Fallen Idol: Nakamura Detective Agency, #1

By Percival Constantine

SOMETIMES SUICIDE IS JUST A FACADE

When a disgraced former pop star plummets to her death from her Osaka apartment, all signs paint a picture of a troubled young woman who took her own life. But once her parents hire Kyoko Nakamura to learn the truth, the private detective discovers not everything is as it seems. 

Kyoko's investigation will lead her into a world of drugs and prostitution, face to face with dangerous criminals, and through the seedy underbelly of Japan's music industry. With all odds against her, can Kyoko redeem herself for a past failure by finding justice for a fallen idol?

From Percival Constantine comes a thrilling new mystery series, set in one of the world's most intriguing locales!

"In Fallen Idol, the harsh shadows cast by the twisty neon of Osaka hide bad intent but it's where the answers lie, and for resourceful PI Kyoko Nakamura there's no turning away."
– Gary Phillips, author of Batman: The Killing Joke novelization

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pulp Corner Press
• Release date: Jan 10, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386985723

Percival Constantine

Born and raised in the Chicagoland area, Percival Constantine grew up on a fairly consistent diet of superhero comics, action movies, video games, and TV shows. At the age of ten, he first began writing and has never really stopped. Percival has been working in publishing since 2005 in various capacities—author, editor, formatter, letterer—and has written books, short stories, comics, and more. He has a Bachelor of Arts in English and Mass Media from Northeastern Illinois University and a Master of Arts in English and Screenwriting from Southern New Hampshire University. Currently, Percival lives in Japan’s Kagoshima prefecture, where he works as a literature and writing instructor at the Minami Academy. 

Book preview

CHAPTER

ONE

The cheap vodka burned a path down Akane Suzuki’s throat. She coughed after swallowing the last drop of alcohol and set the glass down on the tatami-mat floor. Akane raised the bottle to eye level. Focusing on the label was difficult—it seemed to be intentionally moving.

Taunting her.

"Baka da yo," she grumbled, then lifted the glass to refill it. Setting the bottle’s lip on the edge of the glass, her hand shook as the liquid poured in, splashing on her wrist.

Akane put the bottle on the tatami and took another long drink from the glass. Standing from the futon spread out on the tatami floor, Akane walked over to the stereo and hit the play button.

Bouncy, upbeat pop music blared through the speakers. Akane nearly stumbled as she crossed the short distance from the stereo back to the futon. She plopped down on the bedding, more vodka spilling over her hand as she did.

Akane swayed to the beat, tears forming in her eyes as she did. At first, she only lip-synced the words. But after a few more sips, she started singing them herself. Her voice matched one of the five singers perfectly.

‘We were both exciting when I first saw you…You write a letter and the flashback starts…’

Akane started crying as she tried to sing along to the lyrics. She finished the drink and poured herself another. After taking a fresh sip, she cringed and held the bottle up to examine it once again.

The same cheap, off-brand vodka she usually bought. Only a few hundred yen. But why did it taste funny? Did it go bad? Could vodka go bad?

Forget it, just keep drinking. She took a bigger sip—more a gulp—and continued singing.

What happened to her? To her life? Akane rose from the futon, stumbling to the stereo and looking at the pictures pinned to her wall. It was lined with purikura pictures, special photo booths frequented by many girls in Japan. Some of them were photos of her and her friends from high school. Others featured her with a young, handsome man whose hair was dyed a golden color.

Many featured her with her former bandmates. The same girls who graced the cover of the CD lying atop the stereo. Akane picked up the CD case and looked at herself. Dressed in a school uniform, back-to-back with her headlining colleague. The other three girls flanking the two of them. The word ‘Koibito’ written across the top in colorful, rounded katakana characters.

Aka and Aya they were called. Even when things were tough, despite the times they were at each other’s throats, Akane always felt like she could trust Ayano.

That smile Akane wore on the CD cover. Akane couldn’t remember the last time she’d smiled an actual smile, let alone one that large. Before it all went downhill. Before she threw away her career for what she thought was love.

Akane screamed and threw the CD case across the room. It hit the balcony doors and the two halves split at the hinge. She ejected the CD, shouting and cursing at it as she snapped it in half.

The glass was empty again. Akane stumbled to the futon and fell right onto it. She felt weak, like the bottle had somehow gotten heavier. Still, she managed to refill the glass, but it slipped from her hand and landed on its side. The alcohol seeped from the glass, spreading out along the tatami.

Who needs a glass anyway? Her lips wrapped around the bottle and she tipped her head back. It burned going down. When the bottle was finished, Akane let it fall to the floor.

Why was it so hot in here? She crawled across her futon, moving towards the balcony. Akane raised her hand up, trying to grab the latch and using it to pull herself up. She flipped open the latch and tugged at the door.

It felt so heavy.

The room was spinning. But she just needed some fresh air. Akane pushed the door open and stumbled out onto the balcony, striking the railing. The night lights of Osaka’s Shinsekai neighborhood blurred and she blinked, trying in vain to bring them into focus.

A pain stabbed through her stomach. Like that time she had food poisoning after eating some bad sushi she bought from the convenience store. Vodka was a bad idea, she realized, feeling it surge its way back up her throat. Akane bent over the railing and threw up. She had barely eaten anything, so it was mostly just vodka and stomach acid that flew from her mouth and down the eight stories towards the street below.

Her heart pounded against her chest. Akane looked at her hand and noticed it was shaking, moving in and out of focus. She pushed herself away from the railing, her back slamming against the wall. The pain was great and she screamed.

She could hear a pounding noise—thump, thump. Thump, thump. Her creepy neighbor. Akane shouted right back at him. Go to hell, you old bastard!

The pounding continued and Akane fell to her knees, covering her ears and squeezing her eyes shut. Why was it so hot today? Wasn’t it supposed to be fall? She breathed heavily, finding each successive breath even harder to take in than the one before.

It was a few moments of sitting like that, the entire world spinning around her, before Akane realized that the pounding wasn’t coming from next door. No, it was her own heart. Thump, thump. She opened her eyes, but the vertigo had gotten even worse. All she wanted to do was sleep.

Akane rose to her feet and stumbled, grabbing the rail. She looked over the edge and down to the street below and laughed. That would have been bad, tripping and falling over the railing.

But would it have been such a bad thing? To just jump? To finally put an end to everything? No more struggle, no more doing things she hated for money. Just finally being at peace.

She held onto the railing and stared over the edge. There were bicycles chained to a rack in the small alley, but they kept moving from side to side. Akane squinted, trying to bring them into focus. Leaning further over, using her shaking hands to grip the railing.

Then, she felt free. Like she was flying. Akane laughed for a moment.

After that moment, there was nothing.

CHAPTER

TWO

Kyoko Nakamura glared daggers at the student who stood in front of her on the crowded subway train. The girl—a high school student dressed in uniform—wore earphones connected to a smartphone, the screen of which she fixated on. But what irritated Kyoko was the volume on the music. Loud enough that she could hear it as if she were the one wearing the earphones.

It was some insipid pop idol group—screeching, auto-tuned voices belting out bubbly lyrics that seemed to have been written with Mad Libs. Kyoko tried to ignore it and instead looked at the route map above the doors. Next stop was Namba Station, thankfully.

If only the train weren’t so crowded. The benches filled up fast and everyone else was crammed into the aisles. Salarymen, students, housewives, all manner of people packed in the train like sardines.

Just another morning in Osaka.

The train finally reached its destination and the peppy, pre-recorded voice announced over the PA system that they’d reached Namba Station. People filed out in an orderly fashion, moving for the doors. And on the platform, new passengers waited patiently for the departing ones to finish disembarking.

Kyoko brushed strands of her chin-length, dark hair behind her ear and followed the crowd toward the escalators. Her hands were in her pocket, grasping hold of the pack of Seven Stars and the lighter. She wanted nothing more than to move to one of the designated outdoor smoking areas, but instead she waited. Better to get to the office first.

The streets of Namba were already bustling with activity. The twists and turns of the neighborhood—coupled with the lack of street signs—could easily get a newcomer lost. But Kyoko had walked these streets so many times in the past few years, she knew them better than she knew herself.

As she moved deeper into the neighborhood, the number of people around her decreased significantly. Soon, she was walking down the alleys and only spotted a few other people milling about.

Kyoko walked into the front entrance of a building. The front door led to an elevator and a staircase. Looking at the elevator light, she saw it was up on the sixth floor already. Rather than push the button and wait, she climbed the six flights of stairs and came to a door with the sign ‘NAKAMURA DETECTIVE AGENCY’ on the surface. She turned the handle and found it was unlocked, meaning her colleagues had already arrived.

The door hadn’t even closed before Kyoko took out the pack of Seven Stars and placed a cigarette between her lips. She walked down the corridor and past the bathroom before entering the larger reception area, lighting her cigarette as she moved.

She bid her coworkers ‘good morning’ with a half-hearted, "Ohayo."

Two desks were next to each other right in front of the windows. Behind the one on the left, focused on a laptop computer, was a girl in her early twenties with hair dyed blond and a good amount of makeup applied to her face. The man in the desk beside her was a big guy—older, late twenties, his hair cropped short to his head. Both of them grunted "Ohayo gozaimasu" in response to Kyoko’s greeting.

A couch rested against the wall across from the two desks. Kyoko sat on it and enjoyed her cigarette. There was a small table by the side with an ashtray resting on it. After a few puffs, Kyoko discarded some of the building ash and looked at the girl.

You’re earlier than usual, Saori.

Saori rolled her eyes. Don’t remind me. My roommate’s got this new yoga DVD. When five o’clock hits, that damn thing is waking me up and I see her ass right in my face.

Kyoko chuckled, then looked at the man. What are you up to, Nobu?

Finishing up that background check for Mr. Kubo. Nobu closed the lid on his laptop and looked at Kyoko. Pretty standard stuff. Some traffic tickets, but nothing serious.

Boring, but at least it keeps the lights on.

Kyoko held the cigarette between her lips and walked to the small kitchen connected to the main office. She flicked on the light and took a glass from the cupboard above the sink. From the refrigerator, she grabbed a carton labeled ICE COFFEE and filled the glass with it. Kyoko took the cigarette from her mouth just long enough to sip the cold coffee, then returned to the office.

She walked across the office to a smaller room opposite the kitchen. Opening the door, she looked around at the contents—her desk with laptop resting on top, corkboard mounted behind the desk, photos and documents pinned to it. A rolling whiteboard rested against one of the walls and there were some photographs hanging up. Photos of Kyoko with her parents and sister, and one of her in a police uniform standing alongside an older man.

Kyoko went to her desk, but before she could sit, she heard unfamiliar voices from the other room.

"Shitsurei shimasu."

She stamped out the remnants of the cigarette, left the coffee on her desk, and walked back to the door. Leaning against the frame, she saw both Saori and Nobu stand and bow. Near the corridor was a couple, maybe in their forties or fifties.

Mr. Nakamura, said the man, approaching Nobu’s desk and bowing. Please excuse our interruption. I’m Kosei Suzuki and this is my wife, Tomiko.

The wife bowed as well and said, "Yoroshiku onegaishimasu," a standard Japanese phrase when meeting someone.

Welcome, Mr. Suzuki, but I’m not Nakamura, said Nobu.

I am, said Kyoko, finally chiming in. She stepped from the open office door and noted the looks of surprise on both Kosei and Tomiko’s faces. Female private detectives weren’t exactly the norm in Japan, so she’d gotten used to those looks. Kyoko bowed to them both. I’m Kyoko Nakamura. This is Noburo Tsuji and Saori Ikeda, my associates.

Both Nobu and Saori bowed again.

Is there something I can help you with? asked Kyoko.

Yes, as a matter of fact… Kosei seemed a little hesitant. Can we talk?

Of course, please. Kyoko stepped into her office and gestured inside to her desk. Once the Suzukis entered, Kyoko stuck her head out into the reception area. Saori, could you bring us some tea?

Saori gave a quick bow and moved to the kitchen. Kyoko closed the door to her office and circled around behind her desk. The Suzukis remained standing, but Kyoko asked them to have a seat. They both did so, taking the two chairs in front of her desk.

Now, how can I help you today? asked Kyoko.

It’s about our daughter, said Kosei.

When parents came to Kyoko about their children, it was usually one of a few things. Most times, it was the prospect of an engagement—they wanted to ensure their son or daughter was marrying into a decent family. Other times, it was a missing person’s case. The look on Tomiko’s face suggested the latter.

Our daughter is Akane Suzuki. Kosei said the name like it was supposed to mean something. It took him a moment of studying Kyoko’s reaction before he continued. She was a member of Koibito.

Oh! Realization struck Kyoko at that moment. The idol group?

Kosei nodded. That’s correct. She was fired last year, a scandal involving a boyfriend.

How do you think I can help? asked Kyoko. I can’t do anything about a contractual dispute. You’d have to talk to a lawyer, and⁠—

No, Ms. Nakamura…Akane is… Kosei hesitated.

Dead.

It was the first thing Tomiko had said since entering the office. Kyoko leaned back in her chair and offered a sigh. I’m very sorry.

There was a knock at the door and then Saori entered, carrying a tray with two cups on it. She brought the tray to the desk and set a cup of green tea in front of both Kosei and Tomiko. After bowing, Saori excused herself and left the office, closing the door once again.

The police told us it was suicide, that she’d jumped from her balcony, said Kosei, sipping his tea. I told them they were wrong. Akane has had trouble, but she wouldn’t have killed herself.

She was fired from the group because of this scandal. What else can you tell me about her? asked Kyoko.

She moved into a small, one-room apartment in Shinsekai, said Kosei. We gave her some money, but we don’t have much. She’d been avoiding us for some time. Ever since the scandal.

Do you know what she was doing for money?

We heard from her a few weeks before… Tomiko paused, having difficulty with the word. She said she was trying to start her career as a solo artist. She was very excited.

Kyoko reached for a notebook and flipped open to a blank page. She took a pen and jotted down quick notes about what the Suzukis had just told her. What else did the police tell you?

They think drugs may have been involved, but Akane would never get involved with that, said Kosei.

Kyoko sighed and set the notebook on the desk. She’d seen this countless times when she was a police officer. Parents in denial, refusing to believe their child would ever succumb to the temptation of drug use.

I would like to help you, but I want you to consider what the police have told you, she said. Going from the life of an idol to living in a one-room apartment can be a difficult transition. Drug use is not unheard of. Neither is suicide.

It’s not true! barked Kosei. Tomiko set a hand on his knee and he took a breath, trying to relax. Please, you have to help us.

Detective agencies in Japan aren’t like what you see in American movies, said Kyoko. We mostly deal with infidelity, background checks, missing persons, things of that nature. But potential homicides are best left to the police.

The police won’t do anything, we tried to convince them, said Kosei.

Please, Ms. Nakamura. You’re our only hope, said Tomiko. The inspector said you could help us.

Kyoko’s demeanor changed when she heard that. Inspector?

Yes, Inspector… Kosei paused, trying to remember the name. Inspector Hashimoto. He told us the Nakamura Detective Agency might be able to help.

Kyoko tapped the pen against her lips. If Takeshi Hashimoto felt