(Continuation of "Poison, Part 1" 3/5)
https://www.pixiv.net/novel/show.php?id=12811620
4. What was that? That's kind of cute.
While the matter of drug C, requested by Matsuura, wasn't progressing as I had hoped, I was at the Ogawa Detective Agency doing some part-time document organization.
I had been shown the case files of Takaya General Research several times before, studying their system in my own way, and through trial and error, I was trying to see if I could pull off something similar on a small scale. Director Ogawa had told me, "If you can make it look neat, I'll throw in a cash bonus," which gave me a bit of motivation.
I had been working since the morning that day, but in the afternoon, Shisho showed up and started getting in the way of my work. When I scolded him, he turned to getting in the way of Hattori-san's work instead. What on earth did he actually come here for?
While all this was going on, Detective Fuwa unexpectedly showed his face at the office. He claimed he just happened to be in the neighborhood and stopped by to check on us, but Shisho jumped at the opportunity and invited Fuwa to the "Boston" coffee shop on the first floor. Knowing that Shisho billed these kinds of meals under the guise of investigation expenses, he was clearly trying to sponge a free lunch off of him.
"I hear you've got a good story."
"Is that right?"
Fuwa followed along, looking skeptical.
"Master, the usual!"
Shisho cheerfully opened the cafe door as he said this. As usual, despite it being lunchtime, there were hardly any customers. Just a regular old man from the neighborhood sitting alone, eating the daily special.
"Ah, Fuwa-san, it's been a while."
Hikari-san, the waitress, brought over wet towels and water. Lately, Hikari-san's makeup seemed… well, somehow much more meticulous. Shisho had been suspicious of a romance between her and the master, but there didn't seem to be any progress on that front. If that was the case, did she get another boyfriend? Glancing sideways at the master's attitude as he took orders from Hikari-san, I found myself pondering those kinds of details.
Whenever I came to the Ogawa Detective Agency, my brain immediately shifted into detective mode. I was still hung up on how Director Ogawa had obliquely told me the other day, "You haven't even stepped into the ring of this world yet."
"So, what is it? I told you before, I'm out of the archer case. Handle it on your own."
Previously, regarding the "Archer"—the suspected perpetrator of a series of serial murders and assaults—Fuwa had cornered Shisho, demanding, "If you figure anything out, tell the First Investigation Division before anyone else." Originally a detective handling heinous crimes like that, Fuwa apparently harbored bitter feelings about currently being relegated to the organized crime unit. It seemed he had a strong desire to bag a top-tier suspect by himself.
However, ever since Matsuura got involved in the Archer case, Fuwa stopped bringing it up altogether. That happened right after he was directly warned: "Detective Fuwa, I haven't talked to you about this." Though Fuwa was a tough-looking guy who didn't seem like the type to easily bow to yakuza threats, Matsuura appeared to be an exception. The earlier threat—"Say hello to Inspector Maruyama"—might have actually worked on him.
Just the other day, Director Ogawa had told me about the uneasy current state among the local yakuza, so things were starting to make a kind of sense in my mind.
"It's this, Boss."
Shisho placed a small glass bottle on the table. It was that drug.
"What's this?"
"Oh, you're not familiar with it? The drug that's currently quietly spreading among the youths."
"A drug?"
Fuwa picked up the small bottle and peered at it.
"What's it called?"
"They seem to call it C, if I recall."
"Stop talking in that weird voice, you idiot. Never heard of it. I don't exchange much information with Community Safety these days."
By "Community Safety," he meant the detectives in the Community Safety Division of the prefectural police, who were responsible for cracking down on illegal drugs.
"The yakuza under my jurisdiction wouldn't give a passing glance to some flash-in-the-pan fashion drug like this. Those guys are into speed. Real hard-core junkies who dissolve methamphetamine in their own blood and shoot it up."
Fuwa pointed his left elbow upward and mimed shooting up.
"So what about this fashion drug?"
"Well, I thought you might know something about it, y'see."
Fuwa let his head drop in deep disappointment.
"This is just you collecting information, isn't it? What's this about a 'good story,' you jerk."
"Heh-heh."
"What was that? That's kind of cute. Say it again."
Watching this exchange between Fuwa and Shisho, a thought suddenly crossed my mind.
Right. Yakuza were definitely all about stimulants. Even if a new drug started trending among the youth, wouldn't they remain largely unfazed by such a thing? What's more, Ishida-gumi, the faction Matsuura belonged to, had reportedly been hit with a strict ban on drugs from their parent organization, the Ritsumitsu-kai. Would they really be so wary of some obscure, barely-known substance that was supposedly just starting to spread in secret?
It felt like Matsuura was hiding something. The fact that he had come to the Ogawa Detective Agency all by himself had also been bothering me. Nishizawa, one of his subordinates, had complained that Matsuura was "always messing around with weird games." That fit too. Perhaps this wasn't an investigation tied to the syndicate at all, but rather something driven purely by Matsuura's personal interests. Where on earth was that motivation coming from?
As I stared blankly at the small bottle on the table, such thoughts drifted through my mind.
*"Yakumo, Yakumo, Yakumo Pharmaceuticals♪"*
A commercial song drifted from the television near the wall, and I glanced over. It was a familiar cold medicine commercial. A locally-born actress was drinking cold medicine tablets with unnatural cheerfulness. Every time I saw it, I couldn't help thinking that she probably didn't even have a cold.
*"Please observe the dosage and administration, and use correctly."*
With a chime, the actress read out the warning, and the commercial ended.
As I turned my twisted neck back to its original position, Shisho was staring toward the TV with a puzzled look on his face.
"Something wrong?"
"I don't know… Didn't something about that just seem weird?"
"Huh?"
It was a commercial I saw all the time. I hadn't felt anything special about it. Granted, we'd recently found ourselves entangled in things related to Yakumo Pharmaceuticals, so seeing them normally sponsoring TV programs and broadcasting commercials gave me a rather strange feeling. The thought that we were making an enemy of such a massive corporation made the whole reality of it feel somewhat thin.
Shisho wore a serious expression, his eyes wide as if trying to remember something. But failing to recall whatever it was, he eventually shook his head.
"Come to think of it, Fuwa-san. Do you know about an incident from about two years ago where a weird corpse encased in concrete turned up? Word was that an employee from Yakumo Pharmaceuticals was suspected."
"Huh? …Ah. I heard a whisper about it, but that was a Headquarters job. I wouldn't know."
By "Headquarters," he meant the Prefectural Police Headquarters. Fuwa was a detective at the local West Precinct.
"I heard that components of an unapproved drug by Yakumo Pharmaceuticals were found in the stomach contents."
"Like I said, I don't know. Who'd you hear that from? Old man Takaya? Jeez. Even if you told me to look into it, that's impossible. Dropping the case was a judgment made by the higher-ups at Headquarters. Anything involving Yakumo—or rather, the Sonami Group—gets complicated in all sorts of ways. Always has been."
From Fuwa's attitude, I sensed there was little hope here. When Shisho asked him for favors, Fuwa usually turned him down flatly, though more often than not, he would end up cooperating in the end. But this time, I had a feeling this was a genuine dead end.
"Well, I'll ask around about this 'C' thing. Don't get your hopes up, though."
Fuwa finished his lunch and stood up first. Half of our food was still left. People said detectives were fast eaters, and it was certainly true.
Fuwa handed the bill to Hikari-san and asked for a receipt. Apparently, he was going to treat us after all.
"See ya. Don't go sticking your nose into any more weird cases."
With the tingle of a bell, Fuwa left the Boston. Left behind, we silently polished off the rest of our lunches. Just as we finished, the Boston's doorbell chimed once more.
An unexpected figure walked in. He was wearing a familiar coat. *Oh,* I thought.
It was Tamura. The informant who had tried to play both sides against the yakuza over the psychic photos, failed, and ended up imprisoned and put through hell by Matsuura. It was the first time I'd seen him since then. It seemed his situation with Matsuura had somehow been resolved amicably.
"Hey. I just dropped by to say hello to Ogawa-san. Heard Fuwa-san was here. Glad it's just you guys, though. I'm not good with that guy."
"You holding up okay after what happened?"
"More or less."
Tamura sat down opposite our table.
"My injuries healed up, but I was a bit mentally drained. I'm just now getting the urge to resume my work as a writer again."
"A writer, huh?"
Shisho leaned back, sipping his water with a tone of mockery.
Tamura had sunken eyes and a gloomy expression. I had previously figured that was because he'd been stabbed in the stomach and heavily wounded, but it seemed he just naturally had that kind of face.
"Watch out for Nishizawa," Tamura muttered.
"Nishizawa?"
"That punk from Ishida-gumi. You've met him, right?"
"Ah, that guy."
"He's not just some ordinary kid. He's hiding his claws. He's got the Ishida boss's only daughter wrapped around his little finger, and he's aiming for the top. Word is, he's planning to slit Matsuura's throat while he sleeps."
"A rumor, huh? You're awfully well-informed about the yakuza, aren't you?"
Seemingly missing Shisho's sarcasm, Tamura nodded with a solemn expression.
"Why do we need to watch out for a guy like Nishizawa?"
Feeling like I should press for details, I asked on Shisho's behalf.
"Because he knows that Matsuura is infatuated with that 'ghost-specialist' female detective. To reach the top and take down Matsuura—who's a thorn in his side—using that kind of material is just how yakuza operate."
At Tamura's words, Shisho grew irritated.
"Shut up, informant. What the hell are you sniffing around for on your own?"
"…Don't be so mad. Even I feel bad for dragging you into that mess with Matsuura, you know. I'm actually being pretty serious here, worrying about you."
Tamura muttered this with a wry smile. Shisho kept staring at him with a hard expression.
"Leave him be."
As I watched Shisho's attitude, I harbored some complicated feelings. Perhaps it was because I could sense that the presence of that yakuza, Matsuura, was growing larger within Shisho.
***
That night, information regarding the mysterious drug C came from an unexpected quarter. Shisho called me up, and we headed out together.
It was the apartment of the "Photographer." Given what had happened there the other day, I honestly found it hard to enter, but I had no choice. Wearing an innocent face, I visited his room alongside Shisho.
"You better be telling the truth, Photographer."
Barging unceremoniously into Amano the "Photographer's" room, Shisho tossed aside some scattered knick-knacks and sat down.
"Y-Yeah."
When Amano saw my face, he flinched slightly, but quickly averted his gaze.
"A mask like this?"
With that, Shisho showed Amano a photograph. It was a picture of someone wearing a white mask, acting out something. It looked like a rehearsal scene from the Kujira Theater Company. Catching my gaze, Shisho added:
"Day before yesterday, right? I barged into the Kujira practice space again. Thought it might be tied to that drug dealer. But it was a dead end, it seems. As expected, even Yoshisake, the vice-leader, didn't seem to know anything. The leader, a guy named Ren Tatsuki, smells fishy, but he's as elusive as ever."
Amano looked at the photo and replied.
"I'd say it's similar. Though the one I know has more of an outline and looks creepier."
"So, are you a member of the perverted party that guy runs?"
"The 'Society for Drinking Poison.' Heh. Though a member, I've only participated a few times."
The Society for Drinking Poison? Just hearing the name gave it a dangerous, underground ring.
"We gather irregularly to drink various poisons, or cook and eat them, for fun."
"What's fun about doing something like that? Is this a gathering of suicide aspirants?"
"We don't actually ingest lethal doses. Just rare poisons, or poisons with historical background. Heh. We consume them while listening to the organizer's lectures."
"What kind of poisons, for instance?"
"Arsenic, and stuff."
"That really is poison!"
"That's why it's dangerous, heh. Even if it doesn't kill you instantly, the regulars have severely wrecked internal organs. Probably. Heh. I'm sure some people have died. Since it's an illegal gathering violating the Pharmaceutical Affairs Law and various other laws, you need an introduction from another member to join. I heard about it from an acquaintance in the underground scene and got introduced. Heh. At first, I was hoping I'd get to see someone die. But after participating for a while, it felt like I was going to die too, heh, and I got scared. So I stopped going."
"What about that organizer?"
When I spoke up, Amano flinched, but quickly put on a calm front and said, "What about him?"
"Does that person wear a mask like this?"
"Yeah. Don't know his name. Everyone just calls him 'The Organizer.' He wears an old-fashioned black cape, straight out of the world of the *Fiend with Twenty Faces*. But somehow, it strangely suits him."
"Sounds similar to the dealer we're looking for," Shisho muttered.
"But the guy selling it was wearing an anime mask, wasn't he?"
"Well, I heard about a few other buyers after that who said it was a white, expressionless mask. It's been bugging me."
If so, parts of eyewitness accounts regarding the man selling C in Shirocho matched up with this "Organizer" figure. Still, for the tail end of the 20th century, that was a remarkably old-fashioned, phantom-thief style. Or perhaps it should be called a caricature of such a villain.
"All the other members wear masks too, heh. So nobody knows the faces of the others. We participate under pseudonyms, heh, so you pretty much have no idea who is who."
"Does everyone wear masks like this?"
"No, member masks are always handed out at the venue entrance. The part below the mouth is open so you can eat and drink, heh. Only the host, the Organizer, wears a mask that covers even his mouth."
"Hmm."
Shisho crossed his arms and groaned.
"So where do they hold this perverted party?"
"The 'Society for Drinking Poison.' The venue isn't fixed. They usually hold it somewhere like the basement of some building that used to be a bar."
"How do you find out about the gatherings?"
"Letters arrive at the members' places. Like this."
Amano took a letter out of his desk drawer. It was a simple thing, listing only an address and date. You couldn't tell what it was about from this alone. No sender was listed.
"It's always this letter. That's how you know."
The letter featured a distinctive border outlined with black, wriggling patterns.
"What about membership fees?"
"Now that you mention it, I've never been charged one. I guess the Organizer does it as a hobby. Supply and demand for the hobby of poisoning people versus the hobby of being poisoned. You can't put a price on that."
*That is insane.*
After letting out a sigh, Shisho slapped his palm.
"All right, introduce us to it."
"Eh?!"
Amano and I spoke in unison.
"You're still a member, right? Introduce us so this guy and I can attend."
*So it comes to that after all.* Even though I had mentally prepared myself given the flow of the conversation, I was having little—or rather, a whole lot of—reluctance. I had nothing but bad premonitions.
To Amano, who was hesitating with, "I really don't want to get involved anymore," Shisho simply said, "Well?" and shoved several bills into his hand.
"Ugh, I suppose I have no choice."
Amano seemed more pleased by the tactile feel of Shisho's hand than the bills themselves.
"I've got a phone number, but it seems to be an answering service. You pass along your message and wait a bit for a callback."
"I'm counting on you, Amano-chan."
Shisho rubbed his hands together.
The very next day, a message came from Amano.
"A spot opened up among the members, so it's a go."
Trying my absolute best not to think about what "a spot opened up" might actually mean, the two of us ended up agreeing to attend the "Society for Drinking Poison" five days later.
(Continues to "Poison, Part 1" 5/5: *"So that's why you always failed those tests"*)