“Not really.” Shinji chuckled. “I made the account for research purposes. I’m not a very social person.”
“Yeah, me neither. Anything useful?”
“There are a lot of photos.” Shinji turned the phone sideways for Hayashi to see.
In the photographs Ozawa wore casual clothes, makeup and her hair was down and curled. She appeared to be in various restaurants alongside other young women and men—most likely her friends.
“We’re fortunate the friend checked in at these restaurants, so we have their names,” Shinji said.
“Let’s write them down,” Hayashi added. “Based on the number of restaurants, I’ll form a team or two and get them to check out each restaurant, see if anyone recognizes our jogger or noticed anything suspicious.”
“Should we split up, sir? Cover more ground?” He hoped to have some freedom of movement to look for the ghosts.
“No, we’ll stick together. I have more than enough officers for the restaurants.” Hayashi’s tone left no room for debate.
The waiter returned with their coffees as Shinji jotted down restaurant names. By the time the food arrived, he’d reached the twelfth restaurant in the past two months or so.
“That’s quite a list,” Hayashi said.
“Her parents mentioned she went out every weekend.”
“Yeah.” Hayashi reached for the phone and flipped back a few pictures. He stared for a bit, then went back and forth between pictures, his brows furrowing. “There’s a gap on September 17th. Ozawa appears in pictures every Saturday and Sunday of these past two months, but not September 17th.”
“She could’ve been out with a different group of friends. Perhaps a group that this particular friend isn’t part of.”
“Okay. Let’s eat, then check out some of the other friends, see if we can find out where she was on that day.”
Tons of pictures later, Shinji felt like he’d go cross-eyed if he kept going. There was no picture showing Ozawa’s whereabouts on the seventeenth of September. Perhaps she’d been with Yamato that day. Or perhaps it was just a simple gap among all the photographs and signified nothing. There was the possibility of a hidden account too, one that perhaps Ozawa didn’t share with her parents and the team of digital forensics were currently investigating as per Hayashi’s orders.
Right when he was about to give up, Shinji noticed the date on one of the pictures from a friend of a friend—it was September 17th. “Got something,” he said and pushed the phone toward Hayashi.
Ozawa sat at a table between a man and a woman—both looking around the same age as Ozawa. The man wasn’t Yamato and there weren’t other pictures from that day.
“Write down the name of that restaurant and let’s check it out,” Hayashi said. “I’ll send the rest of the list to my team along these accounts. There are bound to be more pictures of her, but we can’t sit here all day looking for them.”
They paid for the coffee and lunch, then returned to the car and headed toward the restaurant from the photograph, located just a few minutes away from thekissaten.
“I’m thinking we should try and contact her friends, sir,” Shinji said. “We can’t get their personal info without a warrant, but I can send a private message.”
Hayashi hummed. “Sounds good. Ozawa’s friends will most likely know more than her parents.”
At the traffic lights, Shinji wrote a few messages fast, identifying himself as a police officer and asking for their cooperation before leaving the TMPD Division 1’s contact number which would redirect them to him. If Ozawa’s friends were willing to cooperate, the investigation would go much faster after establishing a connection between Ozawa and Yamato.
Not before long, Shinji parked in front of the restaurant. The neighborhood was full of expensive venues suited for large celebrations. A security guard came straight to them with instructions to park somewhere else, but Hayashi flashed his badge, then strolled inside the restaurant.
The first floor was enormous, with long tables draped in white cloths. Candles, vases with flowers and beautifully folded napkins sat atop them. The restaurant had no customers, but waitresses and waiters rushed left and right, looking like they were preparing for some event.
The maître d', a woman with chestnut hair in a blue suit and a short yellow scarf tied to the side of her neck, welcomed them.
She bowed. “How may I help you?”
“I’m Chief Inspector Hayashi Teruo, Criminal Investigations, TMPD. This is Police Sergeant Miyazaki Shinji, my partner. We’re here to ask a few questions about one of the events which took place in this restaurant. Could you please get the manager and the employees who worked on September 17th?”
She paled when Hayashi said “criminal investigations”, but politely guided them toward a door leading to the staff area. She stopped a waiter, whispered something to him, then led them on toward the staff’s break room.
“I’ll be right back,” she said and left.
Minutes later, she returned with the manager and the employees who worked the event that night.