Eavesdropping on the Inspectors, Kogami raised his head above the keyboard just enough to see Akane talking with their superior. “I need these people out of here before anything else can happen to them,” Ginoza said. “Chief Kasei was quite adamant about that. Kogami needs to do this.”
“That’s not a good idea. He’s really not feeling well,” she protested. “It was a mistake bringing him—”
“Perhaps I’m not being clear enough, Inspector Tsunemori.” Ginoza crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back while glaring at her.
“Do you think that’s wise, Inspector?” Masaoka asked. “Kogami can be a handful on his best day. Might be asking for trouble.”
“He can rest after the rehearsal,” Mr. Nagano interjected. “There’s a couch in my office here on the first level. He’ll be quite comfortable, and you’re welcome to anything you find in my refrigerator or the theater kitchen. Please, just make him play.”
“Inspector Tsunemori?” Ginoza peered down at her from over the rim of his eyeglasses.
Akane relented beneath his fierce gaze. “He’ll do it if I ask him.” Then returning the Senior Inspector’s fierce gaze, she said, “When it’s over, Kogami is going back to headquarters.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“Inspector Ginoza!”
“Director Nagano’s offer is too kind. When the rehearsal is over, Kogami can rest in his office while we complete the investigation.”
“Excellent!” Nagano exclaimed. He turned to the tech crew and signaled for them to begin setting up the stage.
“Kagari,” Ginoza called. “Get down here and help Kunizaka set up the surveillance equipment.”
Nagano followed Akane back to the piano platform. “Mr. Kogami, is it? Everything you’ll need for the fourth and fifth acts is in my office. If you will, please follow me.”
Nagano’s spacious office reminded Kogami more of a college dorm room during exams than the office of a professional. Discarded clothes were carelessly strewn about the floor and furniture. Costumes, many draped in dry cleaning paper, were hanging from pictures and alcoves in the walls. Empty food containers were piled up on the desk and overflowed from the trash.
With an embarrassed smile, Director Nagano darted through the room to tidy up as best he could. “Forgive me. This is the result of being married to the job,” he said.
“Trying to run a successful theater production company, especially with all your recent troubles, cannot be easy,” Akane said. “I can’t imagine the stress you must be under.”
“I assure you, Inspector Tsunemori, my psycho pass is checked monthly, and I adhere to a strict regimen of mental care supplements.”
“Smooth move, Inspector,” Kogami whispered under his breath. “Way to shame the man under his own roof.” He scanned the lit alcoves in the office, which held artifacts similar to those in the antechamber beyond the main auditorium. The Enforcer’s attention was drawn to a rapier cradled in crimson velvet within a sealed glass container. The rapier was in meticulous condition except for a few lines of tarnish on the blade closest to the hilt. “This was Kurnan Kazuya‘s sword?”
“Indeed, it was, Mr. Kogami,” Nagano replied. “Given to my many times great grandfather as Kurnan lay dying in the road. His final words to my ancestor were: ‘I go with you.’” Admiring the blade, the director stood beside Kogami. “It was then, at least in my mind, the Kurouma Curse was born. Out of a need to comfort a dying man or out of his guilt for the death of his daughter, my ancestor swore to Kazuya that he would produce his play for the world to see.”
“And after 300 years,” Akane said, “it’s never been brought to the stage?”
“No,” Nagano replied sadly. “Any attempt has been met with incidents that grew into disasters the closer they got to opening night.”
“What if Kazuya never intended for the play to be produced?”
“I do believe in ghosts, Mr. Kogami, but I am undeterred to bring this production to fruition. I have one son, and unlike my predecessors, I will not hand over this curse to him. So it falls to me to make good on an old debt. Ah, here we are. Do you have a preference for digital or paper sheet music, sir?”
“Paper, if you don’t mind,” Kogami replied.
“A traditionalist! Always a pleasure to see someone who appreciates the finer arts of what has been and gone.” Nagano rearranged the sheet music in the proper order and handed it to Kogami. “I cannot thank you enough. You’re doing me not only a great service, but a great honor.”
“Are these from Kazuya’s original sheet music?”
“Meticulously scanned from the originals before they were sealed into glass displays to preserve them.” Nagano stepped into the center of his office and beckoned for Akane and Kogami to join him. “The entire score and the lyrics were rescued from the fire set by Gorou and passed down from one family member to another. They eventually came to my great-grandfather who had them carefully preserved along with other relics that survived the fire. These items have been on display ever since the theater was renovated,”
“It’s so fascinating, but so sad at the same time,” Akane said. “What is the name of Kazuya’s play?”
“Until Death...Do Us Part? And yes, that’s with a question mark,” Nagano said with a playful wink. “Kazuya was not only rumored to be a highwayman, but a sharp-witted satirist as well. The play itself is a stinging reproach of the Emperor and the heavy tariffs imposed on the citizens of the empire, but it’s also a testament of his love for Asura Rai Nagano. If I have my way, the world will know of that love for generations to come.”
“A noble goal,” Akane said.
Nagano clasped his hands behind his back and rocked back and forth on his feet. “You should be all set, Mr. Kogami. Follow my cues, and we’ll get through this, hopefully, without further incident.”
“Unless your phantom takes exception to my playing, right?”
Nagano smiled at Kogami. “As they say in the business, break a leg. Is there anything else I can get for you?”
“A caramel latte with an extra shot of caramel and whipped cream,” Kogami said.
“Miss Kobuto!” Nagano called.
“Yes, Director Nagano,” said a young woman. Dressed in a simple black dress, she came to the door and bowed respectfully to Akane and Kogami.
“Please get Mr. Kogami a caramel latte with an extra shot of caramel and whipped cream. Inspector Tsunemori?”
“Oh no, no thank you. Nothing for me,” Akane said, glaring at Kogami. “Smooth move, Enforcer,” she mocked him.
“I was kidding,” Kogami whispered. He flinched as Akane jammed her fingers into his ribs.
“Right away, Mr. Nagano.” The receptionist bowed and left the room.
“Are you ready for your theatrical debut, Mr. Kogami?” Nagano asked.
“Doesn’t look like I have much of a choice,” Kogami said. He tried to keep his distance from Akane.
“No, you don’t. For a caramel latte with an extra shot of caramel and whipped cream, you’re now on the clock.” Akane glared at him, taking the Enforcer by the sleeve, and leading him out of the office.
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