CHAPTER 8 #2
“For the last three years,” Nakagawa continued, “Wada Toshio has been receiving deposits of one million yen from two different companies, alternating once every few months. So, his parents aren’t subsidizing him. On the contrary: he’s paying everything for them and they benefit from his death.”
“Life insurance?” Shinji asked, although once again, it sounded like a statement.
“Yes,” Nakagawa confirmed.
Judging by the way Shinji was eyeing the statements, Teruo had a feeling the companies might have been of supernatural design and the amount of money correlated with the type of job Wada Toshio had done for the Onmyōryō.
But what type of job had this kind of salary?
He knew for a fact that, as a part-time Shinigami, Shinji made about the average salary of a non-supernatural worker.
This meant that what Wada did might have been more dangerous, therefore warranting a high income and an expensive life insurance policy.
“It gets stranger,” Nakagawa added. “Before these companies, two others sent money in the exact same manner. They seem to switch every three years.” She passed him a list spanning nine years.
Teruo showed Shinji the list. “Recognize any?”
Shinji’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he schooled his face into a neutral one. “I don’t,” he said. “They must be local. I’m from Hiroshima, so…” He shrugged, but Teruo was increasingly certain Shinji knew them.
“Did you have a chance to research them?” Teruo asked Nakagawa.
“Only the most recent ones,” she said. “They have no office, no address, no real business activity, no declared profits. Nothing.”
“Shell companies,” Teruo mused as he placed the files on his desk, arranging them in a neat pile.
“It seems so.” Nakagawa nodded. “I’ll pull the files on all the other companies. They’re likely the same. I haven’t gotten to the rest of the victims yet, but since Morimoto Hiroyuki was also unemployed, perhaps he was paid by the same companies and they could be involved with the wrong people.”
“Yakuza,” Teruo said.
“Doubtful,” Shinji muttered, then cleared his throat. “Maybe,” he amended, his leg bouncing restlessly under the desk. “But where does the couple fit in all of this?”
“Using their bakery for money laundering?” Nakagawa proposed, a reluctant note in her voice.
“Yeah…” Shinji sighed.
He likely had a theory about these businesses, but couldn’t say it in front of Nakagawa.
“Perhaps,” Teruo continued, “Wada, Morimoto, and the Nishino couple got greedy, wanted more money, and someone sent a killer to silence them, or make them pay if they stole something. A hit job.” Teruo directed his statement more toward Shinji than Nakagawa.
Shinji glanced at him, twisting his lips to the side, looking like he was rather skeptical of that theory, possibly because the Onmyōryō didn’t sent extractors to do hit jobs. It seemed like the kind of job Nakajima Kazuya did.
Still, this was all they had right now. If these companies had paid Wada, Morimoto and the Nishino couple, then pursuing them could’ve given offered the answers they needed—or sent them deeper into a supernatural rabbit hole.
Teruo was about to give instructions to Nakagawa when he saw her checking out her empty coffee cup. “Why don’t you go fill that up?” Teruo told her. “Get yourself some snacks too. Miyazaki and I will continue to search for the rest of these companies.”
Her face beamed with gratitude. “Thank you, sir.” She bowed and left, taking her cup with her.
Teruo felt horrible about sending her out like this, but he needed answers that only Shinji had and he couldn’t wait until lunch break.
The moment she closed the door behind her, Teruo whispered, “Tell me quickly.”
Shinji raised a brow. “Sneaky, aren’t you, chief?”
Heat rose in Teruo’s cheeks. “Whatever. Come on.”
“None of these companies do money laundering or any business with the yakuza,” Shinji said. “I’m being paid through such transactions as well, for my services as a Shinigami. For my governmental job, I’m paid the usual way.”
Teruo drew back. “Wait, are you serious? You’re paid by shell companies? You never told me.”
Shinji relaxed back in his chair as if the weight of the revelation was nothing. “It never came up in conversation. Besides, they look suspicious, but they aren’t. They’re paying their taxes and so am I. None of us are skirting the law. We’re just protecting the supernatural world.”
“Would it not have been possible to be paid the usual way to avoid any suspicion?”
Shinji chuckled, shaking his head. “Of course not. Can you imagine writing on my income statement that I work in spectral management, guiding ghosts to the other side? I’d have appeared in the news: Crazy cop thinks he’s the Grim Reaper.”
“When you put it like that…”
“It is like that. People like me can’t risk exposure. Again, there’s nothing illegal going on and I don’t think our victims were doing anything illegal either.”
Teruo’s hand dropped to the desk, fingers drumming lightly. “Okay, so what should we do then? Follow or not follow these companies?”
“Follow,” Shinji said. “It could end up as a wild goose chase, but they could also help reveal the real reason behind the four victims’ execution. However, I need to pursue a different lead.”
Teruo rolled his chair closer, wheels squeaking across the floor. “Which is?”
“Now that I know who paid them, it’s imperative to find what, precisely, were these four people doing for the Onmyōryō.
Their exact job. Finding that will help us understand why they were at that remote location and who knew about it.
This—” Shinji pointed his finger at the pictures of the dead victims. “—has to be an inside job. Someone at the Onmyōryō knew their mission, their location, and the time to strike. Whether this person is the killer or relayed the information to someone else, I’ll have to find out. ”
“Okay.” Teruo nodded. “Can you get that type of info?”
“If it’s not classified, yes.”
Teruo sighed. “You should’ve been the one to talk to Wada’s family.”
“Don’t worry.” Shinji waved a hand. “They wouldn’t have told me anyway. Everybody at the Onmyōryō is secretive as fuck, even toward other supernaturals.”
“I guess that’s true.”
Shinji checked the time on his phone. “This afternoon, I’ll go to my jurisdiction to take care of the ghosts there.
I postponed it for too long,” he added as an afterthought.
“Since I’ll head to Higashikurume to replenish my reiryoku afterwards, I’ll check out the database and look for our victims.”
“And if there’s no info?”
Shinji blew a breath. “I’ll have to ask Horiuchi.”
Teruo groaned. “What about the ponytailed gangster?”
“Kazuya is in the middle of a job right now and he’s got enough on his plate with you-know-what. I’d rather he focused on that.”
“Yeah, agreed. I know we might need Horiuchi for this since it’s a delicate and dangerous situation for the Onmyōryō.
I guess I just don’t really like her.” Teruo glanced at the bank statements regarding Wada Toshio and the others.
“I haven’t thought of getting life insurance,” Teruo admitted.
“I should’ve, given my job.” He wanted to say it was rather late now, but didn’t want to get into the details of his possibly impending death.
He’d had enough of that yesterday. “What about you?”
“I’ve got life insurance,” Shinji said. “Ghosts can be unpredictable. Just like how I lost control of a ghost a few months back, it could always happen again, so I have insurance.” He looked at Teruo. “You’re the beneficiary, by the way. Before you, it was Haruna.”
A knot formed in Teruo’s stomach and he stared blankly at Shinji, unsure how to answer.
He felt grateful Shinji thought of him, and he wanted to tell him about the idea of updating his will and adding Shinji.
He’d given it a serious thought last night, but he didn’t want to talk about it.
It was so depressing. Necessary, but depressing.
He reached for Shinji, pressing his hand on Shinji’s and squeezing. “Do you want to talk?”
Shinji tilted his head. “About my insurance?”
“No, about what happened earlier.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. Megumi will handle her team, and I’ll mind my own business.” Shinji’s features slipped back into his work-smile. “It’ll all be fine.” He squeezed Teruo’s hand back and a cold pain went up Teruo’s arm, reaching his chest.
White energy poured out from Shinji’s body in small tendrils, stopping around him, and forming that glow Teruo had seen earlier. It was a battle within Shinji of holding himself in perfect control despite everything. And Teruo knew nothing was fine.