The Eccentric, the Beauty, and the Detective: Kiriki Junka's Mystery Log Volume 1 Chapter 11

4: The Case of the Strange Customer

And so, instead of spending golden week together with Nao, I ended up working a part time job in a plain cafe. Nao had eyes for Miyako-sensei, and I had no chance with her. Neither did i have any intentions of blackmailing her with the chalk incident like Junka. That being the case, it would have been too painful for me to laze about at home and listen to my parents’ disputes. I couldn’t handle the day after day of talks about divorce. To relax, I got an interview at a small neighbourhood cafe that I knew well. My salary was 950 yen per hour at the cafe Chapeau, working for seven hours from 8:00 in the morning, to 4:00 in the evening. I had the lunch shift.

The man who had given me the recruitment advertisement was the manager: Kabura Toshiharu, 48 years old. His voluminous hair and beard made it so his age was indiscernible. He had a sturdy build and when I asked about it, he told me it was the fruit of his hobby of weightlifting. He hadn’t been the only one at the interview. His wife, 11 years younger than himself, Harue was there, as well as Kenzaki Sakura, an employee.

Harue’s round face had a charm of its own, and her belly appeared to be harbouring a child. She seemed to be a woman of rather good health. Sakura, on the other hand, was 31, with a thin, oval face seasoned with freckles. She gave off a sense of worldliness. Perhaps because she was uninterested in me, she stared at her nails the whole time.

The manager flashed his white pearly teeth at me, “Golden week’s short, but I look forward to working with you.”

I hid my joy.

“Does that mean you are accepting me?”

“Yeah, we’re accepting you. Good on you for getting a part time job as a first year in high school. I’m sure it’ll lighten up the shop… Kenzaki-kun.”

“Yes.”

“Teach him the fundamentals and how to wait the tables.”

“Yes sir.”

Sakura nodded rather unwillingly.

That was how I began my first job. April 29th, 30th, May 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th, and finally the 7th were the days I had my shift.

Sakura put up her long hair with a cigarette in her mouth, likely in preparation. In reality, she hated smoking, and tied back her hair for her shift.

“All right, boy, while it is important to be good at moving the trays, the two most important parts of this job are manners and memory. You can’t forget the orders, and a sour expression is no good for a waiter. When the customers enter you say “Welcome!” and when they leave you tell them, “Thank you for coming, please come again soon!” All with a full smile. Should we practice?”

She gave me various bits of advice. She spoke unexpectedly quickly, so I jotted notes on a memo pad as I soaked up her rapid explanations.

The Chapeau had four tables seating four people, and could seat six more at the narrow counter on the street-facing wall of the shop. Due to its size, cleaning was difficult. Essentially, the passerbys were prominently in view through the window.

Opening was at five to eight am. On my first day, I went an hour early to learn from Sakura.

“All right, let’s open.”

Toshiharu, the manager, opened the front door, turning the sign from closed to open. I nervously checked my uniform in a mirror and set my hair just right.

When the door opened for the first customer, I spoke with a loud voice just as Sakura had taught me, my heart was pounding as I spoke my greeting to my first customer, “Welcome!”

At 11am, a lone man entered the shop. Our customer was elderly, likely in his 60s. He ignored my guidance and sat at a four seater table near the window. He appeared to be a kindly old man with a white beard, and he was very quiet. He wore a jacket that would have been a navy blue had it not been for its years of good service.

“One latte, please,” he ordered.

“That’s one latte, is that correct?”

Finally, as the clock struck 1, the lunch rush had died down, so I relaxed my stiff shoulders whilst staring at my phone as i took a break. The old man was still gazing out the window. His coffee cup was enshrined there on the table before him, untouched. Just why had he ordered it? What was beyond the window to see? Or, why had whoever he was waiting for not come?

I had many questions, but figured thinking about it wouldn’t do any good, so I entered the waiting room.

The Chapeau offered an hour off in two half-hour breaks. Having finished my meal, noticing it had been barely done in time, I went back onto the floor. The old man was… there; still alone with his vow of silence. With no other requests, he simply stared out the window at the scenery with a fervent gaze. When Sakura took her break, Harumi and I were the only waiters. Our only customers were the old man and a young couple. The elderly man eagerly checked his watch.

The clock struck 2, and the man took up his cold latte, and downed it in one large gulp. He placed the empty cup on the table and came to the cash-register.

“It was good. May I have the bill.”

When he paid, his previously cloudy expression had been replaced with a sunny one —just what had he been so melancholic about—. He then left.

“Thank you for stopping by!” I saw him off with a grand farewell.

I supposed there were always going to be some strange customers. Completely forgetting the old man, I rushed over to a new customer who had just entered.

The following day, on April the 30th, I went to work a little early and cleaned the tables and chairs.

“If you’re that enthusiastic, you’ll wear out later, boy. We don’t get paid for this time,” teased Sakura as she tied her hair back.

I kept at it with a faint smile. The seats were filled at once with the breakfast rush when we opened. The Chapeau’s special breakfast set was ordered by many, and the manager couldn’t stop cooking until everyone was fed.*

With the 11 o’clock lull, the lost memories of a customer came flooding back when he entered the shop. It was the elderly man who had sat with his latte for three hours yesterday. Just like yesterday, he took a seat at the window table instead of the bar, despite being a party of one.

“One latte please.”

As before, the man touched not his coffee, and rested his eyes on what lay beyond the window. With the lunch rush, the elderly man was still sat there as I predicted, staring out the window as if the crowd was none of his business.

The clock struck 2, he confirmed it on his wrist-watch, downed his coffee, and left the shop indifferently.

I asked Toshiharu about it when the shop was relatively empty, “Do you know why that elderly gentleman only orders one coffee?”

The manager seemed bewildered, “Well, the customer’s free to do as he pleases. I can’t help but frown on his occupying a four seater by himself for 3 hours, though.”

As a member of the detective association, I decided to do some Junkstyle speculation. There could have been any number of reasons, but it seemed to be a custom of sorts for the gentleman. Most likely, the Chapeau was a part of his daily walk. That’s why he’d rest at 11, and then resume at 2. I thought it might end with that.

Translator's Note:

Our Rouji thinks of people with honourifics. That makes Sakura into Sakursan, and several others like that too, but the big note is Toshiharu-tenchou (Toshiharu-the-manager). I made the call that you don't really want to see loads of Japanese titles all over the place, and alternate between using the Toshiharu and manager. Not every instance of Toshiharu or manager is from Toshiharu-tenchou, though, so don't try to read into it too much.

Editor’s Note:

Curiosity killed the cat, but the satisfaction brought it back.

Chapter end