"Enough, Ito!" Detective Samezaki snapped. "Hayashi's still a minor! One more word, and I'll arrest you for soliciting a kid into organized crime!"
"Heh, a minor? Didn't stop you from dragging him to a murder scene," Ichiro Ito scoffed, but he dropped the offer to join the Sumiyoshi-kai.
Japanese law and social norms strictly prohibited minors from engaging in criminal activities, including joining yakuza. As one of Japan's three major "legal" syndicates, the Sumiyoshi-kai had shifted from outright crime to a gray area, maintaining a law-abiding facade despite their shady dealings.
Shuichi didn't take Ito's offer seriously. Leave the police for the yakuza? In this era, that was a dead-end move. The yakuza's current bravado relied on Japan's booming economy, where they still had their uses. But in a few years, once the Plaza Accord was signed and the U.S. started "harvesting" Japan's wealth, the economy would stagnate. The yakuza, seen as a spent tool, would face a societal crackdown and rapid decline.
"Mr. Ito, turn around," Officer Matsumoto said impatiently. "We need to check your head injury again."
"You already looked," Ito grumbled, turning.
Matsumoto parted his hair, showing Shuichi a red, swollen lump on the left side of Ito's head, no blood but clearly from a blow.
"Where were you attacked?" Shuichi asked.
"Heading to the restroom," Ito said, thinking. "I'd just passed the corridor's corner when someone hit me from behind."
"From behind…"
Shuichi mimicked the motion of striking Ito's head and froze, realization dawning.
"Is he faking it?" Matsumoto asked, pressing the lump, making Ito wince.
"I'll file a complaint for police brutality!" Ito hissed.
"You're calling yourself a victim now?" Samezaki said coldly. "Fine, I'll escort you out."
"No thanks, I'm comfy here," Ito laughed, backtracking quickly.
With the plotter still at large and his own men not fully trustworthy, leaving with the police risked a knife in the back from a traitor. Ito wasn't ready to gamble his life.
"Still complaining?" Matsumoto pressed the lump again.
"N-nope…" Ito forced a pained smile.
"Hayashi, find something?" Samezaki asked.
"The attacker's likely left-handed," Shuichi said, his expression odd. "The injury's on the left rear of his head. To knock Ito out in one hit, the attacker used full force—missing would've alerted him, drawing others. They couldn't risk that."
"But for a right-handed person, a full-force strike from behind would hit the right side. Hitting the left with a backhand is awkward and weak."
Matsumoto mimed the motion. "What if someone hid to his left and struck?"
"The corridor's left turn leads only to the restrooms—no hiding spots," Shuichi shook his head. "Detective Samezaki, have Megure and Forensics check Mr. Sada's manager's office."
"Sada?" Matsumoto asked, puzzled. "He's suspicious?"
"He's left-handed."
Shuichi recalled Yukiko Fujimine's comment from last night: In detective novels, left-handed people are often the killers.
Had she actually called it?
…
At the corridor's end, the left turn led to separate men's and women's restrooms, the right to the manager's office and staff lounge.
In the manager's office, Forensics began spraying luminol on the floor.
Shuichi circled the room, then said, "Officer Tome, skip the floor. Check the desk edges and walls first."
"Why?" Megure asked, confused.
"Look at the dust along the wall," Shuichi pointed. "It's in a neat line, meaning a carpet was here recently. If it'd been gone longer, the dust would be disturbed or cleaned."
"I'll ask a staff member," Matsumoto said, stepping out.
Following Shuichi's lead, Tome and his team sprayed luminol on the desk and walls, illuminating them with UV light. Soon, they found significant blood residue under the desk.
Left-handed, matching the attacker's profile, and now blood traces in his office—the evidence pointed squarely at Mr. Sada.
"That bastard manager!" Ito fumed. "I don't even know him! Someone must've paid him to frame me!"
"Megure, let's grab him!" Samezaki called, heading for the door. Suddenly, the overhead lights flickered out, plunging the room into darkness.
Only the blood traces under the desk glowed blue-white.
"What's going on? Power outage?" Megure said, startled.
Groping in the dark, they headed to the dance hall, hearing chaos before they reached the door. Yakuza members had stormed in.
"Boss! Boss!"
"The cops must've taken Ito somewhere else!"
"Find him! He said not to let the police take him out!"
…
The commotion made Ito's face darken. He shoved open the dance hall door and roared, "What's all this noise? I'm right here! Who let you in?"
His shout calmed the intruders.
The hall's lights flickered twice and came back on.
"Idiots!"
Ito slapped the nearest yakuza—Scarface. "Takigawa, who let you barge in?"
"Boss," Scarface said, clutching his cheek, "someone at the door said the cops were beating you to confess to murder. We were worried, so we rushed in."
The genial Ito from earlier vanished, revealing his true colors. He kicked Scarface down, snarling, "Morons! You believe every rumor?"
"Useless rabble," Samezaki scoffed.
Matsumoto returned with a staff member. "Detective, someone flipped the breaker, causing the blackout."
"Where's the manager, Kanya Sada?" Samezaki scanned the chaotic crowd. "Anyone see him?"
"Sada said you needed me, sir," a guard at the hall's entrance said. "So I went to find you."
"You…" Samezaki's face flushed with anger.
Ito smirked. "Your officers aren't much better than my men."
"Sada's probably fled," Shuichi said. "Matsumoto questioning the staff tipped him off."
"He tricked the guard, cut the power, lured your men inside, and slipped out."
"Sada has a mentally ill sister he's close to. He's likely headed home."
…
Matsumoto stayed to search the nightclub. Shuichi, Samezaki, and Megure, with a few officers, piled into police cars and sped to apprehend Kanya Sada.
Megure, having visited earlier, recalled the address. The cars stopped at a rundown three-story apartment in Mihama's suburbs.
"Sada's in 206," Megure said, looking up. "That lit window."
They climbed the stairs, but at 206's door, they wrinkled their noses.
"Gasoline!" Samezaki barked. "Megure, wake the other tenants. This smell's strong—if a fire starts, this old building's going up fast!"
"Don't forget to call the fire department," Shuichi added.
Megure took officers to evacuate the building.
Samezaki tried the door—locked. He signaled two officers to break it down.
Shuichi, in pajamas with no wallet or keycard, stood aside, a bystander.
The three men rammed the door with their shoulders, forcing it open after a moment.
The gasoline stench hit harder.
The apartment was small: a bathroom and kitchen to the right, then a living-bedroom combo.
Kanya Sada sat cross-legged at a low table, eating peanuts and drinking.
A disheveled woman with matted hair lay motionless across his lap.
Samezaki moved to arrest him, but Sada raised his right hand, holding a lighter.
"I've doused the place with gasoline. One spark, and it'll go up in flames."
"Please leave. I don't want to hurt innocents. Just let me go quietly."
Outside, the hallway buzzed with tenants evacuating, Megure's shouts echoing. If a fire started now, the whole building could burn…
(End of Chapter)
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T/N: While I am an inexperienced Translator, I have a Patreon! While it may seem empty as of now, webnovel will get 2 Chapters Every Day, and advanced chapters will be uploaded on Patreon.
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