like an old friend. "What's up?"
Takako sighed and tagged along.
"You know, I just happened to remember where I saw the gentleman in your photograph. I'm so glad you're still here."
Was this guy gay or what? He laid a hand on Takizawa's arm and smiled at him in a creepy way. His smile had the coyness of a young girl—it was not at all becoming. But of all the people she had seen Takizawa interview so far, no one else had shown this much eagerness to talk to him.
What appalling taste.
The beauty salon owner glanced toward Takako, tilting his head a trace and smiling. She steadily returned his gaze, unable to bring herself to smile back. Even if he came out and said, "Ooh, a scary policewoman!" she did not care.
"A customer once was telling me about how, on one of the upper floors of this building, there's a ... what do you call it? You know, a date club."
"A date club?"
Takizawa's face was turned away from Takako. From his tone of voice, however, the term meant little to him.
"The kind of place where they set up a date for you with high school girls. They say the girls make good money. Well, the elevator in this building was always chock-full of people. High school girls in middy-blouse uniforms, mostly. We always used to see them when we were going home at the end of the day, so at first I thought there must be a cram school on the upper floors."
On the guy's large, sinewy middle finger there was a silver band. He waved his hand in the air as he went on excitedly. "Then, I heard it was a date club, of all things. Well, you could've knocked me over with a feather. I mean, from the outside, you can't tell at all. Anyway, in my shop, whenever a customer leaves, I always accompany her to the elevator to see her off. So there we are by the elevator talking, this customer and me, when the doors open and there he is! My customer does a double take. 'It's him,' she whispers. Then she turns to me and lifts her eyebrows—like this."
His hollowed cheeks slightly flushed, spraying spittle from between too-large teeth, the hairdresser lifted his eyebrows in high arch. Then pausing, he cooed, "Could I possibly trouble you for a cigarette, Officer?"
No doubt about it—the guy was queer as they came. Takizawa offered the guy a cigarette, lit it for him, and urged him on: "So then what happened?"
"At first I didn't have the foggiest notion what she was trying to tell me. I just thought, hmm, such a good-looking man! So she walks into the elevator, greets him nonchalantly with something like, 'Oh, hello, you're the owner of the date club.' The gentleman ran the place!"
The beauty salon owner pursed his thin lips and blew out a cloud of cigarette smoke. Then he gazed into the distance theatrically, as if trying to re-envision the event. "That man . . . Officer, could I take another peek at the photograph, please?"
Takizawa obligingly showed him the photo again. Frowning, the guy studied it intently.
"Yes, I thought it might be him. I had a feeling at the time that I'd like to see him again or, you know, meet him, should I say, but I never did. You see, in our profession, the working day starts surprisingly early, and we hardly get out much. But he was awfully good-looking. I do remember him quite well, after all." Besides, he added with a touch of pride, it was part of his job to remember people's faces. "And if it turns out he is the one, you should be able to verify it with the building maintenance company."
Another investigative team had already checked with the maintenance company. They'd had the photo, and the real name to go with it, so if Hara, or Sugawara, had been a tenant, there would have been an ID. Yet Takizawa responded as if impressed, "Ah, the building maintenance company!" Takako could not tell if he was serious or simply going out of his way to be nice to the guy.
"You know where it's located, Officer? Out in Hachioji. But you know, I have to tell you—this is the first time in my life I have ever met a
Takako sighed and tagged along.
"You know, I just happened to remember where I saw the gentleman in your photograph. I'm so glad you're still here."
Was this guy gay or what? He laid a hand on Takizawa's arm and smiled at him in a creepy way. His smile had the coyness of a young girl—it was not at all becoming. But of all the people she had seen Takizawa interview so far, no one else had shown this much eagerness to talk to him.
What appalling taste.
The beauty salon owner glanced toward Takako, tilting his head a trace and smiling. She steadily returned his gaze, unable to bring herself to smile back. Even if he came out and said, "Ooh, a scary policewoman!" she did not care.
"A customer once was telling me about how, on one of the upper floors of this building, there's a ... what do you call it? You know, a date club."
"A date club?"
Takizawa's face was turned away from Takako. From his tone of voice, however, the term meant little to him.
"The kind of place where they set up a date for you with high school girls. They say the girls make good money. Well, the elevator in this building was always chock-full of people. High school girls in middy-blouse uniforms, mostly. We always used to see them when we were going home at the end of the day, so at first I thought there must be a cram school on the upper floors."
On the guy's large, sinewy middle finger there was a silver band. He waved his hand in the air as he went on excitedly. "Then, I heard it was a date club, of all things. Well, you could've knocked me over with a feather. I mean, from the outside, you can't tell at all. Anyway, in my shop, whenever a customer leaves, I always accompany her to the elevator to see her off. So there we are by the elevator talking, this customer and me, when the doors open and there he is! My customer does a double take. 'It's him,' she whispers. Then she turns to me and lifts her eyebrows—like this."
His hollowed cheeks slightly flushed, spraying spittle from between too-large teeth, the hairdresser lifted his eyebrows in high arch. Then pausing, he cooed, "Could I possibly trouble you for a cigarette, Officer?"
No doubt about it—the guy was queer as they came. Takizawa offered the guy a cigarette, lit it for him, and urged him on: "So then what happened?"
"At first I didn't have the foggiest notion what she was trying to tell me. I just thought, hmm, such a good-looking man! So she walks into the elevator, greets him nonchalantly with something like, 'Oh, hello, you're the owner of the date club.' The gentleman ran the place!"
The beauty salon owner pursed his thin lips and blew out a cloud of cigarette smoke. Then he gazed into the distance theatrically, as if trying to re-envision the event. "That man . . . Officer, could I take another peek at the photograph, please?"
Takizawa obligingly showed him the photo again. Frowning, the guy studied it intently.
"Yes, I thought it might be him. I had a feeling at the time that I'd like to see him again or, you know, meet him, should I say, but I never did. You see, in our profession, the working day starts surprisingly early, and we hardly get out much. But he was awfully good-looking. I do remember him quite well, after all." Besides, he added with a touch of pride, it was part of his job to remember people's faces. "And if it turns out he is the one, you should be able to verify it with the building maintenance company."
Another investigative team had already checked with the maintenance company. They'd had the photo, and the real name to go with it, so if Hara, or Sugawara, had been a tenant, there would have been an ID. Yet Takizawa responded as if impressed, "Ah, the building maintenance company!" Takako could not tell if he was serious or simply going out of his way to be nice to the guy.
"You know where it's located, Officer? Out in Hachioji. But you know, I have to tell you—this is the first time in my life I have ever met a
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