Chapter 14: Beyond the Courtroom, I Am the Judge! (Please vote for this novel)

"What is it that you want, madam?" Since she had come to see him, she must have a request—so Akira Nakayama asked directly.

Hito Norihara lifted her head, suppressing the hatred and fury she felt toward her husband’s murderer. Staring into his eyes, she said, "My husband is dead, likely at the hands of the Noguchi-kai. They've always been greedy, longing to take over our place. I want revenge for him, but to do so, I need power. So I hope for your support, Inspector. Let me take my husband's place and continue working with you."

"That's possible. I can even take a smaller share. But I want the ledger. As long as you give me the ledger, anything can be negotiated." Akira Nakayama agreed at once, his expression seemingly sincere.

"No," Hito Norihara shook her head. "I’m just a woman. If I hand over the ledger, what if you go back on your word? I need that sense of security."

A murderous, violent rage welled up inside Akira Nakayama, but his face became all the more gentle. He was about to offer a few words of comfort when he noticed her gaze repeatedly flickering toward the handbag on the table.

His expression changed. Suddenly, he reached out and grabbed the bag.

"What are you doing!" Hito Norihara cried out in alarm, springing up instinctively, trying to snatch it back.

Akira Nakayama dodged her hand, opened the bag, and his face turned cold as he pulled out a recording device, still running.

Hito Norihara’s face turned deathly pale, completely drained of color.

"You little snake, you tried to trick me? There never was a ledger, was there?" His eyes blazed with violence.

The ledger was of utmost importance to him, so to be deceived by Hito Norihara using it as bait enraged him beyond measure.

Seeing that her ploy had been exposed, Hito Norihara no longer tried to pretend. Her true feelings burst forth as she gritted her teeth in bitter hatred. "You killed my husband!"

"Aoyama Hidetaka told you, didn’t he?" Nakayama pierced right through her. Wronged and played by this woman, his fury needed an outlet. He gave a sinister smile. "So what if he did? Do you have proof? Even what they have isn’t enough to start an investigation on me. Did Aoyama Hidetaka put you up to this tonight? Too bad he overestimated the nerves of a housewife. You almost had it, but not quite."

"Bastard! Give me back my husband!" Overwhelmed, Hito Norihara lunged across the table, red-eyed and crying, clawing for his face.

"Get off!" Nakayama, seeing that some of the restaurant staff were now eyeing their table, wanted no more entanglement. He shoved her away, straightened his tie, and sneered, "You should be grateful that Norihara left you so well protected, never actually giving you the ledger. Otherwise, you’d be going down to join him right about now."

With that, he turned and left, taking the recorder with him.

Hito Norihara collapsed onto the table, sobbing softly, as if blaming herself for her own uselessness.

"Miss, are you alright?" a waiter came over, his tone gentle and concerned.

"I’m fine." She looked up, wiped her tears away as she watched Akira Nakayama drive off through the window, then touched her chest.

There, hidden, was another recorder.

Aoyama Hidetaka had anticipated that her nerves might fail her, so he’d told her to bring two recorders.

One to distract and enrage Akira Nakayama.

The other to capture what he might reveal in a fit of anger.

Gathering her bag, Hito Norihara left, calling Aoyama Hidetaka to arrange a meeting.

About twenty minutes later, she met him in a park as agreed. "Mr. Aoyama."

"The recorder?" he asked urgently.

She pulled it carefully from her bag and handed it over. "Here. The recording is very clear."

"Excellent. Mrs. Norihara, you’ve done wonderfully," Aoyama Hidetaka said, a satisfied smile on his face.

Flushed with embarrassment at his praise, she tried to hide her shyness by fiddling with her hair.

Aoyama Hidetaka sniffed, frowning in mild confusion. "Madam, why does the recorder smell so fragrant? Where did you hide it?"

Her cheeks grew even redder. She lowered her head, unable to meet his gaze, her toes curling awkwardly in her heels. She hurried to change the subject. "Does secretly recording like this really work? Won’t it be ruled invalid?"

"Don’t worry. In Japan, secret recording is a recognized practice—it’s valid," he reassured her. Valid, yes, but he knew what she’d recorded wouldn’t be enough to convict Akira Nakayama in court.

But he’d never intended to go to trial. That would be too troublesome, too unpredictable.

If you act, act thoroughly.

Just then, the night breeze picked up, plastering Hito Norihara’s thin dress to her figure, outlining every curve in sharp relief. Aoyama Hidetaka feasted his eyes—so wind could have shape after all.

"Mr. Aoyama, I’ll take my leave now," she said, mortified, bowing hastily. Hands pressed to her skirt, she rushed away to her car, her face aflame.

Aoyama Hidetaka watched her go, then found a public phone to call Ryoichi Fujimoto. "Get me a clean gun. Don’t ask why—if you want to keep your career, just do it. Don’t worry, I won’t set you up. Not now."

— — —

April 30th. Clear skies.

Early in the morning, Aoyama Hidetaka left home to meet Ayaka Asai and Ryoichi Fujimoto at the precinct, where they drew their guns.

"Are we really going to arrest him?" Ayaka Asai asked again, seeking confirmation.

Aoyama Hidetaka nodded. "Yes. But we don’t need a crowd. The three of us are enough."

Seeing he could not be dissuaded, Ayaka Asai resigned herself to his madness—after all, she had no choice.

Ryoichi Fujimoto had even less choice, but he’d never lacked for courage. He was willing to take his chances with Aoyama Hidetaka.

"Let’s go." By a strange twist of fate, it was Aoyama Hidetaka, the lowest ranked among them, who now led.

They informed no one, filed for no arrest warrant. They simply drove straight to Akira Nakayama’s house.

At 9:30 in the morning, Akira Nakayama, now suspended from duty, was having breakfast. His wife and children had already been sent to America; the spacious house felt rather empty.

The doorbell rang.

Akira Nakayama put down his knife and fork, went to the intercom. "Moshi moshi."

"Section Chief Nakayama, this is Inspector Asai from Ballistics," Ayaka Asai’s voice came through.

Akira Nakayama chuckled and pressed the button to remotely open the villa gate.

He then opened the house door before calmly sitting back down to finish breakfast.

Before long, Aoyama Hidetaka strode in, leading Ayaka Asai and Ryoichi Fujimoto.

"It’s quite rude to enter someone’s home without changing your shoes," Akira Nakayama frowned.

Aoyama Hidetaka smiled. "We’re not here for a social call today. Section Chief Nakayama, we’ve uncovered new developments in the Norihara murder case and need your cooperation. Please come with us."

"Idiot! Who are you to question me?" Akira Nakayama slammed his cutlery on the table and looked at Ayaka Asai. "It seems Inspector Asai has failed to teach her subordinates manners. Perhaps you should spend more time learning from Director Asai."

"How I do my job is none of your concern. What he said goes for me," Ayaka Asai replied coldly.

Akira Nakayama gave a meaningful laugh and picked up his cutlery again. "I have nothing to do with this case. On what grounds are you investigating me?"

"Enough with the charade, Section Chief Nakayama. You killed Norihara!" Aoyama Hidetaka shouted.

Unperturbed, Akira Nakayama sneered, "Detective Aoyama, you need evidence before making such accusations. Otherwise, I’ll sue you for defamation. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to finish my meal."

"You want evidence?" Aoyama Hidetaka smiled, produced a recorder, and pressed play.

As the recording played, the smile on Akira Nakayama’s face froze and his expression darkened.

Ryoichi Fujimoto and Ayaka Asai were both stunned and delighted. No wonder Aoyama Hidetaka had dared to come arrest him today—he’d been holding this card all along.

When the recording ended, Aoyama Hidetaka’s taunting smile deepened. "Any more questions?"

"You bastard, you set me up?" Akira Nakayama was livid, his breathing ragged, knuckles white as he gripped his knife and fork.

Aoyama Hidetaka only smiled in silence.

Suddenly, Akira Nakayama laughed, then shot to his feet, pointing a twisted face at Aoyama Hidetaka. "So what if the recording is admissible? Even if it is, do you think that alone is enough to convict me? How naive! Think you can climb over me to get ahead? You’re far too green!"

"That’s why I never intended to go through the courts. Outside the courtroom, I am the judge." Aoyama Hidetaka drew his gun and aimed it at him.

Akira Nakayama was stunned.

So were Ayaka Asai and Ryoichi Fujimoto.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Before they could react, the gun went off.

Akira Nakayama took three bullets to the chest, staggered backward several steps, and crashed to the floor. He stared wide-eyed at the ceiling, his chest heaving as blood gushed from the wounds, staining his white shirt.

His eyes were filled with unwillingness and confusion. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought Aoyama Hidetaka would simply shoot him dead.

"You’re insane!" Ayaka Asai screamed, shoving Aoyama Hidetaka. "Are you addicted to killing? You had evidence—you could have arrested him and investigated slowly. Why kill him?"

"He knows why," Aoyama Hidetaka said quietly, looking down at Akira Nakayama.

Nakayama’s eyes were dazed—then suddenly clear. He coughed blood, gasping out, "You... you... so ruthless..."

With those words, he died, eyes wide open.

"The gun," Aoyama Hidetaka said to Ryoichi Fujimoto.

"Uh—oh, right." Ryoichi snapped out of his daze, pulled a package from inside his coat, and handed it over.

Aoyama Hidetaka put on gloves, opened the oiled paper, revealing a black, unregistered pistol loaded with bullets. He bent down and placed it in Nakayama’s hand.

After arranging the scene, he looked back at Ayaka Asai and Ryoichi Fujimoto. "After hearing the recording, Nakayama resisted arrest with a gun and I shot him first. The three of us will testify for each other."

"With him dead, Hiroshi Yamamoto has no reason to shield him anymore. He’ll change his statement and pin Norihara’s murder on Nakayama. With the recording and Mrs. Norihara’s testimony, it’s enough to prove Nakayama was the killer. We’ll be credited, not blamed."

Ayaka Asai stared blankly at Nakayama’s corpse, making no response.

"Yes, sir," Ryoichi Fujimoto replied, but the look he gave Aoyama Hidetaka was tinged with fear, as if he was only now truly seeing him for the first time.

Aoyama Hidetaka went to Ayaka Asai, embraced her, and whispered, "You’ll get the main credit. Get yourself together, prepare your report, and be ready for the press. I’ll explain later why he had to die."