguished butt lying on the ground. "They're the same brand, aren't they?"
A hopeful realization hit Torako, and her swampy feelings of despair were slowly drained away.
"Yes sir, that's mine," Torako said.
"I know it's yours," the policeman said. "I saw you smoke it and drop it out of the window. That's littering. You are aware that littering is illegal, correct?"
"Yes sir."
"Then why did you do it? Listen, I like a good smoke myself, but I know to properly dispose of the butts. What you did, besides being illegal, is unsanitary and a potential fire hazard."
"It was an accident, sir," Torako said. "I dropped it by accident."
The policeman sighed, and his perpetual frown began to crack. "Listen, I don't want to run paperwork on you lovely ladies for littering and phone tapping, especially with how polite you've been. My shift is almost over, and I got pork cutlets waiting for me. So, how about you pick up your mess and be on your way?"
"Yes sir," Torako said, and she bent down to pick up the butt. She sat back into the car and unscrewed Tomo's empty bottle of milk tea, dropping the butt on top of Tomo's balled up wet napkins.
"Sorry to ruin your prank," the policeman said, bending over the open window, "but I just saved you some jail time for illegal wiretapping, not to mention a fine for littering. Now be on your way." The policeman tipped his hat, and walked down the sidewalk, his back to the front of the car.
Torako started the car, and when the window was rolled up all the way, Tomo blasted a powerful exhalation of relief.
"No way!" she said. She pressed her hands against her chest. "How the hell did we get out of that? And you," she said, smirking at Torako in toothy derision, "what was with that "yes sir officer sir" act? You act all tough, but you're soft inside."
Torako put the car in reverse. "One of us remained calm," Torako said, hitting the gas. "The other froze like a punk." Torako said punk in English, her emphasis making it sound like a ratty stereo speaker with the bass set too high.
"Who you calling a punk?" Tomo said. "I was the one that got us out of that situation. You started it with your stupid cigarette smoking. Oh whatever, let's get Osaka."
"How did he not see the car's police radio?" Torako said.
"Because he wasn't shining his light at the dashboard, he was shining it at our laps, the old pervert."
Tomo grabbed the hand radio while Torako drove through the parking lot to the service entrance, at the back of the hotel.
"Osaka? Come in," Tomo said. She released the button, and waited. "Osaka," she said, "where are you? Status, please."
Torako reached the service entrance, but no one was there.
"Where is she?" Tomo said. She opened her door.
"Tomo, wait," Torako said, but Tomo had already stepped out.
"Osaka? Where are you? Osaka?" Tomo was shouting in the radio now, her voice cracking with mounting hysteria. Torako stepped out and walked toward her.
"Tomo, hold on," she said.
"Where is she?" Tomo said. "What if that cop was sent to distract us so they could kidnap her? Why did I get her involved?" Tomo paced in front of the service entrance. She shouted "Osaka!" into her silent radio.
"Tomo, calm down, you need-"
"Shut up!" Tomo said. "This is your fault! Your stupid-"
Torako reached over and twisted the volume knob on the radio. It made a sharp click, and the power light next to the antennae lit red.
Tomo, standing still and looking at Torako's grimace, pressed the send button and said, "Osaka? You there?"
"Speaking?" said Osaka.
"You know who it is!" Tomo said, shouting into the radio as if it was an extension of Osaka herself. "Status report! Where are you?"
"Um, I'm not sure, Chien is jerking his leash around, I can barely hold on."
"Let's get in the car," Torako said, moving toward the driver's seat. Tomo followed her, watching the radio instead of her steps. She didn't see Torako's ready-made grimace. "This is my side," she said.
Tomo walked around to the passenger side and got in. "Okay, well, what about landmarks? What do you see?" she said. Torako sped out into the street.
"Well, there's a street," said Osaka, "and people, and cars, and I see buildings-"
"No good!" Tomo said. She squinted in confusion. "Wait… you have a GPS, pull it out and tell us what it says."
The dashboard police radio squawked with a new report. It described two females in a maroon Honda Civic Type-R parked in front of a hotel engaging in suspicious behavior. Officers were advised to use caution, as they were armed.
"Shit," Torako said. "He reported us anyway."
"How the hell did he know you have a gun?" Tomo said. Osaka's voice came back over the handheld radio, reporting the coordinates her GPS unit read.
"I don't know," Torako said, while Tomo punched Osaka's coordinates into the car's GPS unit. "I guess he saw it flash when I stepped out of the car." Torako cocked her head, searching for the memory. "No, I kept it hidden. I know it."
"Did someone else report it?" Tomo gestured at the police radio. "Did she say our license plate number?"
"I didn't hear it," Torako said. "He would've reported-"
"There!" Tomo said, pointing at the GPS. "There they are!" Torako made a left and sped down a side street, on the way to meet Osaka and Chien's reported location.
"Hey guys," Osaka said, "I see trees and stuff now. I think we're getting near a park."
Tomo decreased magnification on the GPS unit in the car, and a large, green blotch appeared next to the mass of concrete grey.
"Ueno Park," Tomo said. Into the radio, she said "Osaka, give us your coordinates again."
The windshield began to mist, and Torako turned on the wipers.
...
The civic parked away from the streetlights, in an alley meant for walking instead of driving. Near them was Ueno Station, and they could hear the harsh rushing wind of trains rattling over tracks, intermingling with the sounds of traffic and talking people.
Tomo and Torako ran up the steps of a pedestrian walkway over Chuo Dori, a busy neon lit street that snaked here as a border between buildings and grass before returning deep into the district. They pushed through pedestrians on the walkway, mostly young lovers watching the cars passing below. Tomo held the radio and Torako held the GPS unit, now detached from its holder. The two were served with glances of annoyance by the couples they ran through, who then quickly went back to their romantic gazing and spoken promises of everlasting fidelity.
Tomo and Torako hit the bottom of the steps and jumped the simple guardrail separating the sidewalk from the park. They landed on soft spongy grass. The smell of sweet freshwater from Shinobazu pond intermingled with the deep dirt smell of the lightly dampened grass.
"Um, we're next to a statue," Osaka said. "He's smelling a bench."
"This way," Torako said. "I know exactly where she is."
"I hope it's close," Tomo said, wheezing between each word. "I can't keep this up."
They both slowed to a jog when they hit the concrete walkway, the statue now coming into view beneath the shallow light of a lamppost. Several men, their faces grizzled with stubble and carved with evidence of difficult living, sat on the curb of the walkway. They did not even give the running cops a precursory glance, as they were either looking at days past or trying not to look at the bleak future.
"I see them!" Tomo said, pointing. Osaka waved, while Chien paced around a bench, the reflective tape on their vests shining their message of POLICE.
Tomo and Torako slowed down and stopped in front of Osaka. Tomo bent down and grasped her knees, her heavy breathing causing her shirt to expand and constrict like a manual air pump.
"How did-" Tomo wheezed. "Did you… wait." She held up a hand before bringing it back down on her knees. She stood up straight, still wheezing, and bent down again.
Torako was controlling her breathing, which wasn't near as severe as Tomo's violent sucking of oxygen. "You're out of shape," Torako said.
"You… smoke," Tomo said. She stood up and wiped the sweat and mist from her forehead with her sleeve.
"Well Osaka," Torako said, "what's the deal?"
"He's been sniffin' around this bench for awhile now," Osaka said. Her damp bangs pasted themselves to her forehead by a mixture of light perspiration and mist. "He's stopped a couple of times to look up at me before he starts sniffing again."
"The scent ends here, then," Torako said. "That's enough Chien, good work." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a doggy treat. Chien sat on his haunches and lifted his nose in the air. Torako dropped the snack, and Chien snapped his jaws shut around it. He chewed the morsel, wagging his tail.
"How far away are we?" Tomo said.
Torako wiped the mist off the GPS view screen and enlarged the map. It showed a pinpoint arrow for the hotel. "A little over two kilometers," Torako said. She looked at Osaka. "That was quite a walk."
"Yeah, but it's okay," Osaka said. "I saw a policeman walking around the entrance, though, but he nodded at me and let me on through."
"Good," Torako said. "Good work Osaka." Osaka smiled in response.
Torako walked around to the front of the statue, encased behind an iron gate. It was Saigo Takimori, dressed as the Samurai he was, holding the leash to his dog. Torako reached for a cigarette to aid her in contemplation, but decided against it, due to the combination of falling mist and Osaka.
"Why would he stop here," Torako said.
"Maybe Monsieur Chien is related to that dog," Osaka said, pointing to the statue of Takimori's dog.
"Dummy," Tomo said, her breathing having returned to near normal levels. "She means the murderer."
"Or Asagi," Torako said, rubbing her chin. "We don't know for sure which scent Chien picked up."
Tomo stood next to Torako, and Osaka joined them. Chien grumbled as he followed, and elected to sit on the concrete. The three peered up at the bronze statue of the man and his dog.
"Well," Tomo said. "Now what?"
Torako covered her face with her hand. "Dunno," she said, her voice muffled through her palm. She lowered her hand, rubbing her face. She sniffled, and started looking around, craning her neck like a nosy worker in a cubicle.
She looked to her side and squinted at the now empty curb.
"Where'd they go?" Torako said, indicating the curb with a flick of her hand.
"Who knows?" Tomo said, looking at the empty curb. "Why does it matter?"
"There," Torako said, pointing down a lane to the retreating backs of the men. "They're homeless, probably live here. May have seen something. Let's follow them." Torako jogged off down the walkway before Tomo or Osaka could respond.
"Not more running," Tomo said, groaning. She headed after Torako.
"Hey, Tomo," Osaka said. Tomo turned around and saw Osaka leaning away from Chien, pulling the leash like she was the anchor in a battle of tug-o-war. Chien was sitting on the ground, his collar moving his jowls with each tug of the leash.
"I think he's done for the day," Osaka said.
"Okay, stay here," Tomo said. "Let us know if something happens." She ran after Torako, her shoes crunching the fallen brown leaves covering the paved walkway.
...
"There's something up ahead," Tomo said, as she and Torako pushed their way deep into a clump of trees. They saw low wattage light bulbs shining on blue tarp. "A homeless community."
Tomo caught up with Torako and grabbed her arm. "Torako, our car's been reported, remember? We need to get out of here. We can do this another day."
Torako pulled her arm away from Tomo. "Let's just ask," she said, before running into the blue roofed village.
"Aw, come on," Tomo said, following behind.
They stepped into the small clearing, jammed next to a security fence blocking the view of the street. They could hear the traffic on the other side.
This was a large community, deep off the pathway for visitors to Ueno Park. At least twelve shelters, made of blue tarp, were arranged in an orderly, grid-like fashion. Christmas lights were draped around several of the shelters, and a wire was hanging across the main street, zig-zagging between the tarp tents, light bulbs dangling down the middle.
They people they could see were all men. One was sitting on an old park bench, liberated from when Ueno Park installed new benches. Next to him were several of his belongings, including a notebook made black with his scrawling. He had taped an umbrella to the bench to keep the mist from ruining the pages.
Noise came from a large open tarp near the end of the main street, huddled up next to the security wall. The sound of people talking and laughing came from it, as well as the smell of rice and green tea.
"It's like a restaurant," Tomo said.
The two walked down the center street. The people outside ignored them. Inside the café five people sat on old futons and mattresses surrounding a palate of cardboard laid in the center, which served as the communal dining table. Bowls of rice and tea were scattered in front of the diners.
Tomo and Torako were ignored here, too. Torako sat on an unoccupied futon, and gazed at a man she recognized as having sat on the curb, a gangly, sinewy young man. His thick, oily black hair was covered by a faded Giants cap. The conversation faded into silence, the patrons only concentrating on their rice and tea. The smells of the food intermingled with the stale smell of sweat, and the only sound was the tiny prickling percussion of mist tapping the roof, like a bored student tapping his finger on his desk.
In the back, a middle age man sat over a makeshift kitchen of pots, Bunsen burners, and a grill with a pot sitting on top. He was wearing a white t-shirt and black pants. He came out into the café and faced Tomo and Torako, keeping a respectful distance.
"I hope you'll pardon the silent act," the man said. "Women don't come here, so this is rather awkward. I can serve you rice and tea, if you'd like."
"I'll take some," Tomo said, raising her hand. She reached into her pocket, but the cook waved both hands at her, shaking his head.
"No money," he said. "On the house."
"I'm looking for answers," Torako said, addressing the group eating their food. "I'm looking for a woman who was murdered three days ago. She may have come here the night she was killed. In front of Takimori statue."
The men continued eating. The cook concentrated on fixing Tomo her rice.
Torako unsnapped a pocket on her fighter jacket, and pulled out a folded piece of glossy paper. She unfolded it, and it was an 8 x 12 of a still living Asagi Ayase. She placed it on the cardboard table.
"This is the last picture we could find of her alive," Torako said. "She pretty much looked the same when she died. Have any of you seen her? I only need a simple yes or no answer."
Yet again, the patrons ate and drank in silence.
"Have you seen anyone, any suspicious behavior, in front of the statue?" Torako said.
The cook came and laid out a bowl of rice with chopsticks and a cup of tea in front of Tomo. He did so without comment.
"Thank you," Tomo said, as if the cook was the head chef at a five star restaurant. She clasped her palms in front of her, closed her eyes, bowed her head, and moved her lips in silent blessing. A second later she poured the green tea into the bowl, grabbed the chopsticks, and began shoveling the rice into her mouth.
The people at the table turned their heads and gaped at the brazen disregard of table manners and shameless display of gluttony. The cook only raised his eyebrows.
Tomo leaned her head back and poured the rest of the rice into her mouth. She slammed the bowl down onto the cardboard.
"Damn fine meal," she said. "My compliments to the chef."
The cook smiled and bowed his head. "Thank you ma'am," he said. "I'm honored."
Tomo smiled back and surveyed the group of men staring at her. "What?" she said. "I was hungry." She looked at Torako, who only had grim dissatisfaction. She picked up Asagi's picture and folded it methodically before putting it back into her side pocket.
"Let's go," Torako said, like a defeated general returning home in disgrace. "This is it."
Torako stood up, and Tomo followed. They left the community and headed back into the clump of trees separating it from the rest of the park.
"Listen," Tomo said. "We can try another day. You came on kind of hard back there."
"Don't worry about it," Torako said. "What are the odds of them seeing someone in front of a statue, and remembering it three days later?"
"I'm sorry, Torako."
Torako shrugged her shoulders. "Thanks."
Tomo ran up alongside Torako as they pushed through the tress and thick undergrowth. "Look, we missed our days off. I'm taking tomorrow off, and then we'll head back to work. That stupid convenience store vandalism case can wait, it's not pressing. The chief owes us, anyway," Tomo said.
"Yeah," Torako said, her weary voice destined for sleep, and, with luck, momentary forgetfulness. "Let's get Osaka and get out of here."
"Oh yeah," Tomo said. She pulled out the radio. "Hey Osaka, everything going okay over there?"
"Monsieur Chien ate a frog," Osaka said. "It was gross. Also, I'm wet."
"Don't worry about that, we'll be there in a jiff," Tomo said, and the two stepped out onto the lighted walkway and headed toward the statue. Thunder cracked across the sky, and the rain finally broke.