In the box (BoyXBoy)

The fragile Swindler pt.1

THE FRAGILE SWINDLER

It was the kind of wearisome day where it had been raining since morning, extinguishing any desire to go out. Rainy days were becoming more and more often since entering the last weeks of September. One's wet umbrella had barely any time to dry before being drenched again.
It was past three in the afternoon when the doorbell in the Nishiyama Detective Agency rang. Michitoshi Oe was in the middle of typing up an investigation report on his computer. The template made his work easier, but he was not very skilled at composition to begin with. Twenty years of doing it had not made him like it any better. A sigh escaped his lips every time he got stuck on a sentence.
Oe continued to work, figuring Nobeoka the clerk would deal with any guests. These kinds of tiresome tasks tended to become even more tiresome if interrupted partway through.
The bell continued to ring―two, three times.
"Nobeoka, my man, there's someone at the door."
There was no answer. Oe tilted his head in perplexity. Something was wrong. Then, he remembered. About fifteen minutes ago, Nobeoka had told him that he was going out to "buy coffee, and all sorts of other stuff we've run out of". Oe had brushed him off with an absent-minted answer and completely forgotten.
The chief was absent, and his junior Katori was out investigating. Oe emitted a long sigh, and reluctantly rose out of his chair.
The bell rang incessantly. Someone's in a rush, Oe griped mentally as he pulled the door open widely towards him.
"Hello, this is Nishiyama Detective Agency."
In front of him was a chest clad in a white shirt. Oe had to look up to see his face. The man was towering. He looked young―in his late twenties, perhaps.
"I want you to find someone," the man said curtly.
"You're here to request a search, then. Come on in." As Oe ushered him into the office, he spotted the dirty umbrella in the man's hand.
"Oh, if you would put your umbrella in the umbrella stand over there―"
The man shoved his clear plastic umbrella roughly into the stand. When Oe offered him a seat on the sofa, he seated himself squarely in the middle. The man was not only tall; he also had long legs. His knees were bent uncomfortably in the confined space between the sofa and coffee table. Oe sat down across from him.
Out of his usual habit, Oe discreetly checked his visitor's clothes and accessories. The man's watch was a typical fake, the logo one letter off from the actual brand. He was wearing canvas basketball shoes on his feet. His white short-sleeved shirt was spotless and pressed neatly, and his black pants were kept in good condition with no strangely shiny spots. The simple design of his top and bottoms made his outfit look almost like a student's summer uniform.
The man's hair was short. It suited him, but the style was far from modern. His plain outfit and hairstyle gave him the kind of classic atmosphere of an actor in youth films back in the sixties, when Nikkatsu and Daiei were in their heyday. Oe wondered if the man dressed like this on purpose, but his watch was too pitiful for that, and his shoes did not match his outfit.
"Please let me introduce myself. I'm Michitoshi Oe, an investigator at Nishiyama Detective Agency. Would I be able to get your name?"
"Kei Kitagawa," the man answered. When Oe asked for his age, he replied, "Thirty-four." He looked much younger than his age. His head was small, and the structure of his brow and nose was well-balanced. He no doubt fell into "handsome" category, but the man's face was sorely lacking in expression. It was hard to discern what he was thinking.
Clients who came to detective agencies came because they were all more or less "troubled" about something. They came in with uncertain faces, angry faces; those who were weak-willed were often nervous out of their wits at being in a detective agency. This man fitted none of these patterns.
Whether he was brave or simply ignorant, Oe would soon find out by talking to him. He got a clipboard ready and prepared to take notes.
"So you were saying you were looking for someone. Let me assure you that we would be very happy to be of help to you. Allow me to jump right in. Could you tell me what kind of person it is you're searching for―name, age, your relationship with this person―with as much detail as you can?"
Oe quit his company after two years to join the detective agency, where he was now fast into his twenty-fourth year. He was turning forty-eight this year. His long work relationship with Nishiyama, the chief, had given Oe a certain level of power to make decisions based on his own discretion.
No matter what kind of request it was, they were not to accept it until they had heard the story first. This was because some clients asked for things that were completely beyond the boundaries of common sense. Once, a mother had come in asking them to find her son. When she elaborated, they discovered that the son was in fact missing in the mountains. His body had not been recovered, and they had already performed his funeral five years ago without a body. The mother, still wanting to find it nevertheless, had come to them with this request. Live bodies were one thing, but searching for a dead body was beyond the field of detective work. In the end, they politely backed out of her request.
"The man I want you to find is an acquaintance," the man said. "His name is Takafumi Douno. He turns thirty-six this year." The man spoke abruptly, in a low voice. Oe took down the important points and predicted this man's situation from previous experience. When men sought other male acquaintances, it most likely had to do with borrowed money.
"When and how did you meet Mr. Douno?"
"We first met six years ago. Douno came into the cell where I was living, in prison."
Oe's hand naturally stopped at the word "prison". He looked up. Even when their eyes met, Kitagawa's expression did not change. Oe slowly looked down again to avoid giving away his agitation. He had handled a number of clients in the past with criminal histories, but Kitagawa was lacking in the outlaw, devil-may-care attitude that was so common to them.
Oe felt the tension mount at his own cookie-cutter questions. He did not know what kind of crime this man had committed, but perhaps he was prone to angry outbursts. Caution was necessary.
"So this Mr. Douno whom you were in prison with―can you tell me why you're looking for him?"
"Because I want to see him."
Oe slowly twiddled his ballpoint pen from side to side.
"But there are a lot of reasons you might want to see him. For example, maybe you two had some money-related disagreement in prison."
"I want to see Douno because he's someone I like."
Oe furrowed his brow. One would not normally pay the staggering detective fees to find an average, friendly acquaintance.
I liked her back in school. I want you to find a teacher who was good to me when I was a student. Oe could understand those kinds of requests. But the client and the sought person were both prisoners. What kind of respect could you have for a fellow prisoner? Oh, maybe if he was a prisoner who reflected on what he did, felt true remorse, and became a reformed man. If he was the type to be well-liked for his lofty morals, I could still understand where he's coming from.
"You said you first met him six years ago. When was the last time you saw him?"
"Spring of the next year, about a month before he was set to be released."
The two had interacted for less than a year, and had a five year gap of no contact. Oe knitted his brow. Searching for people and their whereabouts became more difficult as more time passed.
"Did you and Mr. Douno exchange addresses before he was released?"
Kitagawa narrowed his eyes slightly.
"In prison, inmates get punished if they exchange addresses. The guy who gets out first could fraud the other guy's family out of their money while he's still in prison. Or, if they're thieves, they'll team up and pull heists together."
"I see," was all Oe could say. Everything in the man's first-hand account of prison was new to him.
"It's forbidden," the man continued, "but it basically means you have to make sure you don't get caught or ratted out. If you write it down, it'll get caught during spot check. Everyone used to memorize everything. I was thinking of asking Douno for his address, but I got thrown into a secure cell before he was released, and I didn't get to talk to him at all."
Oe felt chilled. He did not know what a secure cell was, but from the tone of the conversation, he could imagine it was not a place where a well-behaved inmate would be put.
"Then, can you tell me everything you know about Mr. Douno? Anything will do. Even if you don't know his exact address, it can be a prefecture, or even east or west Japan."
"I don't know. Douno never mentioned anything."
Oh, come on, Oe groaned inwardly. Detectives weren't perfect. If he was given no information, he could not even begin to think about where and how to begin looking.
"Didn't you discuss any personal things with Mr. Douno?"
Kitagawa seemed to lower his gaze slightly.
"I talked about myself. But Douno didn't say anything."
Oe posed him a few more questions. He found out that Douno had a younger sister, and that she and both his parents were alive and well, and that he had a lover whom he was planning to marry, but nothing else.
"Did you hear about what kind of job Mr. Douno had before he got into prison?"
"City hall."
Amidst all the things Kitagawa claimed he did not know, this one was a quick answer. An occupation needing technical skill or qualification would create the possibility of Douno resuming a job in the same field; however, with city hall, once he was let go, he would never be able to go back. The potential path of finding him by his occupation ended abruptly and unceremoniously.
Oe stroke his chin, looking intently at his clipboard.
"His name, his age, and his former job is all we have. If you met each other in prison, you probably wouldn't have photos. Allow me to tell you the truth: it would be very difficult to find Mr. Douno."
Deep creases appeared between Kitagawa's eyebrows. He had given up before even searching―Oe could understand why the man would be displeased.
"I'll pay. I want you to find him."
Oe hunched his shoulders slightly and spread his palms open.
"It's not about the money. There are too few clues in the information you've given me, Mr. Kitagawa. I have nothing to narrow my focus on. If you'll allow me to speak from past experience, the probability of finding someone in these circumstances is extremely low. Investigation also doesn't come cheap. It's best if you save your money for something else rather than a fruitless search."
"You're a detective. Isn't it your job to find people?"
"Yes, but we're not all-powerful. If there's no information, there's no way even we can find him."
Oe sensed the man purse his lips in an angry line. Sensing the enormous torso slowly bend forward, he reflexively jumped backwards on the sofa. He had a feeling he was about to be punched.
"I'm begging you. Please find him," the man pleaded, his forehead and hands touching the table in front of him. Oe stood up hastily and approached him.
"Please, lift your face, Mr. Kitagawa."
The man slowly lifted his head. He did not so much as blink. Oe began to feel flustered, fixed with the man's desperate gaze.
"The detective agency I went to last week, and another one the week before, both turned me down and told me they couldn't find him. I don't care how much it costs. I want you to find him, please."
The tension radiating from the man was unsettling. Oe glanced left and right as if seeking help, but all of the other workers were out. He was the only one here.
"Just as the other agencies have told you, it will be difficult finding him."
No matter how much explaining Oe did, the man only stubbornly responded with, "Please find him." The conversation was going nowhere. Oe tried to think of an excuse that would send him home at least for the day.
"To tell you the truth, even if I wanted to, I wouldn't be able to take on your case on my own decision," Oe explained. "All the power lies with the chief, and unless we have his OK, we can't do anything. Since the chief is not here right now, would it be alright if I talked to him right after he comes back? I'll ask him right away if we can take on your case, and I'll contact you."
The man gave a shallow nod, apparently satisfied with his hastily-composed excuse. Oe was relieved. He offered Kitagawa the clipboard he had been taking notes with, along with his pen.
"Anywhere there's space, could you write down your address and name, and your cell phone number?"
The man's writing was not exactly sloppy, but it was rather angular. His address read, "Maple On-site Dorm, Kitajima Steel Factory". Here was a factory who had hired Kitagawa while aware of his criminal record. The man lived in an on-site dorm. Definitely not making big bucks, Oe conjectured.
He looked down at the clipboard that was returned to him, and questioned the man. Something important was missing.
"Could you tell me your cell phone number? I think you forgot to write it down."
"I don't have one."
It was unusual for a young man like him not to have one.
"Do you have some sort of common telephone at your dorm, then?"
"Yeah, but someone broke it last month and it's been like that since. Everyone has cell phones already, so people barely used it. That's probably why they don't feel like fixing it, either."
"Isn't that inconvenient for you? What about when you need to contact your family urgently?"
"I don't have any family."
For a moment, Oe's words stuck in his throat.
"I have a mother," the man continued, "but the last time I saw her was the one time before I got arrested. I probably have a father too, but I've never even heard about him."
Didn't mothers usually come to see their sons at least once, even though they were in prison? Was she so fed up with her son's crime, or had she fled because she wanted nothing to do with it?
"Is there a telephone at your workplace that I can get hold of you through?"
"The company phone is for business. The president won't like it if I get a call during work hours. But if it's after work... oh, then the office would be closed." The man folded his arms and knitted his brow, appearing to be deep in thought.
"I'll come here tomorrow," he said finally. "Work ends past eight in the evening, so I can get here at eight thirty."
Oe had been investigating an extramarital affair in the evenings since last week. If his target wrapped up at work by seven and went home straight without stopping along the way, it would take him about twenty minutes by train and fifteen minutes by foot from his office to his home. Oe figured he could still come back to the office after finishing the investigation. But if the target made contact with his illicit lover, Oe would have no way of knowing when he could get back.
In that case, however, Oe concluded that he could always tell the chief about his situation and have him deal with Kitagawa instead.
"Alright," Oe agreed. "Then I'll see you tomorrow at eight-thirty at this office."
Once their discussion was over, the man strode swiftly out. He was just as impatient leaving as he was coming in. Oe drew up to the window and looked down at the sidewalk below. The dirty umbrella was easily spotted even from a distance as it grew smaller amidst the rain. The man seemed pushy, and it would probably be a hassle if he argued with the same stubbornness tomorrow. A heavy sigh escaped naturally from Oe's lips.
What crime had that man, Kitagawa, been imprisoned for? He had been released four years ago, which meant he had been thirty. If he had been granted a release at that age, he could not have committed a crime that serious. Theft, fraud, assault, drugs―no, probably not drugs. Oe's liberal assumption came from the man's classic look.
He doesn't seem like a bad man, but he was raised by a single parent. His mother doesn't seem too affectionate, either. He looks like the straight-laced type, but maybe he had something in him that made him turn to crime, Oe thought casually, as if were none of his own affair.