BB SECRET CASE MURDER (INDONESIA LANGUAGE)

SECRET CASE : BB'S DEATH

Tangannya yang pucat itu menunjuk tepat diatas dahi saudaranya.

" Lihat, Lawie… " Katanya riang, lagi – lagi untuk yang kesekian kali.

Kadang Ia bingung harus bersikap bagaimana. Saat mengetahui saudaramu mengalami semacam delusi atau hal – hal tidak normal lainnya, apakah yang terbaik yang dapat kau lakukan untuk saudaramu tersayang itu ? Mendukungnya, atau harus menolaknya walaupun itu dapat menghancurkan hatinya ? Dan saat dia melakukan "itu" Lawliet selalu berada dalam dilema itu. Saudara kembarnya itu membuatnya melakukan kebohongan demi kebohongan yang seharusnya lidak layak ia lakukan. Namun Lawliet terlalu menyayangi makhluk malang itu. Dia terlalu takut melihat hati yang begitu murni itu teraniaya.

" Ya, tentu aku tahu Ryuzaki. " katanya lembut, namun penuh kepedihan karena sekali lagi ia mengatakan kebohongan kepada saudaranya itu.

Namun, kali ini tidak seperti yang disangka Lawliet. Saudaranya itu mendadak menunjukan wajah yang tak bisa ditebak. Matanya berubah dingin. Lawliet tak ingin mengakuinya, tapi dia melihat ada sesuatu yang mengerikan dalam mata saudaranya itu.

" Kau bohong kan. " Kata Ryuzaki menohok Lawliet.

" Apa… " Lawliet terkejut.

" Jika kau dapat melihatnya, ayo beritahu aku, berapa nomorku ? " Ryuzaki mendesak Lawliet.

Lawliet menatap lurus di mata saudaranya itu. Sungguh seperti menatap sang eksekutor di hari penghakiman. Ia benar – benar tak bisa berkutik sekarang, jika itu istilahnya. Ia telah mendapatkan apa yang selalu ditakutkannya : ia akan menghancurkan hati saudaranya !

" Ryuzaki…dengarkan aku… " Pinta Lawliet.

" Kau bohong… "

Kata – kata itu sungguh bagaikan tikaman tepat dijantungnya. Lawliet terpaku. Ia selintas seperti menatap kepergian saudara kembarnya itu, ia serasa melihat punggung Ryuzaki menjauh. Aneh, padahal sekarang Ryuzaki masih tepat berada di depannya.

" Ryuzaki ! " Terdengar seruan seorang wanita. Entahlah tapi nadanya menyiratkan kebencian dan kemarahan.

Mereka menoleh. Wanita itu menarik lengan Ryuzaki dengan kejam. Tak dapat dipercaya bahwa seorang ibu dapat melakukan hal seperti itu.

" Apa yang kau katakan kepada Lawliet lagi ? " Seru wanita itu.

" Aku hanya menanyakan nomorku… "

" Nomor apa ? kau belum mengerti juga saat aku bilang berbohong itu tak baik, apalagi caramu berbohong sudah keterlaluan ! Itu bukan lagi berbohong, itu penyesatan ! " Wanita itu berteriak kejam di wajah kecil pucat itu.

" Tapi aku tak berbohong… berapa kali aku harus beritahu padamu… aku memang melihatnya… " Protes Ryuzaki.

" Apa yang kaulihat, hah ? Apa yang kaulihat ? Ayo beritahu padaku ! " Wanita itu seperti akan histeris.

" Aku melihat nomormu, ma… itu, dibawah namamu… tepat dibawahnya… dan berkali – kali aku katakan bahwa sepertinya nomormu akan berkurang, kau akan ---… "

Ryuzaki tak pernah menyelesaikan kata – katanya itu. Sebuah tangan memukul wajahnya. Wanita itu bahkan tidak terkejut. Ia memang melakukannya dengan sengaja. Tak ada ekspresi penyesalan yang terpancar di wajahnya. Yang ada hanyalah kepuasan. Sepertinya dia puas saat memukul anaknya. Ia berpikir itu seperti suatu didikan. Suatu tanggung jawab.

" Ibu, kenapa kau memukulnya ? Ryuzaki bahkan tidak menyakitimu… kenapa kau… " Lawliet shock melihat tingkah ibunya kepada saudaranya itu, padahal ia telah melihatnya berulang kali. Namun ia menyadari saat saudaranya itu dipukul, ia selalu tak dapat melakukan apapun.

" Aku sudah tidak tahan lagi denganmu… Aku benar – benar menyesal memilikimu ! " Wanita itu kehilangan kontrol. Ia menjerit – jerit pada Ryuzaki seakan anak itu adalah sesuatu yang menjijikan.

Kemudian wanita itu menjauh, Ia meninggalkan kedua anaknya. Berlari kedalam rumah.

Ryuzaki terdiam. Wajahnya tertunduk.

" Tangis… " Suara itu kecil, namun dapat didengar oleh Lawliet. Suara saudara sedarahnya yang sangat dikenalnya.

" Ia menangis… kenapa ia menangis… pasti karena sebentar lagi ia akan… "

Lawliet memeluknya.

" Lawie… " Itulah kata – katanya…

" Lawie… Ia akan segera meninggal… percayalah padaku… pada saatnya nanti, ia pasti akan mencariku untuk meminta maaf… ia akan menyesal, kan Lawie… "

Itulah kata – kata Ryuzaki yang diingat Lawliet… sampai akhir hayatnya.



3 Tahun yang lalu.

" Ah…indahnya… " Bocah 7 tahun itu berseri gembira menatap wajahnya sendiri.

" Apanya yang indah Ryu ? " Lawliet yang tertarik kemudian bergerak menghampiri saudaranya itu. Mereka di depan cermin dan saat mereka melihat wajah mereka sendiri sungguh tak ada yang dapat membedakannya satu sama lain. Hanya kemudian jika kita melihatnya dengan seksama, kita mungkin bisa mengetahui perbedaannya. Makin hari mata Ryuzaki berubah ke warna yang lebih cerah. Entahlah padahal sebelumnya matanya normal seperti Lawliet, saudaranya itu. Sekarang bisa dikatakan bahwa warna mata Ryuzaki mendekati warna merah cerah. Warna yang sungguh langka untuk organ tubuh yang satu itu.

" Maksudmu matamu, Ryu ? " Tanya Lawliet memperhatikan warna mata saudaranya di cermin.

" Ya, mataku memang dari hari ke hari seperti beralih warna… aku tahu itu, Namun yang membuatku heran adalah itu… " Tiba – tiba ia menunjuk pantulan dahinya sendiri di cermin.

" eeh ? " Lawliet tidak mengerti apa yang dimaksud Ryuzaki.

" Itu loh… Itu nomor – nomor merah tepat dibawah namaku… Itu apa ya? "

" Nomor apa ? " Lawliet tetap tak mengerti.

" EH ! Ternyata kau juga ada Ryu… "

Kali ini pernyataan itu mampu membuat Lawliet menatap wajah Ryuzaki.

" Ada apa ? Apa yang kau bicarakan Ryu ? "

" Itu… lihat. Ada sederetan nomor di dahi kita… tepat dibawah nama kita. Wah indah sekali ya… kenapa aku baru melihatnya sekarang… " Kata Ryuzaki mantap.

" Nomor apa, Ryu ? Nama apa ? "

" Itu ! " Ryuzaki menunjuk ke pantulan bayangan mereka, tepat dimana dia melihat 'nomor – nomor' itu.

" Namaku… Ryuzaki Rue… nomorku---" Namun sebelum ia melanjutkan kata – katanya, seorang wanita muda yang cantik mendekati mereka. Rambutnya yang segelap malam membingkai wajahnya.

" Apa yang kalian lakukan, sayang ? "

" Ah, ibu… bu, ibu juga punya… Ah ! tapi kenapa… punyamu … "

Wanita itu menatap putranya yang kecil, bingung.

" Apa, sayang ? Apa yang kau maksud ? "

" Ibu… nomormu jauh lebih pendek dari kami berdua, bu… apa ya maksudnya… " Jawab Ryuzaki polos.

Dan saat itulah Lawliet menyadari bahwa inilah awal dimana saudaranya itu akan dibenci oleh ibu mereka.

" Nomor apa ? " Kata wanita itu. Intonasi suaranya agak naik.

" Nomor – nomor kita diatas dahi… tepat dibawah nama kita… "

" Apa yang kaubicarakan, sayang ? tidak ada nomor apapun atau nama apapun di dahi kita, kan "

" Ada, bu itu, aku dapat melihatnya dengan jelas, walaupun agak bergerak – gerak, itu… warnanya merah--- "

Dan disaat itulah wanita itu bagai kehilangan kontrol. Ia mulai berubah mengerikan.

" Apa yang kau bicarakan, Ryuzaki ?! Jangan main – main dengan ibu ! " Teriak wanita itu.

" Tapi bu, aku tidak--- "

" Sudah, hentikan, kau bocah kecil brengsek ! Ibu tidak mau mendengar gurauanmua itu lagi, mengerti ! "

" Bu, kenapa kau berkata seperti itu ? Aku tidak bohong--- "

" DIAM KAU ! " Bentaknya

Ryuzaki spontan kaget dan terpaku diam. Ia menatap wanita yang disangkanya dulu ibunya itu dengan tatapan tidak percaya. Apa yang terjadi pada ibu ? Atau apakah hanya aku yang bisa melihat nomor – nomor itu.

" Lawie… " Ryuzaki berbisik.

Lawliet menatapnya.

" Kau bisa melihatnya juga kan ? "

Wanita itu menatap Lawliet tajam. Seolah menantikan hal mengerikan datang mengepungnya.

" Ya, aku bisa melihatnya… " Kata Lawliet.

Namun wanita itu tahu bahwa Lawliet berbohong. Ia dan Lawliet tidak melihat apapun yang dikatakan Ryuzaki. Itu hanya untuk menenangkan hati bocah kecil itu. Tak lain. Itu hanya kebohongan yang akan membesar dan semakin membesar di kemudian hari.

Saat itu Lawliet bertanya – tanya, apa yang terjadi pada saudaranya itu ? mengapa ia mengatakan ada nomor dan nama di atas dahi mereka, apa yang sebenarnya terjadi ? Namun diatas semuanya itu entah mengapa Lawliet tidak melihat bahwa saudaranya itu berbohong. Bagaimanapun ia percaya Ryuzaki dapat melihat 'nomor' apapun itu, sedangkan yang lainnya tidak dapat. Mungkinkah itu suatu anugrah ? ataukah suatu kutukan ? Lawliet membatin.

Sejak saat itu, Ryuzaki berubah. Ia mulai tertutup dan pendiam. Saat Lawliet menanyakan ada apa, ia hanya menggeleng. Sungguh Lawliet dapat melihat kepedihan dalam matanya. Dan makin ia memperhatikan pupil Ryuzaki makin memerah dari hari ke hari.

Ryuzaki tidak lagi membicarakan tentang 'nomor' aneh ataupun 'nama' yang katanya ada di atas dahi mereka. Walau Lawliet yakin bahwa saudaranya itu dapat melihat seluruh nomor di setiap orang yang dijumpainya. Ia tak pernah lagi meributkannya, sebab setiap ia mengatakannya, walau untuk sekali lagi meyakinkan ibunya, yang didapatnya hanyalah pukulan di wajahnya. Ibunya berubah kejam terhadapnya. Seakan Ia adalah iblis yang menggangu penglihatan ibunya. Ia sungguh berpikir seperti itu.



4 tahun kemudian.

Suatu hari Ryuzaki mengatakan sesuatu yang menjadi kunci pengetahuan misteri bagi Lawliet, saat mereka dalam perjalanan pulang. Misteri yang selama ini dikatakan Ryuzaki. Ya, nomor itu.

" Lihatlah Lawie… orang itu sebentar lagi akan mati "

Ryuzaki membatu. Ia menatap ngeri ke arah Ryuzaki. Di sebrang mereka, di tempat pemberthentian bus, seorang pria usia 30-an berdiri sambil membaca sebuah buku.

" Apa yang kau katakan Ryu ? Kau tidak boleh mengatakan hal semacam itu--- "

" Kau akan melihatnya " Ryuzaki memotongnya.

Tiba – tiba pria itu tersungkur ke depan. Ia menjerit kecil tertahan kemudian tak bergerak. Terkejut, Lawliet segera menghampiri pria malang tersebut. Ia tahu dari jarak dekat bahwa pria itu telah meninggal. Lawliet meoleh ke belakang, ke arah Ryuzaki berada, yang kini telah berada tepat dibelakangnya. Ia sungguh merasakan kehadiran malaikat maut di diri Ryuzaki.

" Lihat kan, Lawie… aku tak bohong. "

" Ryu… bagaimana kau… "

" Lawie, dengarkan aku. Aku tau sejak lama bahwa kau berbohong padaku. Kau tak bisa melihat nomor itu kan ? Tapi tak apa, aku tahu kau terlalu baik bagiku… jadi dengarkan aku. Setiap orang yang nomornya kulihat, ada sebagian yang deretan angkanya berkurang, bahkan hanya menyisakan 1 digit. Dan setiap hari aku memperhatikan bahwa mereka yang digitnya semakin berkurang, mereka akan segera meninggal. Sepertinya itu adalah semacam sisa waktu hidup mereka "

Lawliet terpana dengan pengakuan saudaranya itu. Ia mau tak mau mempercayai bukti di depan matanya sendiri. Ia bergidik ngeri. Anugrah apakah yang diberikan Tuhan kepada Ryuzaki ? Ia membatin panik.

" Maka saat kukatakan itu pada ibu… "

" Maksudmu, ibu punya deretan angka yang pendek ? " Tanya Lawliet spontan.

" Ya. Ia sebentar lagi akan meninggal, namun ia tidak mempercayainya. Aku hanya ingin memberitahukan padanya. Itu saja. "

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Wanita muda itu terduduk lesu. Ia adalah seorang campuran asing. Rambutnya seputih salju. Kulitnya sepucat pagi. Namun wajahnya adalah paduan antara kecantikan sang dewi dan seorang ratu. Di sampingnya terdapat tas belanja kecil.

Ryuzaki menatap wanita itu. Wanita itu menyadari kehadiran anak usia 11 tahun itu. Pandangan mereka bertemu. Dan sejenak mereka hanya berdiam diri.

" Kemari " Akhirnya wanita itu berkata. Suaranya lembut dan murni.

" Kakak… " Kata Ryuzaki pedih.

Wanita itu tersenyum.

" Ada apa ? "

" Kau… sebentar lagi… kau akan berangkat ke tempat yang sangat jauh… namun kau tidak perlu takut… sebab tempat itu sangatlah indah… tak ada yang menyamai tempat seperti itu di bumi… " Ryuzaki berkata pelan.

Wajah wanita itu menunjukan mimik antara terkejut dan sesuatu yang tak dapat diungkapkan.

Ia tersenyum lagi dan kemudian memeluk Ryuzaki.

" Terima kasih malaikat kecilku… akhirnya kau menjemputku. "

Ryuzaki terpaku sejenak. Ia tak pernah mendengar respon seindah itu dari pernyataan yang dianggap gila oleh ibunya sendiri itu.

" Siapa namamu ? " Tanya wanita itu masih memeluk Ryuzaki.

" Rue…Rue Ryuzaki… "

" Rue--- " Wanita itu terbatuk. Ia terus terbatuk. Ryuzaki merasa melihat sesuatu yang cerah keluar dari mulut wanita itu. Tiba – tiba wanita itu terjatuh dari kursi dengan posisi Ryuzaki masih dipelukannya.

Ryuzaki yang tertindih berusaha melepaskan diri. Ia terkejut melihat wanita cantik namun kini sepucat kematian itu tersenyum menatap lurus ke arahnya. Sekitar mulutnya penuh dengan bercak merah kehitaman. Dan tampaknya bercak itu juga mengotori punggung pakaian Ryuzaki.

" Namaku… Claire… Claire Dovey… " Kata wanita itu lemah. Dan kemudin ia tidak bergerak lagi.

Ryuzaki masih terpaku dengan keadaan yang baru saja disaksikannya. Ia menatap darah yang berkilau di tubuh wanita itu.

Dan sebentuk benda jatuh dari tas belanja wanita itu. Ryuzaki mengambilnya.

" Selai… " Ryuzaki menyentuh bercak darah yang mengalir di mulut wanita yang sekarang tak bernyawa itu. Ia menyesapnya. Ia tersenyum.

Rue Ryuzaki telah menghilang.



" A--- apa ?! "

Ryuzaki hanya menatap ibunya dengan tatapan kosong.

" Apa yang kau lakukan ? Kenapa kau berdarah –darah seperti itu ? "

" Ini bukan darahku bu. Tenang saja, aku tak apa – apa. Ibulah yang seharusnya kuatir. Karena sebentar lagi akan pergi. "

" APA ? LAGI – LAGI--- "

Ia terpaku. Tiba – tiba jantungnya terasa sakit sekali. Ia menatap anaknya yang berlumuran darah dengan ekspresi mengerikan. Tanpa dapat berkata apapun lagi, iapun tersungkur. Terakhir kali matanya megabadikan sosok seorang anak usia 11 tahun berbingkai siluet senja. Tersenyum ganjil, anak itu berbisik " Selamat tinggal, ma. "



Satu tahun kemudian : Wammy's House.

" Aaaarghhhh !!! " Jerit Lawliet.

Ia menatap benda tajam yang menembus bahunya. Darah segar memercik deras, menyeruak kaos putihnya.

" Jangan bodoh, Ryuzaki ! " Seru Lawliet menahan sakit.

Ryuzaki tersenyum dingin.

" Apa yang kupunya disini, Lawie… " Jawab saudaranya.

" Kau masih punya aku, bodoh ! " Jawab Lawliet marah.

" Aku tidak memiliki siapapun, Lawie, dan aku juga bukan milik siapapun, termasuk dirimu. "

Lawliet menatap mata saudaranya. Kini mata itu berwarna semerah darah. Entah sejak kapan warnanya telah menjadi sesempurna itu.

" Jika aku melihatmu di kemudian hari… "

Lawliet berteriak saat Ryuzaki mencabut pisau itu dari bahunya.

" Aku akan membunuhmu… "

Kini mata mereka saling bertatapan.

" Kau selalu milik wanita itu. Sedangkan aku… aku tidak pernah mendapatkan simpatinya… Jika kau muncul sebagai orang yang memberikan cahaya, aku yang akan memadamkannya, jika kau menjadi seorang yang baik, maka aku akan menjadi seorang yang jahat. Karena hanya itulah yang dapat kulakukan jika aku tak ingin menjadi bayanganmu, saudaraku terkasih, L Lawliet. "



14 Tahun kemudian.

" L… "

L membuka mata dan menyadari ia tertidur seperti biasanya. Duduk di kursi kesukaannya dengan pose kedua kaki dinaikan.

Entah kenapa ia teringat seseorang yang sangat dikasihinya juga suka menghina cara duduknya seperti itu. Seseorang yang bahkan keeksistensiannya diragukan oleh pikirannya sendiri. Apakah dia ada, atau sesungguhnya dia hanya imajinasiku ?

" L, ICPO menggelar konfrensi besok. Kasus yang dinamakan KIRA… "

" Ya, aku tahu Watari… aku bermaksud mengambil kasus itu. "

L membaca berkas di depannya. Ia mulai menempatkan jempol di sudut bibirnya. Tanda jika otaknya akan segera berpikir keras.

" KIRA… dia pasti semacam dewa atau… sejenis dewa kematian… " Ia menggumam

Tiba – tiba pikirannya melayang. Jika ia dapat… AH ! Apa yang dipikirkannya. Bahkan dia itu hanyalah khayalan. Batin L.

" Namun… "



2 Hari kemudian.

" KIRA telah menghakimi melebihi limitnya… Ia pasti sangat kesal dengan tantanganku " L menggumam.

Sampai saat ini KIRA telah membunuh setiap waktu. Tidak hanya saat senja sampai tengah malam. Dia juga membuat beberapa kriminal berbuat keanehan sebelum meninggal, itu berarti dia dapat mengontrol tindakan korban sebelum membunuhnya.

L menaruh berkas yang dipegangnya. Dia mulai membaca berkas satunya lagi di samping berkas KIRA.

Yang satu ini bukanlah kasus KIRA, namun perhatian untuk kasus tersebut setara dengan perhatiannya kepada kasus KIRA. Itu adalah kasus yang terjadi di luar negri. Tepatnya Los Angeles.

L membaca sekilas berkas yang telah dibacanya berulang kali itu. Sebenarnya kasus itu telah selesai dan pelakunya telah dipenjarakan.

BB, yang dikenal juga sebagai Beyond Birthday berhasil ditahan seminggu yang lalu.

Aneh mengetahui bahwa kasus yang telah selesai itu menyita perhatiannya begitu besar. Bahkan kasus itu bukanlah di dalam negeri. Tak ada hubungannya dengan kasus yang akan diterimanya ini.

Namun yang ada di dalam pikiran L sekarang : kasus itu erat kaitannya dengan KIRA.

Setidaknya dia akan membuatnya seperti itu. Namun selagi memikirkan inipun hatinya berontak kuat. Kau adalah seorang bajingan Lawliet. Kata hatinya.



4 Bulan kemudian.

Yagami Light memperhatikan sebuah sampul buku. Buku itu berwarna hitam kelam. Sebuah title bertuliskan di covernya. Death Note.

Ia tersenyum. Betapa efisiennya benda kecil ini, pikirnya.

" Berapa banyak lagi yang dapat kulakukan untuk dunia ini ? " gumamnya.

Kemudian ia menyalakan komputernya. Ia terkejut membaca beberapa head line berita yang sama di setiap site yang dia buka.

Beyond Birthday : Pembunuh serial kejam tertangkap.

Beyond Birthday : Beyond the limit ! Pembunuh kejam akhirnya diamankan.

BB : Pembunuh sakit jiwa peneror LA kini telah ditemukan.

Bagi Light, head line itu seperti sebuah permintaan langsung untuknya. Saatnya tuhan bekerja, pikirnya.

Tak sulit bagi Light untuk mendapatkan nama asli si pembunuh kejam itu.

Semuanya mengalir begitu mulus sampai saat ini, pikirnya. Dan iapun menulis nama itu.



Kediaman L.

" Kau yang melakukannya kan L… " Watari bertanya sambil meletakan kue dihadapan L.

" Kau tidak pernah salah, Watari… karena itulah aku mengagumimu… " Jawab L.

" Kau benar – benar yakin ? Bukankah dia… "

" Watari, dia memang adikku. Adik kembarku yang sangat kusayangi. Dan aku selalu menyayangi dan melindunginya… selalu… "

L berhenti. Ia menatap kue di hadapannya.

" Namun dia telah meninggal 14 tahun yang lalu… saat dia keluar dari tempatmu, ia sudah tidak ada lagi… tidak… bukan, sesungguhnya bukan hari itu… tapi jauh saat ibu kami meninggal, ia juga telah ikut bersamanya. Dan si pemilik nama Beyond Birthday itu hanyalah pemuda psikopat bodoh yang meminjam tubuh adikku. Aku sebagai kakaknya, tidak akan pernah membiarkan ia menganiaya jiwa Ryuzaki lagi… selamanya… "

Watari menatap punggung L.

Setitik air mengalir dari kelopak mata L.

" Pintar… jika kau menaruh head linenya di semua situs, KIRA yang memang berorientasi menghakimi seluruh kriminal pasti akan segera membunuhnya, apalagi nama aslinya telah diketahui. Segalanya hanya sesuai dengan perkiraan L. " Watari bergumam menjauh.

" Hanya saja, sadar atau tidak, L baru saja meminjam kekuatan KIRA---kekuatan yang ditentangnya sendiri---Apakah sudah tidak ada jalan lain ? Ah… jika L berpikir seperti itu, maka tak ada seorangpun yang dapat meragukannya. Berarti memang tak ada lagi jalan lain. Ia pasti sangat menyayangi adiknya. "

" Ryuzaki… aku hanya mengikuti permainanmu… Kau bilang 'jika aku menjadi terang, maka kau akan menjadi gelap. Kau hanya akan bangkit untuk melawanku, sebab dari situlah kau tidak akan pernah menjadi bayanganku. Kau benar sekali. Kau menjadi pembunuh, maka akulah yang akan menjadi penangkapmu. Aku telah mengembalikan jiwamu kedapa surga… Aku tidak akan pernah menyesal melakukannya… "

Di salah satu sel di L A.

Seorang pemuda memegangi dadanya dengan kuat. Ia menahan sakit yang tiba – tiba datang. TIDAK MUNGKIN, pikirnya. Aku sedang mengalami serangan jantung !

" LAWIE !! " Ia menjerit.

" KAU TAK AKAN PERNAH MENANG DARIKU ! KAU TAK AKAN PERNAH BISA LARI DARIKU ! TIDAK SELAMANYA ! "

Ia tersungkur. Dalam posisi tergeletak miring, ia susah payah bernapas. Air mata membanjiri wajahnya. Tanpa diinginkannya tiba – tiba memori masa lalunya menyeruak keluar bagai pertunjukan film di depan matanya.

" LAWLIET !! AKU MEMBENCIMU ! AKU SELALU MEMBENCI--- "

SAKIT, SAKIT SEKALI…

Apakah ini yang dialami wanita itu ?

Ibu… Sakit sekali ibu…

" Lawie… "

Iapun berlalu.



3 Bulan kemudian.

" Semoga sukses, Lawliet. "

Lawliet berhenti berjalan, ia menoleh.

" Maksudmu ujian ? "

" Jangan mengejeku, aku tahu pasti kau akan keluar sebagai siswa nomor satu Todai. Kau tahu maksudku, Lawliet. Kasusmu. Maksudku KIRA-mu "

Lawliet menerawang sejenak.

" Ya… ya… kau benar… KIRA-ku… " Kemudian ia menyambung,

" Watari, bisa panggil aku Ryuzaki mulai sekarang ? "

Watari menatapnya sejenak, berbalik, dan berjalan perlahan meninggalkannya.

" Jika itu kemauanmu. " Jawab Watari

" Itu kemauanku Watari. Dan kau tahu apalagi kemauanku ? Jika aku bertemu KIRA, aku rasa aku harus berterima kasih padanya… "



1 Tahun kemudian.

Lawliet berpikir sepersekian detik saat merasa tubuhnya terjatuh dari kursi.

Inikah yang dirasakan Ryuzaki ? Dan ibu ?

Ia merasa ada tangan yang menopang bawah tubuhnya sebelum ia benar – benar terjatuh ke lantai.

Ia mendengar bunyi dentangan sendok.

Ia mendengar seruan kejut, namun rasanya jauh sekali.

Sebab yang kini dia rasakan hanya rasa sakit yang menyiksa di bagian dadanya. Juga matanya hanya bisa berkonsentrasi pada seseorang yang saat ini menopangnya.

Mungkin kerja otaknya menurun bersamaan dengan rasa sakit yang menggerogoti dadanya. Membunuh semua kemampuan intelektualitasnya. Perlahan – lahan pergi bersama dengan kesadarannya.

Namun hanya satu yang masih dipertahankan oleh Lawliet. Orang yang ada saat ini menopangnya.

Ia tak ingat siapa ini… yang wajahnya perlahan berubah… senyumnya perlahan – lahan nampak… kejam dan dingin.

Oh iya, aku tahu siapa ini. KIRA.

KIRA… ada satu hal yang ingin ku ucapkan padamu…

Jadi aku benar… tapi aku…

Lalwliet tersenyum.

Terima kasih…

Read more

THE LOS ANGELES BB MURDER FILES - LAST PAGE

Nothing left but the explanation.
There’s not much left to write about here, so I’ll settle for summarizing the key points. My great and
respected predecessor, the man whose actions were a strong influence on me personally, B, B.B.,
Beyond Birthday—obviously, I need hardly explain again that the murders themselves were not his
purpose. So what was he doing? Again, I hardly need to explain—he was challenging the man he
copied, the century’s greatest detective, L.
A matter of winning or losing.
A contest.
But in this case, what would mean B’s victory? How would he determine that L had lost? In an
ordinary detective war, whoever solved the mystery first would win. Or if we look at the battle between
L and the murderer Kira, L would win if he could prove who Kira was, while Kira would win when he
killed L. But what about B and L? Beyond Birthday developed the following theory
Since L could solve every case no matter how challenging, if he created a case so difficult that L was
unable to solve it, B would have defeated L.
That was the Los Angeles BB Murder Cases.
He knew that the moment he took action Wammy’s House and Watari would alert L, so he did not even
bother trying to stop them. He could only guess at which stage of his plan L would start to come after
him, so he prepared things carefully, ready for L’s entrance at any point. Beyond Birthday was careful,
and finicky—and when L actually stepped in, on August 14th, just after the third murder, the timing
was not ideal, but not bad either.
Of course, L would not move himself, but would carefully choose a pawn or two to work for him—at
most three, probably two, and if B was lucky, only one. Beyond Birthday was lucky. The eyes of the
shinigami told him the pawn’s name at once -- Naomi Misora. An FBI agent on a leave of absence.
But what really mattered is that she was only working for L, and not L himself Beyond Birthday was
not battling Naomi Misora. He only cared about beating the one hiding behind her.
Which is why.
B approached Naomi Misora, calling himself Rue Ryuzaki. Rue Ryuzaki-- L.L.
For anyone from Wammy’s House, there could be no higher goal than identifying yourself with that
letter—and Beyond Birthday seized this case as his chance. Even Naomi Misora knew what had
happened to detectives falsely identifying themselves as L, and B was from Wammy’s House, so he
knew better than anyone so this choice suggests the strength of his decision. He never once intended to
survive he had made up his mind. He was ready.
And, as Ryuzaki, he had played the fool, observing Naomi Misora, occasionally guiding her skillfully,
from the first scene to the third, making sure she gathered and deciphered all the clues and messages he
had left behind. Compared to the challenge he had faced persuading the victims’ family members to
hire him to solve the case, leading Misora was undoubtedly a walk in the park. All the while testing her
from this angle or that, seeing if she was worthy of serving as L’s replacement...
Misora had contacted L on any number of occasions during her investigations. And she had clearly
received instructions from L to allow this mysterious private detective, Rue Ryuzaki, free rein. He had
expected this—he had sent the crossword puzzle to the LAPD for just that reason. If someone appeared
who had the sort of internal document that only someone like L could possibly obtain, even the
century’s greatest detective would be unable to dismiss him lightly—even though, in fact, Ryuzaki had
the documents only because he had created them in the first place.
Misora had performed much better than he had expected. Like the moon has its dark side and every
coin has two sides, Ryuzaki’s hints had been blatant and yet unobtrusive and any ordinary detective
would never have been able to take them to their logical conclusion so effectively. She was everything
he could have hoped for. The first three scenes all had clues that needed to be solved for his plan to
proceed smoothly, but Ryuzaki could not be seen to solve too many of these on his own—just as L was
using Misora to go after B, B was using Misora to go after L. Rue Ryuzaki could never be anything
more than a suspicious private detective—not to be trusted, but not attracting too much attention from
L either. As far as Beyond Birthday was concerned, the first three murders only served to set
up the main act, the fourth murder. Misora had been the first to use
the word camouflage, but in that sense, the first three murders were
all camouflage, disguising the truth behind the fourth murder.
At the third scene, the clock had pointed to a large condo complex in Pasadena, in the Valley, where
there were two B.B.s. This had not been hard for B to locate, with the eyes of the shinigami—that said,
it had not exactly been simple to locate a place that matched the necessary conditions. Room 1313,
Blackberry Brown. Room 404, Blues-harp Babysplit. Naomi Misora was working alone, which allowed
him to avoid the need to use the backup plan he’d created in case L sent more than one person. If there
had been two investigators, it would not simply have been a matter of finding a third B.B.
Misora in room 1313, and himself in room 404. Honestly, it did not particularly matter which room.
Misora was in room 1313 for no better reason than that she was a woman.
And then Ryuzaki attempted suicide.
Turned the thumb lock by hand, nailed a Wara Ningyo into the wall, broke the sprinkler system, turned
off the alarm, wiped the place for fingerprints, showered himself with gasoline, and lit himself on fire.
He had chosen himself to be the fourth victim. Beyond Birthday, the final B.B. That Rue Ryuzaki was a
fake name did not even require L’s resources—Misora was an FBI agent, and could find that out for
herself quickly, and if she dug a little deeper would be able to find out that his real name was Beyond
Birthday B.B. More than acceptable as the fourth victim—and a highly appropriate end for the
mysterious private detective.
Immolation. Burning to death.
Naturally, his face and fingerprints would burn as well—he had always disguised himself with heavy
makeup while he was with Misora, and he had never left a picture behind, so even if someone directly
affiliated with Wammy’s House inspected the body, they would have no idea that Rue Ryuzaki/Beyond
Birthday was B from Wammy’s House. He had left nothing to connect Beyond Birthday to B. He had
no intention of hiding his own identity (he wanted them to find out he was Beyond Birthday, to find out
he was another B.B.), but he had to hide that he was B from Wammy’s House. The reason he changed
his methods of killing from strangulation at the first scene, to blunt force trauma at the second, to
stabbing at the third was partly experimental, partly motivated by curiosity, but far, far more important
was to make it seem only natural that the fourth murder was done with fire. And there was also the
matter of the injuries done to each of the previous corpses—even Beyond Birthday was unable to
damage his own body after death. It would never do to leave such an obvious discrepancy. With a
burned body, it was impossible to tell if such damage had been done or not.
At the fourth scene, as I hardly need to explain, there was no message. There was no reason to leave
one. B was presenting the Los Angeles BB Murder Cases to L as a case that could never be solved.
That L could not solve.
In other words, he had never prepared any clear solution to it— since the killer had committed suicide,
disguised as the fourth victim, there was no longer a killer to catch, and no clues left to catch him with.
Which is why the difficulty had escalated so dramatically from murder to murder. Particularly the
message at the third scene, with its deliberate ambiguities—am. versus p.m., and room 1313 versus
404. So when no message was discovered at the fourth scene, Misora, and therefore L, would believe
they had simply overlooked
it. Something that should be there, but wasn’t—and it was a lot harder to discover something that
wasn’t there than something that was. Especially if the missing thing had never been there in the first
place-in that case, there was no way they would ever find it.
But how would they prove it?
A problem with no solution could only have one answer—that it could not be solved. But that answer
conflicted with the fairness displayed in the first three murders. Which tied their hands. Unable to find
something that wasn’t there, L would have to continue searching for B—who no longer existed. The
metaphor of the gradually decreasing Wara Ningyo established from the beginning that there would be
only four victims, so the lack of further murders would not lead to the conclusion that the killer had
passed away. L would be left chasing after the mirage of the deceased B. L would be forever followed
by the mirage of the deceased B. L would spend the rest of his life trembling in fear of B’s shadow.
L would lose.
B would win.
B was the top, and L was the bottom—L would grovel at B’s feet.
The copy would surpass the original.
Or so he thought.
In reality this did not happen, and the dizzying amount of time he had spent preparing for his crimes
was all for nothing, destroyed, blown to smithereens—because he had focused all his energies on L,
and never once viewed Naomi Misora as anything more than a pawn. All his attention was on the man
behind her, and he never even saw Misora standing right in front of him. Even as he believed himself to
be praising her skills, he ultimately underestimated her. She had done better than he expected—that
very expression is, essentially, arrogant. If you ask me, even without Ryuzaki’s hints, she might well
have deciphered the messages at almost the same speed.
Naomi Misora.
The key had been the locked rooms. The locked rooms. Ryuzaki had said over and over that there was
no need to think about them, that the killer had probably just used a spare key, because even he knew
that focusing on that point could mean trouble. Beyond Birthday had a fair idea where the weaknesses
in his own plot lay.
But those were weaknesses that would be forgotten once the fourth murder happened, and if he could
just hold out till then, if he could just distract her until then... then B would have won. That Misora
figured it out just before the fourth murder was complete can only be described as a stroke of good
luck.
At the first scene, and the second, and the third, the Wara Ningyo had been directly across from the
door, and the dolls had been at the same height as the latch of the thumb turn lock—she had to notice
both these things to figure it out. At the third murder scene the dolls had been counted along with the
stuffed animals, which had seemed like a reasonable enough idea, but that was not their primary
function. And their function as a metaphor for the victims was, again, not their true purpose.
Specifically, let us look at how the locked rooms were created. The doors were locked with a thread.
The thread from a needle and thread. Misora had suggested running a thread under the door, looping it
around the latch, and pulling on the thread to make the latch turn. Ryuzaki had denied it, but it had been
a close call. She had been so close, but with that method, the force would have been pulling in the room
direction, applying pressure to the door itself rather than the latch. As Ryuzaki had explained, the only
effect would have been to pull outward on a door that opened inward.
But she had been very close.
At what she believed to be a potential fourth crime scene, Misora had crouched down in front of the
door, putting her line of sight at waist height, and looked at the opposite wall—and imagined there was
a Wara Ningyo there. Pinned to the wall across from her. Of course, the doll had to be physically
pinned to the wall. There was no way it could just float there on its own—that would be magic, a scene
out of a horror movie. It had to have been pinned there— which means there had also been something
pinning it there. The holes in the wall at each crime scene—without even looking at the photos of the
dolls in her files, Naomi Misora was Japanese, she knew about them as part of her culture.
Wara Ningyo had nails through them.
Long, thin nails.
And what mattered to the killer was not the doll itself. . .but the nail. The Wara Ningyo were nothing
but a dramatic bit of misdirection. The shape of the nails.. the nail’s head. The thread went under the
door, around the head of the nail, and from there over to the side wall, around another nail head, and
finally back to the door itself, around the latch of the thumb turn lock—at the same height as the dolls.
Obviously, this is a simplified description to make it easier to understand, and the operation was
actually performed in reverse, starting at the lock, then going to the side wall, the opposite wall, and
back under the door, but. . . essentially, the thread sketched a big triangle in the middle of the room.
And if you pulled the string then...
The latch of the thumb turn lock would turn.
Click.
Essentially, he used the nail heads as pulleys, turning the power vectors diagonally. To be even more
accurate, the Wara Ningyo was not placed directly opposite the door, or directly opposite the thumb
turn latch, but directly opposite the gap under the door. This method prevented the dynamic force
applied to the thread to be dispersed by the door. The thread did not touch the door, but simply passed
under it, heading directly for the nail in the Wara Ningyo opposite— and all the force applied was
transmitted in that direction. Then the nail head acted like a pulley, turning the direction of the force
twice, and leading it to the thumb turn latch. Once the door was locked, obviously, he then had to
recover the thread, so he had to use a particularly long one doubled over on itself.. .which explanation
is just a bonus at this stage. As soon as he was sure the door was locked, he let go of one end of the
thread and pulled on the other, successfully gathering all the thread to his side of the door. Anyone
could pull this off, as long as they used strong thread that wouldn’t break. If you have time, try it in
your own room. As long as you are allowed to hammer nails into the walls.
Despite this tedious explanation, the exact nature of the locked room trick is completely unimportant.
Well... perhaps not completely, but to focus too much on the trick itself is to miss the real point. What
really matters is that to pull this trick off, you need at least two dolls—because you need two nail head
pulleys. At least two. One on the opposite wall and one on the side wall. Four dolls, three dolls, two
dolls—the trick worked at the first three scenes. But at the fourth scene, where there was only one Wara
Ningyo, the trick could not be used. With only one pulley opposite the door, the latch would not turn.
The thread would not make a triangle, and would simply go over and come back in a straight line. So,
as I have already mentioned, the final victim, Rue Ryuzaki, turned the thumb turn latch by hand. We
only know that because the locked room trick was solved before the fourth murder took place—
otherwise, the fact that the locked room had been created even with only one Wara Ningyo would
simply have been dropped into the file with all the other data. The weakness in his plan would
evaporate—as long as the locked room remained a mystery until the fourth murder, it would remain
one forever.
Naomi Misora was just in time.
Ryuzaki himself had asked absently, “What for?” Why had the killer made a locked room that he did
not need? That question. A game, for fun... a puzzle. Locked rooms were designed to make a murder
look like a suicide... but in this case, the locked rooms existed to make the fourth death look like it
wasn’t a suicide.
To provide L with a mystery he could not solve.
Even if he could not solve it, it did not mean there was no answer.
Namely: it was unsolvable.
According to Ryuzaki’s scenario, Misora would come running down the stairs when he failed to answer
his phone as scheduled to find the Wara Ningyo on the far wall and Beyond Birthday burned to death—
and if she had not yet figured out the locked room mystery, then everything would go as B planned, his
plot executed perfectly. Since the locked room had been created even with only one Wara Ningyo,
nobody would ever think of the triangulation technique.
If the police had not taken the dolls and the nails that held them in place away as evidence, Misora
would probably have figured it out faster. But this was not a matter of luck, but all part of Beyond
Birthday’s plan. He knew all along the police would investigate the scene first. Beyond Birthday had
coldly calculated that by the time L’s pawn arrived at the scene, the actual Wara Ningyo and the actual
nails would be long gone. The third scene was the only one where they might remain—and in that case,
they were counted with the stuffed animals to make the numbers on the sides of the clock face, which
would distract her. So the only thing that did not go according to Beyond Birthday’s plan was Misora’s
investigative ability.
No, not ability
Inspiration.
But figuring out the locked room trick, figuring out that the way the killer had locked the doors would
only work at the first three scenes did not tip off Naomi Misora. Rather, she had begun to wonder how
the killer planned to lock the door at the fourth scene. Or to wonder if the theory was completely
misguided. Her suspicions did not immediately turn toward Ryuzaki. Of course not—she had been told
no details about the connection between L and B, so it never occurred to her that Ryuzaki might have a
reason to do something like that. She kept saying he was suspicious, but her suspicions had never
reached any definite form. To theorize that the fourth murder would actually be a suicide required her
to realize that the message had pointed to two possible murder scenes, that the two of them were lying
in wait for the killer, and since one of those two people was her, the other one had to be the killer...but
Naomi Misora was not proficient in the kind of mathematical deduction that was required to logically
prove who the killer was.
But she had figured it out.
Because he had known.
He knew that Naomi Misora knew capoeira.
And in this case, the only people who knew that were L, who Misora herself had told, and the man who
had assaulted her in the alley downtown—the killer. Misora had used a capoeira technique while
fighting him. She had driven him off with her capoeira. Since the idea that Ryuzaki was L was
comically absurd and completely unthinkable, then it stood to reason the man who insulted her was
Ryuzaki... which led Misora to the truth.
Failure.
Beyond Birthday, Rue Ryuzaki’s one and only failure. The only failure the killer who never made
mistakes had made. If he had just rated Naomi Misora a little bit higher, he would never have let that
shp. But it was too late. He might have been born with the unbelievable eyes of the shinigami, but he
had no eyes for judging people... Probably a little too pat a conclusion to draw. A neat turn of phrase, to
be sure, but that doesn’t salvage it.
It is now an eternal mystery exactly how much of the truth L grasped and when. He might have known
everything all along and put Misora into action based on that, and he might well have never figured
anything out and been saved by heL Either way seems perfectly possible. But let us not think of such
petty things. L is not someone we should speak of in such petty terms. As long as one thing is clear,
nothing else matters.
B lost to Naomi Misora.
In other words, he lost to L.
Losing twice in one battle, unable to die the way he had planned, Beyond Birthday was taken to the
police hospital, ending the serial killings that had begun a month before, on July 3lst...no, July 22nd,
when the warning first reached the police station. Apparently B had poured gasoline on himself at
almost exactly the same moment Misora had arrived at the truth. It took a full minute before Misora
burst into room 404. It would not have been at all surprising if he had died of smoke suffocation before
she got there, or died before he reached the hospital, before the ambulance arrived. But he did not die.
He did not die. His body was stronger than he believed, and his life went on longer than he thought.
The hardest part of killing someone is to actually kill them—if he had been able to see his own life, I’m
sure Beyond Birthday would have chosen a different method. My poor, poor predecessor. Not only was
he utterly and completely defeated, but he survived, driving home his embarrassment...he must have
longed for death. Accept my condolences, B.
And with that, there is nothing more to be said in these notes about the Los Angeles BB Murder Cases.
If I had space left over I had intended to carry right on into the other two stories I heard from L: the
story of the detective war between the three greatest detectives, all solving that infamous bio-terror
case, with guest appearances by the last of the alphabet, the first X to the first Z from Wammy’s House;
and the story of how the world’s greatest inventor, Quillish Wammy, aka Watari, had first met L, then
about eight years old—the case that gave birth to the century’s greatest detective, the Winchester Mad
Bombings that occurred just after the third World War. But however objectively I look at things, I do
not have the space or the time. Oh well. In that case, to close off the file, I will wrap things up with a
small description of something that happened to Naomi Misora a few days later.
With all that had happened, Misora’s return to work was put off until September. Capturing Beyond
Birthday had proved to be far better for her than she had ever expected, and nobody uttered a word
about her acting independently during her leave of absence. While she was not popular at work, nobody
denied that she was good at her job—at least, not outwardly. It was not hard to imagine that L had
pulled a few strings on her behalf. From an even more practical standpoint, it was also not difficult to
imagine who was the real source of the money deposited in Misora’s bank account by a company she’d
never heard of before.
On September 1st, she left her house on foot, headed for the nearest subway station. When she reached
her office, her superior would return her badge, her gun, and her handcuffs. The thought was a little
embarrassing, and she felt a few butterflies in her stomach, but when it was over she would be back to
her old life.
She had spoken to L only once after the killer was arrested. He thanked her for helping to solve the
case, and told her just a little about the background of the case. That B had been a candidate to succeed
L, and that the pressure of that had driven him off track. At last she felt that she could understand
Ryuzaki’s previously incomprehensible actions, but she also felt like she only imagined that she could.
It all boiled down to the entire case being a challenge for L and he had killed people, and tried to kill
himself, for that alone... but while murders could be dismissed as simple madness, committing suicide
for such a stupid reason could not. Before he became like that, if only someone had stopped him... but
that just shows ho intent he was on his purpose. His own life was as meaningless as the lives of his
victims, nothing but a tool in Beyond Birthday’s quest t surpass L. It mattered more to him than his
own life. Perhaps he was less intent than desperate. Nobody could have stopped him.
That was his resolve.
Which made him... so very strong.
Had he really been strong?
Misora wondered, remembering how he had nervously chewed his thumbnail.
Strength.
Strength Misora could never hope to imitate...
The station entrance had just come into view, and standing in front of it was an awkward,
uncomfortable-looking man.
A young man, with an intense expression.
There were lines under his eyes so dark she wondered if they were actually done with makeup. Like he
hadn’t slept in days—or like he had never slept in his life. Like his sense of justice would not allow
him time to sleep, since he had so many difficult cases to think about, battling unfathomable pressure
on a daily basis.
He wore a long-sleeved white shirt and blue jeans.
His bare feet were crammed directly into beaten sneakers. She had a strange sense of déjà vu.
Like she’d seen him or met him once before.
There was something about him that reminded her of Rue Ryuzaki—of Beyond Birthday. But the
resemblance was backward, like this was the original, and the other had been a copy.
“Um, have we...?” she asked, even though he was hardly blocking the entrance bodily, and she could
have simply ignored him and walked on inside.
The young man instantly leapt at her.
Leapt at her? No, that’s not right. He actually tried to throw his arms around her.
“Huh?! No!”
Misora instantly bent backward, brushing off the man’s embrace, and moved smoothly on to the
offensive. She lowered her upper body backward, spinning once in the air and raising her back legs like
a scorpion, slamming both heels down onto the man’s shoulders. Both blows hit hard, and the impact
knocked him off balance.
With a thunderous crash, he tumbled down the subway stairs.
Whoops. A little overboard.
Certainly, he had assaulted her, but Misora quickly righted her- self and ran down after him. “Are you
okay?” she asked.
He was lying on his stomach like a crushed frog.
“I see,” he muttered, seemingly talking to himself. “Watching videos and seeing it for real is quite
different, but now I think I understand.”
“Hunh?”
What was he talking about? Had he hit his head on something? Her first day back at work, and already
in trouble...
“Um... can you stand?” Misora said, reaching out toward him. The man looked up at her, his eyes in
shadow, as if two holes were staring at her.
“Thank you,” he said, and took her hand. Misora pulled him upright.
“Are you injured? Does it hurt anywhere?”
“I’m fine, thank you,” the man said, not letting go of her hand. Even on his feet, he did not attempt to
move away. They appeared to be shaking hands. Like warriors on a battlefield, exchanging a firm
handshake after surviving yet another bloody fight.
“You are very kind,” he said, with something like a smile, and at last let go of her hand. Then he
tottered away as if nothing at all had happened, slowly climbing the stairs again.
“Ah. . .w-wait! Just a second!”
Misora had almost let him go, but a moment later she ran after him, circling around in front of him
again. She was an FBI agent and could not let an assault crime go unpunished. The young man was
sucking his thumb. He did not appear to be at all nervous.
“If you aren’t hurt, then you’ll have to come with me. Sexual assault is a serious crime. You can’t go
around throwing your arms around women. What were you thinking?”
“Don’t just stand there. Say something. This attitude won’t make things easier for you. What’s your
name?”
Naomi Misora had asked his name.
The young man nodded.
And answered.
“Please call me Ryuzaki,” he said, unperturbed.
Just like someone else had.
And a few years after his arrest, on January 21, 2004, serving a life sentence in a California prison,
Beyond Birthday died of a mysterious heart attack.

Read more

THE LOS ANGELES BB MURDER FILES - PAGE 6 (FAILURE)

And at last, August 22nd.
The day the man behind the Los Angeles BB Murder Cases was to be arrested... but we can say that
because we have history to tell us, and like all historical events, when it was happening in real time,
none of those involved knew that, and the way events unfolded was hardly smooth sailing. In fact,
Naomi Misora’s day started with any number of inconsistencies and anxieties.
6:15 and fifty seconds.
They had managed to read that as the message left behind by the killer at the third crime scene, but was
that 6:15 in the morning? Or in the evening? After they had solved the clock puzzle, Misora had
searched the scene all night looking for anything that said “a.m.” or “p.m.” She found nothing.
“If we’ve looked this hard and found nothing, then maybe it doesn’t really matter,” Ryuzaki had
suggested. “He made the victim look like an analog clock rather than a digital one, so trying to find
something to indicate a.m. or p.m. might be a waste of time.”
“Yeah.” Misora nodded.
Regardless of whether this was true or not, they had to assume it was. She began to decipher the
message both as 6:15:50 and 18:15:50. The first scene had pointed them to Quarter Queen, and the
second scene to Glass Station, so what was the third scene pointing toward? Misora and Ryuzaki both
turned their energies toward this problem, but it was Ryuzaki who first came up with something.
061550. The construction approval number for a condominium. In Pasadena, in the valley, a massive
complex. The sizes ranged from two bed room to four bedroom, with over two hundred condos in all.
And a woman named Blackberry Brown lived in condo number 1313. Her initials were B.B., and her
condo number was too.
“It must be her,” Misora said. All condo approval numbers began with zero, so there was no 181550.
She had been worried about the am/p.m. thing, but now that they’d found the answer, she could relax.
As Ryuzaki had said, with an analog clock it really didn’t matter. Misora was greatly relieved, but
Ryuzaki himself did not look very cheerful. Not that he ever did, but even so, he seemed particularly
down.
“Something wrong, Ryuzaki? We’ve finally figured out what the killer’s going to do, and can get ahead
of him! We can lay a trap for him. Prevent the fourth murder, and if we’re lucky, catch the killer as
well. Nah—no luck about it. We will catch him, and catch him alive.”
“Misora,” Ryuzaki said. “The thing is, there was another candidate in the condo. Another B.B. A man
named Blues-harp Babysplit, who lives alone in room 404.”
“Oh...”
Two people with the target initials. In a massive complex of two hundred condos, not everyone lived
alone there were any number of people with families. Even if you downplayed that number there were
easily four or five hundred people... and simple arithmetic suggested that one out of 676 people had the
initials B.B. It was not particularly surprising that there were two of them in the complex. It was
statistically reasonable.
“But,” Misora said, “no matter how you look at it, room 1313 is our target. Thirteen is a code for B,
Ryuzaki. And 1313 is B.B. The fourth murder... judging from the number of dolls, the final murder...
what better location could the killer ask for?”
“I suppose...”
“I’m sure of it. I mean, 404?”
Certainly, four was one plus three, which was B, but faced with a choice between 1313 and 404 the
killer would undoubtedly choose the former. No matter who the killer was, Misora was sure he would
choose the former. But Ryuzaki apparently wasn’t.
“Ryuzaki, do you know how rare it is for there to even be a thirteenth floor or a thirteenth room in
America? They usually skip that number. I’m sure the killer would want to take advantage of that.. .in
fact, he probably chose this building specifically because it did have a thirteenth floor.”
“But remember, Misora. The number of days between the murders. The crossword puzzle reached the
police station on July 22nd, the first murder happened nine days later on July 3 1st, the second murder
four days later on August 4th, and the third murder nine days later on August 13th, and if the fourth
murder is to happen on August 22nd, that will be nine days again. Nine days, four days, nine days, nine
days. But why was it nine four-nine-nine and not nine- four-nine-four? Even though nine plus four is
thirteen.”
“Well...”
It was Misora who had first pointed out that nine and four were thirteen. But since nothing had
happened on August 17th, she had assumed it was just a coincidence. She hadn’t been able to find a
connection between seventeen and B, and it just hadn’t seemed like that big of a problem. Misora had
no idea why Ryuzaki was bringing it up now.
“We have a four. But three nines… it’s so unbalanced.”
“Yeah, but... alternating was…”
“Not alternating. Four and nine should be viewed as a set, and the numbers as a series of thirteens. But
that hasn’t happened... this doesn’t strike you as odd?”
“But room number 404 gives us three fours and three nines.”
“Oh...”
Was that what he meant?
“If it had been any room number other than 404, I would have agreed one hundred percent, no, two
hundred percent that the fourth victim would be Blackberry Brown in room 1313, but since yet another
B.B., Blues harp Babysplit, lives in a room with two fours in the number... I can’t ignore that.”
“Yeah... I agree.”
When he explained it like that, Misora was starting to think that room 404 was actually more likely.
After all, she had been a little bothered by the gaps between the murders. Was it really okay to dismiss
them as coincidence? Nothing had happened on the 17th, but that was after the fact. It had never really
locked into place. But if the final murder were in room 404, it would take care of that a lot better than
room 1313.
Misora clicked her tongue.
They hadn’t been able to decide if the dock was a.m. or p.m., and now that they’d found a good
candidate for the final murder scene, there were two potential victims… all this work, and the final
piece refused to fall into place. It bothered her. She was sure they’d read the message correctly, but still
doubts remained. There was every chance this would lead to some decisive mistake...
“Oh, well,” Ryuzaki said. “We’ll just have to split up. Fortunately, Misora, we have each other.”
They might be working together, but nothing further.
But this was not the time to point that out.
“One of us should wait at each of the scenes. You take room 1313, Misora, and I’ll take room 404.
After all, Blackberry Brown is a woman, while Blues harp Babysplit is a man. Seems like a natural
arrangement.”
“And do what, exactly?”
“Just as you said, Misora. Lie in wait. Today or tomorrow, we should speak to Blackberry Brown and
Blues-harp Babysplit, and get them to cooperate with our investigation. Obviously, we can’t tell them
they’re being targeted by a serial killer. If they know too much the media might find out about what’s
happening and blow the whole thing.”
“But they have a right to know?”
“And a right to live, which is more important. We will pay an appropriate fee, and borrow the room for
the day.
“Pay?”
“Yes. The simplest means. Fortunately, my patrons are providing me with expense funds deep enough
to cover the charges. If we solve the crime, they will be only too happy to pay. If this were an ordinary
murder, this would never work, but these victims were only being targeted because of their initials, and
there is no real reason for them to die. Their murders only have meaning if they are killed in their own
room—-whether that be 1313 or 404. So if we pretend to be them, and wait in their rooms, we should
be able to meet the killer. Obviously just in case, we should have Blackberry Brown and Blues-harp
Babysplit stay in a safe place all day on the 22nd... put them up in a luxury suite at a four-star hotel, for
example.”
‘And then we... I see.
Misora put her hand to her mouth, thinking. Buying the potential victims’ cooperation sounded fine...
she didn’t know who the patron was backing Ryuzaki, but she should be able to get that kind of funding
herself if she asked L. Ryuzaki would become Blues-harp Babysplit, and she would become Blackberry
Brown...
“And we shouldn’t call for police backup, right?”
“Yes. We might be able to protect the victim’s life, but the scale of the operation would be too large.
The killer would be more likely to escape. And our deductions are not enough evidence to make the
police take action, anyway. Our reading of the killer’s message is accurate at a ninety-nine percent
chance, but however good it sounds, we have no proof. If they tell us it’s all rootless speculation, we’d
be done for.”
“‘Rootless.”
“With nothing to support it.”
She was pretty sure there was a different word for that.
But he had a point.
If she asked her boyfriend in the FBI, Raye Penber... no, she couldn’t do that. Misora was suspended
and she’d told Ryuzaki she was a detective. Her actions of the past week could get her in hot water if
the agency found out. Even if she was really working for L she couldn’t exactly admit that in public...
“The killer is presumably working alone, but, Ryuzaki, when ii comes time to arrest him there will be a
struggle.”
“Don’t worry. I can take him one on one. I may not look it, but am quite strong. And you’re trained in
Capoeira, right?”
“Yeah, but...”
“Misora, can you use a gun?”
“Eh? No, I ca... can, but I don’t have one.”
“Then I shall prepare one. You should be armed. So far this was merely a detective war with the killer,
but from here on our lives are on the line. You should be ready for anything, Misora,” Ryuzaki said,
biting his thumbnail.
And so...
With any number of inconsistencies and anxieties, Naomi Misora spent the night in a hotel in West
L.A. She called L from her hotel room and asked him for financial backing, and to check up on all the
evidence they had uncovered. She wondered if L would suggest that lying in wait was too dangerous,
and they should make the safety of the potential victims their first priority, wondered if he would
oppose the strategy Ryuzaki had suggested, (part of her had hoped he would), but L seemed to be quite
in favor of it. Misora asked him two or three times if she could really trust Ryuzaki, but he said again
that there was no harm in letting him proceed. But of course, by the 22nd, everything would be
resolved...
“Please, Naomi Misora,” L said. “Whatever you do, please catch the killer.”
Whatever you do.
Whatever.
“Understood.”
“Thank you. However, Misora, while it is true that we are unable to ask for help publicly from the
police, I can supply some private backup. I plan to station a few individuals working directly for me in
the area around the condominiums. They do not need any solid proof to activate, Of course, they will
keep their distance, but...”
“Okay, sounds good.”
When her conversation with L was finished it was past midnight—it was already August 21st. She
would have to spend the entirety of the 22nd in Pasadena, which meant she had to arrive early on the
evening of the 2 1st. With all that in mind, she knew it would be a struggle, but she climbed into the
hotel bed, hoping to get a good night’s sleep.
“Wait,” she murmured.
As cobwebs formed over her mind, she murmured, “Now... when did I tell Ryuzaki about the
Capoeira?”
She didn’t know.
And there was one other thing she didn’t know.
Something she didn’t even know she didn’t know.
Something that she was never to know. No matter what she did, she had no way of knowing. That this
killer, Beyond Birthday, could tell someone’s name and time of death just by looking at their face, that
he had been born with the eyes of the shinigami—she had no way of knowing that fake names were
useless with him, completely and utterly pointless.
How could she have known?
Even Beyond Birthday himself could not explain how he had been born with the eyes of the shinigami,
how he could use them with no payment, with no arrangement. Neither Misora nor L knew why, and,
obviously, neither do I. The closest thing to an explaination I can offer is that there are shinigami stupid
enough to drop their notebooks in our world, so there might well be shinigami stupid enough to drop
their eyes. Either way, it was completely absurd to expect humans who had no idea shinigami even
existed to be on the lookout for their eyes.
Even so, even with that in mind, she might have guessed. After, B looks like thirteen, and thirteen is the
number of the tarot card named Death...
And so.
With any number of inconsistencies and anxieties, and one significant failure... the story’s climax
arrives.
Case study.
I had originally intended to keep the reasons for Naomi Misora leave of absence (which was effectively
a suspension from duty) out of these notes—had planned to remain vague about all the details. If I
could, I absolutely would stick to that plan. I mean it. Like I said before, she was the single greatest
victim of the fallout from Wammy’s House, and intruding on her private... or at least personal issues is
something I am very reluctant to do. Which is why I have casually avoided any specific mention of it
so far. However, since I now find myself attempting to describe the look in Naomi Misora’s eyes as she
grasped the gun Ryuzaki had given her in both hands (It was a Strayer-Voigt Infinity model), I can no
longer skirt the issue. I can’t just fast forward to the next scene without explaining the reasons behind
that look.
That said, it’s not a terribly complicated story. Putting it as simply as possible, the team she worked
with had spent months secretly investigating and infiltrating a drug cartel, and she had blown the whole
operation—because at a critical juncture, she had been unable to pull the trigger. While she did not
customarily carry a gun with her, it was different on duty—nor did she have any intention of making
pathetic excuses about not being able to shoot another human being. Naomi Misora was a trained FBI
agent. She did not imagine her hands were clean, or that she was above such things. But she had not
been able to pull the trigger. Her gun had been aimed at a child of only thirteen years... which didn’t in
any way excuse it. Thirteen or not, he was a dangerous criminal. But Naomi Misora had let him get
away, and the secret investigation that many of her fellow agents had poured countless hours and an
unbelievable amount of work into ended with nothing to show for it. Everything was finished. They
had arrested no one, and while no one had died, there had been some agents injured so severely they
might never be able to return to active duty—horrific results, considering the efforts squandered.
Despite her own weak position within the organization, the fact that she had only been forced to take a
leave of absence was rather lenient.
Naomi Misora honestly did not know why she had been unable to pull the trigger. Perhaps she did not
possess the proper self awareness... the proper resolve that an FBI agent should have. Her boyfriend,
Raye Penber, had said, “I guess you couldn’t live up to your nickname, Misora Massacre,” somewhere
between sarcasm and trying to cheer her up, but since she didn’t understand it herself she hadn’t
protested.
But Naomi Misora remembered.
The moment she’d pointed the gun at him...
The eyes that child had turned toward her.
Like he was staring at something he couldn’t believe, like the grim reaper had just appeared before him.
Like it was absurd. He could kill other people, but he had never imagined that he might be killed
himself. But he should have known, he should have been ready to die the moment he first took a life.
As any criminal would. As any FBI agent would. That threat hung over them all. She was part of the
system. That child was part of the system too. Perhaps that had weakened their resolve. Perhaps that
had numbed them to the threat. Perhaps their fears had rusted over. But so what? Given that child’s
upbringing, he not only had no chance to reform, he never had a prayer of living right to begin with.
What had Misora expected from someone like that? How cruel was it of her to have expected anything?
She knew as well as anyone that that child was living the only way he could. He had always been
doomed. But did that mean he had to accept his fate? Was there only one way to live, one way to die?
Was human life... was human death all controlled by some unseen hand?
Obviously, she harbored some resentment toward those who had used this failure as an excuse to expel
her, but when she thought about the difference between the thirteen-year-old she had failed to shoot and
the second victim in the Los Angeles BB murders, Quarter Queen, she began to feel like the whole
affair was ridiculous.
Misora did not have a strong sense of justice.
She did not believe herself to be ethically or morally superior.
She did not approach work with any kind of philosophy.
She was where she was because her entire life had been like walking through a town she didn’t know—
if she lived her life over again, she was sure she’d end up somewhere completely different. If som( one
asked her why she was working for the FBI, she would ncvci have been able to answer.
She was good at it, but that came from her abilities.
Not her thoughts.
“...What if the killer is a child?” Misora murmured, despondently.
“Thirteen... only thirteen...”
And she put the gun down beside herself, making sure the safety was on. Next to it were a pair of
handcuffs, also supplied by Ryuzaki, intended for the killer. She was in condominium 1313, where
Blackberry Brown lived. A two-bedroom condo, and the only room with a thumb turn lock was the
room opposite the entrance.
Nine floors below her, in condo 404, Ryuzaki was also watching for the killer to arrive, taking Bluesharp
Babysplit’s place. He had insisted he was strong, but he seemed so scrawny and hunched over that
she found it hard to believe, and was more than a little worried. He had seemed utterly confident when
they had met up before taking their places, but.., she had her doubts.
At this stage of affairs, Misora had absolutely no idea which room the killer, the man L called B, would
come to—here to room 1313, or to Ryuzaki in 404? She’d been pondering the matter every second she
could spare, but had honestly been unable to reach anything like a conclusion. And she was still bugged
by the a.m./p.m. thing from the third scene... but there was no point in worrying about that now. All that
mattered was to convince herself that the killer was coming here, to room 1313, to kill Blackberry
Brown, and then to act accordingly. She couldn’t afford to waste time worrying about other people. Or
she could put it another way—B would come after her... in L’s place.
She looked at the clock on the wall.
The digital display showed nine am. Exactly.
Nine hours worth of August 22nd had already passed. Only fifteen hours remained. She was not going
to get any sleep today. She would have to remain awake for at least twenty-four hours. She wasn’t even
allowed to take a bathroom break. Ryuzaki had advised her not to stretch her patience thin... she needed
to be able to react the moment someone entered the room. But now it was time to call L again. She took
her phone out of her bag and dialed according to instructions. Making sure the door and curtains were
closed.
“L”
“Misora. Nothing happening here. I spoke to Ryuzaki earlier, mu nothing has happened on his end
either, No signs of anything out of the ordinary. I’m starting to feel like we’re in it for the long haul.
“I see, Don’t let your guard down. As I said before, your backup is in position around the
condominium, but if anything happens, they aren’t close enough to respond immediately.”
“I know”
“Additionally, a few minutes ago I dispatched two people to the condo itself. I wasn’t sure if they could
be there in time, but the weather was on our side. We were lucky.”
“Eh? But… that means.,.”
To avoid tipping off the killer, they had not even put security cameras or bugs in the rooms, much less
the building and the applied to extra people as well. They couldn’t risk being noticed.
“Don’t worry There is no chance the killer will notice. One them is a professional infiltrator, and the
other one is a professional trickster. I can’t tell you more, since you are an FBI agent, but specifically, a
thief and a con-man. I had one posted near each room.”
“A thief… and a con-man?” What was he saying? Was this some sort of joke?
“So, Naomi Misora,” L said, wrapping up.
But Misora hastily stammered, “Um, er, L...” but then she hesitated, not sure if she should ask this or
not.
“You know the killer, right?”
“Yes, as I said. He is B,”
“I don’t mean like that... I mean, he’s someone you know personally?”
On the 16th, L had said he had known all along that the killer B, and she had sort of known ever since,
but two days before, he had said something that changed her guess to conviction. Whatever you do,
please catch the killer. The century’s greatest detective, L, would never say that about some ordinary
indiscriminate serial killer. And the way his name was just one letter long...
“Yes,” the synthetic voice agreed.
As if he didn’t mind being asked at all.
“But Naomi Misora, please keep that in the strictest confidence. The backup I have stationed near the
condo, and the thief and con- man inside it have not been told what case they are working on. They are
better off not knowing. Since you asked, I don’t mind telling you, but generally speaking it was also
something you were better off not knowing.”
“I know. Either way, whoever B is, he is a dangerous criminal who has claimed the lives of three
people for no good reason. But there is one thing I wanted to ask.”
“What?”
“You know the killer, but you have nothing to do with him?”
This was...
To Naomi Misora, this was about the same as asking if you could pull the trigger on a child.
“I have nothing to do with him,” L said. “To be completely accurate, I do not even know B. He is
simply someone I am aware of. But none of this affects my judgment. Certainly, I was interested in this
case, and began to investigate it because I knew who the killer was. But that did not alter the way I
investigated it, or the manner in which my investigation proceeded. Naomi Misora, I cannot overlook
evil. I cannot forgive it. It does not matter if I know the person who commits evil or not. I am only
interested injustice.”
“Only... in justice…” Misora gasped. “Then... nothing else matters?”
“I wouldn’t say that, but it is not a priority.”
“You won’t forgive any evil, no matter what the evil is?”
“I wouldn’t say that, but it is not a priority.”
“But...”
Like a thirteen-year-old victim. “There are people who justice cannot save.” Like a thirteen-year old
criminal. “And there are people who evil can save.”
“There are. But even so,” L said, his tone not changing at all, as if gently admonishing Naomi Misora.
“Justice has more power than anything else.”
“Power? By power... you mean strength?”
“No. I mean kindness.” He said it so easily. Misora almost dropped the phone
The century’s greatest detective, L. The detective of justice, L. Who solved every case, no matter how
difficult... “I misunderstood you, L.”
“Did you? Well, I’m glad we cleared that up.”
“I’ll go back to work now.”
“Very well.”
She folded her phone and closed her eyes. Whew.
She did not find herself spinning.
She had just heard a word that sounded good to her. She’d been told something she needed to hear.
Perhaps she’d just been manipulated.
None of her problems had been solved. Her confusion remained. She still lacked resolve. She felt like
something had changed, but by tomorrow it would undoubtedly be back to normal. But even so, for the
moment, she was not going to make a fast decision, she was not going to turn in her resignation. When
her leave of absence ended, she would go back to the FBI. In that moment, Naomi Misora made up her
mind. And the killer from this case might make a nice souvenir.
“So, in one hour, I have to call Ryuzaki... hope he’s okay.”
Blackberry Brown and Blues-harp Babysplit. Two B.B.s. Room 1313 and room 404... Had there really
been nothing in the third scene that could have eliminated one of them from consideration? She
couldn’t shake the idea that there had been. They had not been able to trim the possibilities down all the
way because they had not done everything they could, they had not done everything they should...
“Oh. I see. That’s why Q.Q.?”
She had hit upon something. The reason why the second victim had been Q.Q., not B.B. The reason he
had turned the child over, turning b into q. To prevent the possibility of there being someone else with
the same name. The type of message left behind at the first scene... a message pointing not at the place,
but at the victim targeted... that kind of message always left the possibility of someone else with that
name. Which is why he had chosen Q.Q.—much less common than B.B. Quarter Queen. Misora had no
idea how many other Believe Bridesmaids or Backyard Bottomslashes there were in Los Angeles, but
she did know that the girl had been the only Quarter Queen. Which meant they were right, and the link
had been the Bs, not the Qs.
B.B.
But even though the killer had worked so hard to make sure the message could only be one person, why
had the final problem allowed for two candidates? She must be overlooking some critical piece of the
puzzle. There must be something she should have done...
The crossword puzzle.
She had never tried it.
Now that she thought about it, there were any number of problems she had been putting off thinking
about. Not only the problem of which room. If they caught the killer, then everything would be
explained, or...
“...The locked rooms. Did he really just have a key?”
In that case, he must have gone about his murders after preparing the key in advance... he must have
investigated his victims for some time before the murders took place. They had done everything they
could to avoid detection, but it was more than possible he knew Misora was waiting here for him...
“A needle and thread locked room.. .and the needle ended up being a useful hint at the third scene.
Even if it was just free association...”
Needle hand. Clock hand.
And she had been surprised to find that the Wara Ningyo had a practical meaning... the previous scenes
had suggested they were nothing but a metaphor for the victims. But they had been counted with the
stuffed animals, adding up to the numbers of the four clock sides. So perhaps some of those stuffed
animals didn’t belong to the victim... to make sure the numbers matched. Seemed likely.
Four, three, two... the number of Wara Ningyo was decreasing. The last one would appear at the fourth
murder scene.
If there was a fourth.
“The final Wara Ningyo... I assume it’ll be placed directly opposite the door? Seems most likely... most
significant... but what is the significance? The first thing you see when you step into the locked room…
catches your eye before you see the body...”
Without any clear idea what she was thinking, Misora stood up and moved over to the door. Turning
her back to the door, she looked around the room—it was just a room, nothing out of the ordinary. At
the moment, it wasn’t even a crime scene. Nothing here but the signs of Blackberry Brown’s life.
“The Wara Ningyo were always nailed at about the same height... the horizontal placement was all over
the place, but the vertical was basically the same. About waist height on me... so about this high...”
Misora crouched down.
Naturally this meant she was sitting in a position very like Ryuzaki’s habitual knee hug, but she tried
not to think about that. If he was right, and this did make deduction easier, then it was even a good
thing. She was alone in the room anyway. Assuming the fourth scene would follow the rule, and the
Wara Ningyo was to be placed opposite the door, then from this position her eyes would meet the
doll’s, their sightlines at exactly the same height. Of course, Wara Ningyo had no eyes, and this wasn’t
getting her anywhere.
“Just because they were mixed in with the stuffed animals, there was no need for it to be opposite the
door... if the placement is significant. . . the placement... or is it just another manifestation of his finicky
nature... ow!”
Thinking too hard in an awkward sitting position had caused her to lose her balance and thump the
back of her head on the doorknob. Rubbing the pain away, Misora turned absently to look behind her...
and...
Her eyes lit upon the doorknob, and.
And just below it, the thumb turn lock. The latch.
Misora’s head snapped around so fast it made an audible whooshing noise, and she looked at the
opposite wall again. There was nothing there, just an unbroken stretch of wallpaper. But Misora had
just been imagining a Wara Ningyo hanging there. But a Wara Ningyo nailed at that height was not
opposite the door.
It was opposite the doorknob.
The doll was directly across from the thumb turn lock.
“Oh... how did I not notice that?!”
Waist height—she had known that was where the Wara Ningyo were placed since she first saw the
police file. At the first crime scene, when she had turned the thumb turn lock she had consciously
noticed that the grip was at her waist height, and at the second scene she had thought clearly that the
design of the apartment door was different, but it was of the same construction,, .and at the third scene
she had turned the knob and opened the door while balancing a serving tray on her belt buckle. And it
was easy enough to figure out that the Wara Ningyo and the thumb turn locks were at the same height.
She did not even need to open the file and corn pare measurements. But so what? So what if the Wara
Ningyo were nailed to the wall at the same height as the thumb turn locks.., and the Wara Ningyo were
placed directly opposite the latch of said thumb turn lock? Was there some reason for that?
She was headed for an answer she should not have headed for.
She would reach an answer she should not reach.
At this rate... she knew she would.
An answer that would overturn, uproot everything she had believed about this case.. .and she couldn’t
stop herself. She was past the point of being consciously capable of interrupting her deduc tions.
Assuming that there was to be a Wara Ningyo placed on the wall opposite the door at the fourth scene...
proof by contradiction. Four dolls, three, two, one!
“No, that doesn’t make sense... that can’t possibly be true… the locked room trick? The needle and
thread locked room... the needle was at the third scene… and the thread? Under the crack in the door...
the crack... the space... no space, tightly packed...”
A locked room.
A locked room... was usually created to make it look like the victim had committed suicide. But in this
case, there was nothing like that... which meant if you flipped the idea... then the locked rooms existed
to make a suicide look like a murder.
What then?
What then?
“Ah...”
In truth...
All along, Naomi Misora had done nothing that Ryuzaki had not manipulated her into. There was no
point now in going back as far as the similarity between q and b they had discovered in the bookshelf
message, but her conclusions about the date of the murder had changed shape dramatically while she
was talking to Ryuzaki, and the notion that the third murder looked like a clock... Ryuzaki had led her
to that from the moment she noticed the watch was missing. He had brought up the wedding ring, he
had pointed out that the head and arm and leg were different lengths, he had suggested the walls as
sides of the clock... Naomi Misora had been controlled like a puppet on strings.
“Oh, right... how did he know?” But now at last.
Naomi Misora figured something out on her own.
Truth.
And justice.
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugggggggghhhhhhhhhhhh
hhhhh!”
Completely forgetting all notions of how she presented herself, Misora let out a howl that cracked the
air around her. She jumped to her feet, leapt across the room, and grabbing her gun and handcuffs off
the table, she spun around, flipped open the thumb turn lock, and burst out of room 1313.
Elevator.
No, not enough time. Emergency stairs.
Racking her brain for details of the complex’s floor plan, which she had poured over the day before,
Misora headed for the emergency stairs, kicking open the door and hurtling down them three or four
stairs at a time.
Down.
Nine floors down.
“Damn it... damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it! Why why why why why... how can this be?!
It’s so god damn obvious!”
It pissed her off.
Wasn’t the truth supposed to set you free? When the truth revealed itself, weren’t you supposed to feel
better? But if this was how things really were, then...
The century’s greatest detective, advertised as solving every case imaginable, how great must his
burden be, how much pain must he go through at every single moment... past, present, and future
A burden so great it would leave you hunched over.
A bitter taste in your mouth that would leave you longing for sweets.
She was going so fast she almost missed her floor and had to brake hard. She paused for just a second
to catch her breath, then opened the door and checked once more to make sure she was on the fourth
floor. Which way? Right? Left? The complex shifted half way up, and the corridors ran in different
directions than the thirteenth floor... 417 was on her right, and 418 beyond it, so this way!
“Aiieeee!”
Someone screamed.
Misora stiffened, but it was a woman’s scream. She turned to look, and a resident had apparently come
out of her apartment and seen Misora holding a gun. Distracting! Misora stepped away from the
resident, running down the hall.
Toward room 404.
“R-Ryuzaki!”
Right round the next corner and she was there.
The front door wasn’t locked. She stepped inside. 1313 had been a two bedroom, but this condo had
three. One extra room. Which room? She had no time to think. She had to start with the nearest one.
The first room—wrong. No one inside. Second room—the door wouldn’t open. A thumb turn lock!
“Ryuzaki! Ryuzaki, Ryuzaki!”
She knocked... no, knock isn’t strong enough, she pounded as if trying to break the door down. But it
was sturdy and would not budge.
There was no answer from inside.
Ryuzaki did not answer.
“Hah!”
She half turned and kicked the doorknob with her heel. It stood a better chance than her fists, but the
door wasn’t breaking that easily. She kicked it again, just in case, but with no more success.
Misora aimed the gun.
Infinity.
Seven in the cartridge plus one in the chamber, a .45.
She aimed right for the lock.
“I’m pulling the trigger!”
Once, twice... she shot the lock.
The thumb turn lock and the knob burst off She threw her shoulder into the door, and the first thing that
hit her eyes was the Wara Ningyo. Nailed to the wall, directly opposite the door.
And next...
She saw a man on fire, in the corner away from the door. Flailing his arms around, unable to stand the
pain of the flames rolling across him.
Ryuzaki.
It was Rue Ryuzaki.
She saw his eyes through the flames.
“R-Ryuzaki!”
The heat was so intense she could barely look at it.
The fire was spreading to the room.
A blast of heat struck her skin.
She smelled gasoline.
Strangulation, blunt force trauma, stabbing... and the final victim was fire!
She glanced at the ceiling—there was a sprinkler, but it had obviously been tampered with. It wasn’t
functioning. The alarm had been disabled as well. Misora forced herself not to panic, but forced herself
to take action. She bolted back out of room 404 into the hail, back the way she came. She’d seen a fire
extinguisher on her way here. Just over... there! She grabbed it and ran back. She didn’t need to read
the instructions.
She pointed the end of the hose at the ball of fire, at Ryuzaki’s body, burning red, and squeezed the
handle hard. White foam sprayed out, coating the room, far stronger than she’d expected. She almost
lost her balance, almost fell over backward, but grit her teeth and held on, not letting the hose move off
Ryuzaki.
How long did it take?
Ten seconds? About that.
But Misora felt like the day was going to end before he stopped burning.
The fire extinguisher was empty... the fire was out.
The white foam began to subside.
And in front of her, a black, charred body. No, that was an understatement, soft pedaling it. A better
description would be a red-black mass of flesh. It looked like the flames had burned it all the way
through.
The smell of gasoline hung in the air, along with the smell of burning hair and skin. Misora covered her
nose. She glanced toward the window, wondering if she should get some ventilation... no, she couldn’t
risk a backdraft. As if afraid that any sudden movements would cause his body to crumble, Misora
stepped gingerly toward Ryuzaki. He was curled up, on his back. She knelt down beside him.
“Ryuzaki,” she said. He didn’t answer. Was he dead? “Ryuzaki!”
“Ah... unh...”
“Ryuzaki.”
He was alive.
He was still alive.
He was burned all over and needed serious medical treatment immediately, but this came as a relief.
She heard a sound behind her and turned around. There was someone there—the woman who had
screamed when she saw Misora with the gun. She must live here. She had heard the gunshots and the
fire extinguisher, and timidly come to see what was happening.
“D-did something happen?” she said.
Misora thought that “What happened?” would have been a better question, but...
“FBI,” she said.
FBI.
She identified herself like that.
“Call the police, the fire department, and an ambulance.” The woman looked surprised, but nodded and
left the room.
Misora wondered if, in fact, this woman was the thief or the con man that L had sent here, but she
could worry about that later.
She turned back to Ryuzaki.
Turned back to the red and black charred body.
And slowly took his wrist, still very hot, and checked his pulse... a little uneven, and very weak. He
might be done for, might not make it to the hospital, might not last until the ambulance arrived.
In which case.
She had something to tell him.
She had something to do.
“Rue Ryuzaki,” she said, putting the handcuffs on his wrist. “I arrest you on suspicion of the murders
of Believe Bridesmaid, Quarter Queen, and Backyard Bottomslash. You do not have the right to remain
silent, you do not have the right to an attorney, and you do not have the right to a fair trial.”
The Los Angeles BB serial killer, Rue Ryuzaki, Beyond Birthday... was in custody

Read more

THE LOS ANGELES BB MURDER FILES - PAGE 5 (CLOCK)

Ryuzaki finally reached the townhouse where the third murder had occurred at just past three.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, Misora,” he said, not appearing the least hit guilty about showing up an
hour late.
“Don’t worry, I wasn’t waiting. I started without you,” Misora said, as sarcastically as possible.
‘I see,” Ryuzaki said, going down on all fours and scuttling over toward her. She was getting used to it,
but it happened so suddenly she almost jumped. She hadn’t seen him for three days, after all.
On August 6th, after speaking with L, she had gone back to Quarter Queen’s apartment and told him
that the fourth murder would happen in six days, on August 22nd. Naturally, Ryuzaki had asked her
how she knew, but Misora had no idea. And she couldn’t just say that L had said so.. .but while she and
Ryuzaki talked the matter over, Misora had figured it out. Her answer was more than convincing, hut
she didn’t feel like explaining it to Ryuzaki, so she simply stuck to her guns. In retrospect, Ryuzaki had
let the matter drop a little too easily... but they had eventually decided to investigate the third crime
scene, Backyard Bottomslash’s home, on the 19th. In the meantime, both Naomi Misora and Rue
Ryuzaki would look into the background of the case and make other preparations for their
investigation.
Misora had spent the time staying in regular contact with L, advancing her own theories and obtaining
a range of useful information as a result (including some new discoveries the police had made and L
had relayed on to her), but the truth was that, on the 19th, even after arriving at the third crime scene
and spending several hours investigating it alone, she felt like she had made no significant advances
since downtown on the 16th.
“Did you already check the bathroom, Misora?”
“Of course. You?”
“I glanced inside before I came upstairs. But that bathtub’s ruined. Painted like that, the only person
who would dream of climbing in is Elizabeth Báthory.”
“He wipes every single fingerprint, but not a drop of blood. Finicky types are always like that. The
killer honestly doesn’t give a damn about anything but himself.”
“Yes, I agree,” Ryuzaki said, but despite his words he seemed to have no problems crawling around the
blood-spattered floor... or did he just not care? Just like the killer... Misora watched his movements
carefully.
“I don’t think there’s anything here,” she said. “I went over it pretty carefully.”
“My, my. I never thought I’d hear you be so pessimistic, Misora.”
“I’m not... just, Ryuzaki, I feel like the focus of this scene must be the severed limbs. The left arm and
the right leg cut off... this is the biggest difference from his previous victims.”
“Like you mentioned before, something that should be here, but isn’t? In that case, what we have to
think about is why the killer dropped the right leg in the bathroom and only took away the left arm. A
whole arm. Not nearly as easy as taking away two volumes of Akazukin Chacha.”
“And they still haven’t found the arm... it’s not that easy to dispose of body parts, so if the killer took it
with him, then there must be a good reason for it. I don’t know if that’s the message... or if it isn’t a
message, there might be some kind of mark on it that the killer doesn’t want us to see.”
“Possibly. That makes sense. But crushing the second victim’s eyes pointed to our blind spot, and to
glasses, so carrying away the left arm must mean something.. .but once again, it’s the right leg that
bothers me, Misora. The killer’s treatment of it is so muddled. You yourself said that disposing of a
body isn’t easy, but neither is cutting one up. It must have taken ages. It doesn’t strike you as rather
dangerous to do something like that in a townhouse? There are houses on either side, sharing walls, and
they might notice at any moment.”
“Both limbs were cut off right at the root... the body was found over there. Right, pictures, pictures
Misora flipped through the folder she had already taken out and produced the photographs of the third
crime scene. The same picture that had helped them figure out the message at the second scene. She
held the photograph up, lining it up with the room and pinpointing where the body had been. “It was
over here, lying on its back, with the right arm and left leg flung out wide... hmm…”
“Well, if your theory is correct, we have plenty of time before the next murder takes place. Let us be
thorough. Speaking of which, don’t you think it’s time you explained why the fourth murder will
happen on the 22nd?”
“Yeah, I suppose.”
Misora put the photographs away and turned toward Ryuzaki. He wasn’t facing her. They’d known
each other five days and had met three times, and it was becoming clear that Ryuzaki was not aware
that it was customary to face the person you were speaking with. But by this point, she was hardly
going to dwell on something so insignificant.
“It’s such a simple matter it almost seems like a waste of breath. The third murder happened on August
13th, right?”
“Yes, you don’t even need to check.”
“There were Roman numerals on the first victim’s body, but this time we have Arabic numerals.
Thirteen... 13. If you write a one and a three next to each other... they look like a B.”
“Yes,” Ryuzaki nodded.
This was so simple she had worried that he would laugh at her but he seemed to be taking it
surprisingly seriously.
“Come to think of it, I once saw a children’s game show where they asked what one plus three equaled,
and the answer was B...”
“Exactly. B.”
“B.B.? But Misora, that works for the third murder, since it took place on August 13th, but what about
the other dates? The cross word puzzle reached the LAPD on July 22nd, the first murder wis on July 3
1st, the second on August 4th. and you’ve predicted ilu fourth on August 22nd.. .none of which form
the letter B.”
“Not at first glance. But apply the same principle following a different pattern. The easiest is the first
murder...July 31st. Three and one. Reverse the two and you get thirteen.”
“Okay, I’ll grant you the 3 1st. That seems reasonable enough
But what about the fourth and the two 22nds?”
“Same thing. Just change the pattern. Take the problem you mentioned from the children’s game show
one plus three. August 4th four is the normal answer to that equation. And August 22nd if you take one
from the tens place and put it in the ones place you end up back at thirteen,”
B.
Thirteen.
“In other words, every day the killer takes action, the 22nd, the 31st, the 4th, the 13th...the tens place
and the ones place add tip to four. In each month there are only those four dates that do that. Only four.
And something happens on every one of those. Also, the Wara Ningyo started out at four. One plus
three equals four. And this might just be a coincidence, but worth putting on the pile the gaps between
the cases, four days and nine days, if you add four and nine, you get thirteen... B.”
“I see. Not bad,” Ryuzaki said, nodding. Misora beamed.
“Picking up on the similarity between thirteen and B is a pretty good idea.”
“Isn’t it? So the fourth murder will happen nine days after the 13th, on the 22nd. Nine, four, nine... I
considered the possibility of another four, and the murder happening on the 17th, but it seemed far
more likely that it would be the 22nd. After all, something already happened on that day last month.
And there’s absolutely no way to get from seventeen to B, no matter how hard you try. So the fourth
murder can only take place on the 22nd.”
The 17th had already passed, and there had been no related murders in Los Angeles on that day. She
had been a little worried, but the strength of L’s declaration had kept her calm. She had told herself that
four days and nine days adding up to thirteen had been pure chance, an irrelevant coincidence that the
killer could afford to ignore.
“If I could add one thing,” Ryuzaki said. “That particular method of transforming twenty-two to
thirteen is a little forced. Bending the argument to suit your purpose—there’s no reason to move the
one from the tens place like that. It’s not like switching the numbers from thirty-one to thirteen. That
explanation was clearly created after the fact.”
“Eh... but, Ryuzaki..
“Don’t misunderstand me—I fundamentally agree with your reasoning. Just not that particular point.”
“But... then...” If he refuted the most important date, the entire argument fell apart. He had effectively
refused to agree with anything she’d said.
“But I have a suggestion. Misora, you were raised in Japan, right? Then you are more familiar with
Japanese numerals than I am.”
• . Numbers in kanji?”
“Visualize the kanji for twenty two.”
The kanji...
She pictured the characters in her mind, but they failed to suggest anything.
“Well?”
“No, I don’t know what you...”
“Oh... then let me try a hint. Misora, imagine that the middle kanji, the kanji for ten: is a plus sign.
Which means 1 is actually two plus two.”
“Oh.”
That wasn’t a hint. It was the answer.
“Add them together and you get four... and you already explained brilliantly that four was one plus
three. After all, if one plus three is B, then we have to put one and three together, which is the same as
one plus three, which create the shape of the letter B. That’s exactly why we can read twenty-two as I.
We just need enough reason to add the numbers together. And with this condition, your reasoning for
placing the fourth murder on the 22nd sounds accurate. I was somewhat bowled over by the force of
your conviction earlier, and was a little nervous about following your lead, but now I feel as happy as if
I’d drunk a mug of molasses.”
That metaphor gave Misora heartburn.
But apparently Ryuzaki believed this was why she had said the fourth murder would take place on the
22nd. Not full marks, since his reasoning for the actual date was better than hers, but she could relax a
little.
“But Misora,” Ryuzaki said. “One more thing.”
“Yeah?”
This was the second one more thing.
It caught her off guard.
“Your theory is based on the assumption that when the killer chooses his victims, he requires that they
have the initials B.B. But like we discussed, there is still a possibility that the killer is after Q.Q., not
B.B.”
“Oh, yeah...”
If the fourth victim turned out to be a child with the initials Q.Q., lying face down, then their theories
would be thrown out the window.
“If it is Q rather than B, then your theory doesn’t hold water. You would have created it from nothing,
forcing it into existence based on faulty logic. Based on coincidence.”
“Coincidence... that the number thirteen looks like a B? But it’s so blatant… and Q just fits in there so
neatly...”
“Yes. I agree. I don’t believe any of it was coincidental. But your theory is based on hindsight. Created
after the fact. I want to know why you chose to build your theories on B, not Q.”
“Well...”
Because L had said so. Rather firmly. “The killer is B.” She’d known in advance. But she couldn’t tell
Ryuzaki that. She had to keep L a secret from him. She couldn’t let her guard down and let something
slip, no matter how much they spoke.
“I guess with three victims... there were two Bs to one Q, and B just seemed more likely. I thought
about Q afterward, of course, but I couldn’t find any patterns that related to it she said, trying to cover.
But even as the words left her mouth, she knew they sounded unnatural.
And sure enough, Ryuzaki dismissed it, “That’s so arbitrary. Nothing to support it at all.”
Her good mood was gone now. She bit her lip—she had reached those conclusions working backward,
trying to figure out a reason for what L had said. L’s word supported it, so it was probably right, but
that didn’t change anything
“The killer is B.”
“What?”
“No, I mean, he’s so obsessed with the letter B. Maybe that very obsession is part of the message, and
the killer’s initials are B.B. as well.”
“Or maybe they’re Q.Q. Like you said, a lot of elements of the case do point to B, but it’s also possible
we simply haven’t stumbled across the signs pointing to Q.”
“Yeah...I suppose so”
“That said, I do think B is more likely than Q as well. More than ninety-nine percent,” Ryuzaki
admitted.
Essentially retracting the last few minutes.
“There’s a good chance the killer’s initials are B. The victims are all B.B., and the killer is too... things
are getting interesting.”
“Interesting?”
“Yes. Anyway, be careful next time, Misora. If you agree with something, you must have sufficient
reason to agree with it. If you disagree with something, you must have sufficient reason to disagree
with it. However accurate, a deduction based on a fallacy means you have not defeated the killer.”
“Defeated? Ryuzaki, is this really a matter of winning and losing?”
“Yes,” Ryuzaki said. “It is.”
Because this was war.
L was said to never move on a case unless there were more than ten victims or a million dollars at
stake. The only exceptions to this were cases at difficulty level L (extremely fitting), or when L had
personal reasons compelling him to get involved. The Los Angeles BB murders were both of these. I
hardly need to point out the difficulty by this stage of the story, and L was essentially fighting his own
dead copy. The current head of Wammy’s House had told Quillish Wammy/Watari, who had told L
about B’s disappearance in May, and ever since L had been looking for him even as he solved his other
cases. Wammy’s House only knew him as B—they did not know his real name, Beyond Birthday, so
this search was near impossible, but L at last picked up his trail when the murders started—which is
why L knew who the killer was. He had not been looking for a killer so much as he was looking for a
case. L had been waiting, expecting Beyond Birthday to do something to challenge him. L could move
any policeman in the world, but in this case, he did not ask anyone for help except Naomi Misora...
more than likely, for this reason. I don’t think L really put that much stock in honor, but everyone is
embarrassed by their own sins, and nobody wants those missteps to become public knowledge.
L was the goal of everyone in Wammy’s House.
Every one of us wanted to surpass him.
To step over him.
To step on him.
M did, N did, and B did.
M as a challenger, N as a successor.
B as a criminal.
“Ryuzaki, did you find anything new?”
Now that they had finished debating the matter of dates, Misora took a breather, went down to the
kitchen on the first floor, made two cups of coffee (with normal amounts of sugar, obviously) and
carried them back up to Backyard Bottomslash’s room on a tray. She was holding the serving tray in
both hands, which made opening the door rather tricky. Since the handle was at waist height, she was
able to reposition herself a little bit and hook the tray on her belt buckle. She found Ryuzaki lying in
the middle of the room, flat on his back, with his arms and legs flung out to the side. Misora froze in
the doorway.
“Find.., something?” Misora repeated, for no reason at all.
He wasn’t going to make a bridge and start crawling around with his back to the floor, was he? Like
something out of a horror movie.. .Misora gulped nervously, but to her great relief, this was apparently
too weird even for Ryuzaki. But what was he doing?
“Urn, Ryuzaki?”
“I’m a corpse.”
“Hunh?”
“I have become a corpse. I cannot answer. I am dead.”
She understood this. The word ‘understand’ has a connotation of acceptance, which she sincerely
wished to avoid, but it seemed clear that Ryuzaki had adopted the same pose as the third victim.
Obviously, his left arm and right leg remained attached to his body, but with that in mind he did match
the pictures of Backyard Bottomslash’s bitter end. Prom a practical standpoint, Misora could not see
any point to his behavior, but she was not the kind to interfere with other people’s methods of
deduction. Instead, Misora tried to figure out if, on her way to the desk, she should step over Ryuzaki
or go around. She did not want to step over him, but it irritated her to go around.
“Um… mm?”
And then she noticed. At least, she noticed that she had noticed something. But what had she noticed?
Something had caught her eye... no, before that, the moment she opened the door her attention had been
overwhelmed by the spectacle of Ryuzaki playing dead, so how could it have? That wasn’t it. Then
what would she have seen first if Ryuzaki were not lying there? If Ryuzaki had not been in the way of
her carrying the coffee... if he had not been there... then nothing. The room would have been perfectly
ordinary, if a little frilly. She could barely smell the blood. The only thing out of place was the hole in
the wall... the hole?
“The mark left by the Wara Ningyo?”
It was just a hole, and hard to make out. But if it was not a hole, but the Wara Ningyo? Then the first
thing that would catch her eye upon opening the door, just based on line of sight, was not Ryuzaki
playing dead, but the Wara Ningyo. The moment she opened the door, she would see the Wara
Ningyo... one of the dolls had been carefully placed in exactly that spot. And all the Wara Ningyo had
been nailed to the walls at exactly the same height (at about waist height, if you were as tall as Misora)
but the distance from the walls on either side changed depending on location. But at each location,
when she had opened the door...
A hole.
“Excuse me, Ryuzaki”
Still holding the coffee tray, Misora stepped... no, vaulted over Ryuzaki. At least, she meant to, but she
was so distracted she missed her landing, and stomped on his stomach. In boots. And she reflectively
tried to keep her balance, and avoid dropping the tray, which left her putting her entire weight on
Ryuzaki’s abdomen.
“Gah!” said the corpse.
Naturally.
“S-sorry!”
If she had spilled the coffee on him as well, Naomi Misora’s reputation as a klutz would have been
cemented forever, but in actual fact, the matter did not go that far. Her martial arts experience had
honed her sense of balance. She put the tray down on the desk and picked up the police file. She
checked to see if she had remembered correctly.
“What is it, Misora?”
Ryuzaki may have been an impossibly weird freak of a man, but even he did not go so far as to rejoice
at the pain of a woman stepping on him. He stopped pretending to be a corpse, rolled over, and crawled
toward her.
“I’m looking over the charts of the crime scenes. In each of them... I noticed the same thing. About the
locations of the Wara Ningyo.”
“The locations? What do you mean?”
“When we investigated the scenes, the police had already taken the dolls away, so I never noticed
before... but there is a noticeable trend in the placement of the dolls. This scene included—when you
open the door to enter the room, the first thing you see is a doll. There is a doll directly opposite the
door—the killer arranged it so that when you come into the room, the first thing that catches your eye is
a Wara Ningyo.”
“Oh yeah...“ Ryuzaki said, nodding. “That’s certainly true for this room, and now that you mention it, I
remember seeing the hole in the wall when I went into the first and second rooms as well. But Misora,
what does that mean?”
“Er... um...”
What did it mean? She felt like it was a major discovery, and had stomped on Ryuzaki’s belly in her
enthusiasm, but now that he asked she didn’t have an answer. Awkward. She couldn’t admit the truth,
so she scrambled to string something together.
“Well... it might have something to do with the locked rooms?”
“How so?”
“At all three scenes, the person who discovered the body opened the door and came in. Using a spare
key or breaking the door down. They all came into the room… and saw that creepy doll on the wall.
The Wara Ningyo was the first thing they saw No matter what, their attention was drawn to it, Maybe
while their attention was distracted, the killer, who’d been hiding in the room, slipped quietly out the
door...”
“As classic a locked room detective novel trick as the needle and thread. But Misora, think about it. If
you wanted to focus someone’s attention, you wouldn’t need the doll.”
“Why not?”
“If there was no doll, then the first thing they would see is a dead body. Just like you froze when you
came into the room and saw my corpse. All he had to do was slip out of the room when someone came
in and was staring in shock at the body.”
“Ah... right. Of course. So... did he want the person who found the body to see something besides the
body first? I can’t think of any reason why, but...”
“Neither can I.”
“If he didn’t want them to notice the body at all, I would understand, but what could he gain from
arranging it so they didn’t notice the body for a second or two? But in that case, why put a Wara
Ningyo there? Is the placement just a coincidence?”
“No, I’m sure it was deliberate. It makes no sense to dismiss it as coincidental. But approaching it from
this perspective doesn’t strike me as very effective. Like I said before, rather than focusing on the Wara
Ningyo and the locked room, I would prefer... I think we should concentrate on figuring out the
message the killer left behind.”
“But, Ryuzaki... no, you’re right.” She almost argued but stopped herself. It certainly was worth
pursuing, but she didn’t have any follow-through at the moment. First they needed to identify the fourth
victim, or at least the location. There were Wara Ningyo at all the scenes, but the message was only in
this room, and they needed to find it as soon as possible. “Sorry. I was wasting valuable time.”
“I would rather you apologize for stepping on me, Misora.”
“Oh, right, of course.”
“You mean it? Then as a token of your contrition, would you do something for me?”
“Okay..
Could he be more blatant? But she had stepped on him.
Very hard, with her full body weight.
“What?”
“Would you pretend to be dead, Misora? Like I was a moment ago. The victim, Backyard Bottomslash,
was a woman, so you might provide more inspiration than I did.”
Apparently this private detective was unaware that most people possess something called self-respect.
But this was not the time to point this out to him. If she did, Naomi Misora felt she would be well on
her way to earning a reputation as a tsundere-- prickly to hide her inner drippiness. And the matter was
urgent--- she was willing to try anything that might help. She wasn’t sure if this was one of those
things, but by this point she was even willing to try crawling. Peeling oddly resigned, she lay down on
the floor. The room looked really different from down there.
“So? Anything?”
“No, not at all.”
“Oh. Yeah, I thought not.”
Futile.
Ryuzaki sat on the chair with his knees against his chest, pointed out that the coffee Misora had made
was getting cold, and drank his. Misora had put sugar in the way she liked it, and half expected him to
complain, but he didn’t say anything. Apparently he was capable of consuming non-sweet things too. It
seemed she could get up now, but it felt more awkward to do so than to stay down here, so she didn’t
move.
“Whew... hot coffee helps the pain in my belly,” Ryuzaki said.
He seemed so nonchalant, but he just wouldn’t let that go.
“Ryuzaki. . .was this the same as the first victim? After she died, he took the clothes off, then cut off the
arm and leg, and then put the clothes back on?”
“Yes. What of it?”
“No, I know it’s easier to cut up a body without the clothes getting in the way Clothes are pretty sturdy,
really. They get tangled up on the blade. But once he has the clothes off, why does he put them back
on? Why not leave his victims naked?”
“Hmm...”
“With the first victim, putting the shirt back on hid the cuts on the chest, or at least hid that they were
Roman numerals. But this time.., it must have been a pain in the ass. Putting clothes on a corpse.. .on
anyone who can’t move themselves...”
“Misora, the leg he abandoned in the bathroom was wearing a sock and a shoe.”
“Yeah, I saw the picture.”
“Then, I mean, perhaps the killer’s goal... no, the killer’s message has nothing to do with the clothes or
shoes, but only to do with the severed limbs. Which is why he put everything else back the way it used
to be.”
Put everything back.
But then...
“But then... the left arm and the right leg. He left the leg in the bathroom and took the arm with him...
why? What was different about the left arm and the right leg? An arm and a leg Misora muttered,
staring up at the ceiling.
Ryuzaki looked up at the ceiling as well, and said slowly, biting his thumbnail, “Once.. on a different
case... something happened that might help here. If you’d care to hear it?”
“Go ahead.”
“It was a murder case, and the victim had been stabbed through the chest. Afterward, the ring finger of
his left hand had been cut off and carried away. After his death. Can you guess why?”
“The ring finger of the left hand? That’s easy. The victim was married, right? The killer must have cut
it off to steal the wedding ring. Wedding rings have often been worn so long they can no longer be
taken off.”
“Yes. The killer was after money. Afterward, we successfully tracked down the ring on the black
market and were able to trace it back to the killer and arrest him.”
“But... that’s certainly an interesting story and everything, but Ryuzaki, no one would cut off an entire
arm to steal a ring. And Backyard Bottomslash wasn’t married. According to the file, she wasn’t even
seeing anyone.”
“But there are more rings than wedding rings.”
“But you still wouldn’t take the entire arm.”
“Yes, you’re right. That’s why I only said it might help. If it didn’t, then I apologize.”
“Not worth apologizing for, but there was no ring... no ring...”
So, something besides a ring?
For example... a bracelet.
Not around the finger, but around the wrist... no, that was retarded. It made a certain amount of sense
that you would need to cut off a finger to get a ring, but no matter how generously you looked at it;
there was no reason to cut off an arm for a bracelet. Nobody would do that. And this killer wasn’t after
money, anyway. If he was, the second victim didn’t fit.
“…”
Misora slowly reached her left arm out toward the ceiling. Holding it away from the floor. She opened
her hand and stretched her fingers out all the way, as if trying to grab the fluorescent light overhead.
There was a ring on her finger. An engagement ring from Raye Penber. An engagement ring that still
seemed about as real as a joke between two children to her, but was it possible someone would cut off
her finger, her arm, to steal it? What if it was a bracelet? No. Using herself as an example just made it
seem all the more unlikely.
Holding her arm up like this had allowed her sleeve to slide down toward her shoulder. Her wristwatch
came into view. It was a silver watch. A present on her birthday this year, February 14th, again from
Raye Penber. So if it wasn’t a bracelet, but a watch? It was silver, so it wasn’t cheap... a watch?
“Ryuzaki. Was Backyard Bottomslash right or left handed?”
“According to your file, right handed. What of it?”
“So... chances are she would have worn a watch on her left arm. So perhaps what the killer took away...
was a watch,” Misora said, from her position on her back on the floor. “The right arm still had a sock
and shoe. So the arm he took away more than likely still had a watch on it.”
“He cut off the arm to steal the watch? But why? Misora... you yourself said that it didn’t make any
sense to cut off an arm to steal a ring. So why would someone do that to steal a watch? If he were after
the watch, he would have just taken it. Watches aren’t like rings. They never get stuck. There’s no
reason to cut off the arm.”
“No, I don’t think he was after the watch either. But maybe the watch is this scene’s message. If only
the watch was missing it would be too obvious, so he took the arm too...”
“As a form of misdirection? I see... but in that case, we still don’t know why he cut off the right leg as
well. I doubt she wore a watch around her ankle. And even as a case of misdirection, there’s still no
need to take the whole arm—the wrist would have been plenty.”
“Yeah, true enough, but still... the watch idea itself still seemed like a good one.” She felt like she was
nearing the truth. If that same unnatural fixation, to use a cliché phrase, that she’d encountered at the
first and second scenes was working here, than she felt like it would manifest itself this way...
“Left arm... right leg... left wrist... right ankle... left hand... right foot... watch... clock... timepiece...
ticker.. both hands and feet, both arms and legs... or are the bits left behind what really matter’ Not the
left arm and right leg, but the right arm and left legs? The four limbs...”
“Plus the head is five.”
“Five… five minus two is three… three. The third scene. Limbs... and the head make five... the head?
The neck... the neck, and one leg, and one arm...”
Misora was stringing words together as they came to her—but she was just spinning in circles, like a
lost child, afraid of running into a dead end. The more she babbled, the more she lost the feeling that
she was on to something. The hands of her compass were spinning...
“If five minus two is three, then he could have cut off both arms or both legs, or the left arm and the
head... if the left arm had to be one of them, then why the right leg?”
Purely to fill the silence, Misora forced out a question that had not occurred to her, a question she did
not even consider worth asking. but Ryuzaki took her up on it.
“The head and arm and leg left behind are all of different lengths...”
For a moment, she didn’t know what he meant. It seemed like a total non sequitur, and her mind
couldn’t keep up with it. But an arm was longer than a head, and a leg was longer than an arm, but so
what? Was Ryuzaki just blurting out whatever crossed his mind the way she was? But that wasn’t going
to help guide her compass needle...
“Needle? Or hands...”
“What about needles?”
“No, hands...”
The classic locked room trick with the needle and thread. But that had nothing to do with this... but
hands? Could that be...
“A clock! Clock hands, Ryuzaki!”
“Hunh? Clock hands...?”
“The hour hand, minute hand, and second hand! Three of them! Each of different lengths!”
Misora slapped the floor hard with her upraised arm and used the impact to push herself up to a sitting
position. She moved quickly over to Ryuzaki, grabbed the coffee cup from him, drank the contents in a
single gulp, and slammed the empty cup down on the table as if trying to break it.
“At the first scene he took Akazukin Chacha away to point us to Insufficient Relaxation, at the second
scene he took the contacts to point us toward the glasses, and here at the third scene, he took away the
wrist watch... and turned the victim into a clock!”
“The victim... into a clock?” Ryuzaki’s deep-set eyes stared at her with a calmness in stark contrast to
her own excitement. “By clock you mean...”
“The head is the hour hand, the arm is the minute hand, and the leg is the second hand! That’s why the
killer took the watch with him, and that’s why he didn’t just take the watch or just cut off the hand, but
cut the arm off at the root and had to cut one of the legs off as well otherwise, there wouldn’t be three
hands left!”
All that came out in one breath, and at last Misora felt her feet on the ground again. She took a picture
out of her pocket the picture of Backyard Bottomslash’s corpse. On her back, her arms and legs... no
arm and leg spread out, the left arm and right leg missing Backyard Bottomslash.
“Look at this, Ryuzaki. See? The head is the hour, the arm is the minute, the leg is the second, so this is
12:45 and twenty seconds.”
“Mmm. When you put it that way...”
“When I put it that way? It’s obviously the message he left behind. And he tossed the leg into the
bathroom because it was only the watch he needed to take away, and he wanted to emphasize that!”
“…”
Ryuzaki fell silent, apparently thinking.
“Let me see that,” he said, taking the picture from Misora’s hand. As she watched him pore over it,
turning his head at all sorts of strange angles, Misora began to feel like her theory was completely
wrong after all. All of this was only useful if it led to a message, and if he said that it was a baseless
coincidence it would all fall apart—her deduction had no proof, could never be proven. It had been
produced by pure instinct. The battle decided by instinct—by her instinct she would be victorious, or
fail.
“Misora.”
“Yes? What?”
“Assuming your theory is correct... from this picture, there is no way to be sure that the victim’s clock
is pointing at 12:45 and twenty seconds.”
“I mean, look,” Ryuzaki said, holding out the picture.
Upside down.
“Hold it like this, and it’s 6:15 and fifty seconds. Or like this...”
He turned the picture sideways.
“Three o clock and thirty-five seconds. And if you turn it 180 degrees again, 9:30 and five seconds.”
“Oh.”
Of course. He was right. The picture was taken with the body vertically, so she had just assumed that
the head... the hour hand was pointing directly upward, at twelve o’clock. But if you really looked at
the victim as a clock, that was not necessarily the case. It might be, but it might not be. Just change the
angle of the picture and there could be infinite possibilities. Or at least 360. The hands might not move,
but the numbers could be placed anywhere around them. There was no clue indicating how to place the
numbers.
“If the victim represents the three hands, then this square room is presumably the numbers. The victim
was lying in the center of the room, after all. And the victim was placed like this, parallel or
perpendicular to the walls of the room, so I think we can assume it is one of the four patterns I
mentioned- But four patterns is still too many. We need to at least get it down to two, or we can’t really
say we’ve solved the killer’s message.”
“The room... is the numbers?”
“Now that I think about it, the first message involved Roman numerals... which are often used on clock
faces. But there are no Roman numerals in here. If only there were some hint to tell us which wall goes
with which number..
Which wall was which time...? But there was nothing out of the ordinary on any of the walls, nothing
that might indicate a number. One wall had a door, and the opposite wall a window. Another had a
walk-in closet... or was it directions? The compass again...
“Ryuzaki, do you know which way north is? If north is twelve...”
“I already thought of that, but there’s no logical reason to assume that north is twelve. This isn’t a map,
after all. It might be east, or west, or south.”
“Logic... logic... yeah, yeah, we need proof, or at least something reasonable... but how can we tell
which wall? There’s nothing...”
“Indeed. It feels like there’s a wall blocking our path, too tall for us to climb over.”
“A wall? Good metaphor. A wall... a wall...”
A wall? The Wara Ningyo were on the walls. There had been two of them in here. Did that connect?
Did the dolls finally have meaning here? Misora half forced herself to decide she couldn’t see anything
else that might be a hint, and pushed her thoughts into that channel. The Wara Ningyo. Wara. Ningyo.
Straw dolls. Dolls. Stuffed animals? Stuffed animals... in the frilly room. Too many dolls for a twentyeight-
year-old woman...
The stuffed animals piled against the walls.
“I got it, Ryuzaki,” Misora said.
This time she was calm.
This time she did not get worked up.
“The number of stuffed animals... the stuffed animals on each wall. The number of animals is pointing
to the time. See? There are twelve of them against the wall with the door. And nine over there… twelve
o’clock and nine o’clock. If we view the whole room as a clock, then the door goes on top.”
“No, wait a second, Misora Ryuzaki interrupted. “Twelve and nine are certainly true enough, but there
are five dolls over here, and only two on the fourth wall. If we use four numbers to indicate a clock
face, then they should be twelve, three, six, and nine. Not twelve, two, five, and nine. These numbers
don’t fit.”
“Of course they do. If we count the Wara Ningyo.”
Misora looked again at the two holes in the wall.
“If we add the Wara Ningyo to those two stuffed animals... we get three. And if we add the Wara
Ningyo to those five stuffed animals... we get six. This makes it work. The third crime scene itself is a
clock. The entire room is a clock.”
Misora put the photograph of Backyard Bottomslash down on the floor, where she had been lying a
moment before, and where Ryuzaki had been lying before that. Carefully, making sure it was the right
angle.
“6:15 and fifty seconds.”

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