Sayori -Chapter 3-

*Emma*

Koizumi Sasuki didn’t look surprised to see us when we stepped through the automatic glass doors. In fact I was almost sure I saw the ghost of a smile on his face as we sat down before him. Clearing my throat nervously, I lifted my black suitcase and placed it on the cold metal table before us. Unlocking it and taking out the pictures I’d taken of Sayuri’s body, I placed the pictures one by one in front of him.

“Who’s this?” The old man asked curiously. Without waiting for an answer, he picked up one of the pictures and studied it. Sighing heavily, he put the picture back down and looked over at us. “What exactly do you want from me detectives?”

Keishiro spoke up. “Information.”

“Suzuki-san,” he whispered softly. “When will you learn to do your job without my help?”

Keishiro looked outraged and opened his mouth to say something, but I placed a hand discreetly on his knee, silencing him. Jailed or not, Koizumi Sasuki was a very powerful man. It was no secret that he was fully operating as the oyabun of the yamaguchi-gumi from behind prison walls and as such he could a dangerous enemy.

“Please, Koizumi-san,” I began softly. “Your son’s girlfriend’s body was discovered, and all we want is answers.”

“I’m guessing you think Soichero was behind this, don’t you?” Sasuki laughed, picking up another picture and studying it for a few minutes. At length he said, “She was very pretty wasn’t she?”

“She was,” I agreed. Saying Sayori had been pretty was the underestimate of the century. She was always on the top of every magazine’s ‘’100 most beautiful people’’ list.

“Well?” Keishiro asked impatiently after another few minutes passed in silence.

“What do I get this time?”

In return for information, police and investigators generally allowed Sasuki special privileges that were not granted to the other inmates at Fuchu Prison; allowing him little luxuries like his favorite cigars and better food seemed like a small price to pay for the invaluable information he supplied.

“What do you want?” I asked, praying that it wouldn’t be anything ridiculous.

“Two visits a week from my wife,” he said immediately. “And new blankets and some pillows.”

“Anything else?” Keishiro asked sarcastically.

“Yes,” he continued. “I’m running out a paper, so a fresh supply would be wonderful.” He looked over at me, frowning. “Why aren’t you writing any of this down?”

“I’m sorry, I’ll do that now,” I said, flipping to a new page on my notepad. Under his watchful gaze, I scribbled down everything he asked which ranged widely from toilet paper and special bathroom privileges to being exempt from strip searches.

“You do realize that we can’t get you everything on this list,” Keishiro pointed out, a small smile playing across his face.

“Well it won’t be long before you’ll come running back to me for information and if everything I ask for isn’t provided, you’ll actually have to do your job and get to some investigating, Suzuki-san.”

Keishiro snorted with disbelief. “Who the hell do you think you-.”

“Just a minute,” I cut in. “We’ll do everything you ask, Koizumi-san but first you have to tell us all you know about Sayori’s murder.”

“Wonderful. I knew we could come to some kind of understanding,” the old man said with a small smile. “Now, about this murder. All I can tell you is that my son loved Sayori. He wouldn’t have killed her.”

“Then who could it be?” I questioned as Keishiro wrote down every word.

“I don’t know if you’ve realized but my son does have enemies. And his relationship with Sayori was always in the news, what with her being so famous and his reputation. What better way to hurt him than through the one he loves?”

There was a ring of truth to what he said. Of course Soichero was still a suspect, but now I seriously doubted it.

“Is that all?” Keishiro asked, sounding unconvinced.

“And one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“Miss. Johnson, you’re very young. Maybe you shouldn’t go snooping around. A pretty girl like you might not be able to handle what she finds out.”

“We don’t need to sit around here, taking advice from a useless old geezer with a criminal record,” Keishiro said, standing up quickly and tossing the pictures back into my suitcase. “Let’s go.”

“Do you remember what happened in Kyoto, 1988?”

Keishiro froze. “What?”

“Kyoto, 1988,” he continued. “An entire family of eight kids and an old lady disappeared without a trace. Everyone thought I was behind it.” He chuckled softly. “I remember that incident caused me a bit of trouble, but eventually all the rumors and accusations died down. You see, Suzuki-san, everything’s possible when you have connections and know all the right people. I suggest you remember that incident the next time you want to start insulting people.”

Keishiro turned around slowly. “Are you threatening me?”

“Take it whichever way you like,” came the light response, “but I’d personally call it a warning.”

I looked at the old man. Even in his dull grey prison garb, he still looked menacing. Before there could be a further exchange of words, I lead Keishiro out of the room. As we walked out of the prison, I could tell that Keishiro was still fuming.

“Who the hell does he think he is?” He demanded, tossing my suitcase into the backseat of my Nissan. “I swear to God if it were up to me I’d round up everyone in that godforsaken family and lock them up in the first hellhole-.”

“Calm down,” I told him as I slide into the driver’s seat.

“How can you tell me to calm down?” Keishiro demanded getting into the passenger’s seat and slamming the door shut. “Did you hear him threatening me in there?”

“You should learn to not take things so personally,” I told him, starting the car and pulling out of our parking space. “I don’t know what it is about the Koizumi’s that gets you so worked up. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you had a vendetta against them.”

Keishiro shook his head, and leaned his head against the headrest, his eyes closing. “You’re right. I shouldn’t let him get to me.”

“You shouldn’t,” I agreed. “Now, what about that breakfast?”


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*Sayori*

When my father died I was only eleven and a half. Still a child. I remember him looking extremely healthy up until the last few months. As he got sicker, he grew more reserved and drew into himself, hardly speaking to anyone. His mornings were spent in bed, with my step-mother at his side, spoon feeding him soup and making sure he was as comfortable as possible.

One afternoon Yumiko and I got home and found my step-mother standing in the hall before my father’s room, talking to a doctor.

“Is he very ill?” She was asking, tears swimming in her eyes.

“I’m afraid so,” the man was saying. He sounded kind. “Give him the pills I’ve prescribed. They should help with the pain.”

Then the doctor left and my step-mother sat us down in the next room. She explained then that our father was sick, and told us to go pray for his health to return. We did. But by the next day, he was dead. From what I heard, he’d passed away during the night.

My step-mother cried harder than even me and Yumiko at the funeral. She was devastated. She didn’t sleep at night and never ate during the day. When things got too much at home, I’d run out and go to the beach. The ocean would always calm me. That’s the beautiful thing about Okinawa; the beaches. They’re just so beautiful. And the water is such a clear turquoise you can see the different schools of fish swimming around.

As for Nakata, he was always there for me during that difficult time. We were so young, but he never acted like the other foolish kids at our school. He understood me, and I understood him. It was that simple. Sometimes when I was sitting alone on the beach, I’d turn around and see him sitting beside me. We’d sit for hours at a time and never say a word. That’s how it was between us. We didn’t always need words.

The months passed and still my step-mother hadn’t snapped out of the depression she’s sunk into after father’s death. Neighbors called on us regularly to check on her and bring us food. I could see pity in their eyes when they looked at us. I could just hear them thinking ‘’poor children, all alone with no one to care for them’’.

At school I was even more of an outcast, and strangely enough, Yumiko wasn’t the socialite she once was. I heard people whispering in the halls saying ‘’hasn’t she changed? I guess it’s because her mother’s gone crazy’’. I stood up for her. Like it or not she was my sister and nobody could talk about my family that way. I gave them an earful and Yumiko happened to hear. From that day onwards, we were allies but not friends. She backed me up when I needed it, and I did the same with her.

One day, I came home from school to find my step-mother up and talking to a guest. The woman she was with took my breath away. I’d never seen anyone so lovely. She smiled at me when I walked into the room.

“This must be Sayori,” she said, and her voice was smooth and light.

“Sayori, this is-.” My stepmother began but the beautiful lady cut in.

“You can call me Mama-san,” she said, smiling sweetly. For some strange reason, I was suddenly struck by the thought that if I’d ever seen my mother, Mama-san was the epitome of what I expected her to look like. Suddenly I felt like crying. Holding back my tears, and kicking myself mentally for being such a baby, I walked over to them and took a seat on the tatami mats.

“In case you’re wondering,” the lady named Mama-san said, her eyes twinkling brightly. “That’s not my real name. It’s more of a nickname. Do you have a nickname?”

“No,” I said, smiling back at her. Well, the kids at school had stopped calling me ‘’demon eyes’’ so I was currently nickname free.

“Mama-san is an old friend of your mother’s,” my step-mother said. She looked a little sad.

“Your mother and I went to school together as children,” Mama-san said and I was overcome with a surge of pride. My mother must have been an incredibly glamorous lady to have such an elegant friend, I thought. “I was just telling your step-mother how wonderful it would be if I could take you back with me to Tokyo.”

“Tokyo?” I repeated, a little surprised to say the least.

“Mama-san has a wonderful business there,” my step-mother explained, looking suddenly very old and worn out. “Now that your father is g-gone,” she paused here and cleared her throat, “we won’t really make enough money to send you back to that private school. Yumiko and I will barely be able to scrape by. Mama-san has offered to pay for your schooling at one of the best academies in Tokyo.”

My mouth dropped open. To me Tokyo was a glamorous city, filled with limitless possibilities. And I was being given the chance to go study there! I felt as though I’d won the lottery.

“You mean I’m going with Mama-san?” I asked, hardly believing my ears.

“Of course there are conditions,” Mama-san replied. “As soon as you turn seventeen I want you to come work at my bar regularly. I’ll provide you with money for clothes and food, but you won’t receive any payment for working at the bar.”

“So it’s like you’re adopting me?” I asked.

Mama-san laughed. “Something like that. Are you excited?”

I looked over at my step-mother but she was staring down at her hands. Her shoulders weren’t shaking so I didn’t think she was crying. A few papers were signed and just like that Mama-san became my rightful guardian. When we left for Tokyo two days later, I had no idea how great a role the woman beside me would have in shaping my future. I left Okinawa without saying goodbye to anyone. Not even Nakata.

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*Emma*

After work that day, I stopped by one of the local music stores and picked up every one of Sayori’s albums. There were four and each one had been a hit. When I got home, I popped one of her CD’s in my stereo and put the volume up. The first track was a love song which had been extremely popular two years ago.

Who would want to kill her? I wondered as I fixed myself a cup of juice in the kitchen. And how did they get around her security guards? Like most celebrities, Sayori had round the clock protection. Well, obviously whoever killed her was very familiar with her bodyguards or they wouldn’t have let the person in.

My thoughts were disturbed by the ringing of the phone. Putting down my glass, I picked up the cordless.

“Hello?” I asked.

“Emma.” It was Keishiro.

I found myself smiling. “Hey, anything new?”

“You mean the case? Oh, nothing new there.” He paused. “Look, I know I said we probably shouldn’t see each other now that we’re partners and all that but it’s a Friday night and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with having diner together. Would you be up for it?”

I was ashamed to find myself considering his offer. This was the same man who had turned me down not so long ago. The same one who’d told me he wasn’t looking for a serious relationship. The same one, who, only days after breaking up with me, had started dating a colleague. But yet here I was, a few months later, thinking about accepting his offer to dinner. I’d managed to forget Keishiro’s behavior for the sake of our work, but I definitely wasn’t ready to start being buddies with him.

“Don’t tell me your still mad about-,” he began but I cut him short.

“Of course I’m still mad about that,” I told him. “What do you expect me to do? Completely forget about what you did?”

He sighed. “Fine. We won’t have dinner. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

The line went dead.

That man, I thought to myself, has the worst temper in the world. Even when he’s wrong he’ll still show people attitude. I knew I’d been right in turning him down, but when you’re still in love with someone you’re heart doesn’t listen to reason. Picking the phone up again, I called him back.

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*Sayori*


Working at the Flamingo was possibly the most exciting things that happened to me at the age of seventeen. I was in my last year of high school at Chui Girl’s Academy, and so the only place I could socialize with men was at Mama-san’s bar. Located in Tokyo’s pricey Ginza district, the Flamingo was one of the most successful hostess bars in Japan. Mama-san had seven other girls, including myself, and under her guidance the bar was flourishing.

Apart from just being beautiful, Mama-san was also intelligent. When we arrived in Tokyo, I discovered she didn’t actually have any money. We spent the first few months living with an old friend of hers, a certain Mr. Namigai. He was old and stupid as well as rude and spent most of his days drinking beer and pressuring Mama-san to get a job. Finally she did. We moved out of Mr. Namigai’s crammed apartment and into a one-bedroom place downtown.

Those first few months had been difficult, and we barely ever had anything to eat. After work everyday, Mama-san would bring back some fish and bread. The food was given to her on a daily basis from a boyfriend who worked at a restaurant a few blocks away. Every night Mama-san would get home after eleven, exhausted but cheerful.

“Come here, Sayori-chan,” she would say, giving me one of her smiles. “My back hurts.”

And so I’d massage her back, and she’d ask me to sing for her. It was our nightly routine. She knew almost all the words of the songs that came on the radio and would be able to correct me whenever I messed up the lyrics.

“You have a very powerful voice,” she’d always tell me. “One day, it’s going to make you a lot of money.”

She said it every night, but the effects of her praise would never wane. In this way, four months passed and still Mama-san hadn’t come up with enough money to start a bar. I was beginning to think I’d never go to school again. Then one evening, Mama-san came home laughing with joy.

“I got the money!”

“How?” I’d asked, laughing with excitement.

“I met some men today,” she explained, handing me the small picnic basket that contained our fish and bread. “They offered me the money, on the condition that half of everything I make for the next ten years goes to them. A small price to pay, I think.”

“Who were they?” I asked.

“Businessmen,” she replied. “Now, let’s eat. We have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow.”

It took longer than a year, but by the time I turned thirteen, our business was flourishing. The Flamingo was owned, I later found out, by the Yamaguchi-gumi. They’d signed a contract with Mama-san stating that she would be the manager of the bar until a period of ten years was up. Then she’d be the rightful owner. As the months passed, we soon had patrons from among the wealthiest men in Japan. By the time I turned seventeen, the Flamingo had become exclusive to the elite of Tokyo’s society and there was a long waiting list for memberships.

“A song, Sayori-chan! It’s been a long while since we’ve heard you!”

Looking over at the fat man beside me, who also happened to be an extremely rich surgeon, I smiled. “Of course, if that’s what you want.”

The man roared with laughter, spilling some whiskey onto his shirt in the process. “You’re a funny girl! You know that if I could get everything I wanted it wouldn’t be a song!”

The other men in the room chuckled along while I struggled to keep my anger at bay. Mama-san was seated in one corner of the room, her hands folded in her lap, a pleasant expression on her face. Smiling sweetly, I got up and walked to the microphone located in the center of the room.

I sang ‘’Nada Sousou’’, a song by a popular Okinawan singer named Rimi Natsukawa. It was a crowd pleaser and my voice always sounded exceptionally good when I sang it. The applause I got was thunderous, even though almost everyone was to drunk to appreciate the simple beauty of the words.

“I wish I could sing like you.”

I was seated by the bar with one of the other girls that worked for Mama-san. Her name was Ayumi, and over the past few weeks we’d gotten extremely close. Looking up from my drink, I fixed her with a ‘’fill-me-in-please’’ look.

She laughed. “It’s not because I want to sing on stage or anything. I just can’t sing to save my life.” Letting out an exaggerated sigh of sadness, she shrugged and lit herself a cigarette. “Been smoking too long.”

I rolled my eyes. “And whose fault is that?”

“My uncle’s!” She said almost right away. “He used to leave cigarettes all over the place when I was younger, and I’m a curious person. By the time I turned nine I was addicted. Now I’m twenty-one and it’s too late to quit.”

“I hate cigarettes,” I told her, downing the rest of my pina-colada. “They make your hands stink. Anyway, I’d better get back to that doctor or Mama-san’ll give me an earful.”

Ayumi laughed. “I’ll be right behind you. We have a new member tonight and I’m supposed to entertain him.”

It was that night that I met Soichero for the first time. Mama-san had mentioned earlier that the ‘’boss-man’’ would be coming in a little later during the evening to check up on things, but none of us girls had expected a younger man. So when Soichero walked in, accompanied by four men in pinstripe suits, we were all distracted.

“Koizumi-sama,” Mama-san said with a small laugh. “Please be seated.”

Soichero smiled at her and my heart did something funny. His teeth were so perfect and white! And he had dimples too! I looked over at Ayumi and nearly laughed out loud at the expression on her face. Obviously I wasn’t the only one who thought he was gorgeous.

I watched, mesmerized, as he was taken to a completely separate part of the bar, usually reserved for V.I.P members and took a seat. Within seconds, Mama-san had his cigar lighted and a bottle of the house’s finest champagne before him. He sat there, hardly noticing the stares he was getting, confident in his superiority.

“My drink is running low,” somebody said from behind me.

Trying hard not to roll my eyes, I smiled at the man beside me and caught the eye of one of the waiters. Before this night ends, I promised myself, I’m going to learn all I can about Koizumi Soichero.

(Author's note: This is the last chapter I'll be posting on writing.com because I haven't been recieving much feedback. I hope you enjoyed what you read!)