The moment she walked into the office, every cliché ever written about women and private eyes popped into my head. But none of them are true. I had no idea she’d be trouble, and her legs, while nice, weren’t better than average. Her hair was rolled into a bun-like hairstyle, and pinned, so I had no idea how long it was. In fact, she looked more like an office lady than a femme fatale. I gestured her to a chair and nodded at my receptionist, a nice college student who was working her way through a degree in criminal investigation. I sat down behind my desk smiling reassuringly, and gave her my "break the ice and give the client a moment to orient" rap – mostly background about who I am, what I do…you know, disposable information. She smiled, no beamed, at me, and I found that I couldn’t read anything in her face. Not a thing. I pride myself on being pretty good with reading faces – it’s part of the skill set for the job – and it was a bit unnerving to find so blank a canvas. Her eyes sparkled with a friendly light, but behind that everything was guarded. Like visiting the Diet. You can see what they want you to see, but nothing more. When I finished my spiel, she introduced herself as Himemiya Anshi, formerly of Houou, now living in Tokyo. She gave no occupation and I didn’t press for one. She could have been a madam for all I knew. I didn’t want to know. Something was very strange about her behavior and it bothered me quite a bit until I put my finger on it. She was here in my office and obviously wanted me to do work for her – then how come she wasn’t upset, nervous, or at least a little worried? *No one* came here without worries. That’s why you hire a private investigator, after all. This, combined with her eyes, pinged me immediately. There was something wrong here and I knew it. But she didn’t smell dirty. I decided to play along and see if I could figure out what was up. "So," I came around and sat on the edge of my desk, giving me the advantage of height over her, "What is it that I can help you with, Miss Himemiya?" I smiled at her, but left my eyes guarded too – she wasn’t the only one who could do that. A few years of police training teaches you how to do that, sometimes obviously, sometimes not. Her eyes widened, just a little, showing she had noticed. Good. "I am sorry to be such a bother," I waved away the traditional excuses, and she continued, "I am looking for someone. I want you to find her." She looked down into the little clutch purse she held and pulled out a photograph. I took it but didn’t look at it. Not yet. I wanted to know more. I waited until she began speaking again. "In case you’re worried, there’s nothing strange about this request. It’s not illegal, or even questionable. This woman is an old…schoolmate. We parted several years ago, and I’d like to find her. Can you help me?" I noticed the hesitation, the use of "parted." Old lover, I assumed, or maybe close to it. That would explain why she was so guarded. But for some reason, that didn’t wash. There was something she wasn’t telling me. One look into her face told me that she wasn’t going to tell me, either, and that she could wait as long as I could. I took the opportunity to look at the photo. It was an amateur deal - a girl, pink-haired, in a school uniform of a sort. She stood next to another girl, obviously my Miss Himemiya. They both smiled, but where my client had that same polite, carefully empty smile, her companion’s face was open, glossy with happiness and youth. Blue eyes shone from the photo and I could feel the girl’s charisma, sensing it in the way she waved at the camera, the arm around Miss Himemiya’s slim form. I looked up. "How many years ago?" I asked. My client shrugged slightly. "Almost ten now." I looked back down at the photo. That made the missing girl about my age. I wondered… "Why’d you wait so long to look for her?" Still looking at the picture. There was something about that face…something I couldn’t put my finger on. "I haven’t. I began looking for her as soon as we…graduated." Again, I noticed the hesitation. I looked up again, my eyes slightly narrowed. Miss Himemiya noticed immediately and her smile became more placatory, her voice soothing. "And no, our school has no record of her current whereabouts. In fact, "and she sighed slightly, "the school has undergone quite a few changes since we were there. I’m not sure if any of their records would be of help anymore." Something slipped in her guard, and I saw a moment of genuine pain pass over her face. I filed it away for future use – school was not a happy time. For whom? Miss Himemiya, or her lost "friend?" I gave an exaggerated sigh. "The truth is, Miss Himemiya, I’m not sure I can help you here. If you’ve been looking for ten years…" The real truth was, I’d have taken this case for free. Not to find her, so much as find out what I wasn’t being told. That’s where the real investigative work comes in…what was the real story behind those guarded green eyes? "Have you been to another investigator?" She shook her head. "No. I waited until I had followed every lead I could. They led me here…to Kyoto. That was about a year ago. Now…well, you were recommended to me. In fact, you are highly spoken of." Her smile, again, and I found myself smiling back. No great beauty perhaps, but this woman’s charm was unmistakable. "Spoken of?" I noticed that I was being exceptionally terse and decided to use that as a weapon. Maybe she’d believe that I didn’t want the job…maybe she’d tell me more. Maybe she’d stay here and we could chat for a while… "By the police. Especially Officer Eishin. He told me that you had been a member of their force…" She paused and turned to look out the window. I hoped that my embarrassment didn’t show on my face. Tobei and I had been good friends, then more, and now we were good friends again. It worked better this way. When I was a cop, he would get terribly worried about me and try to smother me. It wasn’t good for either of us. By the time I left the force, we had already split, but he was a good guy and his new wife was very sweet. I had dinner at their place once a month; they came over mine about the same. I looked down at the picture in my hand, as my client turned back to face me. There was a long silence until, at last, I looked up and met her eyes. All wards were in place, for both of us. "Will you take the case?" She asked simply. No tears, not importuning…I had the impression she already knew my answer. I shrugged. "Yes. Sure." And I launched into my prepared speech on fees and expenses. Without blinking, she reached into her purse, and pulled out a checkbook. Scribbling for a moment, she handed me a check, and a small folded wad of bills. "The check will cover your expenses when you travel. The cash is for right now. I expect you’ll want to start right away." Her voice was sweet and gentle, but there was humor underneath it. I hesitated to take the money, feeling the universe about to laugh at my expense, but then, what else did I have to do? I shrugged once again and took the money with both hands, bowing formally. My client laughed at that, and pulling away, she bowed herself. "I’ll expect a daily report from you – unless you’re away. Then just let me know when you come back. I’ll have the portfolio of information I’ve collected sent to you today." That was the second time she referred to me traveling. I wondered where I was being sent. "I’ll call you at…" I checked for a phone number on her check and repeated it to her. She nodded, then turned around crisply, stopped at the door, bowed once more to me, then left. The office felt much changed after she was gone. Slightly dingier, as if the color had leeched out of the paintings on the wall. I sat in my chair and sighed. This was going to be some case – I could already feel it. I sighed again and wondered just who I was going to find at the end of all this.
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