"YOU ALL NEED TO COME HERE! QUICKLY!" shouted a man from the stairwell.
The sudden shout had startled us all, and we had stood still at first, not understanding what had just happened, nor why anyone wanted us to come.
The request was probably directed not only to us, who were still occupying the large living room, but also to anyone who had heard these words.
Then, once the stupor of the first few seconds had passed, we had all stood up at the same time - Noel, Mr. Nakatsuki, Kitta Kitta and me - before rushing towards the wooden stairs to go upstairs. We had barely reached the second floor when we saw Mr. Ishibashi, the young singer, waving to us with a panicked look before disappearing into the entrance of a room with an open door.
On the other side of the corridor, Miss Iwakiri and Mr. Sakai had also come out of their own rooms, alerted by the shout and our loud trampling on the floor.
The two groups exchanged looks of puzzlement and concern, and we all decided to follow the young singer to find out what had startled him at that corner. We approached the open door, and the first thing that struck us was the presence of two feet sticking out of the bedroom frame, as if someone was lying on the floor in the doorway.
Intrigued, it only took a few more steps to get a glimpse of what had happened.
The young singer was kneeling next to the cameraman, Mr. Harada, unconscious; and was patting him on the cheeks to try to wake him up.
"What happened?!" Miss Iwakiri exclaimed, shocked.
"I was coming out of my room and found him like this," the singer quickly replied, still trying to wake up the passed out man.
"Is he dead?!" Kitta Kitta asked, stuck behind the small group and standing on her toes to try to see something.
Mr. Harada let out a whimper, and after frowning and grimacing in pain, he painfully opened his eyes and blinked rapidly.
"Wh... What?" He stammered, blinded by the light and surprised to see several people standing over him.
"Harada-san, are you okay?!" Noel worried.
Perhaps she felt guilty that something had happened to the cameraman, since she was the one who had asked him to come alone to clear the entrance of her room; for she approached Mr. Harada to help him straighten up and sit on the floor.
As soon as he was upright, he winced again and closed his eyes before putting a hand to the back of his head.
He must have sensed that something was wrong, because he withdrew his hand and put it in front of him to look at it: there were traces of blood on it, and while those gathered around hiccupped in surprise, I felt a violent migraine and a sudden urge to vomit.
Turning my eyes away from the color, I saw a bloodstain on the floor, where a few seconds earlier, Mr. Harada's head was. I finished turning around to walk away in the corridor, under the doubtful looks of Mr. Sakai and Miss Iwakiri. They probably didn't understand why I was trying to leave, and even if I wanted to explain it to them, I wasn't well enough to do so. I was already having trouble standing up, with the hallway and the people in the vicinity spinning around in front of my eyes.
So out of the corner of my eye, far enough away not to see the color that repulsed me, I watched what happened next.
"I think... Someone hit me on the head..." Mr. Harada managed to say.
"Someone hit you?!" Mr. Sakai exclaimed.
Immediately, the eyes turned to Mr. Ishibashi, who stood up with an offended look.
"What? You think I'm the one who knocked him out?" He grumbled.
"You were the first one there, so yes, we have our doubts," Mr. Sakai replied with a stern look.
"I found him, but it wasn't me!" Contested the singer. "I wouldn't have called you otherwise!
"Unless it was to make you look good," added Miss Ishibashi.
"It wasn't me!" He exclaimed, outraged.
"I don't trust you," said the show's producer. "If there's someone who's suspicious here, it's you."
"Because you're not a suspect either?" Ishibashi scoffed. "You had a fight with the owner just before he died, so if you killed him, attacking someone is super easy for you!"
"I'm not the only one who argued with him! You also had a fight with him! Especially since-" Mr. Sakai replied sharply.
"Seriously, will you shut up?!" interrupted Noël.
The two men remained silent, surprised by the young woman's sudden outburst.
"We don't care about that, for now we have to take care of Harada-san's wound," she declared.
Miss Iwakiri, my supervisor, and Mr. Manabe seemed to agree with her, glancing at the man, still sitting, who was now massaging his head.
My colleague crouched down next to the cameraman who was still coming to his senses, and with a worried look on his face, extended a hand towards him.
"Are you okay?" Mr. Nakatsuki asked.
Mr. Harada, still haggard, nodded silently, then my manager helped him to slowly get up before passing in front of me to escort him in the corridor then towards his room located on the same floor; followed by Noel, Kitta Kitta, Miss Iwakiri and Mr. Manabe.
I then saw the producer and the singer exchanging suspicious and hostile glances, before each of them went back to their own room and slammed the door. It seemed that these two were becoming less and less fond of each other, as well as being suspicious.
However, even if I didn't know the reason behind their behavior, what I had witnessed left me in no doubt: these two people had a special connection with the victim, and knew a lot more than they were letting on.
Once again alone in the hallway, I finally calmed down and took my cell phone out of my jacket pocket. I turned on the screen to look at the time and check for signal, but also to stop thinking about the blood.
The network seemed to be much more stable in the last few minutes, so maybe this was the chance I was waiting for to contact Miss Hiraoka.
Given the seriousness of the situation, and the tensions that had emerged between the different people present, I hoped that an outside perspective could help us to see things more clearly.
However, I wasn't sure if the detective could solve the case from a distance. Could she even help, only with information I would give her?
More importantly, would she agree to help us? After all, she had no moral or professional obligation to do so.
I hesitated for a few more seconds, staring at the cell phone number in my contacts list, before pressing her entry to start the call.
With a relief that dispelled the nervousness I had previously ignored, I heard the electronic ringtone sounding, indicating that I had enough coverage for the call to go through.
Then, a few seconds later, the other person picked up, and I heard the young woman's casual voice.
"Ah, Nijima-kun? Are you well? Or are you already bored to call me so early?"
Although I felt relieved to hear her voice, I frowned at her abrupt and in-your-face tone.
"You told me to call you if I encountered any 'trouble'..." I said by way of greeting.
"And you already have? Do you have any already?" I heard the detective say in a surprised voice.
Was it really astonishment, by the way?
Not seeing her with my own eyes made it much more complicated to analyze her emotions. It was as if I was going in blind, and I could only guess very much at her current attitude and gestures.
"Hiraoka-san, someone died..." I announced in a monotone voice as if I were talking about the weather.
"Oh... I guess this is what you call "trouble"..." She said after a brief moment of amazement. "Did it happen on your work trip?"
I frowned again.
"How do you know that?" I asked with a hint of annoyance. "How did you know I was on a business trip?".
"That you had left town? And that you went to the Onyu guesthouse? I flipped through the file that was in your bag, the last time you came to my house!" She declared without any hesitation.
I felt the muscles in my cheeks tighten in spite of myself, and I knew that I was probably a little annoyed by this attitude.
"Did you... go through my stuff again?" I said slowly.
I already knew the answer to that question, of course. But I wasn't losing anything by asking.
"What do you think?" She replied with a slight chuckle. "You leave your stuff unattended!"
"Because I'm looking to trust you..." I replied, unperturbed.
"And I'm trying to make you more careful!" She retorted cheerfully.
I imagined the detective smiling with a mischievous look on her face as she said these words, but I also felt that the discussion was starting to stray a bit too far from my concerns.
"Hiraoka-san..." I called out to her to regain her attention.
"Good. Someone died, and you want my help, right?" She said with a confident and rather reassuring tone of voice.
"The owner of the boarding house where we are staying has been murdered..." I revealed to her without further ado. "He was found in his room, strangled..."
There was a moment of silence that made me think that the communication had perhaps been cut, but then I heard through the loudspeaker of the telephone the clear sound of a cup put on a table or a tray.
I reflexively checked the phone signal strength on my screen and saw that only two of the four bars remained. The network had dropped in power again, and I heard the faint white noise of a TV screen in the background of the conversation.
"Iwao, tell me exactly what has happened so far," the detective ordered.
The tone of her voice, serious and dull, contrasted greatly with her amused and carefree attitude of the last few seconds; this encouraged me to confide in her all the elements I had in my possession.
I took a breath and told him everything I had seen.
"We had finished eating at least half an hour ago, when it all started..."