The storm was still rumbling outside, and the rain was still beating on the window panes. The day had decided to be gloomy until its very end, degrading the roads as well as the minds of the people present.
Miss Iwakiri was able to quickly restore the power, to the great relief of Mr. Nakatsuki.
I was sure that he was scared of the dark, with all the times he had been frightened so far; but for now, he had settled down right next to Noel in the sofa in front of me, and was checking his e-mails on his smartphone to take his mind off it.
We could already smell the curry mix's specific aroma emanating from the kitchen a few meters away, foreshadowing the dish that Miss Iwakiri had been preparing since a while ago and that we would soon be eating.
A strange silence had imposed itself, no one talking to anyone despite our immediate proximity, and I found myself hesitating between observing the garden almost plunged in the dark and the three other human beings occupying the space where I was.
It was necessary to wait a few more minutes before the double sliding door opened and let the sound technician in, carrying a grey plastic box in his hands.
This new arrival made Mr. Nakatsuki stand up - as if it was an automatism acquired with years of habit - and walk towards the man who had just entered.
"Oh, Manabe-san! Do you need a hand?" He asked, having already tucked his phone into his pocket.
And to think he was the one complaining about being treated like an underling earlier...
He must have been really bored, to voluntarily offer his help.
Mr. Manabe shook his head negatively, his round glasses momentarily reflecting the light of the ceiling and wall lamps.
"Don't worry, we're done for the day," he replied with a slight smile.
"Oh, so soon?" Mr. Nakatsuki wondered. "You haven't started for that long, though..."
According to the schedule, they were already interviewing the singer, Mr. Ishibashi. And as my supervisor had just pointed out, they had spent only half as much time with him as they had with the interviews with Noel or Kitta Kitta, which was a bit unusual.
Mr. Nakatsuki took the opportunity to follow the technician closely across the room, in order to continue the discussion with him.
"Ah, actually we decided to switch off the equipment to avoid power surges," replied Mr. Manabe. "Lightning strikes are likely to intensify in the evening, so Sakai-san wants to avoid unnecessary losses."
It's true that with equipment costing more than half a year's salary, it was better to be careful.
"Um, I see," said Mister Nakatsuki, relaxing his shoulders. "But in that case, won't that delay the shooting schedule even more?"
"No, we had already scheduled a second one-on-one interview with Ishibashi-san," Mr. Manabe replied as he set the crate of equipment down behind the couch where I was sitting.
"Oh, a second interview?" My colleague questioned him.
They probably had more topics to cover regarding the young singer. Maybe the promotion of his latest album, or something like that.
However, the two men's impromptu chatter may have disturbed Noel, because the young woman got up without saying a word to leave the room.
"She really doesn't look that friendly..." Said Mister Nakatsuki, a little depressed by this sudden departure.
"Noel-san was never very talkative," revealed Mr. Manabe. "Even when we were doing her interview, it was pretty hard to get her to tell us anything..."
"Maybe she's shy? Or maybe she doesn't reveal herself too much to people she's not familiar with?" Mister Nakatsuki wondered.
For my part, I saw it differently.
"Perhaps she just likes the quiet?" I said in a dull tone as I stared at the two men still standing behind the couch on which I sat.
"Fair enough... A lot of the authors I deal with have that personality, after all..." Mister Nakatsuki conceded. "The peaceful type, keeping away from any commotion..."
This surely explained his lack of reaction earlier, while facing mister Ishibashi. If he was only dealing with this kind of people on a daily basis, he had probably panicked a little when faced with the persistence of the young man.
"It's quite surprising to see someone who prefers calmness staying here rather than going to isolate herself in the floors..." I observed.
"Maybe she's the kind of person who overlooks her surroundings?" Said Mr. Nakatsuki thoughtfully.
The sound technician quickly rummaged through the crate he had placed on the floor, before standing up with headphones in his hands.
"Noel-san prefers to stay on the first floor for now," Mr. Manabe quickly explained to me with a sorry look. "Because of the equipment we left installed upstairs, it's currently impossible to close her bedroom door."
"I see, so if you have to be disturbed at every opportunity, you might as well mingle with the others?" Said mister Nakatsuki, a bit amused.
Mr. Manabe just smiled awkwardly, not sure if it was an innocent joke or criticism, before going back to the other employees of the TV station who were starting to flock to the room at lunch time.
"What? What did I say?" Mister Nakatsuki whispered to me.
Why ask me? It was not as if I knew more about the situation, far from it...
However, I could see that some members of the production team were rather tense, judging by their drawn features. The producer must have gotten angry again or reprimanded them.
Speaking of the latter...
"Oh, Sakai-san is not with you?" Mister Nakatsuki asked them.
"He's still chatting with the owner," replied one of the production assistants.
Ah, that was probably why they all looked on edge. They were probably still afraid that another argument would break out between the two men.
"What about Ishibashi-san? Wasn't he with you?" Inquired Mister Nakatsuki.
"He decided to go to his room to rest," said Mr. Harada, who in turn entered the room.
"I see..." Said Mr. Nakatsuki, before turning to Miss Iwakiri who was busy in the kitchen. "Iwakiri-san, do you need help setting the table?"
"Oh, that would be nice," replied the young woman, dressed in a white kitchen apron, as she turned momentarily in our direction.
My supervisor then hurried over to the kitchen counter to begin taking out the plates and cutlery that would be used for the meal, while I saw the production team of six sitting around and beginning to discuss what had happened during the day.
Meanwhile, Noel had also returned with a book in her hand. She must have gone to her room to get it, because the style of the book - modern and with a soft cover - did not correspond at all to the books in the boarding house library, which had a more or less thick and old-looking hard cover.
I recognized the blue and red cover as a book published by our publishing house, and realized that she was reading a book whose manuscript had passed through my hands two years ago.
I didn't usually take much interest in the people who read our books, and I didn't take any pride in the work I had done on this or that book. It was my job, and nothing more.
However, seeing that one of our books was being used as mean of escape by someone as quiet as Noel, who preferred not to mingle with others, made me strangely satisfied with the results of my hard work.
I didn't know if she liked the story or the characters, but seeing that she preferred to read one of our books rather than talk to the people present was a pretty good result, in my eyes. It made me feel useful; for once.
A little while later, as Mr. Nakatsuki was finishing setting the table, Mr. Yazawa came in with two small yellow and black devices in his hands.
I had to look twice before I understood that they were walkie-talkies.
The owner walked towards Miss Iwakiri, and after exchanging a few words with her, gave her one of the devices which she slipped into the small front pocket of her apron.
"Ah, I'll never get tired of that smell!" exclaimed Mr. Nakatsuki as he dropped right next to me on the sofa seat. "Curry, it's absolutely the best!"
Faced with this unexpected arrival, I looked at the newcomer, trying to understand if he was talking to me in particular, or if he was just saying that, without any specific recipient in mind.
"But I'm sure it doesn't come close to my wife's stew," he said with pride.
He probably wasn't addressing me directly, come to think of it.
At least not until he decided to turn to me, a look of curiosity and excitement directed in my direction.
"Say, are you cooking, Nijima-san?" He asked me, tilting his head slightly forward.
"I guess so," I replied without being intimidated or enthusiastic like him.
"What does that mean?" He grimaced with a confused look.
"I cook, but not too much," I clarified with a pout.
"Even for your girlfriend?" Mister Nakatsuki asked with some curiosity.
The word caught me a little off guard, pushing me back into silence.
A girlfriend.
It's true that I had never had one, until the detective decided to pretend to be one with my colleagues.
A fake girlfriend, then; but the mention of her still surprised me.
We didn't really have that kind of relationship, but it wasn't something I could explain to my supervisor without raising more unwanted questions.
Although... I admit it sounded pretty nice.
It was the perfect excuse for her to approach me frequently at work if the need arose, which would allow us to see each other more regularly, and thus spend more time together.
It wasn't a bad thing, really.
The more time we spent together, the more chances I had to experience new things.
"Heh, poor thing..." Mister Nakatsuki sighed with a sorry look on his face. "She mustn't be over the moon if you cook so little..."
He leaned a little more towards me, and then began to whisper so that I would be the only one to hear him.
"If you want some advice, learn to make simple things first," he said in a low voice as if he were telling me a big secret. "Women love good stuff, but they love it even more when their boyfriends go out of their way for them, even if the result isn't great."
I frowned. Curious advice.
Should I take this as the result of his own experiences as a married man?
And if so, was he showing male camaraderie by telling me this 'secret'?
I didn't have time to find out more because the room was already filling up with people, as it was time for dinner.
Throughout the meal, I couldn't help but feel a slight sense of discomfort as I watched the hostile glances that several people exchanged across the table. I had a feeling that these simple quarrels were not likely to end on the first day.
However, I did not know at that moment that certain events would cut short any further altercation between the three men involved; and that soon I would find myself in the middle of a new case.