Ways to Die in Tokyo by Thomas Ran Garver

Author:Thomas Ran Garver [Ran Garver, Thomas]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BookBaby
Published: 2022-04-06T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty

It’s rough even for a police sketch. Bushy hair poofing out from under the hoodie. The head angled slightly downward, not a lot of facial detail filled in. The man in the drawing could be a foreigner, maybe not. It is, after all, a rough drawing.

But seriously, like, shit. That thing about all foreigners looking alike to Japanese people? Yeah, well, pretty sure it doesn’t apply to Japanese cops who are working off of an eyewitness description.

The old lady in the apron at the bottom of the stairs in the apartment complex had obviously gotten a look at him after all, and based on the drawing on the TV screen, it was a pretty good look. Chill. He massages the back of his neck.

Relax.

It’s unlikely anyone will be able to ID him from a sketch.

Clicking off the TV, he pushes himself out of the chair and steps in front of the mirror above the small sink by the door. His hair is a tangled bush, his beard a matted mess. His eyes are puffy and bloodshot with bruised-looking bags underneath. The goose egg on his forehead has begun to subside, but his right cheekbone is red and swollen where the red-bearded skinhead kicked him last night. He looks like crap.

More important, he looks like himself.

There’s an outlet at the base of the wall next to the sink. He takes the hair clipper out of one of the plastic grocery bags and removes it from its package, plugs the thing into the socket, and goes to work. He buzzes his hair down to about a half inch and then uses the scissors he bought to hack away as much of his beard as he can before scooping up the trimmings and dumping them in the trash can. Then he shaves and goes down the hall, where there’s a small shower. He washes the scrapes on his hand, elbow, and knee, taking care not to let the water hit them directly. He towels off and returns to his room, where he applies the antibacterial ointment and fresh bandages to the abrasions and checks himself in the mirror again.

Fisher hasn’t seen his face in a long time, and it’s jarring. After Lisa and the kids left, he stopped getting regular haircuts and trimmed his beard only occasionally. He just didn’t care anymore. In any case, his new clean-shaven look will make it harder for someone to connect him to the police sketch. And hopefully harder for Shota and his knuckleheads to spot him.

It’s just after 9:00 a.m. He’ll go to Akio’s place in Omotesando. If Akio isn’t up by now, tough shit.

He puts on Mari’s brother’s shorts and is pulling his new blue T-shirt over his head when the phone buzzes. He jumps, confused because he’s blocked Shota’s number. He steps over to the console, picks the phone up. No Caller ID. He lets it ring a couple of times before he hits receive.

“Hank?”

The sound of Marini’s voice throws him, and then he remembers he used this phone to call Marini from Mari’s apartment last night.

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