The Case of the Missing Makeup Case
Wednesday, May thirty-first. It was cloudy but warm in Tokyo. I was sitting at my desk working on some papers when I suddenly felt something. I look out the window at the dark city skyline, Roppongi visible from this side of the building. I had a feeling there was something coming. Something big. Something bad. I couldn't tell what, but if I were to guess, I'd have said it was the highest form of danger known to man.
I grabbed a pen and started to write. I don't know what. Random nonsense. Anything to keep my mind occupied. I was worried, but I needed to appear focused. I needed to give off those confident vibes that everybody associated with me. Otherwise, I reckoned I'd be laughed out of my job.
It got hot in the stuffy room. I took off my blazer in one smooth move, hanging it over the arm of my chair. I straightened my tie and adjusted the collar of my shirt and my cap. I felt like I looked like a million yen. I wished I felt like it, too.
My partner hadn't arrived for work yet. I wondered what could be taking her so long. I needed her to come and give me a sense of peace. Women were always good for that. But she didn't come. She was twenty minutes late and counting.
I opened the top drawer of my desk and pulled out my cellular phone. I dialled my missing partner's number. The phone rang once, twice, thrice. No answer. It rang five more times. I was directed to voice mail.
"Hey. It's me," I said in a clipped tone. "Where are you? Call me."
I hung up and waited for five minutes holding my phone. No reply. I put my phone down and picked up my mug of coffee, sitting back in my chair and looking out the window again.
Something was coming.
There was a knock at my door. I swivelled my chair around and wondered what my gal Friday was doing letting people come to my door unannounced by a phone call. I made a note to have a chat with her later. Maybe over some dinner and drinks. My treat. I was a gentleman, after all. When you criticised a lady's methods, you had to do it politely. Dashingly. Otherwise she'd cry.
"Come in," I called out, watching the door carefully.
In walked a beauty. Her hair was dark and straight, reaching just past her shoulders. She studied my clothes and then peered into my face, blinking twice in rapid succession.
"Have you seen my makeup case?" she asked me in a casual tone.
Her makeup case? Had she misplaced it? Or worse yet, had it been stolen? It must have been stolen. The majority of the building I worked in was occupied by girls. A few males came and went, but mostly boys. Schoolboys. They'd have no use for makeup.
One of the most coveted items by girls was makeup. I didn't know why. Couldn't really bring myself to try and understand why. But I knew that I had to help this little missus.
"No, m'am. I haven't seen your makeup case, but if you'd like to take a seat and describe it to me, I'd be glad to try and help you locate it."
I stood up as a gentleman should always do when offering a lady a seat, and I pointed to the chair across from mine.
The girl seemed nervous. She stared at me as if I was an alien creature. I couldn't blame her. Sometimes my presence was a bit intimidating. Unintentionally, of course, but it happened. A consequence of the job, I suppose.
I gestured again, and she slowly sat down in the chair.
"Now, what does it look like?" I asked, bracing myself over a fresh pad of paper and ready to write down whatever she said.
"Um, don't you know?" she asked me.
Saucy one. Bit of a flirt. She was pretty, so I forgave her for trying to distract me while on the job.
"All I want are the facts, ma'am," I said to her. "Got to get it all straight."
She shrugged.
"It's dark blue with big sunflowers on it. It has two compartments that zip up with a folding strap that has a metal button on the end."
I wrote down the key points. It was a start, but I'd need more information.
"About how long is it?"
"Like this," she replied, holding her hands about twenty centimetres apart.
"And when'd you last have it with you?"
She shrugged again.
"I don't know. About two hours ago. Why are you acting so weird?"
I held up a hand to stop her from asking anything more. She was probably picking up on my nervous reaction to my earlier premonition of evil coming.
"That's none of your concern," I said politely, but firmly.
She stood up slowly and backed away from me.
"No, don't go," I said, standing up perhaps a bit too abruptly. "I need you to stay here a bit longer."
She looked bothered by my presence.
"Is there something bothering you?" she asked me with a frown.
"I told you already-"
"Because you're acting really weird. Way too weird. Listen, forget I came by. I don't need your help right now," she said quickly, moving to the door and reaching her hand out.
In a swift move, I jumped from behind my desk and ran to the door, putting my hand over her hand to prevent her from opening the door.
"I need more information, m'am!" I said breathlessly.
The girl looked up at me, her face screwed up in a strange expression. Maybe she was disgusted with me. I was touching her inappropriately without her permission. That was probably the reason why.
"Yocchan," she said. "What the hell?"
What was with Yocchan? Why had she bastardised my name? I had never met her before, and there she was giving me a nickname.
I quickly removed my hand from hers.
"Don't go, miss," I pleaded. "Just give me a chance to find your makeup case. I can search all day. When my partner gets back, she can help, too. And if you've got any suspects in mind, I can put out an A.P.B. for them immediately."
She looked at me with a straight face and then took my cap off.
"I think your hat's on too tight," she mumbled. "And you smell like coffee. Did you drink coffee? You know how the caffeine makes you too nervous and hyper. You shouldn't drink so much. It makes you act screwed in the head. Like you are now."
She may have had a pretty face, but she wasn't too kind. Not gentle like a woman was supposed to be. Not ladylike and refined. She was vulgar. She spoke to me so casually when this was our first time meeting.
I grabbed my cap out of her hand and put it back on deliberately sharply.
"I'm sorry that you feel that way, m'am," I said in a professional tone showing no signs of warmth. "If you don't want my help, then by all means, feel free to leave."
She paused. Hah! I'd made her hesitate. Now she felt bad.
"Are you angry with me?" she asked in disbelief.
"Well, I'm not pleased with you," I replied.
She snorted and shook her head.
"Call me when you grow up, Yocchan."
She pulled opened the door to leave. A figure tipping into my office prevented her from moving. The gangly girl had her ear to the door as it swung open, and she lost her balance, falling to the floor at our feet.
"Ahhhh!" she screamed in a high-pitched voice.
This case was getting more and more interesting by the minute. Could this possibly be the thief of the makeup case checking up to make sure she wasn't suspected?
The young girl quickly jumped up.
"Fu-Fujimoto-senpai! Yoshizawa-senpai!" she cried in terror.
"Koharu!" the lady - Fujimoto - shouted. "What in the world are you doing listening at the door?!"
The young girl, who I estimated to be about thirteen years old, started to tremble and babble at an incredible speed. So fast that I could barely keep up.
"I'm sorry, Fujimoto-san!" she squeaked, addressing my first guest. "But I saw you walk into Yoshizawa-senpai's change room and Tanaka-senpai said that maybe you two were going to talk about me 'cause I'm new, so I came to listen, but I didn't really come for only that 'cause I really like both of you and really respect and admire both of you so much, so I just wanted to listen to what you two had to talk about 'cause-"
"Yeah, I got it!"
The young girl - Koharu - shut up when Fujimoto yelled at her. Now I was getting some names. Progress.
Koharu started to sniffle. Oh no! I pushed Fujimoto aside and patted Koharu on the shoulder.
"There there, little lady. Don't cry. She didn't mean to yell at you."
Koharu seemed pleased by my comforting, and she perked right back up. Disgusted, Fujimoto threw her hands up and walked out the door and down the hall.
"Like I said, call me when you get a life, Yoshizawa," she muttered just loud enough for me to hear.
I sighed.
Women!
I sent Koharu off with a pat and then closed my door, locking it and going to sit back in my chair. I faced the window and saw that it had started to rain at some point during the fiasco in my office. I checked my phone. No messages. My partner still hadn't called.
I sighed and took another sip of my coffee.
Being a detective was tough business. My job sometimes involved great feats of strength and intellect. However, figuring out women? A whole different, much tougher ballgame.
My name is Chief Detective Yoshizawa. I'm a cop, and that's my story.
Topic: What Really Happened To Her (Read 23240 times)