The Eccentric, the Beauty, and the Detective: Kiriki Junka's Mystery Log Volume 1 Chapter 15

Junka began the conversation.

“Thank you for letting me record this.”

“I’m not sure what this is about. Just what is it you want to discuss?”

“You’ll see. You are Mr. Mitsui Kinya, correct?”

There was a pause.

“Why is it that you know my name?”

“I heard it from my friend who was the waiter two days ago.”

“Oh? Your friend, was it? Is this young lady one too?”

Nao spoke in a cute voice.

“Yes, that’s right. I’m Iida Nao, Suzaku-kun’s friend.”

Junka lowered his voice, “I’m Kiriki Junka. Please call me Julie.”

Mr. Mitsui had the wisdom to ignore that.

“Is that all, Kiriki-kun?”

“This is just the beginning, Mr. Mitsui. Did not the remembrance of the seventh anniversary of your wife’s death end early in the morning on April 29th?”

Mr. Mitsui swallowed his breath.

“How do you you know that…”

“I searched the old newspapers in the library. Six years ago on April 29th, it seems that a certain Mitsui Sakura was run over at a nearby crossroad. Though a small article, it was plain to see,” Junka calmly pointed out, “When I heard it was six years ago, I thought that it might be the seventh anniversary of her death. It wouldn’t be strange for you to turn your thoughts to the deceased on such an important date, and so I checked in the papers. There I found about the collision. Beginning your period of mourning in golden week seems to make sense if the collision was the cause. I would like to ask again: was the service held at the temple in the early morning?”

Mr. Mitsui hummed, “That’s right. I requested the impossible of the monk and had him end the ceremony by 8:00 am on the 29th.”

“As I thought… and you came straight to the Chapeau after that, right? Around 11:00 am.”

“Yes.”

“I’m not entirely sure about that, might I enquire about it?”

I heard a rustling of clothing. I wondered if it was Junka straightening out his clothes.

“Mr. Mitsui, your consistently strange behaviour has been troubling our waiter friend at the Chapeau. Could you explain it to him tomorrow? Clear everything up…”

Silence; playing quietly in the background were the conversations and sounds of the cafe.

Eventually, Mr. Mitsui responded in a shaky voice, “If you go that far, it can’t be helped. I’ll tell you plainly. Golden week is almost over after all.”

He coughed.

“I… was entirely devoted to my work as a detective. Mayu, my wife, supported me like that in rain or shine for over 30 years. Then, ten years before my compulsory retirement —16 years ago— it must have been very hard for her when I told her I wanted to seperate. I had my hands full with many cases at that point, and I’d often sleep at the office. Even when I did return home, I would make a habit of bringing my work with me so I never spent time with family. As that was inefficient, I got a room near the department, and only went back to see the family that was living with her for the Festival of the Dead, or New Year’s. Even still, Mayu didn’t complain about my selfishness, and continued to support me.”

Junka and Nao were merely listening.

“So I remember her being grateful beyond words when I was forced to retire. Leaving the unresolved cases to my juniors, the worker bee that was myself became a useless fly. Mayu was the happy one back then. She was looked after me to the end, and for her sake I decided to talk with her about how we could live together. That was here at the Chapeau. It happened six years ago on the 29th of April at 11:00 o’clock.”

Mr. Mitsui’s voice shook as he remembered.

“Mayu… never arrived. I wanted to end the neglectful relationship we had, but all my plans for spending golden week together ended just the way they were: as plans. Mayu was caught up in an accident at a nearby intersection while she was on her way. She died the instant her head struck the road,” his voice was a mix of anger and grief, “Only, I never noticed. When she didn’t arrive at 11:00, I called her cell. Her phone, however, —and I didn’t find out until later— had been destroyed in the accident. I was slightly doubtful, but I thought that maybe her battery had run out, and so I waited there for her at the shop. When I thought something was clearly wrong, I left the shop. It took me until 2:00pm.”

He sighed.

“This year is the seventh anniversary of her death, and I've mourned her loss by spending my time here during golden week. Of course I couldn’t just sit here by myself without ordering, so I would offer up a latte to her while I was here.”

“And what were you looking at through the window,” asked Junka.

Mr. Mitsui made a bitter smile as he spoke, “Just in case Mayu came. I sat there wondering if it had all been a bad dream and that I would see her notice the shop and come in. Isn’t it absurd?”

“Sorry for the wait. Here is your omelette rice,” my own voice interjected, and the two stopped speaking.

“Enjoy.”

My footsteps receded.

Mr. Mitsui smiled sadly, “I’ve caused trouble for this shop by occupying a four-seated table by myself with nothing but a coffee every day. I fully intend to order to my heart’s content from here on out.”

I could hear his spoon clattering against the plate.

“Oh? This is good… I’m going to buy some flowers from the shop across the street and then place them at the site of the accident.”

Nao seemed to be almost crying, “Please do. I’m sure your wife will be happy in heaven.”

Mr. Mitsui then playfully asked, “Do you know why I ordered a latte instead of a cafe au lait every time?”

Junka laughed, “Because it’s an espresso, right?”

“Oh? As expected, you can tell.”

Nao was confused.

“Um, wait, why? I know that a latte is an espresso with milk in it, but why is that a reason?”

Junka replied, “Espresso originates from Italian, and originally meant ‘just for you,’ Iidsan.”

Junka stopped the recorder once it had ended, and placed a hand to his chest.

“That’s the full story of this case, Rouji-kun.”

I imagined Mr. Mitsui leaving the shop, satisfied.

“It wasn’t right to jump to strange conclusions. I’ll need to go apologise some time. Will you tag along, Junka?”

“Naturally."

And so concluded our investigation in peace and tranquility.

Translator's Note:

My English dictionary tells me that Espresso comes from the Italian word for "pressed." If anybody speaks Italian, could you maybe clarify that one for me? Or is Junka wrong on purpose, and it is some kind of ridiculously obscure Japanese joke or cultural reference?

The flower shop girl was a red herring! Well, not that we had the information to figure out what was going on this time. The first major case is coming up next. Let’s see how a more extended plot progresses.

Editor’s Note:

… That was surprisingly sad… I thought about writing on how it was karma for neglecting his wife, the heavens decided to take his chance away to repent but… I felt that would come across as overly mean, so instead, there's this. Treasure those around you, and never take those around you for granted, even if you keep thinking: I'll work hard and then retire to live in bliss with that person, neither of you might end up surviving til that time. What's important is often here and now, and not what's in the distant future. So y'all be nice to one another!

Translator's Note:

When Jesus was asked about the most important commandment, he responded by saying:

"'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.' This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments." (Matthew 22:37-40)

Chapter end