The night was just beginning to fall, and yet the streets remained crowded. It was always like that in big cities, and it was even more accentuated in districts teeming with people at all hours of the day like Shinjuku.
I was walking along a large avenue lined with tall buildings that were fully lit up, trucks and cabs rushing by one of the largest train stations in the world. Some vehicles were rushing through a tunnel nearby, with passers-by looking on as they crossed the double track on a large glass walkway suspended above the traffic.
Various advertisements assaulted my eyes as I walked along, in the form of giant posters or screens broadcasting the same colorful advertisements over and over. As for the medium-sized buildings, they had settled for creating a mosaic of mismatched signs clashing in the little space available to attract the eye of the passer-by.
Crowds of people waiting to cross the road had formed at the crosswalks, making it difficult to access certain parts of the sidewalk.
I was now regretting my decision to go to this part of town right after work. The whole district was known to be even more lively after dark, especially with the different districts dedicated to leisure activities. So, right before the beginning of the weekend? The bars must have been packed already, as well as the restaurants.
However, I wasn't there to eat, or even to spend time in one of the many nearby attractions. With my phone in hand, I followed the directions given to me by the GPS in pedestrian mode, barely looking at my surroundings.
I crossed one of the main avenues, and found myself at the foot of a building where each floor was dedicated to a small business. It was common for a building to be divided between several owners or tenants. Sometimes, even the floors themselves were partitioned, each door hiding a different person or service provided. Sellers of photocopiers and other office equipment could be found next to a nail salon, or a guy who did divination. All kinds of service providers, all under one roof.
Passing by a convenience store, I saw inside some high school students who had not yet gone home, reading manga and fashion magazines in front of their display. Next to them, an office worker with a drawn face had taken a newspaper and was reading the classified ads page.
The employee at the counter was mechanically scanning with the barcode scanner she had in her hand the items that the customers had put in front of her. She must have been about my age, and the situation made me think of the young Sagawa, who must have been working at this time of day after school.
I wondered what happened afterwards, both to him and to Mrs. Munehara. I wasn't particularly interested, but I was a bit curious.
Sneaking into a small alley where several restaurants were set up with a counter directly open to the outside and above which yellow lanterns were hanging, I found myself a little hungry. I had probably underestimated my stomach, which was starting to get restless with every different smell that crossed my path. However, I had no time to stop, or rather, no desire to. I was more interested in seeing the detective again, and for that I had to find her agency.
A few more minutes later, I found myself in front of an old six-story building off the main streets. On the first floor was a local restaurant with relatively affordable prices and already occupied by many people; and on the second floor was an advertising agency.
The third floor was dark, but a sign sticking out of the corner of the building signaled the presence of a medical office. The fourth floor was lit but had no visible indication from the outside, and the fifth floor was marked as available for rent. As for the sixth floor, a red fire extinguisher logo on one of the windows told me that it was a fire maintenance company.
I frowned. Was I really in the right place?
Looking at my smartphone screen again, I saw that I was right at the address indicated by the GPS. There was no mistake.
Approaching the open lobby and the stairwell, whose paint had peeled off in places, I read the signs on the mailboxes and the plastic signs of the different companies in the building. Once again, I could see the same information as on the façade. This, in a way, gave me a fairly important clue.
There was no sign for the fourth floor, although the light was on. This meant that someone was occupying the space in question, but did not want to be spotted. It was therefore very likely that the private detective's office was there.
I put my phone in my jacket pocket, and with my work bag slung over my back, I walked upstairs at my own pace - slow enough to keep my breath from getting short, but fast enough to reach my destination quickly - and soon found myself in a small, dark hallway with only one security light on, leading to two doors. One of them, dark green and located at the very end of the hallway, led to the fire escape; and the other, sky blue and right in the middle, led to the occupied area of the floor.
The latter had a peephole in the center, and flyers protruded from a second mailbox in the wall next to it. There were no decorations or plants to brighten up the place, which seemed abandoned.
Already the building looked dilapidated - it was ten, maybe twenty years old - and the lack of light was not likely to encourage passers-by to stop there.
I looked up, and saw just above the door a sort of illuminated sign that had been left switched off. The light indicating the nearest emergency exit allowed me to make out the characters running across it.
'Detective Agency'.
I had found my destination, despite the lack of directions. However, even though I had been eager to arrive and see the detective again, my hand stopped a few inches from the door. Instead of knocking on the door, I froze in place, unsure.
The light was on, so she had to be there. But what was she going to think, seeing me come in late at night to her office? Was she still waiting for me, at least?
No. It was already a little too late to worry about that.
I knocked three times on the door to signal my presence, and I heard someone stirring inside.
And the next thing I knew, the door opened to reveal a barefoot detective with her hair quickly tied back in a ponytail, a black t-shirt that was a little too big for her slipping slightly off her shoulders, and what appeared to be blue and white striped pajama pants.
Seeing me standing in front of her, she quickly opened and closed her mouth while raising her eyebrows.
"Oh... you're not the pizza guy...." She said with a hint of disappointment in her voice.