________________________________________________________________________
J. Austin Wilde and Fission Park Press proudly present:
STIGMA
Part Six
By J. Austin Wilde, K.B.C.S.
Special Agent in Charge,
Fission Park Press
wildeman@psn.net
http://www.psn.net/~wildeman/
The characters and situations of Ranma 1/2 are
the creation and property of Rumiko Takahashi
and Shogakukan/Kitty TV.
--DARKFIC WARNING--
The following work of fanfiction contains strong
language as well as graphic and violent presentations
of torture, sexual assault, and murder. It is not for
the faint of heart or the easily disturbed.
_______________________________________________________________________
-TWENTY-THREE-
Ohata Ichiro took a deep breath, held it for a few seconds as his
heart pounded in his chest, and touched off the quarter kilogram of
glycidyle azide polymer that he had painstakingly tamped around the
perimeter and locks of Hashimoto Otsu's apartment door. Before the sharp
*crack* sound of the explosive compound finished ringing in his ears,
has was charging in behind a transparent polycarbonate riot shield as
Fuyushio lobbed tear gas grenades in ahead of him. A woman's voice
screamed in fright just before they went off.
* * *
Inspector Takeda Jiro awoke upon the eighth ring of the telephone
that sat next to his bed in the hotel room. He took the receiver off the
hook, sat up groggily, and switched on the bedside light before answering.
"Takeda," he muttered.
"I'm sorry to wake you like this," Ozawa replied. He seemed more
than a little groggy himself. "But Hayashi from National SWAT just hit
Hashimoto's place. It's a gold mine."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Takeda yawned.
"About a gold mine?"
"Yeah."
"This guy was as dirty as they get. The snuff-flicks, drugs, pimping
out illegal immigrants, you name it. Okuda's boys are moving in, and
Hayashi invited us to take a look for ourselves."
"That doesn't mean he's got something we need," Takeda yawned again.
There was a pause on Ozawa's end.
"Pardon me?"
Takeda looked at the little clock on the bedside table.
"It's two-thirty in the morning," he moaned. "Whatever this dirtbag
Hashimoto has will keep until a decent hour. If you want to take a look so
bad, be my guest, but I'm too fucking old for this kind of thing."
"I thought you might say that," Ozawa replied at length. "It's no
problem, I'll go take a look. I'll pick you up at the hotel at the usual
time."
Takeda was already hanging up the phone and going back to sleep.
* * *
Despite having been up for six hours previous, Detective Lieutenant
Ozawa looked bright and alert that morning at the hotel. Takeda said as
much as the two men gulped down weak hotel coffee and anpan, doughy
concoctions filled with sweet bean paste. Ozawa was eager to share his
news.
"You'll never guess who we found on a couple lists of Hashimoto's
customers and contacts," he began.
"Besides Gosunkugi?" Takeda frowned.
"Besides him," Ozawa replied.
Takeda finished his coffee with a wince. It was that bad. "Judging
from the shit-eating grin on your face, I'd have to say Saotome Ranma."
Ozawa looked almost disappointed.
"Damn, I was hoping I could spring it on you," he smiled weakly.
"Saotome's name turns up at least twenty times among the evidence
recovered."
"Anything to do with the murders?"
"Not really," Ozawa admitted. "But that kind of connection to
Hashimoto cannot be good for his clean-cut martial artist image."
"It doesn't prove anything, but I see where you are going with this."
Ozawa shrugged. "If it was just good enough to get a warrant for a
hair sample from Saotome, it might settle this once and for all."
"How about the florists," Takeda asked, changing the subject.
"Anything come of that?"
"Not yet. All of the staff who weren't working when the detectives
went by with the card yesterday are being assembled for a second round
today. There's also the possibility that it was phoned in, but no one
seems to recall, and the records these places keep aren't very thorough."
Ozawa reached into his attach� and handed Takeda a sheaf of papers.
"You've been busy," Takeda remarked as he took them.
"Takahashi from the Occult Section concurs with the Saotome girl-curse,"
Ozawa told him. "Some place called Jusenkyo in northwestern China. There
are supposed to be other places where this can happen, but Jusenkyo was
the big one. I asked Doctor Dosaka to do a quick write-up on any
psychological effects that might have on a person. At first he didn't
take me seriously, so I had to bullshit him a little bit."
"Bullshit him?"
"I told him the subject at least *thought* he was cursed to turn into
a girl, and I asked him hypothetically what something like Saotome's curse
might do to a person's head." Ozawa gestured to the papers. "It's in there."
Takeda set them aside.
"I'll read it later."
Ozawa looked pained. "But it's right there!" he protested. "The gender
identity crisis, just like the profile said. It goes into disassociative
personality disorder; it's rare, but this kind of trauma is definitely
indicated."
"What are you getting at?"
"His transformation to his girl side," Ozawa continued. "It could be
traumatic enough that his psyche has created another persona to deal with
it. One that he wouldn't have any connection to, one that he might not have
any control over. One that might fear and resent others of his new gender.
Hatred even."
Takeda shook his head. "It's possible," he conceded, "But Saotome
seemed so lucid when we talked to him -her. I find it hard to believe that
he -she- became a different person mentally right there in front of us and
we didn't notice..." He looked hard at Ozawa. "You want to tell me why you
have such a hard-on for Saotome?"
"Not really," Ozawa replied.
"Keep it up and I'll get you thrown off this case," the inspector
warned. "It's okay to have a feeling about someone, but this is starting
to turn into something personal with you. You lose your objectivity and
the killer could walk right in front of you with a body over his shoulder
and you'd never see it for what it was. Got it?"
Ozawa nodded. He cooled a bit and finished his own miserable coffee.
"Where to today?"
"The Cat Cafe. I want to see if Mousse ever returned. I'd appreciate
it if you'd go around to the back before I walk in, just to make sure they
aren't getting rid of him before we can talk."
"No problem."
"Don't take it personally," Takeda grunted. "I can't tell you what a
credit you've been to this investigation so far."
As they walked towards the car, Ozawa said something that Takeda
didn't quite catch. He asked Ozawa to repeat it.
"Nepeta Cataria," Ozawa said, stumbling over the Latin.
"Meaning?" Takeda prompted.
"Catnip. That was what the lab called your mystery plant sample from
the Tendo Dojo."
"What is it, and what can you do with it?"
"It's a kind of mint, so I imagine you can cook with it. Apparently,
cats go crazy over the stuff."
"That's an odd thing to have lying around on the lawn," Takeda mused.
"True, but it would explain all those cats that were there."
"I wonder why someone would do that -considering Saotome Ranma's fear
of cats."
"It seems like he isn't lacking for enemies around here. Maybe someone
is just playing a cruel joke on him," Ozawa remarked. "I've got more to
report besides the catnip. The lab also came back with an analysis of the
wood slivers Ito pulled from number four. The wood is mostly likely from
some sort of plyboard. Based on pesticide levels used to preserve the
material as it sat in the warehouse, the lab estimates that the wood is
fairly new."
"That's something at least," Takeda admitted.
"It gets better. The type of pesticide used is a new low-impact type
to conform with the current enviromental policies. It's only been in use
for two months at the most. I've got my office making phone calls to local
hardware stores. It's a long shot given how bad the records of the local
merchants are, but any sales of plywood in the last two months will be
noted."
"That'll be a big help trying to confirm the location of at least
number four's murder," Takeda rumbled. "We're closing the noose on this
guy. Pretty soon we'll get something we need to point directly to him, and
then bury him with evidence."
-TWENTY-FOUR-
Ozawa parked the car a good distance from the Cat Cafe so as to
provide no warning of their arrival. Takeda cursed the walk, but if it
meant the possibility of confronting Mousse, he would have done it barefoot.
Ozawa slipped into the alley behind the establishment to cover the rear.
Two-story homes on the opposite side of the alley were crunched together
where the residential portion of the neighborhood abutted the commericial.
They reminded him of the cheerless domicile of Gosunkugi Hikaru.
As Ozawa neared the low wooden fence that cordoned the back yard of
the Cat Cafe, he heard Mousse's voice addressing someone. He caught the
glint of sunlight on the boy's glasses and watched his long black hair flow
with the breeze. The expression on the boy's face was anything but serene.
The person he spoke to was hidden from sight.
"I did my part," Mousse said bitterly. "When do you start keeping up
your end of the bargain? You were supposed to be helping me! It's been
months now!"
"So that's how it is," a scratchy voice replied sardonically. "It's
always about you, isn't it, Mousse? Just like that ingrate, Ranma."
"Keep him out of this!" Mousse shot back indignantly. "This isn't
about him, this is about seeing that he gets what's coming to him,
remember?"
Ozawa stopped where he was, determined to get as much as he could
without giving himself away. The voice became petulant, and Ozawa could
have sworn that he had heard it before.
"Stop your whining. He may just get what's coming to him, don't you
worry."
At this Mousse became even more upset.
"Dammit, you old freak, this is supposed to be *my* doing! It doesn't
mean anything to anyone -and especially not her- if *you're* the one who
does it! You wanted my help, and I gave it to you -on condition that you
help me with *my* problem. I'm not proud about what I did, and if she ever
finds out, it could mean serious trouble for me, so the least you could do
was honor our agreement!"
There was a pause, pregnant with ill will, before the voice responded.
"Nope. Changed my mind. You're obviously not ready for such knowledge."
Mousse's face twisted into feral rage.
"Goddamn you, old man! I'll kill you!"
Ozawa froze in astonishment as Mousse produced a quintet of swords
from each sleeve and sprang at whoever it was that he was talking to. A
small maroon blur bounded skyward with a cackle as Mousse plunged a fistful
of steel into the wooden fence. Ozawa recognized the blur as the little old
man with the panty collection at the Tendo place. The detective drew his
pistol and demanded Mousse to drop the swords and stay where he was.
Mousse did no such thing. The swords disappeared into his sleeves. He
started back into the Cat Cafe as if he hadn't heard Ozawa.
Ozawa cursed to himself. He didn't want to shoot Mousse, and couldn't
presently justify it if he did. Having little choice, he vaulted over the
fence and followed him inside.
Inspector Takeda walked into the Cat Cafe. Like his previous visit, it
was early and there were no customers present. Shampoo had her back to the
door as she busied herself with the carnations she dropped into table vases.
Only Cologne observed his entrance from the corner closest to the kitchen
window. Wisps of smoke rose from a small pipe clenched in her gnarled fist.
Takeda noted the troubled expression on her weathered face.
"What can I do for you, inspector?" she asked him. She did not rise
to greet him, though Shampoo spun around at once to bow respectfully.
"I'd like to talk to your delivery boy, if he's available."
Cologne's eyes narrowed.
"For what purpose, inspector?"
"I have a few questions for him. Is he here?"
Cologne was about to deny it when Mousse stumbled into the front room
at a run. He stopped short when he saw Takeda standing in the door. He knew
he could run him down, but that would only magnify his problems.
"I guess he's here," Takeda remarked. He looked to Mousse. "Sit down."
Ozawa appeared from the kitchen. His pistol was drawn. Upon seeing
this, Takeda's hand moved towards his hip. Cologne rapped her staff on the
floor for the attention of all.
"Enough of this," she commanded. "Mousse, sit down." She looked to the
two policemen. "You won't be needing your weapons, officers. Mousse will
cooperate fully with you."
Mousse sat down sullenly.
Takeda noted Mousse's compliance but was doubtful if Cologne herself
would be so accommidating if the wrong questions were asked. The Amazon
matriarch gave him a look that seemed to indicate that she was reading his
thoughts, and that he was quite correct about her.
Ozawa stowed his pistol. He decided to remain where he was, both out
of Mousse's reach and covering the back door if the boy decided to make a
run for it. He wasn't so sure the boy would do as he was told, even taking
into consideration his fear of Cologne.
Takeda took a seat at the table closest to the front door.
"Where have you been?" he asked. "We've been looking for you since you
decided to run out on us during our last interview."
Mousse didn't answer. Takeda waited patiently. Shampoo floated on the
periphery, unsure of whether to offer the two policemen something to drink
or stay out of the way.
A heavy tap of ashwood on parquet echoed throughout the Cat Cafe.
Mousse winced at the sound and cleared his throat to speak.
"I-I was out."
Takeda smirked. "I've been hearing that a lot recently. 'Out' must
be a very popular place around here." He leaned forward in his chair. "How
about something a little more specific?"
Mousse looked down in his lap before answering. "Lao Tzu's place. He
owns a wholesale produce shop for the local restaurants."
"Why you go there?" Shampoo demanded. "That man lying thief! He cheat
us last time he sell vegetables!"
Mousse spun on Shampoo. "Well at least he treats me like a human being!"
he retorted. "Not a slave -like some people I could mention!"
"You know your place, Mousse," Cologne said calmly as Shampoo prepared
to lay into him verbally. "Don't you."
Mousse ignored her, and turned back to Takeda. "That's where I was."
"What about the night before last. Were you staying there then too?"
"Yeah," Mousse replied. "You can ask him if you want, he'll back me up
on it."
"We'll do that," Ozawa said.
"What can you tell me about Kounjo Mariko?" Takeda asked.
"Who?" Mousse asked. Everything about him seemed to indicate that he
was completely ignorant of the girl. Everything except the ways his eyes
failed to make contact with Takeda's when he said it.
Takeda certainly didn't buy it.
"She turned up dead yesterday morning, not all that far from here," the
inspector supplied. He gave Mousse a stern look. "Now I'm going to tell you
something else about her, and I want you to pay attention and think very
hard about your answer. We found a hair in a bouquet of flowers she was
carrying before the killer abducted her."
He paused for effect. "A nice long black hair, rather like yours. Now
I know there are probably a few hundred people in Nerima with long black
hair, but I'm willing to bet that if I took a sample from you, and sent it
to my very capable forensics team for a comparison, that it would match the
hair we found in the bouquet. I can draw my own conclusions from this, but
I'd like to hear your take on the situation first."
He leaned in close to Mousse.
"Now, what can you tell me about Kounjo Mariko?"
The boy's face gave him away before he ever opened his mouth.
"Not much," he began. "I ran into her the other night. I-I wasn't
watching where I was going."
"Did you have your glasses on?"
"No... I guess that's why I didn't see her until it was too late."
"Can you remember her emotional state? Was she frightened or anxious?"
Mousse closed his eyes. "Upset. I don't know why."
"About what time did this happen?"
Mousse shrugged. "I don't know. I really wasn't paying attention to
the time. It was late, that's all I remember."
"Did you say anything to her? Did she say anything to you?"
"I apologized for running into her," Mousse replied. "She told me her
name and asked me if I knew where the Kuno residence was."
Takeda and Ozawa exchanged looks from across the room.
"The Kuno residence?"
Mousse nodded. "She told me that she received the bouquet from Kuno
Tatewaki, and she was going on about a date with him or something. I really
wasn't paying all that much attention."
Takeda wrote this down.
"Then what?"
"I told her how to get there from where we were, and then left her."
"Why were you in such a hurry?" Ozawa asked.
Mousse said nothing.
"Answer the question please," Takeda told him.
Cologne tapped her staff on the floor again. Mousse's eyes rolled up
in his head with anger and despair. She tapped again, harder now, a threat
of things to come.
"I was chasing Happosai."
"Happosai?" Takeda asked, noting the dark look on Cologne's face as
the boy said the name.
"He little pervert panty-thief," Shampoo supplied.
Takeda remembered the wizened little man at the Tendo Dojo.
"Why were you chasing him?"
Mousse wriggled in his chair. "He owed me something, and I was trying
to collect."
"What would that be?"
"Nothing important."
"I'll be the judge of that."
Mousse grit his teeth. He knew that while Cologne might not care one
way or the other if he answered the question for Takeda, she would want to
know about his dealings with Happosai. Ducking the question would get him
nowhere. "He promised to train me in a martial arts technique."
"Why you go to him?" Shampoo demanded. "Great-grandmother better than
he is."
Mousse continued to face Takeda.
"You really are stupid, Shampoo," he said through clenched teeth. His
face went taut as he said it, as if he was in the midst of a personal
catharsis with this declaration.
"What?!" she retorted indignantly. Takeda noted that the purple-haired
girl looked more hurt than angry by Mousse's cutting remark.
"It's pretty obvious why I don't go to Cologne for knowledge: it's
because she won't teach me," Mousse continued tersely. "She's afraid I'll
kick Saotome's ass with whatever skills I learn."
Cologne continued to ruminate in the corner.
"So Happosai is a martial artist too," Takeda said, eager to get the
conversation back onto the line of questioning, and away from whatever
personal meltdown between the three Chinese that was about to occur.
Mousse nodded. "A good one, if you can get him to keep his word."
Bitterness was plain in his voice.
Ozawa cleared his throat. "While we're on the subject, you want to
tell me what that little fracas out back was about? More of the other
night?"
The Chinese boy took his time in answering. "Yeah."
"It must have been some technique if you were willing to run the guy
through with a handful of swords because he wouldn't teach you. That's a
fascinating trick you pulled with them, by the way."
Takeda sat back in chair and let Ozawa run this line of questioning.
"So what does all this have to do with Saotome Ranma getting his just
desserts?" the detective continued. "Those were your words, as I recall."
Takeda's raised eyebrow was joined by a gasp from Shampoo and a dark
look from Cologne. Mousse remained calm in the face of the question.
"Isn't it obvious?" Mousse replied. "Everything that happens around
here is his fault."
* * *
Takeda and Ozawa left Mousse to whatever discipline Cologne would mete
out for his absence. They walked back towards the car with an uneasy feeling
in their stomachs.
"So what do you make of Mousse's 'everything that happens around here
is Saotome's fault' remark?" Ozawa asked.
"I think we'd need to spend a year or two here in order to figure out
what's going on between all these people," Takeda replied. "Mousse has good
reason to hate Saotome if he's the reason why Shampoo gives him the cold
shoulder. Kuno Tatewaki thinks Saotome has enslaved his 'Pig-Tailed Girl,'
when from what we know Saotome IS the Pig-Tailed Girl. And the whole Kuonji/
Kurenai/Konatsu/Saotome thing just makes my head spin..."
Ozawa nodded in weary agreement. "So where to now?"
"Back to the Kuno place. I want to confirm Mousse's story that Kounjo
was going to visit Tatewaki. Call it following up on the 'bait' theory. If
that goes nowhere, we check out this Lao Tzu fellow and verify Mousse's
alibi."
"You aren't going to follow up on the hair theory?"
"I saw the look on his face. He knows the hair will match up with
him. So in my book that confirms that he was with Kounjo the night she was
killed, but you know as well as I do that the hair by itself won't prove
that he murdered her..."
Takeda was going to say more, but a small black pig dragging a heavy
backpack and umbrella walked out in front of him from around a corner. The
pig didn't notice the two cops until Takeda scooped him up by the bandanna.
The pig squealed furiously at the inspector until he realized who it was
that had him, then he became oddly quiescent.
"Well well well," Takeda said happily. "Who do we have here?"
Ozawa grinned at their good fortune. "I don't know, but I bet a cup
of hot water would tell us."
P-chan squealed softly with dread.
The two police officers shunned the Cat Cafe and instead found a rival
ramen shop a few blocks down the street. Ozawa stepped inside for the hot
water while Takeda looked at the pig. It looked very nervous for a dumb
animal.
"I'm going to feel pretty stupid if you're not Hibiki," Takeda said
to the pig. "But if you are, would you rather become a human in front of
everyone, or would you rather do this somewhere private?"
The pig nodded vigorously at the mention of someplace private.
"Fair enough," Takeda said. Ozawa appeared with a cup of steaming hot
water. For some reason he was also carrying a cup of ice water. It didn't
take Takeda more than a second to figure it out.
"Let's take our friend here into the alley."
Ozawa followed Takeda into the alley. While Takeda held P-chan by
the bandanna, Ozawa poured a little of the hot water on the pig. Both men
watched with fascination as the steam shrouded the pig for a few seconds,
and then P-chan suddenly became too heavy to hold. Takeda let him go.
"Yowwwtchthatshot!!!"
Ryouga looked down at his naked body and then at the two policemen.
"What's the big idea?" he demanded with a furious blush.
"You can put some clothes on after you've answered a few questions,"
Takeda told him. Ryouga was solidly built, he noted. His leg muscles had
the kind of definition achieved only through walking very long distances
while carrying heavy loads, and on a frequent basis. The boy's teeth
featured two prominent canines resembling fangs.
"B-But, but," Ryouga stammered. "That's not fair, dammit!"
"You've been a difficult person to find, Hibiki," Takeda returned.
"If this will keep you in one place and talking, then that's how it's going
to be. Answer my questions and you can go. If not, well, we can take you
down as-is to the police station and continue our conversation there."
"Urk," was the best Ryouga could manage in reply.
Takeda got down to business.
"I've a reliable eyewitness telling me that he saw you in the company
of a girl who was found murdered yesterday morning. You want to tell me
about Kounjo Mariko or should I draw my own conclusions?"
"Who's Kounjo Mariko?" Ryouga stammered. It seemed as if he was
racking his brain trying to put the name to a face.
"Short blonde hair. White minidress. A cheerleader for Seisyun High
School," Ozawa supplied.
Recognition set in.
"M-Murdered?" he asked quietly.
"Yes," Takeda replied. "Murdered. Rather brutally too, I might add.
According to my eyewitness, you are probably one of the last people to ever
see her alive."
Ryouga remained silent, unsure of how to react to this news.
"She was the fourth victim for this guy, so you can understand that
we're very eager to catch him and bring him to justice," Takeda said. "Now
if you don't start talking to me, I'm going to get very upset with you."
"W-What do you want to know?"
"Good. What I want to know is what you were doing with Kounjo the night
she was murdered."
Ryouga began to sweat.
"I was, um, I was trying to take her someplace."
"Where would that be?"
Ryouga paused to collect his thoughts. "She was trying to find the
Kuno house. I ah, I was trying to take her there."
"I'm told you have a very poor direction sense," Takeda said evenly.
"Is this true?"
Ryouga nodded sheepishly. "Everything you've heard and probably worse,"
he said almost to himself.
"So why were you offering to lead this girl to a place you would have
almost no chance of finding?" Ozawa asked.
Ryouga blushed. "It's ah, it's a long story."
"And it's going to get very chilly in this alley if you don't start
talking," Takeda retorted.
The bandanna clad martial artist shuffled his feet for a moment before
he spoke.
"She looked so upset," he began. "She was trying to find the Kuno
house but she lost her way. I just wanted to help." He looked away. "I
didn't even think about getting us lost, I just wanted to help her because
she was so cute and..." His voice trailed off for a second and he blushed
even redder.
"Keep going," Takeda prompted.
"I got us both lost. Really lost. She uh, she sort of got mad because
it was getting late, and she, uh, hit me on the head and walked off."
"She hit you on the head?" Ozawa asked.
Ryouga rubbed the top of his head in remembrance. "Yeah," he said
meekly. "I guess I sort of deserved it. She hit me with this stick she
always had in her hand."
"About what time did you first meet her, and when did she leave you?"
Takeda asked.
Ryouga scratched his head. "I dunno, I guess sometime just after supper
was when I met her, and it was pretty late when she left me. I don't know
the exact time she left, but the moon was just starting to come up."
Takeda and Ozawa took this down.
"You say she was murdered?" Ryouga asked again.
"Yeah," Takeda grunted. "We're looking for suspects. Did you happen to
notice anyone unusual prowling around that night? Did you ever get the
feeling you were being followed?"
"I don't see how anyone could have followed us. We were sort of all
over the neighborhood."
"You didn't see anyone unusual?"
Ryouga thought.
"There was Konatsu," he remarked. "I never see him any place but
Ukyo's, so I thought it was a little weird that he'd be out that night,
but I didn't think it was that big a deal." He shrugged. "He's a ninja,
sort of, right? You don't really think that him sitting on a tree branch
would be all that out of place."
Takeda wrote this down.
"There was also Ranma," Ryouga said with a snap of his finger. "He
wasn't very close, but I could tell he was a cat again. It's been happening
a lot with him lately."
"I thought he became a girl when he got wet," Takeda pointed out.
"That has nothing to do with it," Ryouga returned. "It was one of
those stupid training techniques his idiot father tried on him. Something
about tying food around him when he was six and throwing him into a pit of
hungry cats. It was supposed to teach him this technique called the 'Cat
Fist.'"
"Sounds more like reckless endangerment of a child," Ozawa groused.
"Are you sure you aren't making this up?" Takeda asked. "I'll swallow
just about anything after this Chinese curse business, but this one is
stretching the limits of my belief."
"I swear it's true!" Ryouga protested. "The technique worked." He
cocked his head. "Well, sort of. Ranma can use the Cat Fist, but only
when his fear of cats is so strong that it drives him off the deep end."
Takeda thought of the cats that infested the dojo compound and the
catnip he had found.
"So what does this 'Cat Fist' do?" he asked.
"It's very powerful," Ryouga said. "But you'd have to be an idiot
to want to learn it because of what it does to you. Your brain just locks
up. You become a cat -in your head I mean, not physically. Ranma can turn
a whole tree into sawdust with his bare hands when he's stuck in his cat
self."
"Stuck?"
"The only thing I've ever seen turn him back to his normal self is
his curse making him change," Ryouga said gravely. "Otherwise he'd be stuck
living like a cat forever."
"Is this something you'd be willing to testify about in a trial?"
Ozawa asked him.
Ryouga bit his lip. "I guess so." His eyes widened slightly in a
sudden realization. "Does this mean you think Ranma is the killer?"
"He's a suspect," Ozawa admitted. "I don't want to say anything more
on the subject."
"I knew it!" Ryouga said to himself. "I knew there was something
wrong with him; the way he treats Akane and all the other girls. I didn't
think he had it in him, but now it all starts making sense."
"What makes sense?" Takeda asked tersely.
"Don't you see?" Ryouga cried. "He hates his girl curse, he treats
his fiance� like dirt, he strings along all these other girls that don't
interest him in the slightest, he turns into a wild animal capable of
ripping people limb from limb -it's obvious! Oh, when I get my hands on
him I'm gonna--"
"--Rot in a jail cell downtown if you don't shut your mouth right
now," Takeda finished for him. "I don't want to hear another word about
it, Hibiki, do you understand me? None of what you are saying has any
practical bearing on his guilt or innocence, and you are no officer of
the law -got it?"
Ryouga lowered his head and nodded.
"Good. I catch you starting any shit with Saotome, and I *will* haul
you off to jail until you can cool off. Now put your damn clothes on and
get out of my sight."
Takeda turned and left the alley with Ozawa close behind.
"That's all we fucking need is a bunch of martial artist vigilantes
using a serious crime as an excuse to exact petty revenge on each other."
"Do you believe what he said?"
"About the 'Cat Fist'? Maybe. After the water curses, anything is
possible."
He looked over his notebook.
"I want a surveillance set up on Mousse, Konatsu, Saotome, and
Kurenai -if he actually turns up," he said evenly. "Those are our four
prime suspects in my belief."
"Nothing on Hibiki?"
"I think he's telling us the truth. At least as he sees it. The guy
just comes across as a lousy liar. If I had more things pointing towards
him, I'd say go ahead, but we'll be lucky to put together the surveillance
teams we'll need for the other four as it is. These guys can't be car
sitters. They have to be able to keep up with young, highly mobile, martial
artists. None of these four will take too kindly to being followed, so
they have to be discreet on top of being physically fit."
-TWENTY-FIVE-
The sun was fading in the Nerima sky as Inspector Takeda and Detective
Lieutenant Ozawa reviewed the platoon of uniformed police that would be
present during the merchants' festival. Though he had argued against
allowing the event to take place, it was clear to Takeda that there was
too much money at stake to let common sense prevail. The best he could do
was keep a lot of cops on hand in the hopes of discouraging their man from
making a move. With so many people milling about in one place, and a lot
of those people teenaged girls, the temptation to strike might prove too
great to resist. The noise and excitement of the festival would certainly
provide enough distractions to get away with it.
"You know what to look for, and I expect you to keep your eyes open,"
Takeda admonished them. "Our man might try something tonight. There are
also suspects we want to question, who have been avoiding us, that might
just show up tonight. Dismissed."
The police officers bowed formally and dispersed into two man teams.
Each team had a radio, and there was a command post set up in the nearby
koban from which their movements could be coordinated. A few detectives
with surveillance skills would carry on a discreet monitoring of the
festival from vantage points.
"We might as well be hanging a sign around one of these girls' necks
saying 'kill me,'" Takeda groused to Ozawa as they walked along the main
promenade of the festival. In spite of the murders, or more likely thanks
to the suppression of the story in the press, there was a big turn-out.
"You don't understand the pressure we had to put on the papers to
keep the latest murder low key and not publish anything until tomorrow
morning," Ozawa replied.
"Don't start with me about it," Takeda said bitterly.
"I'm not trying to start anything," Ozawa corrected him. "You know
that keeping this discreet is more important to the Home Ministry than
catching the killer. I don't like it, but I don't make policy either."
"That's what pisses me off. If it was *their* daughters getting
butchered would they still want the kid gloves left on? Hell no. They'd
give me a medal if I executed the guy on the spot when I caught him...
It's the hypocrisy and the disregard for these girls' lives that puts
the hook into me."
Silence lingered between the two for some minutes afterward, broken
only by the shriek of little boys as they tore their way between them
and continued chasing each other through the crowds. A uniformed patrolman
admonished them for running, and they obeyed him long enough to get out of
his sight before renewing the chase. Takeda had to laugh at that.
"Feel like talking shop again?" Ozawa asked.
"Not really, but go ahead," the inspector replied absently.
"The best we could come up with on the bouquet card was that a Kuno
had placed the order. Unfortunately they don't know *which* Kuno placed the
order. The clerk who took the order doesn't remember if the voice over the
phone was male or female."
Takeda grimaced. "That figures. Anything else?"
"According to the weather bureau, moonrise yesterday night was at
9:23 PM, so that gives us a workable time for when Kounjo is supposed to
have left Hibiki."
"Yeah, it fits somewhere before Kounjo's death and after we found her."
"According to Doctor Ito's autopsy report, Mariko died at approximately
10:30 PM. Hibiki's statement puts the time she left him close to about the
time the killer would need to abduct her and allow for time to get wherever
it is that he's killing them. If Hibiki didn't do it, whoever did was fairly
close by."
"That would tend to discourage the bait theory," Takeda observed. "If
one of the Kunos was the killer, he or she would be way out of position to
find Mariko in enough time to abduct her. And that's assuming that he or
she would even bother going out to look for her when she didn't show up."
"Not likely," Ozawa agreed.
They continued walking down the promenade until they reached the
okonomiyaki yatai of Kuonji Ukyo. She was wearing her best outfit and
greeting her customers with bright smiles and hot food served up in a
flash of her spatulas. Her smile faded when she saw the two policemen
approach.
"Where's Konatsu?" Takeda asked her.
Ukyo regarded him for a moment before answering. "He's out selling
okonomiyaki. I figured I could generate more revenue selling in two places
at once."
"Smart thinking," the inspector returned. "I'll keep a look out for
him."
"I'm sure you will," Ukyo replied under her breath.
* * *
Inspector Takeda munched upon an okonomiyaki and watched from a bench
as Konatsu worked the crowds. The kunoichi was dressed in a bright yellow
kimono patterned with butterflies. His gentle grace and charm seemed to
work as effectively in drawing in customers, mostly male and single, as
Kuonji's aggressive hawking.
Ozawa finished his okonomiyaki and watched the crowds. They hadn't
seen anyone else of interest yet, and he was about to suggest that they
make their way to the other end of the promenade and check out the Cat
Cafe's booth. He was curious about Mousse, and he was certain that Takeda
was as well.
He was about to nudge the inspector and suggest as much when he spied
Hibiki Ryouga wandering before them. He seemed confused, which Ozawa put up
to being lost again. Ryouga didn't seem to notice them as he continued on
his way.
"Hibiki's here," he told Takeda.
Takeda spotted him. "I see him."
"What do you suppose he's looking for?"
"I don't know, but it had better not be Saotome."
Takeda finished his okonomiyaki and stood up.
"Let's get going."
"I was about to suggest that myself."
They started walking in the direction of the Cat Cafe booth. Shampoo
was dressed in a stunning red cheongsam, embroidered in fine gold thread,
and slit all the way up to the hip on both sides. She preened and posed for
the crowds as Cologne worked behind a counter at a wok. There was quite a
group of young men surrounding the booth, gawking at Shampoo, but also
buying food. Takeda noted that there was an equal number of young women
staring daggers at Shampoo and at the men who gaped at the amazon's
pulchritude.
Mousse sullenly washed dishes out of a plastic tub at the back of the
booth. Occasionally they would note him looking up from his labor towards
Shampoo. The look he gave the girl was anything but fawning. Cologne would
then rap him on the head when he strayed too long from his duties.
Happosai bounded by the two police as they watched Mousse. He made his
way straight towards Shampoo. Cologne and Mousse saw this as soon as Takeda
and Ozawa. As Mousse leaped forward to stop the little man, Cologne smacked
him in the face with her staff.
"Hotcha!" Happosai cried as he leaped at Shampoo. "Come to Happi,
sweetheart!"
Shampoo swatted him down with a fist, putting her weight into the
blow to drive him halfway into the street, and throwing the fall of her
cheongsam up around her in a most flattering way.
"Leave Shampoo alone, stupid pervert man!" she cried. There was a
smattering of applause from her crowd of male admirers.
Happosai staggered to his feet with a hurt look in his eyes.
"Can't a guy even cop a quick feel?" he asked pathetically.
"Only one man touch Shampoo and not feel Shampoo's wrath," the amazon
replied sternly with a toss of her purple mane. "That man is Ranma."
"Ranma!" Happosai cackled. "Ha! He isn't even a whole man."
"He more than enough man for Shampoo," she said, turning up her nose
to Happosai.
Rebuked, Happosai stumped over to Cologne. He ignored the death looks
he received from Mousse. On the contrary, he seemed to bask in the glow of
Mousse's hatred.
"Is there a reason why you're here, Happi?" Cologne asked him coldly.
Happosai turned back to Shampoo, who gave him a dirty look.
"Just admiring the scenery."
"Admire it somewhere else," Cologne told him. There was an acidic
quality to her voice that surprised him. It only made him more determined
to stay.
"But I like it here," he whined. He turned his back on her and
made wolf-whistles at Shampoo.
Cologne's staff came down on his head, and as he reeled drunkenly
from the blow, she sent him into a high ballistic arc headed for the edge
of town.
Takeda looked to Ozawa, who shrugged. It seemed the disturbance had
evaporated as soon as it had begun. There was still the possibility that
Mousse would slip his leash and try to attack Happosai if the little man
turned up again, however, and the two resolved to stay within sight of
the booth.
They saw the Tendos and Saotomes not five minutes later. Soun and
Genma appeared more than a little drunk, but still capable of walking
a fairly straight path. Kasumi wore a lovely kimono in whites and soft
greys that resembled clouds, and a silver obi. She shepherded her father,
who in turn kept a grip on Genma. Nabiki wore a deep purple kimono
patterned with geometric figures and a white obi.
Ranma and Akane followed some distance behind the main group. Akane
wore a bright red and white kimono patterned with chrysanthemums and a
gold obi. She nibbled at a cone of spun sugar colored neon blue. Ranma was
dressed in a dark green mandarin style blouse and his usual baggy black
drawstring trousers. A cap adorned with a red cloisonne star perched
rakishly atop his head. Neither walked very close to the other, but it was
obvious that they were having a good time.
As soon as Shampoo saw Ranma, she pounced with an enthusiatic cry of
"AIREN!"
The next thing Takeda and Ozawa knew, Shampoo was lounging in Ranma's
arms with a blissful smile on her face. The look on Ranma's face was closer
to bewildered. Hellfire Pissed-Off summed up Akane's expression.
"Shampoo know it only matter of time before husband come to see her!"
she purred silkily. Her face rubbed against his neck in a most feline
manner.
"W-What are you t-talking about, Shampoo?" Ranma stammered as he
turned beet red.
"Oh fine!" Akane threw in. "Don't mind me; I'll just stand here and
wish you both a happy life together!"
Shampoo stuck her tongue out triumphantly at Akane.
"A-Akane!" Ranma continued to stammer. "I didn't ask for this! She
just threw herself at me!"
"I guess that explains why you're still holding her in your arms then,
huh!" Akane cried. Her foot cocked back. "RANMA, YOU JERK!" She then
proceeded to punt him high into the sky.
This must have happened often, Takeda realized, for the most this
elicited from the Tendos was a slow sad headshake from Kasumi, a weary
hand to Nabiki's brow, and miserable moanings from Soun. Genma closed his
eyes in shame.
"What you do that for?" Shampoo demanded of Akane.
"Keep your paws off him," she shot back.
"Not my fault if Ranma prefer Shampoo over violent girl," she sneered.
"Oh yeah? Who told you that?"
Shampoo looked at her smugly. "It obvious."
Happosai reappeared, saw his opportunity, and took it.
"Oh Akane!" he cried with dewy eyes. "Betrayed by your own fianc�!
Don't worry, I'll see you through this dark hour!"
He glomped leechlike to her chest and held tight.
Takeda watched Akane pry Happosai off and punt him after Ranma. Again,
none of this seemed to be terribly unusual among the assembled citizens of
Nerima. He turned to Ozawa.
"Are you sure Tomobiki ward is weirder than this place?"
"I used to be..."
As they pondered this, Ranma came walking back towards them. Ukyo
followed close behind with anger and concern on her face. Konatsu followed
close behind Ukyo. Takeda suddenly got the feeling that things were going
to seriously degenerate from here.
"What's the meaning of this?" Ukyo demanded. "Kicking Ran-chan like
that!"
Akane's blood pressure rose another ten points.
"Who asked you?!"
"Aw come on guys," Ranma interjected. "It's no big deal. Nothing to
get worked up about. We all know Akane's got a temper."
"What?!" Akane shrieked.
"Ranma!" a voice shouted angrily. "How dare you insult Akane like
that!"
"Hibiki?" Takeda asked to himself. The fanged wanderer appeared from
behind the Cat Cafe booth. He held his red umbrella in his hand like a
sword or club.
Ranma shook his head. "Shut up, Ryouga. No one asked for your two yen
on this."
"I saw you and Shampoo just now, Ranma," Ryouga retorted. "How dare
you call yourself Akane's fianc�?"
"Like that was MY idea anyway!"
"Then declare thy intent to marry the vixenous Shampoo and be done
with thy false claims to Tendo Akane!" Kuno Tatewaki declared from the
high vantage of a bench.
"My sentiments exactly!" Ryouga chimed happily.
Shampoo bounced up and down blissfully, certain that this would indeed
come to pass.
"Yeah, Ran-chan," Ukyo added with a nudge of her uber-spatula in his
back and an anxious smile. "Now's your chance to clear this whole mess up
in front of everyone. Just renounce your engagement to Akane, and we can
get married right away!"
Akane gave Ranma a hurt look. Ranma returned a blank stare.
"What you talking about, spatula girl!?" Shampoo demanded. "Ranma
marry Shampoo!"
"Says you, ya hussy!" Ukyo retorted.
"Dream on, my little harridans!" Kuno Kodachi said with her trademark
laugh. She vaulted down from a rooftop to stand across the circle of suitors
and rivals from Ranma. "We all know that Ranma-darling would forsake you in
a moment for the unbridled passion that burns in this heart." With that she
swept her leotard clad arms towards her bosom and shot Ranma a wanton look.
Her ribbon lashed out and wrapped itself around the stupified Saotome. With
a deft flick of her wrist she jerked Ranma off his feet and reeled him in
for what would obviously be a steamy kiss.
Ukyo's spatula came down on Ranma's head first, followed by a bonbori
from Shampoo on top of the spatula, and then by Akane's elbow drop on top
of the bonbori. The combined effect of this triple blow was enough to plant
Ranma on the pavement with a very loud *splat.* Kodachi leaped clear in
surprise as the other three girls shot dagger-eyed looks at her.
"This has gone far enough," Takeda said to Ozawa. The detective agreed,
and got on the radio for some back-up.
"CHAAAARRRRGE!!!" cried a vending machine. It barreled straight through
the two policemen and ran at Ukyo. Konatsu produced a brace of shuriken that
ripped through the disguise, which dropped from around Kurenai Tsubasa
before he could reach Ukyo. Tsubasa was left with only a tattered floral
print dress and a red face.
"Tsu-bassssaaaaa..." Ukyo growled.
"That was my best dress, you fairy!" Tsubasa cried indignantly to the
kunoichi. Konatsu stood and smiled smugly at him.
"Ranma-sweetums!" Kodachi shrilled. Somehow in the confusion she had
scooped him up into her arms. "Speak to me, darling! Say you'll deny these
pretenders!"
"Psycho-girl give back Ranma!" Shampoo demanded.
"Get another boob job, you trollop!" Kodachi retorted.
"Raaaannnnmmaaaa!" Akane growled desperately. "Do something, will you?"
Ranma came to his senses as Takeda and Ozawa pulled themselves to
their feet. He blinked a few times, saw another hurt look in Akane's eyes,
realized that he was in Kodachi's arms, and bolted like a rabbit at a
greyhound track.
"I am SO outta here!" he cried.
"Ranma-darling!" Kodachi moaned plaintively.
"Where do you think *you're* going, Ranma?" Ryouga demanded. He leaped
after him. "You've got too much to answer for to just run away!"
"Indeed!" Tatewaki cried. He raised his bokken on high, and a
thunderclap rolled out of the clear evening sky. "Thy sins are legion, and
thy penance is at hand! Have at thee!" He too charged after the fleeing
Saotome Ranma.
"Hey! What about me?" Ukyo demanded.
"Ranma!" Shampoo cried as she bounced after him.
"Shampoo! Why do you humiliate yourself like this?" Mousse cried,
unable to take this degrading situation any longer. He jumped out of the
booth and went chasing after her.
"Sweet-O!!!" Happosai latched onto Akane again.
"AAAAAUUUUUGGGHHHH!!!"
Happosai ended up in a high ballistic arc for the third time that
night.
As predicted by the bruised and bewildered Inspector Takeda, things
degenerated rapidly from there...
* * *
"Would someone please tell me that they know what the hell is going
on?" Inspector Takeda groused into the radio. A chorus of confusion followed
as the various police teams reported nothing but pandemonium. Something
akin to a small riot had broken out since Ranma's escape, and now, several
hours later, they were still trying to pick up the pieces. Most of the
respectable folk had already given up and gone home.
"Well, tonight was a total disaster," Ozawa observed.
"Master of the obvious," Takeda returned.
They started towards the car. From an alley they heard the voice of
Mousse. He was not amused.
"You thought it was pretty funny stringing me along like that, didn't
you?" he said.
Takeda and Ozawa slipped up to the alley and took a look.
Mousse was holding some kind of tacky costume ball mask to his face.
Kneeling pathetically before him was Happousai. A large green sack was
slung over his shoulder. Takeda could see a lacey white bra dangling from
a seam.
"N-No, not at all, master," Happosai whined.
"Now I get the last laugh," Mousse continued with a smug look on his
face. "You'll teach me that technique, understand? Otherwise you can expect
to spend a lot of time on your knees in front of me."
"Y-Yes, master."
"What the hell is going on here?" Takeda demanded.
Mousse looked up to Takeda. Without thinking he dropped the mask
behind his back.
"Nothing," he said quickly.
"SUCKER!" Happosai cried. He leaped at Mousse, using his face as a
springboard to carry him over a wall with a cackle.
"Now look at what you made me do!" Mousse cursed. He brought the mask
up to his eyes again, and Takeda found himself dropping to his knees against
his will and groveling at the Chinese boy's feet.
Ozawa blinked in astonishment.
"Jiro?"
"Release him at once!" Cologne barked suddenly. She dropped down
from the roof of an adjacent building and knocked the mask from Mousse's
grasp. The boy scrambled for it, just managing to scoop it up and make
a run for it as the two policemen watched. Cologne chased after Mousse, and
the two of them disappeared behind a building far down the alley.
Takeda stood up and brushed himself off. He could not understand why
he had fallen to his knees in front of Mousse, but he suspected that it
was some kind of Chinese sorcery. Not that he believed in Chinese sorcery,
but what other explanation could there be?
"What was that all about?" Ozawa asked.
"Beats the shit out of me. Let's get going. We've got a long night
ahead of us, I think."
-TWENTY-SIX-
Inspector Takeda awoke cold and stiff in the back seat of the
unmarked Toyota that had served as his vehicle during the course of the
murder investigation. He quickly realized that the vehicle was moving.
Ozawa handed him a cup of coffee from a thermos that was leftover from the
previous evening as he drove through the predawn twilight. His face in
the rearview mirror was grim.
"Bad news," he said quietly.
"What is it?" Takeda said, sitting up and sipping his coffee.
"Number five turned up about ten minutes ago," he replied. "I just
heard it over the radio. Matsumoto, Doctor Ito, and the forensics team are
on their way."
Takeda was stunned.
"Where?"
"A vacant lot about two kilometers from here. She was stuffed in an
old tractor tire."
"So soon?" Takeda asked himself. "It's only been three days since
Kounjo."
"It gets worse," Ozawa said. "The report said the victim had long
purple hair."
Takeda choked on his coffee.
"...Shampoo..."
"That's what I'm thinking," Ozawa added. "You want a warrant for
Mousse's arrest put out?"
"Not yet," Takeda said. "I want to make sure that number five really
is Shampoo before I go that far." He slapped the headrest of the front
passenger seat. "Shampoo... She seemed like someone who could take care of
herself... Fuck. We thought we had problems before, now that old Chinese
hag, Cologne, is going to get involved."
"Every Chinese immigrant in town is going to be screaming for
attention on this," Ozawa observed darkly. "There's no way we'll keep it
quiet after that." He turned the wheel to the left, and they drifted to a
stop behind another police car which belonged to Matsumoto. By the glow
cast by their headlights, they could see the Nerima homicide detective
standing next to a uniformed patrol officer and another man dressed in a
black gi. They stood around a large worn out tractor tire.
As they stepped out of the car, several more police cars arrived,
followed by a medical examiner's van. Matsumoto hailed them over to the
tractor tire. Takeda could see a bloody arm and leg dangling over the
edge of the faded grey rubber.
"Officer Hideki found her," Matsumoto informed them as they stepped
up to the scene. The patrol officer nodded briefly in affirmation. "We
haven't touched her yet."
"Who is this gentleman?" Takeda asked, pointing at the man in the
black gi.
"Doctor Ono Tofu," the man replied with a polite bow. His young face
was grave. "Doctor Ito asked for me to examine the body of Kounjo Mariko."
"So what are you doing here?"
"I asked him to come," Doctor Ito said as he and his assistant
neared the scene. "I gave him a call as soon as I got the word about this
latest one."
"I have a practice not far from here," Tofu supplied. "It was a short
walk."
Takeda nodded in satisfaction. He looked down into the tire. The girl
was tall and had once been very shapely, but she was now horribly mangled.
Her jaw was set in a rictus grin and her bruised violet eyes were wide in
terror. Her long purple hair was matted with blood and dirt and a mixture
of the two that formed a sanguine mud. She had not had an easy death, but
then neither had the other four.
"It's Shampoo, inspector," Tofu said quietly. "The Chinese girl at
the Cat Cafe."
"I know who Shampoo is, doctor," Takeda returned. He turned away from
the tire. "How is it that she can actually be in worse shape than the
others?"
"You can almost feel the hate," Matsumoto remarked. "It's like this
one was personal."
Takeda thought about that.
The Forensics Section arrived and began snapping photographs of the
scene. Kogata busied himself with supervising the crime scene boundaries
as the patrol officers began stringing the yellow tape. When they were
finished, it was Ito's turn.
The medical examiner leaned over the body of Shampoo with his gloved
hands. "I need some more light please," he said.
They moved out of the headlight beams for him. The sun was almost
risen in the hazy eastern sky.
Ito went through the formality of a pulse, marking the time for the
death pronouncement to his assistant.
"Rigor mortis is starting to set into the joints."
He lifted Shampoo's body as gently as possible -given her condition of
rigor mortis- out of the tire, and leaned her over to look at the back of
her head.
"Doctor Ono, I need your concurrence with this," he said.
Tofu joined Ito and looked at the back of her head.
"The same mark as the others," Tofu said evenly. "The accupressure
point that puts the subject to sleep."
"That should lay any doubts that this was the work of our man to rest,"
Ozawa observed.
"The damage is much more extensive with this victim," Ito noted. "She
bled a great deal more than the others before she was dumped here."
"She wasn't killed here."
"Absolutely not," Ito said. His gloved hand ran down along her rib
cage to the xyphoid process of the sternum. "He lacerated the aorta here,"
he pointed out for them. The large blood vessel was exposed by a series
of deep gashes through the muscle wall of the lower chest, and split along
a two centimeter tear. "Even inflicted post-mortem, which I'm quite sure it
was, she would have had enough static blood pressure left in her vessels to
cause a significant exsanguination. The other damage is largely confined to
the surface tissue, where capillarial bleeding would be most significant,
but certainly not enough to affect the aorta's residual pressure. There
isn't enough blood on the ground or on the tire to account for that kind of
wound occuring here."
Takeda let Ito continue his preliminary examination at the scene. He
could read the details later. He walked away in anger and self-loathing. It
shouldn't have come to this; he should have caught the guy and put him away
before this morning.
He coughed once and let his chin hang low against his chest. He was
feeling this way because he had known Shampoo, however briefly, and her
death was obviously going to touch him more than the death of a stranger.
He needed to pull himself together. He needed to remain objective. Only
then would see the clues he needed to let justice be served.
"Now do you want an arrest warrant on Mousse?" Ozawa asked him.
Takeda took a deep breath before answering.
"Yeah. Bring him in on suspicion of murder. Get a warrant and toss
the Cat Cafe and the produce man, Lao Tzu's place. No fucking stone
unturned."
Ozawa went back to the car to call Judge Wakamatsu at home for the
arrest warrant and the necessary search and seizure warrants. Takeda paced
about the perimeter of the crime scene as Ito, Tofu, and Ito's assistant
continued their preliminary investigation. The sun was now rising above the
homes that surrounded the vacant lot.
"Jiro!" Ozawa called from the car. His face was bright with surprise.
"We've got a situation on our hands!"
"What is it?" Takeda asked.
"A call just came in over the radio," he cried. "Saotome Ranma is
going crazy in the back yard of the Tendo Dojo. He's covered with blood
and clutching the remains of a garment."
"Fuck me," Takeda grunted. "Matsumoto!"
"I heard! I heard! Shit!"
All the officers they could spare plus Doctor Ono were sent piling
into police cars as they headed at full speed, sirens blaring and lights
flashing, through the early morning streets of Nerima.
* * *
The gates to the Tendo Dojo were flung wide open, and several patrolmen
from the nearby koban were already on the scene as Takeda and the rest of
the responding force arrived. Ozawa threw the Toyota into park and jumped
out with the motor running. Takeda was already rushing for the door. The
wail of an ambulance siren was drawing the curious out of doors and windows
to look. Matsumoto gigged one of the koban officers to keep them back.
The howling of a dozen cats issued from the back yard, and a strained voice
that was not feline joined them.
Kasumi was at the front door, crying almost hysterically for help.
She led them inside, hanging on Tofu's arm, but the good doctor was too
disturbed by what he saw and heard around him to notice her. The smell of
terror and anguish was strong in the house. The sound of Nabiki screaming
at Akane to stop crying was nearly overpowered by the ghastly chorus of
the cats from the back yard.
Takeda, Ozawa, Doctor Ono, and Matsumoto reached the living room. The
doors to the back yard were open. The wail of the cats was even louder and
mingled with the hysterical sobs of Tendo Akane, who sat curled up on the
deck while her older sister Nabiki stood over her helplessly. Tendo Soun
leaned against the door frame in mute shock, all his tears long since shed.
Happosai stood close to Soun, his eyes shut tight and shaking his head
slowly in remorse. Of Saotome Genma, as human or panda, there was no sign.
Perched on a rock out by the koi pond, Saotome Ranma sat on his
haunches and howled with the cats. The look in his eyes was utterly inhuman.
Blood was caked on his face, his throat, his arms and hands. Blood was
splattered in dark stains all over the tatters of red silk he kept in his
grasp. Embroidery in fine gold thread upon the scrap of silk made it clear
that the garment once belonged to Shampoo.
"Get her out of here!" Takeda barked to Nabiki as he pointed at the
gibbering Akane.
"We need her to calm Ranma down. She's the only one he'll listen to
when he's like this," Nabiki retorted sharply. "Unless you're just going to
shoot him."
"We aren't going to shoot him," Takeda countered. "But we can't even
think straight with all this goddamned noise!"
Tofu leaned over Akane and whispered something in her ear. She turned
and clutched him in a desperate hug. The two held each other and rocked
slowly together, Akane's sobs quieting and then rising in shrill screams
of anguish. Nabiki left her sister to Tofu and stood against the wall,
unsure of what she could say or do to make it all stop.
Ranma howled even louder when he saw the police, but he didn't move
from his perch.
"This is unreal," Ozawa declared. "Any ideas on how you want to take
him?"
"Alive," Takeda replied. "Other than that..."
"There's no way we can get a SWAT team here in the next half hour."
"We could CAPSTUN him," Matsumoto offered. "Hit him in the eyes
and that'll shut him down quick."
"Great," Ozawa said. "So who wants to go out there and zap him?"
"No!" Akane said suddenly from Tofu's arms. "Don't hurt him! He's not
himself! It's not his fault..." She began sobbing again as Ranma howled
in response to her voice.
"We aren't going to hurt him," Takeda said. "It's pepper spray; it's
just going to make it hard for him to see and to breathe, but it won't do
any real damage." He turned to Matsumoto. "Get a few guys with CAPSTUN
around the back wall in case he makes a break for it."
"Let me get close to him," Tofu offered. "He might trust me."
"If he doesn't, he might just rip you apart," Takeda countered.
"No," Akane said, lucid again. "Let me go. He won't hurt me." Her eyes
were solid red and her face flushed and bloated from crying. She wore
jogging attire, and Takeda figured that she was getting ready to go out
running when she discovered Ranma.
"I can't take that chance," Takeda told her. "If he's killed those
five girls, there's no guarantee that he'll spare you."
He took Ozawa by the arm, and started out into the yard. Matsumoto
followed them with a canister of pepper spray clenched in his meaty fist.
Ranma watched them approach. His eyes narrowed warily at them, and
his wails took on a warning tone. The red silk in his hand was clutched
close to his chest.
As they approached within five meters, Ranma's back arched and he
hissed at them furiously. They stopped short, unnerved by the display of
madness from the boy. The smell of blood was strong on him, even from that
distance.
"Can you hit him from here?" Takeda whispered to Matsumoto.
"Not with any kind of certainty," the detective replied. "I get the
feeling that this is one time I don't want to fuck up."
"Absolutely."
"Now what?" Ozawa asked.
"We could rush him, or we can wait here and see if he calms down."
"I say we wait," Matsumoto declared. He wouldn't have been ashamed
to admit that he was unnerved by Saotome.
Ranma did not calm down. His eyes blazed with fear and anger at the
policemen. Takeda watched as his left hand scratched nervously at the rock
as he spit at them, and noted the pebbles of debris he was removing in the
process.
Akane's voice sounded behind them, strong yet tinged with grief.
"Ranma!"
Ranma's eyes softened, and he looked at Akane with genuine affection.
With a tremendous leap, he bounded off the rock and straight at Akane.
Matsumoto brought up the pepper spray canister in that instant and let
loose with a stream of the noxious liquid.
The spray struck Ranma directly in the face. He twisted in midair
yowling and screaming as he pawed at his eyes. He hit the ground before
them and rolled in agony; coughing, spitting, and screaming in that
unearthly voice.
Matsumoto tried to grab the boy and subdue him. Ranma lashed out with
a hand that slashed the sleeve of the detective's jacket open in three
places. The detective drew back in haste, unharmed but unwilling to get
close again.
"Ranma!" Akane cried again. "They're just trying to help you!"
Ranma howled in agony and tried to jump away from his tormentors. His
half-blind rage took him straight into the koi pond with a tremendous
splash.
"Get ready for him!" Takeda called to Ozawa and Matsumoto.
Ranma-chan burst from the water coughing, spitting, and cursing. The
pepper spray still stung her eyes, but was at least partially flushed away
by the water. She looked down at the blood that still caked her arms, then
to the soaked and bloody scrap of red silk in her hand. Her watering eyes
drifted up to face the three police officers that hovered over her.
She screamed in absolute horror. Akane joined her, clutching at Tofu
as if she were drowning. The howling of the cats made it a dirge.
* * *
Inspector Takeda Jiro of the Tokyo Prefectural Police Department stood
over the paramedics as they prepared to transfer the unconscious Saotome
Ranma to a stretcher. It was Doctor Ono who had mercifully cut short her
anguished cries with a blow to the same knockout point she had used on her
victims. Unconsciousness had not lent any peace to her expression.
Takeda shook his head. Saotome's madness had caused all of it, that
much was obvious. But if Saotome was out of his mind, 'stuck' in the Cat
Fist as Hibiki would say, how had he managed to dispose of the bodies?
Would the feline Saotome even bother? Probably not.
It was Ozawa who put forth the theory that Saotome was somehow snapping
out of the Cat Fist, probably through his change. Realizing what he had
done, he then tried to cover up the evidence and get rid of the bodies.
It made sense on the surface, but Takeda wasn't convinced.
As they loaded Saotome onto the stretcher, Takeda reached down and
picked up the girl's right hand. He looked at it closely, and then set it
down. What he saw disturbed him.
The paramedics took Saotome away. Akane occupied the position next to
her in the ambulance -she was also rendered unconscious by Doctor Ono. Both
were going to the hospital psychiatric ward for observation; Ranma under
armed guard, full restraint, and constant surveillance.
That left Takeda to face the shocked and grieving Tendos. Nabiki
maintained her stoic countenance. Kasumi had stopped weeping openly and
tried to tidy the place up. Soun sat on the deck with a vacant stare.
Happosai sat smoking his pipe in the living room with a troubled expression
on his brow. Takeda searched for Saotome Genma once more, and did not find
him.
Ozawa stood away from the family, letting Matsumoto and his detectives
handle the witness statements.
"Happy to be proved right about Saotome?" Takeda asked him.
"I didn't want it to end like this," Ozawa replied.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Ozawa led him away from the house, towards the back wall where the
cats still reigned. He shooed them away bitterly.
"You wanted to know why I had such a hard-on for Saotome," Ozawa began.
"I'll tell you why: When I was sixteen I lived far north of Toyko on a
rural farm. We were poor but fairly happy, and I went to school in a little
rat-hole about ten kilometers walk from my house."
"You? A farm-boy? I don't believe it."
Ozawa smiled bitterly. "My gentrified nature is all an act." He slipped
into a hick drawl. "This is how ah used ta' talk." He returned to his
urbanite manner of speech. "Back when I was sixteen we were getting ready
for a harvest festival at the end of the summer. I was raising a prize
crop of summer squash. It was going to be worth a lot of money and a trip
to Tokyo -a place I had never been to but often dreamed about.
"I spent an entire year of my life taking care of that crop. It was
my life. As the day of the festival approached, a wandering vagabond and
his very young son drifted into town. He liked to drink, and he ended up
gambling with some of the other farmers. Well, he ended up losing badly,
and to take it out on us, he went out while he was still drunk and trampled
through all of our vegetable fields -including my squash. It was all ruined.
The entire festival. We had just enough to feed ourselves that winter, and a
few families went bankrupt because of him."
Ozawa closed his eyes and thought back to that day.
"From that day on I wanted to be a policeman. I wanted to be able to
protect people from misanthropes like the man who ruined our fields, and
to be able to bring people like him to justice. I studied hard at school.
I worked extra hours on my math and science skills -in addition to my
chores. It all paid off when I was able to get a scholarship to a good
university in Tokyo. I joined the force when I graduated, and worked my
way up to detective lieutenant. I threw off my rural ways to become a
policeman, but I never forgot the reason why I did it."
He shook his head slowly.
"Saotome Genma is the reason why I became a cop. I saw his photograph
in the files I dug up on Saotome Ranma, and I recognized him. He hasn't
changed all that much in the last thirteen years, just less hair and a
little more belly."
He kicked at a rock.
"I knew I could never make Genma pay for what he had done to us
thirteen years ago, but if there was a chance that his son was guilty, I
was going to move heaven and hell to nail him -and take my revenge on
Genma that way... But it didn't work out that way."
"Why not?"
"Because it's obvious that whatever made Ranma this way was his
father's fault. Can you imagine what it must have been like for the kid?
Always on the move -usually running from whatever mess his father had
created. Forced into several arranged marriages and not knowing which one
was valid. The Cat Fist. His curse. There's more I'm sure; we've probably
only scratched the surface of what Saotome Genma has done to his son in
the course of our investigation. I despise Saotome Genma even more now, and
in spite of Ranma's atrocities, I pity him. There was no revenge in this.
Only sorrow."
Takeda nodded slowly.
"You were right not to tell me about this. I would have kicked you
off this investigation from day one."
Ozawa looked away.
"I know. Still, it's odd how Genma isn't here." He thought about what
he had said. "Then again, maybe not."
Takeda sighed. "Let's get back to the vacant lot. We've got a lot of
work to do tying up all the loose ends. The faster we get the hell out of
the Tendos' way, the faster they can try to put this all behind them."
"I don't think that will ever be possible."
"I know, but I can hope. Shit... We need to go talk to Judge
Wakamatsu for a warrant on the Tendo house. That shouldn't be too hard,
but we would have gotten it faster first thing this morning -before normal
court session began."
-TWENTY-SEVEN-
An empty house was something Tendo Kasumi had never minded before.
Today, the thought of an empty house terrified her, and it was only her
single-minded devotion to order -and the sanity that order provided-
that drove her to complete her daily chores. She lugged her broom, dustpan,
and feather duster upstairs.
Her own room was spotless, she took care of it first thing in the
morning, and as she rarely ever spent any time there, it rarely ever was
much of a task. She ran her duster around anyway, needing something to do
other than think about what had happened. Her eyes drifted over photographs
of her family, including one of her mother. Akane looked so small standing
next to mother. It was almost haunting to see how much Akane now resembled
her. She sighed and continued on. Her youngest sister may have looked the
most like mother, but she was a long way from the loving homemaker and wife
that mother had been. After this morning, would she ever? Could time really
heal all wounds?
Nabiki's clutter of fashion magazines and compact discs were easy
enough to deal with, and she was always very good about taking care of her
clothes. She collected the magazines, putting them in a neat stack on the
desk. The compact discs she returned to their shelf. She looked around the
room and sighed. There was little else out of place, for order meant almost
as much to Nabiki as it did to herself. Practical was the best word to
describe her younger sister, and it was her pragmaticism that was currently
holding the family together.
Akane's room was only a little more cluttered than Nabiki's, Kasumi
noted as she emptied the wastepaper basket, but it came with the added
risks of stumbling over dumbbells and ankle weights, and stepping on the
occasional neglected shard of glass from the oft-replaced bedroom window.
Akane was daddy's little girl, always trying hard to win his approval, and
a whirlwind of energy and zeal. There really was no doubt that she would
be the one to carry on the dojo. Until today.
Again Kasumi asked herself if time could really heal all wounds. The
rents in Akane's heart were wide and they were deep. She had left her
little sister in the care of a psychiatric hospital, and it was too soon
to tell if she would be able to recover and eventually continue with her
life.
To carry on the dojo, she would have to marry someone, and that
someone could not be Ranma, the one she loved. It hurt too much to think
about, and she left the room unfinished because she did not want to break
down and cry just yet. Only later, when her work was complete, could she
allow herself the luxury of sorrow.
For this reason Kasumi avoided the guest room where Ranma and Genma
had lived for so long. She doubted that she could bring herself to go in
there even if she wanted to. No one had. Not since... Not yet, she decided.
Don't cry yet. Just keep walking. One room left.
She always felt mildly uncomfortable about entering Happosai's room.
She wished sometimes that her father would pull himself together enough to
force him to live somewhere else, but she was realistic enough to know that
it would never happen. In time, after the wedding, Ranma would have tried
and probably succeeded, but now that was never going to happen.
Stop it, she told herself. You aren't supposed to be thinking about
that.
She opened the door to his room. The tatami was bare; his bedding was
folded neatly, no sake bottles lying about. There were no girlie magazines
lying open to pages of questionable taste. She often felt that Happosai
left such disgraceful magazines out just so she would stumble across them
and have to confront them.
She made a brief sweep of the room for dust before coming across a bra
dangling out of a dresser drawer, one of many such specimens of lingerie,
no doubt. Whoever it had belonged to was obviously buxom. At first she
wanted nothing to do with it, but since it looked so out of place and
untidy, she found herself compelled to stow it properly (and out of sight)
in the dresser.
That was when she noticed the bloodstains.
Her first thought was that it had become soiled by a pair of menstrual
panties. As much as the thought sickened her, Happosai's 'hobby' had some-
times led him to collect panties from women on their periods who had
experienced... 'accidents' -for lack of a better term. Why he felt compelled
to do so, she refused to speculate. She opened the drawer, determined to
stuff the bra in and walk away.
The entire drawer was filled with bloody clothing. The coppery smell
was pronounced, and some part of her brain that was insulated from the
grisly abject terror she was experiencing wondered why she had not noticed
it sooner. Several sets of bras and panties, school uniforms, gym gear, a
formerly white minidress, and lastly, part of a red cheongsam that must have
belonged to Shampoo. All were dirty, bloodstained, and badly torn.
Her cry of horror died in her throat as a sharp stabbing pain lanced
into the back of her skull. After that there was only darkness and silence.
She wasn't aware of hitting the tatami, nor of her forehead bouncing off
the top of the dresser as she toppled over.
Happosai looked mournfully over the unconscious body of Kasumi. This
was all his fault. He should have been able to overcome his obsession and
prevent this very occurrence from taking place, and now Kasumi would have
to pay the price for his weakness.
Weakness.
He could feel it, clawing at his vitality, baying like a wolf at the
door of his sanity. He cursed himself for his inability to master the
technique he needed so badly to remain vital. He needed more, and soon,
for Shampoo had defied him to the end and given him almost nothing.
Yes, Kasumi would have to pay the price for his weakness, but perhaps
she could also set him free. Maybe she would be the last. If that was true,
he would miss the rush that came with the power, but recent experience had
already told him that it was too risky to satisfy his need too often and
in one place. Ranma had paid for *that* mistake.
He picked Kasumi up and threw her over his shoulder effortlessly. It
would have been a ridiculous sight to see the gnomish little man carrying
the tall and willowy Kasumi like that, but fortunately there was no one
else to see it. He wouldn't have to kill anyone else today.
* * *
"Let's just get this over with," Takeda said to Kogata and the rest
of the Forensics Section. "The family's shook up enough without having
us in their faces."
The gate was open, so they let themselves in. Takeda took the search
and seizure warrant from Judge Wakamatsu from his coat pocket. He checked
it for the third time to make sure that there were no mistakes or loopholes
that might invalidate whatever evidence they found.
"Tokaida says he can get a fiber analysis on Saotome complete by the
end of the day," Ozawa said as they walked towards the front door.
"It's all over but the shouting," Takeda replied, though he was curious
as to what the analysis would really prove. Probably nothing if his hunch
was correct, but where would that put them? "All we need to do is gather the
evidence to link him conclusively to the other murders." Or not.
He looked to Kogata. "Concentrate on his room and around the grounds.
We need to come up with a match for the wood slivers recovered from number
four, so keep your people on the lookout for rough edged and fairly new
plywood. There's no guarantee, but it's a good bet that the killings took
place somewhere on the premises."
"I see what you mean," Ozawa replied. "There's enough patches in the
walls and roof of this place to account for the new plywood."
Takeda approached the door and knocked. There was no answer. He
knocked again. Only silence and stillness followed. The door was unlocked,
and he slid it open.
"Hello? This is the Tokyo Prefectural Police Department, is anyone
home?"
For a third time, there was no answer.
"They must still be at the hospital with Tendo Akane," Takeda observed.
"No matter, they don't have to be home for the warrant to be served." He
made a motion with his hands, and the Forensics team swept inside and into
the front yard. A uniformed patrol officer stationed himself at the door to
serve notice of the warrant when the Tendos returned home.
* * *
The back yard was empty save for the cats. They were presently an
annoyance, but they had played their part well enough. Happosai knew that
he couldn't stay at the dojo anymore, and soon there wouldn't *be* a dojo
anymore, so he wouldn't have to deal with them.
He hurried over to the dojo proper, and the spot where the plywood
sheeting had been stripped away, leaving only the kudzu that cordoned the
dojo structure to screen his activities. He was in a hurry, so when he
scurried under the floor of the dojo he brushed Kasumi against the rough
edge of the wood as he dragged her behind him -not the first time he had
made that mistake with a girl.
Kasumi began to stir as Happosai finished pulling her under the dojo.
Wasting no time, he flipped her over to stab at the necessary pressure
points to paralyze her. She gasped once in fright as her voluntary muscles
locked up, and then was silent. The irises of her eyes danced in terror,
about the only thing she was capable of moving, as he began shredding her
clothes to get access to her bare skin. He needed contact of the most
intimate kind if the technique was going to work.
She made a whimpering sound as he pulled her ripped blouse out from
under her. He knew what was causing her discomfort. It was the lime he had
scattered underneath his victims to dissolve the evidence, control the
smell, and keep the cats away. After Shampoo, the ground was soaked, and
he had to use about a kilogram to take care of the mess. It would burn her,
and there wasn't much he could do about it, but he comforted himself with
the fact that she needn't suffer long. He was getting better at this, even
if he had been plagued with failure in every attempt.
As his small hands worked their way along her cool clammy skin, he
choked back a sob. He didn't want to kill Kasumi, but he had no choice. The
technique wouldn't permit any other way, and she had seen too much. He
would have to burn the house down as it stood just to take care of the
loose ends. No one would believe that he had died in the fire, but Kasumi's
death, while tragic, would be all too easy to accept as is.
He'd have to touch off the gas in the kitchen to make it convincing.
Poor Kasumi, distraught over Shampoo's death, Ranma's arrest, Genma's
cowardly disappearance, and Akane's nervous breakdown, was unable to detect
the smell of leaking gas as she lit the aging stove to make some soothing
tea... The fact that his room was directly above the kitchen would
guarantee the destruction of the evidence.
His hands stopped above her heart. This was one of the preliminary
points. He pressed into it hard, focussing his ki, looking for the rivers
of energy that coursed through and around that vital organ.
From there he went up to her throat, to the point where the jaw hinged
with the skull. The Circle of Magellan was close; the doughnut shaped artery
that supplied blood to the base of the brain. He pressed there, and drew a
bruise. He always made a bruise there, the flesh was too soft and had too
much blood to avoid it. The flow of ki changed, rerouted onto a new course,
and Kasumi tried to squirm beneath him. He ignored her, and more importantly
he ignored her eyes. One look into them and he would have lost his nerve.
This was Kasumi, not that winsome bitch Shampoo, the great-grandaughter of
the ancient whore he so despised, nor those others who had been nothing more
than cunts with legs to him.
Hatred for Cologne spilled from his mind as he worked his fingers
over Kasumi. How had that cunt been able to keep her vitality? He knew the
answer of course, but to confront it was to face the reality of an entire
life squandered. He wasn't the type to even recognize his faults, much less
face them, but his decline was too much to ignore.
Once, about six months ago, when he had felt his strength starting to
wane as his age caught up with him, he had asked her about her secret. True
to form, she answered with a child's fable. She would never give him a
straight answer. Not when they were young, and certainly not now.
"There was once an ant and a grasshopper.
The ant worked hard day in and day out,
gathering food for the winter. The
grasshopper played all day, chiding the
ant for his foolish waste of a beautiful
day. This would go on throughout the
spring; the ant working, and the
grasshopper playing. Summer came and went
much the same way, as did the autumn.
When winter finally came, the ant was
prepared. He had food and shelter to last
him through the long months of emptiness
and cold. The grasshopper, who had played
all year, had nothing -and slowly starved.
He died in misery, not realizing what had
doomed him to such an unhappy fate."
Happosai realized that day where he had failed. It was Cologne, like
the ant, who worked ceaselessly while she was young to master the ki skills
needed to maintain her vitality in the winter of old age, while he, like
the grasshopper, had squandered his youth in pointless games and merriment.
Now in the winter of old age, he had nothing, and he was fading fast.
Closing his eyes, he moved his hands over to Kasumi's face. His fingers
traced lines up to either side of her nose. He pressed hard here too,
bruising and drawing blood with a grunt as he did so. The ki became focused
as it moved to one of the last nerve exchanges before the vital collection
point.
Ignoring Kasumi's whimpering, his hands made their way back down her
body towards her belly. He could feel the throbbing pulse of ki rushing
through her, stimulated as it was by his attentions. At the solar plexus
he made the final adjustment, and Kasumi gasped, but could make no greater
sound.
He would never admit it to anyone, but his years long ordeal in the
cave had sapped far more of his reserves than he ever dreamed possible. The
end might come years hence, he was not completely without resources, but in
the meantime young punks like Ranma and the Hibiki kid would have a field
day lording themselves over his diminished strength. Even those spineless
losers Soun and Genma wouldn't hesitate to take their revenge upon him.
Weakness he might have to endure, but humilation was too much to bear!
He would NEVER bow to the likes of Genma Saotome!
He cracked his knuckles into fists of defiance. He may have learned
his lesson late in the game, but it wasn't too late. He wasn't going to
lay down and die like the grasshopper. That gullible fool Mousse had given
him the tools he needed to restore what time had taken, and if it meant
that a few worthless cunts had to die -and his most promising heir to take
the rap for it- so be it!
It was the only flaw in what was an otherwise brilliant technique.
In order to bring that rush of ki into his own carefully prepared body,
he had to kill his victims. Breaking their necks was the easiest way to
do it, as there was little guesswork involved in when they would actually
expire, allowing him to be in the proper position to receive their energies.
It was no wonder why Cologne had kept the scroll locked up with the other
forbidden treasures of the Joketsuzoku; it offered a quick and easy way to
accomplish what the great masters of the art spent years, if ever, to
achieve!
At last, Happosai brought his trembling hands down to the one place
he had often dreamed about visiting -under other circumstances. Her panties
came away from her with a sudden wrenching tear of desperation. His fingers
probed her, shyly at first, and then forcibly as he steeled himself for
what he must do. Kasumi began to weep, tears streaming down the sides of
her face from the corners of her eyes as he probed inside her, waiting for
the moment when he must commit himself.
He had failed before, gaining only a fraction of what was offered up
in sacrifice, but he was still learning the technique. The final point,
being where it was, was not easy to reach properly or in time. Success
this time would mean a charge of vitalizing ki that would last him decades,
and if it became necessary to repeat it at some future date, he could do so
at his leisure, secure in the knowledge of the technique so that he would
not have to leave another trail of bodies behind him. All he had to do was
wait, and soon Kasumi would be ready.
* * *
Inspector Takeda walked uneasily into the back yard. The memory and
madness of the morning was fresh in his mind. The sight of the cats
lounging, sparring, and stalking about the place disturbed him. The fact
that he knew in his gut that Saotome Ranma didn't kill Shampoo wasn't
helping his peace of mind.
"For a guy who's just ripped a seventeen year old girl apart with his
bare hands, you'd think there'd be some tissue under his fingernails," he
said aloud. Saying it instead of thinking it helped to crystalize the doubt
that had been festering since morning. He internalized his dialogue with
himself as he went on. **He certainly didn't have the presence of mind to
clean himself; he was splattered in gore.**
He watched Ozawa stand by Kogata and one of the forensics techs
as they lifted bloodstains from the rock out by the koi pond.
**So if he didn't kill Shampoo, how did the blood get on him?**
He walked over to the house.
**Unless someone put it on him... He isn't lacking for enemies who'd
stand to gain by framing him. Too bad I didn't think of this before they
scrubbed him down at the hospital. The blood spatter patterns on his clothes
and skin might have been able to tell us how it got there.**
He looked at the concrete pad and its leaking spigot. The bucket was
nearly full, there were barely two centimeters of room left before it would
begin to spill over the sides. The pad was wet and so was the ground around
it.
He walked over to the pad.
**The girls died here. I feel it in my guts. Somewhere on these
grounds they were murdered... Is it a coincidence that Saotome Genma has
disappeared? Would the man actually frame his own son for murder so that
he could make his escape?**
He scanned the grounds, trying to piece together the murder of five
young women. His eyes were drawn to the soft earth next to the dojo proper
-and the drag marks on the ground. The dojo, like the rest of the structures
in the compound, was raised above ground level on stout six by six stilts
about half a meter. In the course of his time on the force he had discovered
more than one body in that particular part of a home.
As he neared the dojo, he knew that the moist overturned earth was
indeed indicative of a person being dragged under the dojo. The plywood was
rough where a section of the skirting around the stilts was removed. He
almost laughed, for this was obviously where the slivers in Kounjo Mariko's
leg had come from. The marks in the ground were fresh, but then Shampoo had
probably died here less than twenty-four hours ago.
**One look won't hurt. At least I'll know if I'm right.**
Takeda took a mini-maglight from his coat pocket and shined the beam
under the dojo. The cold beam of light shone upon the face of the little
panty thief, Happosai. Kasumi, roughly stripped of her clothes, was lying
beneath him in a dusty white patch of ground that could only be lime. The
wooden beams and floor panels over the two were splattered with brown
stains. His heart fluttered wildly in his chest, and the thought that he
was having a heart-attack flashed through his mind even as he sprang into
action.
"Step away from the girl!" Takeda roared. "Ozawa! Anyone! Get over
here right goddamn now!!!"
The beam of light and the voice of Inspector Takeda were icy daggers
through Happosai's heart. Suddenly more voices assailed his ears, and he
realized that the dojo compound was crawling with police. Kasumi lay below
him, but she was still not ready. The rivers of her ki were slowly gathering
at the crucial point, but it was not time to harvest. Indecision wracked
him for an agonizing moment.
Happosai's self-preservation instinct was too strong to simply
surrender. The jig was up, but that didn't mean he would go quietly. There
was no way a bunch of clueless cops would be able to bring *him* in. A plan
formed. It wasn't elegant, but it would work.
"You want Kasumi? I'll send her out," Happosai cried, trying to look
as docile as possible. He began to turn towards Kasumi. If she couldn't
serve him one way, there were other ways she could prove useful.
"I'll shoot!" Takeda warned. The Colt Python appeared in his free hand
as if by magic. The dull grey tips of the .357 Magnum hydrashok hollowpoints
poked menacingly from the cylinder.
Happosai stopped short. He hadn't expected him to have a gun. In the
confined space under the dojo, that would present a problem, as he didn't
consider himself as fast as he used to be. He decided to alter his plan.
"D-Don't shoot, I'm coming out," he said miserably. "You'll get no
trouble from me."
"Slowly," Takeda grunted. "No sudden moves."
Happosai began to stump dejectedly towards Inspector Takeda, looking
more like a surly young boy than a geriatric serial killer. He kicked
poutingly at a rock as he approached the opening.
Takeda followed him closely with his Python, determined to shoot the
wizened little psychopath straight through the chest if he tried to escape.
Anger burned in his heart for being duped by this little madman into
believing him harmless. He caught him last night with Shampoo in his panty
sack, it suddenly dawned upon him, and he let him get away!
Takeda backed away from the opening as Happosai approached. The little
man squinted at the sunlight, taking in his situation. There were only two
policemen with pistols, the rest had no better than truncheons, if that.
"Lie down, face first on the ground," Takeda instructed him.
Happosai laughed at him.
The explosion caught Takeda and the others completely off guard,
throwing them back from the blast of the happo-dai-karin in pain and
confusion. The strong scent of black powder filled Takeda's nose as he
squinted away the smoke to find Happosai. He expected the little man to
have been blown to bits with that kind of blast, but instead he saw him
kicking a patrol officer in the face and cackling with glee as he bounded
away towards the cinderblock back wall.
"Stop!" he cried futilely. His revolver snapped once in his wrist
with a heavy *doooom,* but the rapidly bounding Happosai was a target too
small and too random in his movements to track. The slug ripped into the
cinderblock with a puff of cement dust.
Happosai leaped like a gazelle above the wall, but he never cleared
it. A green blur intercepted him in midair, stiking him with a blow that
was loud enough to echo off the walls of nearby homes. Happosai tumbled
back into the yard like a well struck golf ball.
As the little man shook his head to clear his senses, Cologne dropped
down next to him. Her eyes were hard and cold, like chips of black basalt.
Her face was wooden, the lines etched deeply in her withered skin were equal
parts sorrow and hatred. The ashwood staff in her hand lashed out, striking
Happosai in the forehead. The blow drove him into the wall hard enough to
cause a crater.
Takeda stumbled towards the two martial arts masters as Ozawa dove
under the dojo to rescue Kasumi. Happosai had recovered from his initial
shock to face his opponent. When he saw that it was Cologne, a wave of fear
washed over him.
"This is all *your* fault, you old hag!" he screamed at Cologne.
"Mousse told me everything, Happi. He told me about the scroll he
stole for you. The fool didn't even realize what he had done by giving it
to you," Cologne replied tonelessly. "My great-granddaughter is dead, and
you are the one responsible for it."
"What of it?" Happosai retorted. "None of this would have happened
if you weren't so stingy with your techniques!"
"Step away from him," Takeda ordered Cologne. "This is a matter for
the police." The two remained on the other side of the koi pond from him.
He realized that he could not reach either of them in time without shooting.
Rather than let Happosai get away, or Cologne kill him, he would shoot.
"It is no matter of concern to you, inspector," Cologne replied without
looking at him. Her eyes bored into Happosai instead. "This is a matter of
honor, and a debt that will be repaid in full..."
"Then you'll go to jail," Takeda warned. "For murder."
Cologne didn't even blink at his admonition.
"If I must."
She sprang at Happosai, who threw up his hands in defense. He warded
off her rain of blows with desperate ferocity, pressing the attack against
her, now his most hated foe. Takeda hesitated, unable to get a shot that
would hit one and not both. Cologne's ashwood staff snapped in half with a
sharp crack, flying into Takeda and knocking the revolver from his hand.
Happosai's foot slammed into Cologne's face, spinning her to the ground.
She gurgled a cry of pain and lay twitching on the moist ground next to
the koi pond.
Takeda and two patrolmen ran towards Happosai in the hope that they
could seize him before he followed through, but they were far too slow to
stop him. He pounced on Cologne, his fist poised to deliver a death strike.
His eyes burned with a terrible and joyous madness as he realized victory.
"Don't do it!" Takeda implored him.
Happosai's look of triumph faded in that very instant as he saw the
look of bitter satisfaction in Cologne's bruised eyes. He realized too late
that in his eagerness to kill her, she had tricked him into dropping his
guard. Cologne's hand lanced up into his chest.
Takeda could see blue and gold flame race between the two, and
Happosai's eyes and teeth lit up like arc lamps. He could see Cologne
whispering something to Happosai. The blood that slicked her arm to the
elbow began to smolder.
Happosai thrashed there for several seconds, transfixed on Cologne's
hand. Takeda and the others stood dumbfounded, unable to comprehend what
was transpiring between the two combatants. Finally, the spectral flames
faded away to tiny sparks and then vanished forever. Happosai pitched
forward, landing face first in the koi pond, which began to cloud with
a dark substance that looked nothing like blood. The smell of charred flesh
was nearly overpowering.
Cologne rose slowly to face Inspector Takeda. Her withered hands were
offered up to him, wrists out, to be manacled. A single tear rolled down her
ancient, wooden, and bloody face.
"You're under arrest," Takeda said slowly as he picked up his revolver.
He motioned for one of the patrol officers to restrain her.
"Do not judge me for what I have done," she said to him. "But for what
was expected of me."
"I don't judge," Takeda replied. "That's not my job."
Cologne accepted the handcuffs silently, and was led away.
He watched Cologne go. He knew that she could escape from such bonds
easily if she chose to, but the look in her eyes was all he needed to know
that she wouldn't. He turned to see Ozawa carrying Kasumi out from under
the dojo.
Inspector Takeda sighed wearily, feeling drained in a way he could not
explain. His chest ached and his head felt slightly dizzy. Perhaps he really
was having a heart attack.
-EPILOGUE-
"How do you feel," Detective Lieutenant Ozawa asked.
"Like shit, how about yourself?" Inspector Takeda responded from his
hospital bed.
"How's the old ticker?"
"Okay, all things considered. I've got one doctor that thinks it was
a very mild heart attack, another one saying severe angina. Take your pick."
"I'd go with the angina if I had a choice," Ozawa replied with a
relieved smile. "How long until they let you go?"
"Three more days. I think they're just being overly cautious. I don't
feel all that bad anymore." He took a sip of water from a bedside table.
"They've been keeping me away from work ever since I checked in, so I'm
way behind. What have you got for me?"
"What, and violate doctors' orders? You should have heard the lecture
I got before they let me in here."
"Spill it already."
Ozawa shook his head and smiled ruefully.
"We found enough evidence to pin all five murders on Happosai," he
began. "I know you don't think Saotome had anything to do with it, and I
actually believe that too, but it's going to be an uphill battle to prove
to the Public Prosecutor not to go forward with a trial. -That is, if
Saotome is ever adjudicated mentally competant to stand trial. He's a
total basket case right now; still blames himself for killing Shampoo, and
by extension the other four. Hell, from what we've been able to dig up
so far, Happosai was grooming Saotome as his patsy since day one. Those
references at Hashimoto's place? It turns out Happosai was buying his
smut from and selling stolen underwear he got bored with to this guy in
Saotome's name.
"Our best expert witness to explain what the hell Happosai was trying
to do to all those girls, and therefore the reason why Saotome couldn't be
involved, is also under indictment for his murder. That doesn't exactly
make her a stand-up witness. Doctor Ono is trying to help; he's about our
best shot from that angle right now. The only thing currently saving Cologne
from a life sentence or the gallows is the fact that the Home Office is
twitchy about a possible protest from Beijing.
"Tendo Akane was released from the psychiatric ward yesterday, but
she's still pretty shook up. They've scheduled therapy for her for some
time to come, and she's taking medication to help stabilize her mood
swings. Tendo Kasumi is still with in-patient care. They don't know about
her yet..."
"I feel responsible for her," Takeda said quietly. "We should have
had the little bastard the night of the festival."
"We didn't know," Ozawa replied. "Other than blind chance, we wouldn't
have known until it was too late. Hell, if we hadn't shown up with the
search warrant when we did, if you hadn't looked under the dojo when you
did, he probably would have killed Kasumi and left town. Who knows if we
would have ever caught up with him. Cologne doesn't think so."
"Anything else?"
Ozawa nodded. "Yeah. Mousse commited suicide."
"You're kidding."
"I wish I was. After he was released from questioning, he stepped in
front of a high speed train to Kyoto. Witnesses say he had his glasses
perched up on top of his head at the time, but I'm pretty sure he knew what
he was doing. That Shampoo girl was the only thing in his life, and as far
as he was concerned he helped to murder her."
"Damn."
Ozawa agreed with the sentiment. "That little bastard did a lot of
damage. Even after he died... My only regret with him being dead is that we
can't get Saotome cleared of charges very easily without his testimony."
"What about Saotome's father?"
"Hasn't been seen or heard from since," Ozawa said bitterly. "That
doesn't surprise me. The guy's been a coward all his life."
Takeda took another drink of water.
"I can't help but think of what Cologne was whispering to the little
fuck as she roasted him," he said quietly.
"What was that?"
"'Do you really want what I have...? Then have some...'"
THE END OF STIGMA
Author's Notes:
1. "Stigma" was written to the chilling music of Ennio Morricone's score
for the John Carpenter version of the film "The Thing." I encourage you
to read "Stigma" while listening to this music if you are fortunate enough
to own a copy.
2. "Stigma" clues explained: If there are any points you were curious about,
that I haven't explained, or at least not to your satisfaction, email me,
and I'll post an explanation for everything that happened "behind the
scenes." If you're upset about how the story ended, sorry, I can't help
you with that. This was a story first, and a whodunnit second.
3. Inspiration for Takeda and Ozawa came from reading Thomas Harris novels.
If you're familiar with them, you'll see what I mean.
4. <www.crimescene.com> is a great website for amateur detectives, and a
source for some of my information into criminal investigations. I'd like to
thank the people who created the Library of Congress' study page on Japan,
as it was most helpful; Rob Barba, who is in fact a different person from
myself, and was also a big help in the early installments of this story;
and my wife B-ko for her advice and ideas throughout. You can probably also
thank Bridget, because I tossed around the idea of writing an ending where
Happosai gets away scot-free and with no one the wiser. It was pointed out
to me that if I did such a thing, I had best get used to sleeping on the
couch...
5. Fnord, I mean, Free The Nukes!
