The Devouring God by James Kendley Page A

before the detective showed up. She was in jeans and a tee shirt advertising Gen-­Key, an energy drink:
    I am a leopard.
    We must everyday nutritional,
    happy with B 1 , B 2 , B 12 . . .
    Yoshida stood in the doorway to the kitchen. In the consultation room, Section Chief Hasegawa shouted into the telephone. Takuda stood at ease by the front door. Young Mori, sitting beside Nabeshima, bent over his laptop trying to reconstruct the foreigner’s call from the garbled audiotape. The detective glanced at Yoshida and Takuda, who were both staring off into the middle distance. He turned back to Nabeshima, the only one who seemed to be listening to him.
    â€œThere’s really no starting place, no reports of disturbing behavior by foreigners. There are a few complaints about noise and public drunkenness. There’s one young man who urinates from his balcony, but that’s part of a dispute with his downstairs neighbors.” He put his hands on his hips. “I might have to go undercover to the clubs where the foreigners hang out.”
    Yoshida stifled a grimace and went toward the back of the office.
    Nabeshima said, “Detective, you would be conspicuous, wouldn’t you? I mean, if you went to a club, I’m sure everyone would know you’re a policeman.”
    â€œNo, of course they wouldn’t. I haven’t done a lot of clubbing since I left Tokyo, but I’m sure I’ll catch up. We aren’t talking about high school girls here.”
    Nabeshima smiled. “We might as well be. They’re a month or two behind the fashions in Shinjuku, but they’re still just girls. Down here, the foreigner clubs are full of community college students.”
    â€œOh, do you know these clubs?”
    â€œOf course I do. I’ve lived here my whole life, and I can tell you that you would be out of place.” She glanced over at Mori. “Could some of our private security force be of use here?”
    Mori looked back at her, and she tilted her head at him. His eyes dropped back to his laptop screen as red spots appeared on his cheeks.
    The detective sat forward. “I don’t think there’s any place for private contractors in an ongoing investigation. That tape is your property, and it’s not evidence of any crime except a prank call, so you can do with it as you choose. As long as he doesn’t tear it up, right? Right?”
    Mori looked up long enough to give a slow, measured bow of assent, then returned to his work.
    â€œAnyway, we now have a phone trace in place here and at the central exchange. The second we learn where these calls are coming from, we’ll have more direction.”
    Nabeshima glanced at Takuda. Yoshida drifted in from the kitchen. She stared at Takuda, but he continued to look off into the middle distance. The women were waiting to see if he would tell the detective that the calls had come from Nabeshima’s missing cell phone.
    The section chief burst out of his office, purple-­faced with rage. Yoshida stepped aside in surprise.
    â€œI’ve just talked to your chief of detectives. The man is a fool! He does not think this is a serious matter! A prank call, he said. Prank call! A mentally unstable man has threatened to polish the bones of my staff’s cannibalized corpses as a form of worship, and he calls it a prank call!”
    Yoshida and Nabeshima stared at him openmouthed. The section chief stepped toward the detective, pointing a finger at his face.
    â€œYou are personally responsible. Do you understand? These women work day and night to get help for the mentally ill. Day and night! There should be a staff of six here. Do you understand that? We may not get computers or a decent phone system this year because we have to pay for security guards. We didn’t get the equipment we needed last year because it was a choice between modernization and hiring another staffer.” The finger shifted from the detective