[part 1 2]

He touched the wall where the blood had been not hours earlier, but the gloves came back white as ever. The clean up crews were good at their job; this was no question at all. An entire crime scene picked up and photographed, documented, displaced, and reopened within a day of the body’s discovery. Incredible. Why, without the proper equipment, it would be nearly impossible to tell that there’d been a murder here at all.

Hakuba sighed. He’d had a chance to get all of his routine investigation in earlier, when things had been fresh. The victim’s blood hadn’t even finished drying on the pavement. Yet, even with paperwork properly filled and filed, here he was again, going over the scene in his mind. It had been a boy… no more than fourteen years old. Full-blooded Japanese. Hard-working father, devoted mother, one sister. Good grades, no trouble at school, president of the chess club of all things. Brilliant, his homeroom teacher had said on the phone earlier. Simply brilliant.

So why had he gotten involved in all of this drug nonsense? It didn’t add up, just like so much of the rest… 

The young detective recalled the boy’s body, lying crooked against the wall. Not shot like one might expect in gang territory, no… but strangled with the chains one might find on a big dog with a choke collar. Not that they’d found the chains, but the welts and broken skin had left a very distinctive pattern. Pinched, torn, bruised- delicate veins beneath the surface burst from the strain. But that had only been the final method. Oh, no, this boy had certainly been tortured before death.

Head beaten bloody – certainly while he was still alive, which is where the blood on the brick walls had come from. Arm broken, twisted around his back, and every finger on that hand fractured at the second knuckle. Recalling the image was a simple matter, but putting the pieces together, that was the chal-

“Hm?”

Vibration at his thigh pulled him from his thoughts, and Hakuba immediately answered the call, lifting the phone to his ear.

“Detective Hakuba speaking. Do we have the results yet?”

“Results? Darling, it was all normal as usual.”

English? Hakuba paused again, taking a moment to put a name and face to the voice before he sighed. “Mum. I’m investigating a case; can I call you back?”

“You’re always on a case, dear." The woman on the other end laughed dismissively. "Not to worry. I just have a couple of quick questions for you to answer before I’ll let you get back to work.”

“Really, Mum. I’m expecting a call." 

"I’m just asking about Christmas, James. Or, sorry, Saguru now, isn’t it?”

He sighed, and took a step back to that wall to lean against where the blood splatter had been, shoving his free hand into his coat pocket to save the warmth for when he’d inevitably have to switch hands during the ‘quick call.’ “Mum, we’ve been over this.”

“Yes, but you keep saying no.”

“That’s my answer.”

“But they hardly celebrate it there, dear! That’s not Christmas at all!”

“I don’t have school off, nor work. I can’t just… nip off on holiday any time I like, Mum, honestly…" 

"But you haven’t been home in months! And we were to go to Paris this year, since your trip was canceled.”

Although he couldn’t see it, Hakuba knew that she was pouting on the other end, which made him roll his eyes, expression dry.

“I’d love to go, really, I would. But I’m not leaving Japan until I’ve gotten this case wrapped up. That’s my final word.”

“You’re not a part of the force, love. Let them handle it.”

“They’re not, though, Mum. That’s exactly the point. I’ve been on this case since August and we’re still not getting anywhere.”

“That’s hardly your fault. You could sneak away just for a week, come right back refreshed and ready to tackle it head on!”

“No. Mum, you don’t understand. People are dying. Children are dying.”

“Children? What sort of case is this?”

“I’m really not at liberty to discuss it with you, Mum…”

“Oh, but you’ll tell your father, is that it?”

God… “Because he’s the Superintendent General, Mum. It has nothing to do with-”

“Is that why you won’t come? Come now, he can’t be more fun to be around than your own mother! How many times did he eat dinner with you this week?”

Hakuba sighed. “Once, Mum. That’s not the point.”

“Ah, you see? He takes you away from me-”

“That’s not what happened, Mum.”

“-and ignores you. I’m calling it Stockholm’s Syndrome. You’re to come home straight away back to London where you belong.”

The detective turned and pressed his forehead against the cold brick, closing his eyes. “Mum… really, I’ve an important call that I’m waiting for… could I call you back later?”

“You’ll never call! I know you.”

“No… clearly you don’t, as I always return your phone calls.” He paused. “Eventually.”

“Eventually. But, please, dear! It would mean so much to me to have you home for Christmas…”

“Not while this is going on. Today’s victim count made sixteen… that’s far, far too many… and the police aren’t even convinced that they’re connected…”

“Are they?”

“They have to be… teenage victims, 73% of them with clean records… ages thirteen to eighteen… dead with the same drug in their system…” Hakuba took his warm hand from his pocket to stroke his chin, pulled away from the wall to walk, pacing back and forth, where the body had been.

“Dear, you’re explaining the case to me now.”

“You’re a wonderful listener, Mum… and I know how you love mysteries…”

“Not since your father left, love.”

Hakuba sighed yet again, and shifted the phone to his other ear so he could dig into his trouser pocket for the pocket watch. “Twenty one hours, 32 minutes, 53 seconds, and-”

“What is this, then?”

“…nothing, Mum. Look, I really must go.”

“But Christmas! Please, dear. I don’t want to go to Paris alone with your grandmum. God, no.”

“Perhaps I’ll solve the case in the next week or so and then I’ll see about flights for Christmas, yes?”

“That would be lovely! And, if you stayed for New Year’s, we could-”

As she went on, Hakuba found his fingers curled tight around the silver pocket watch, clenching at its surface. He pulled the phone away from his ear and listened. The sounds around him were normal for an alleyway at night and yet… and yet something felt decidedly off. He glanced upward at the streetlamps above, bright under the thick cloud cover, and wet his bottom lip, anxious.

No, something had definitely changed only a moment ago. It was too quiet. Too empty. Industrial though this area was, there would have been some sort of interruption by now… particularly in this territory. Though the caution tape had been removed, no one could resist a crime scene for long; even a detective…

“Saguru? Are you even listening?”

“I’ll call you later. Love you, Mum.”

He hung up the phone and checked for any missed calls before turning his attention back to the surrounding area. The circle he stood in was well-lit. The boy, who they’d estimated had died sometime between 05:00:00-07:40:00 that morning, would have been easily visible in the same lighting conditions. 

But what had he been doing all the way out here? What was the connection between him and the other victims? And how had they gotten-

His phone buzzed again. He checked first, then answered, voice more tired than he’d meant it to sound. “Detective Hakuba speaking.”

“We’ve got the results of the chemical compound…”

“Is it the Lidocaine? Mixed in with the Cocaine?” Hakuba quickly slipped the black book and pen from the inner suit jacket pocket, opening to a the page of notes that he’d gotten for the case. 

“Yes, that’s part of it. Traces of Marijuana as well.”

“But…”  Hakuba frowned, hesitating before writing that down. “That doesn’t even make sense. Are you absolutely certain?”

“That’s what the results say, detective. Did you want a copy of the full analysis?”

“Yes, please. Send it to my office email address.”

“Done.”

“…but that just doesn’t… Why would they…?”

“That’s for you to figure out. I just read the numbers.” He laughed. “You’ll be able to do a lot more with the information than I will.”

Hakuba nodded, though he knew that the lab assistant couldn’t see it. “Thank you, Kagawa. I’ll be in touch.”

“Sure thing, detective.”

“Oh- wait, one last thing.”

“Hm?”

“Did you happen to narrow down a strain of Marijuana?”

Kagawa took his turn to sigh. “It’s not…”

“Just tell me.”

“White Widow. Yes, just like the last one.”

Hakuba almost laughed. “Right.”

“They’re going to pull you off the case at this rate.”

“I’ll take that chance. Thanks. I’ve got to run.”

“As always. Night, detective.”

“Goodnight, Kagawa.”

He hung up, but kept the phone in his hand as he finished scribbling the last of his notes, then surveyed the area one last time. No… no, someone was definitely observing him. Did he dare run? Ridiculous. He was armed. He had his phone. His car was parked just a block away, top up and secured. Nothing to worry about.

Hakuba left the scene and stripped the gloves from his hands, finger by finger, using the flashlight app from his cell to search the vehicle inside and out. There was still the possibility of a car bomb… The thought came without pleasure, recalling that time in London two years previous. But he’d be fine. Nothing to worry… about.

There was a note under the windshield wiper blade. Small, just a scrap of paper. After taking a deep breath, he slipped it from its place and unfolded it, wondering. Could this have been the presence he’d felt earlier? He scanned it, reading over the text three times, wondering just what the message was, when it finally sunk in…

Nothing but an advertisement for an investment opportunity. A crummy commercial. He sighed, crumbling the paper before stuffing it in his ash tray, dragging himself back into the car once more.

Ridiculous to be so paranoid. Utter rubbish. It was well past time to go home, and he still had mountains of paperwork to finish before he could sleep.