No Return Track

Part 1

Because the first time he saw her it seemed that the colour of her hair was dark blue. Just the same as the night sky around the small city. And she smelled just like the cold air.
Still she was not like any kind of dream, she was as real as the can with tea he had been holding in his left hand.
Her black trench coat seemed like the one's men in all those American movies about Italian mafia wear, but strangely it fitted her.
Whether she was happy or sad, one couldn't really tell. Her brown eyes wore the look of a very sleepy person, who had managed to stay awake, but would fall dead asleep the moment his or any other bed would come in sight.
Yeah, that's how he remembered her.
Because of this memory he couldn't recognize the girl at first, when he saw the newspaper two days after they had met.
And now Kazuya was trying to contemplate which event was more real like: that encounter or this tabloid in front of him. He looked at the front page for the sixth time and finally flipped it to the next. Skipping most of the text, having heard the whole story twice this morning from the man in a kiosk and having switched the TV for the first time in tree weeks, Kazuya stopped his gaze on the picture of the ex-band mates of Daniel Richardson. More known as “Danny R.”- The rising star of the modern rock entertainment, or however they call it now.
The picture was taken as they approached the police station: Dominic N. (bass), Ray K (drums as well as the leader of the group “Post Scripted” after the leave of Danny) and Gabriela S. (leading vocal, author of the lyrics).
It seemed that all of them had alibis for the unfaithful night, at least that was what have been told by the detective attached to the case.
Kazuya blinked once and then closed the newspaper, folded it and placed in the left pocket of his gray coat. The weather was very nice for October that day, so the best place to spend the afternoon was the Green Park.
A lot of people here and there, nice view – all that was needed for a photographers work. He had been working for the last two days non-stop, but at the very moment it didn't feel like a thing to be done. Trying to just watch the playing children and students talking vividly, still failing miserably each time when his hand reached for the left pocket.
It was time to start thinking. Something he managed not to do for 2 month, even though many people beckoned him to do so. Kazuya wasn't a person hard to deal with, but if he said “no” the earth could split in two, still there was no way to make him change his mind. So they let him do as he pleases, or rather not do anything. That night had put an end to it. Just one night switched him on, even less – not more than one hour had been enough for him to start taking pictures again. While being at it, Kazuya didn't recall her in his memory not even a single time, being completely consumed by the feeling and the switching sound of the camera. Maybe that is why the whole encounter seemed like a dream to him now.
“One time to know that it's real”
He had to remember all of it. The fleeting feeling of the cold wind on her skin, the sight of the dark zora (“sky” jap.) and the faraway sound of the cars dashing by. Yes, all the emotions were so easy to recall, but not a single thought. He wasn’t thinking at all. Well, except for the first two minutes, when things like “what is she doing here this late?”, “is she a prostitute?” and “has she lost her way?” crossed his mind. Not more than that.
He was sure that he had asked her if she needed some help. But just one look of her tired eyes had been enough to tell him, that she knew where she was and what she was doing here. Then there was silence, while they were watching the road and dimly lit lights. And then they… Oh, yes! She shivered. Now he remembered noticing the small movements of her shoulders. That’s why he attempted another try offering help.
“Just follow your lifelines through”
And then she kissed him. There wasn’t anything magical or extraordinary about the kiss, what’s even stranger it hadn’t surprised him. So natural as if it had been awaited, so natural like the kisses exchanged by long time not seen lovers. Cold were her cheeks and cold were his hands, when he touched her neck. They both didn’t close their eyes, perhaps not to mix up the partner with someone else, perhaps jus not to let the feeling to overwhelm their minds.
That’s how it was. Then she just nodded to him and walked away. Why didn’t he stopped her, at least asked for her name, phone number, anything else? Because it had been like a dream, and that’s what he wanted to believe in. A strange and inspiring dream that awoke in him the will to work.
Kazuya opened his eyes to face the real moment he lived in. Abstracting himself for more than seven weeks had lead to forgetting just how real everything around him was. There were always causes, intension and consequences to every deed of a human being. Of course he could again forget about her and continue on pretending it had been an illusion of his tired mind, but suddenly it felt very important like he was a part of what happened.  No matter what Kazuya wanted to get even more involved in this episode and see it to the very end. The only thing left was to figure out how to get into contact with her.
He reached for the newspaper but stopped hallways and instead dug out his cell phone.
After a short talk with an old friend, who had been so surprised hearing his voice that he actually agreed on taking the request. Not without a payment of course, journalists never do anything if they won’t benefit from it. He had to meet him at eight and pay for the beer the other would consume in two hours, not to mention some explanation. What a pain in the ass. Kazuya sighed and instantly smiled - it’s been a while.
There were six hours left till the meeting, still some time for work or other things to do, like cleaning the mess in his flat of the last three days. Instead the photograph found him-self wandering aimlessly through the park, than some streets and shops. Even though he really tried to focus on some things his gaze always returned to the watch. Just when there was half an hour left, he suddenly realized that it’s anxiety – a feeling so unfamiliar to him. Dwelling in it he managed to forgot about coming up with some excuses and normal reasoning. Gladly for him Mike was so happy to see him “in flesh and normally responding, I’ve already thought you’re either dead or went back to Japan”, that his old friend didn’t even question him that much.
-          So, you’re back in the picture? 48 hours of hard work and you’re again with us, stupid people, who work themselves to death for no great purpose at all.
Kazuya calmly sized his friend with a half-proud gaze and a sarcastic smile.
-          Still Mr. Calmness, I see. But why in the hell you’re suddenly interested in popular news. Of course it’s been quite a commotion… don’t tell me you were a fan of this guy?
-          That what you would like to hear, wouldn’t you? No, couldn’t care less if the whole Britain considered him to be a national hero.
-          You’re so cruel. Just think about all those poor teenager girls, weeping their eyes out each day.
-          I’m more concerned about the poor guy, in whose care the case is. There aren’t any evidence on who the murder is?
-          Damn right you are! That or either the police managed to hide the information from us, which would be a miracle worth some coming from the dead. And by the way, last time…
Mike continued on with a story about how once he managed to get a hold of a very nasty piece of information right from some policeman, but Kazuya was listening only to some bits of it.
-          So there’s not even one suspect?
-          What? Oh, you’re meaning that rock-star-guy? Well, their trying to work out different variants, like some crazy fan, or an ex-girlfriend, his former bandmates whom he left to make a solo-debut. I bet that if they won’t find anyone plausible, they’ll just say it had been some crazy girl.
-          But the weapon?
-          Well, that’s another shitty thing. It came out that the gun actually belonged to him. The company says that they had no clue, but it’s more like that they gave it to him for protection, you know.
-          But doesn’t that mean that it couldn’t be just some girl. The murder must have known there’s a weapon.
-          Hm… who knows. We don’t really know much about the guy, what if he liked to force himself on girls and one just tried to escape, and even the company could be engaged in it.
-          Wait, wait. You want to tell me that they knew and hid his “bad habits” if one may call it so.
-          Gosh, Kazuya, you’re so smart and all, but sometimes you really amaze me with your naivety. It’s kind of hard to believe that the producers had been doing some ‘things’ for his pleasure, as they had just signed the contract, but it’s not such an uncommon thing in the business. Real stars bring real money, but mostly they behave like fanciful brats and producers often fulfil their crazy wishes, they even buy drugs for their “wheelhorses”. By they way, they must be quite enraged now, having lost him just before the actual debut, - Mike suddenly stopped and took a great sip of his beer.
It had been evident that there was something else. The information had to be not 100% faithful or it was something supposedly “hidden”. The question was: how to make his friend spill the milk?
-          Well it’s understandable, they’ve spent money on the whole advertisement, and still they can probably use the songs for another singer. Nothing they can’t cover in some months.
-          Just how bad do you want to know it?
Kazuya met the not awaited seriousness of Mike’s eyes, took a sip and moved his seat closer.
-          I’m all ears.
-          Sheesh, and there I hoped you would shrug it off. Can I at least know the true reason for this interest? Don’t tell me, you’re involved in this in some way.
-          I’m not sure… at least now, - the disbelief was nicely reflected on Mike’s face, - well, I didn’t kill him if that’s your concern.
-          Now that would be quite possible. Three months you were planning the murder staying isolated from the society. Unfortunately there isn’t a motive. Still it makes me wonder, I haven’t seen you being this into something besides your work.
-          Sorry, but I can’t tell you a word now. If I do, you won’t be able to stop yourself from trying to get everything out of me. I’ve just returned to “the society” and am not ready for playing “yes-no” games.
-          You know me too well. At least promise me to tell, when you’re going to know what exactly is going on.
-          If I’ll manage to sort things out, promise, I’ll tell you.
The journalist looked at him for some time and then laughed.
- If there’s anything I hate about you, Japanese people, is your nice way of slipping away from direct answers.
- Really now? And here I’ve thought I learned it from you, brit.
Mike laughed again and only after he had calmed down, recurred to the topic.
-          I think there’s no need to tell you just how secret the whole thing is. People are very interested in keeping it from the outside.
-          It amazes me every time you get a hold on this kind of information; - a little praise was required to move in the right direction. Kazuya always felt, when the right time to make a gentle push was.
-          It’s a common thing that the singer would bring some part in the deal. Like lyrics or music, that must be of excellent quality. So that the company has guaranty. There not that many people who work with complete amateurs, you see. Danny’s former band had a good reputation, concerning music, so he promised to bring the newest pieces into the contract.
Kazuya already wanted to ask, but was stopped by Mike’s raised hand.
-          But! But he promised to give it only after they’ve confirmed the release of the CD.
-          Wait. Can a singer actually do that? No matter how talented, didn’t you just say yourself, that company needs some surety?
-          Normally, yes. Maybe they wanted him not to be taken by concurrent or he had some ties with the stuff there. That aside, do you see what I’m driving at?
-          You mean to say that he didn’t give them anything.
-          Exactly. And after his death it came out that from begin with there had been nothing.
-          How come?
-          I’m telling you, Danny lived in an apartment given to him by the company, so they’ve looked through all the things after police finished their job and found nothing.
-          So, - Kazuya tried to imagine the situation, - he had lied to producer about having the music?
-          Most likely. However they don’t exclude the possibility that the murder took it.
-          That’s why they are attacking the police through the media!
-          Nice catch. From their view, if Scotland Yard would do its work they would get it back. Not only that, the fact that the murder took the sheets, narrowed down the number of the suspects.
-          To people working in the company and close friends and relatives.
-          Exactly.
Silence would fall this moment upon them, except, there is no silence in a crowded pub on Thursdays evening. Still the noise seemed to envelop them in a kind of cocoon. They were sitting in a faraway corner, so there were no people going by to get another drink, disturbing them with clumsy movements and quick excuses. 
-          But there’s still the possibility that there was nothing to steal to begin with.
-          Of course and that’s what police thinks. That Danny was just one of those seeking money and fame. Maybe he couldn’t write it and wanted to do it later. But the company won’t accept this kind of truth.
-          It’s not like they can do anything. He’s dead. What are they planning to do? Raise him from the dead and ask?
-          If they could, believe me, he would have already been raised and even given a concert. No, it seems they’ve hired a private detective. Someone reliable.
-          A modern Sherlock Holmes? - This time Kazuya didn’t even try to cover his disbelieve.
-          Same reaction I’ve got from my friend in police. That’s why it’s such a mess now. Just think about it. The company is desperately searching for the criminal. They getting on Scotland Yard nerves. Because on one hand, they don’t want to take part in this hunt for non-existing music sheets, but on the other – if the company finds the murderer on their own, they are going to appear like some incapable idiots.
Therefore both these forces are going to pressure the “family and friends club” of deceased, trying to gather as much useful information as possible. Considering that the death of a friend isn’t the best event in one’s lifetime, I bet they won’t be happy and cooperative. And who knows, maybe one of them is really the murder.
Kazuya stared at the table for a while.
-          What? Too much information? - His friend half-mockingly asked, - you won’t listen, but you shouldn’t get involved in the whole thing.
-          Says who? Aren’t you the person fishing out secret information and getting too close to the rabbit hole?
-          Yes. But I’m still just someone, who is watching everything from the opposite side. I know you, buddy. If there’s a connection between you and one of the people tied to this case, you won’t just stand and do nothing.
-          Really? Never thought I am that obvious…
-          You’re not to strangers and acquaintances. I’ve been around you long enough, to foresee your actions under certain circumstances. Don’t do anything rash.
-          Stop it. I’m not even sure what to think about all this, and you’re a good journalist, but still a complete failure in the role of my mother.
Mike frowned, but didn’t say anything. Kazuya watched people go in and out of the pub, pushing the wooden door, making the sight of the street appear and disappear again and again.
In a way Kazuya’s friend was right. Why should he bring his own character into the story? There was no purpose to do so. There were so many suspicious parts and some of them seemed to turn out ugly. A person was killed after all.
Kazuya felt like he was holding two ends of tangled cables, no way to figure out where to start. One cable stood for the death of a certain musician, the other one – a strange encounter at the park. Not to speak of sub-conscience trying to tell that he had already known the right answer from the moment he red the first article on the occurrence. Kazuya still tried to hold onto the “haven’t seen it – doesn’t mean it’s true” idea. Did he really want to sort out the muddle?
That’s it! You just need to look for simple elements. First comes his wish and then he’ll see where to proceed.
-          Have you been able to find, what I asked?
The other looked startled for a nanosecond, then reached into his pocket and took out a neatly folded paper.
-          Thanks. That’s what I have wanted. And don’t worry about me. So, how’s Carol doing, still calls you twice a day?
Just like that he switched the theme. Neither of them returned to it. One hour later, Kazuya was walking towards his home.
The dimly lit streets, nearly no passers by, the sound of cars moving into another direction and cold wind of November. Nothing new or special for his eyes and it made him again remember that night. That girl… Gabriela was her name. To him it didn’t really matter. She could be Ann or Trisha or Sandy, or any other name. He wasn’t in love after all. He just couldn’t forget. That gaze, that coat, that fleeting feeling of cold. He wanted to take some pictures, not just of her, but also of the other members and the place they gather together. He had no interest in the deceased ex-guitar of “Post Script”, no, just the living.
Kazuya was so deep in his thoughts that didn’t notice how his legs began to move faster, how he passed his home by. Only when he found himself in front of the park again, did it occur to him.
He managed not to freak out, but rather took it philosophically and began to slowly walk along it.
“In the eye of the storm, it's quiet, it's peaceful
I live my life the way I want and choose.” 
His mother was very superstitious; she would have said it is fate. Kazuya never doubted what his mother was telling him, but it wasn’t fate. It is his wish to see her again, his decision to search for her. Everything else had no meaning at the very moment; he freed his mind from all the things he heard just half an hour ago.
Most of the trees were already leafless and together with bushes and other pieces created a macabre picture. He felt at ease. Only his wish was significant at the very moment. He had no power over the actions of other people, no power of what is going to happen in the future. He had only this instant. No need to think about the tangled wires. After all he already knew the truth.