When the Detective Work is Done, I'll Die

Chapter 4

A rough, angry shout. I knew in an instant it came from that bastard detective.

Miiko is worried about me not wanting to get involved with that guy. If she gets involved and trouble starts, I'll have to jump in again. That's what'll happen.

She glanced at my face several times, then turned toward the direction of the voice, then looked back at me again—repeating that over and over.

"Hyoga... should I go over? It sounds like something serious is happening..."

She's agonizing over whether it's okay for her to go. I don't want to leave her anxiety as it is.

So I steeled myself and moved my heavy mouth and legs.

"Got it. Got it. I'll go stop him first. Anyway, we already took photos of the room and of the evidence, right?"

"We did. Even if the culprit sneaks in, we'll know what was moved."

"Then let's go. If the detective is causing someone trouble, we have to stop him, right?"

I lead the way out of the room again. The goal is the living room right in front of us, just beyond the parlor. Besides the detective, two other people were there.

They seemed to be the pair who'd come in with the detective. A middle-aged woman cowering from the detective's yelling, and a suited man in his thirties or forties wearing glasses trying to calm him: "Now, now, please calm down."

But the man's words weren't reaching the detective. The detective addressed him with the same high-handed attitude.

"Huh!? Don't act so high-and-mighty, you suspects! Somebody's been killed! Spit out everything you know! Don't waste my time!"

Bursting into the living room, I called out to the frenzied detective.

"Who do you think you are...!? Or rather, do you even want to find the truth? At this rate you won't get a single useful word. You're being inefficient!"

Adding to my complaint, Miiko raised a question at him.

"Also, why are you calling these people culprits? I understand we're suspects, but..."

The detective had to feel ashamed if he couldn't answer Miiko's jab. To avoid that, he glared at her and replied.

"Because they hold a grudge! This woman, Hida, is the housekeeper here! Now she says she has no grudge—what nonsense is that!?"

While Miiko drew his attention, I quickly stepped in front of the woman to shield her. I can't let him rampage any further at the crime scene.

"Don't worry. That's just how detectives are."

"Haa..."

When I said that, Ms. Hida began staring at my back. Did I say something strange? I looked back and asked why.

"What's the matter?"

"Oh, nothing. Your eyes are... shining. Sparkling. Are you another curiosity-driven detective...?"

The question gave me a chill. Being lumped together with him—no thanks, even under threat of beheading.

"I had business at this house. I asked to visit and happened to be the first to discover the body. I'm no detective."

"Ah, I can tell you're different. You're a detective too, but calmer, quieter. Like you can see through everything without getting flustered."

"I don't have any such power... I don't even have the knowledge detectives brag about."

"Even without knowledge, you can see the truth. I'm sure you can!"

"Haa... you're imagining things. I'm not a detective..."

"No way! You want information, right?"

I kept humbly denying it, but she wouldn't believe I wasn't a detective.

On the contrary, she started grumbling, "Might as well listen; it might help the investigation."

Once Ms. Hida sees someone as weaker, she pushes her advantage. Or...

I'm lost in a confusing mystery. To keep my head from spinning more, I emptied my mind and just listened.

"If anyone's going to ask, it better be you. Really. That attitude—who does he think he is? Acting like servants have no rights. When I came back today, he suddenly appeared and said, 'I smell blood from the parlor. Leave this to me. You'll just get in the way—wait in that room!' So arrogant."

"Ah..."

"But, um, in that room... he's really dead... not a prank... Mr. Koyama."

Ms. Hida lowered her face. The "Mr. Koyama" she mentions is the victim. Come to think of it, besides Miiko, me, and that detective, no one else has actually seen the corpse.

"Yes. He has passed away."

When I confirmed her words, her cheeks suddenly puffed and her eyes sparkled, as if she'd been set free.

Though I tried to feel nothing, her mood caught me off guard.

"Then I'll say it. That man was awful. Always groping people's backsides during work, trying to lift skirts—sexual harassment. And after asking favors, he'd yell, 'What are you doing! Rub my shoulders faster!' with absurd demands."

"Power harassment... that must have been tough."

"Ahh... the pay was high, so I endured it."

Her tone sounded just like someone thinking "lucky he's dead." She tossed in "the pay was high" as if grasping for a benefit of his being alive, but it felt tacked on.

I couldn't miss the twist of her lips at the end.

Ms. Hida. Was her fear of the detective only because he yelled at her? Or...

Either way, I sensed that distasteful "celebrating someone's death" vibe from her thoughts. I said nothing and kept my distance. I didn't want to share her feelings.

Right. I have to check what Miiko is doing. I turned and saw her talking to the bespectacled man.

What business brought him to this house? I assume he's heard Mr. Koyama is dead, yet he remains calm, so he's probably not family. Even if family hated the man, they'd fret over funeral and grave costs. They couldn't act so indifferently.

She was already showing him the bag photo on her smartphone and taking his statement.

"Um, do you recognize whose bag this is?"

"Ah, it's mine. Still, to be buried among the money the corpse brought... bizarre. If it were a robbery, they'd have taken more. What was their motive..."

"Do you notice anything strange about this bag?"

"Hmm... oh? You're..."

Mid-sentence, the bespectacled man noticed my gaze. Miiko took the chance to feed him information about me.

"Ah, this is Hyoga. Like me, he's a first discoverer. We were told to interview suspects right after finding the incident to keep the investigation smooth, so we're canvassing together like this."

The bespectacled man nodded "I see, I see," left hand on his chin, right hand in his pocket, unaware it was a fabricated lie. I could have exposed Miiko's false report, but that would have embarrassed her efforts, so I simply bowed.

Miiko showered my lowered head with an information downpour.

"So, this is Mr. Furudou, an antique collector. Today he came for a deal worth several million in antiques—"

"S-several million...!? And you traded that personally!?"

"Right. I was shocked too, but the cash scattered at the scene seems to be that. After finishing the deal, he realized he'd left a handkerchief here and came back."

He pulled a cheap-looking pink handkerchief from his left pocket, saying "This is it," and wiped sweat from his brow. Compared to antiques worth millions, it's tiny—easy to forget.

"Does something about that handkerchief bother you?"

Mr. Furudou answered my question with an embarrassed smile.

"Well, my daughter gave it to me for my birthday."

I see. Still, one more thing bothered me. From Miiko's angle she hadn't noticed something important.

If Miiko asks, I won't have to play detective. But if she doesn't ask, the answer won't come.

Yet whispering in her ear would waste time and embarrass her.

Ahh... I can't hold back the curiosity. Driven by instinct, I opened my mouth.

"Um... why is that handkerchief stained bright red with blood?"