Cajun Justice(72)

“Text me the address, and I will go straight there. I will bring Aito-san with me.”

“I’ll see you there as soon as I can. It might be two or three hours given how slow this bus driver is going.”

“I will call you as soon as I get there. We will leave now.”

“Okay. Thanks. Oh, wait: one last thing. Don’t disturb anything. Leave everything just as it is.”

About an hour later, Tanaka telephoned Cain. “I’m here, but I don’t see anything unusual. The door is locked. I rang the doorbell a few times, but nobody answered. Have you called her work?”

“Yes, of course. But United wouldn’t give me her work schedule over the phone. They cited some company policy bullshit. Do you still have some contacts over there?”

“I’ll call and see if they will give me that information,” Tanaka said. “I still have a friend who works the ticket counter at Narita.”

When Cain arrived at Bonnie’s several hours later, Tanaka and Aito were waiting outside her door.

“Thanks for coming,” Cain said, and pounded on the door with his closed fist. “Bonnie, open the door! It’s your brother.” He turned to Tanaka. “Any update?”

“Bonnie was scheduled to fly today,” Tanaka said, and then lowered his head. “But she never showed up.”

Cain pulled out his money clip. He grabbed a credit card and slid it between the doorframe and the door. He jiggled it for a bit until the latch popped open.

“Don’t touch anything,” he instructed Tanaka and Aito. “Something’s wrong. I can feel it. There’s definitely foul play here. Bonnie’s not here, and she was supposed to be on a flight, but her airline badge is on the floor, by the couch.” When he kneeled to pick it up using a tissue, he saw something small out of the corner of his eye. It was under the couch. He got on all fours and looked closer. He carefully pulled the object out from its hiding place. It was an empty syringe, and it had blood drops on the end of the needle.

“Is Bonnie a diabetic?” Aito asked.

“No,” Cain said forcefully. “She was drugged. That would be the only way for someone to take her.” He looked around the living room for more clues. “Help me find her phone.”

The three of them searched the entire apartment, which was easy given its small size. But they could not find Bonnie’s phone.

Cain turned to Tanaka. “Call your father. Have him get down here and start processing this scene.”

“He’s at my grandparents’ farm near Yokota. It’s his day off.”

“I don’t give a damn if it’s Chinese New Year. We’ve got a kidnapped American! Tell him to start rolling some detectives this way. Have them bring a K9 and a fingerprint-dusting kit.”

Half an hour later, two local patrol officers arrived. They appeared to be in their midforties and smelled of cigarettes. They were breathing heavily from the three flights of stairs.

Cain looked at Tanaka. “Where are the detectives?”

“This is procedure, Cain. The patrol officers come first to investigate and take a report. Then they make a determination about whether a detective needs to respond.”

“Anyone with half a brain can see that a detective needs to be summoned!” Cain said with great frustration.

“This is how things are done in Japan,” Aito replied, trying to calm Cain down.

“I’ll play their bureaucratic game, but just for a few moments. Time is of the essence in these types of cases. If we don’t find Bonnie within twenty-four hours, she’s likely gone forever.”

The uniformed officers spoke with Tanaka in Japanese.

“Cain, they want to know how you entered the apartment.”

“What does that matter?”

“They want to know if an intruder had to break open the door.”

“No. Tell them about how I used my credit card to open the door.”

Tanaka inhaled through his teeth. “I don’t think that is such a good idea. Technically, we were breaking and entering. That’s a crime here.”

“What?” Cain asked incredulously. “For Christ’s sake! I’m her twin brother!” Cain’s mood switched from defensive to offensive. “When they find Bonnie, they can ask her if she wants to press charges against me. Okay?”

“This is not like America. Japan has very many rules. There is no gray here. Only black and white.”

“Then tell them the door was unlocked.” He pointed his finger at Tanaka’s chest. “Do whatever you have to do to get them to investigate this!”

Tanaka turned to the police and conversed with them in Japanese for several minutes.

The uniformed officers walked around the apartment. They opened the refrigerator and kitchen cabinets and looked through the bedroom and bathroom.

“They want to know how many people live here.”

“Just Bonnie.”

Tanaka translated. The two officers spoke with each other in Japanese for a bit and then turned to Tanaka.

“They said they do not have enough evidence to call a detective,” Tanaka told Cain. “They said you can file a report at the station if you want, but missing persons only get assigned to a detective after twenty-four hours, or under suspicious circumstances.”