Villain a Novel (2010) by Shuichi Yoshida Page B

glanced in the rearview mirror. He’d almost forgotten that Yuichi was there, but now he saw that his face was white as a sheet. They were just about to enter the city, at a spot where they could see the harbor between the row of warehouses along the coast.
    “What’s wrong? You don’t feel good?” Norio asked.
    Yoshioka, seated behind Yuichi, said, “You gonna throw up? Open the window! Right now!” and hurriedly leaned forward to roll it down.
    Yuichi weakly brushed his hand aside and whispered, “No, I’m okay.”
    Yuichi looked so bad that Norio decided to pull over. As he did, the truck behind them roared past, blaring its horn, the wind rocking their van.
    As soon as the van stopped Yuichi tumbled out, holding his stomach,and vomited on the ground. Nothing seemed to come up from his stomach, though, and he just stayed there, his breathing ragged and labored.
    “You got a hangover?” Yoshioka called out from the van. Yuichi, hands on the paving stones of the sidewalk, shuddered as he nodded.

    Koki Tsuruta held the curtain, dyed in the evening sun, open a crack and peered down at the street below. From the twelfth-floor window he could see all of Ohori Park. Two white vans were parked on the street and the young detective who had just questioned him was climbing into one of them. His parents had bought this condo for him near the university, but Koki had never liked the view. The broad vista outside it made him feel small, like a worthless, spoiled rich kid.
    The digital clock beside his bed showed five past five. The detective had banged on his door at four-thirty, and Koki, who’d just dragged himself out of bed, answered his questions for a half hour.
    Koki sat down on his bed and took a sip of lukewarm water from a plastic bottle.
    Until it dawned on him that the detective was after Keigo Masuo, Koki had answered him sullenly. He’d been watching videos until morning and couldn’t hide how upset he felt at having someone pounding on his door. When the detective, not too much older than himself, showed him his badge and said he’d like to ask him some questions, Koki figured that the guy who molested women in the park must have been at it again.
    “I hear that you and Keigo Masuo are close.”
    When he heard this, Koki put the two together, concluding that Keigo must have molested somebody—or maybe picked up some girl at a bar and raped her. Somehow the word
raped
seemed a better fit for Keigo than
molested
.
    Koki was fully awake at last as the young detective summarized the facts as they knew them.
Mitsuse Pass. Yoshino Ishibashi. Dead
body. Strangled. Keigo Masuo. Disappeared
. As he listened, Koki’s knees gave out. Keigo had done something far worse than rape, and had fled. Koki started to sink to the floor, and the detective said, “We don’t know exactly what happened, but thought that maybe you could tell us where Mr. Masuo might be. Has he gotten in touch with you recently?”
    Koki lightly tapped his sleepy face and tried to remember. The detective stood there patiently, pen and notebook in hand.
    “Well …” Koki began, gazing at the detective. “How should I put it.… I haven’t been able to get in touch with him the last three or four days. Everybody’s saying he just dropped off the grid for a laugh, but I figure he went off on a trip somewhere by himself.” Koki got this out in a rush of words, then stopped and glanced at the detective again.
    “Yes, that seems to be the case. When was the last time you talked with him?” The detective’s expression remained unchanged, and he tapped the notebook with the tip of his pen.
    “The last time? Umm … it must have been over the weekend.”
    Koki searched his memory. He remembered talking to Keigo on the phone, but what day of the week that was, he couldn’t say. The signal had been bad and it was hard to hear him. “Where are you?” Koki had asked him, to which Keigo replied, laughing, “I’m up in the hills.”
    He