Pearl City
by Simon Rowe

A Mami Suzuki Mystery

Silhouetted against the noonday sky, the president of Tokai Pearls Ltd. stood at his suite window and surveyed the harbor. His gaze ranged from the shipyards and submarine docks of Kawasaki Heavy Industries to the Mosaic shopping mall and its slow-turning Ferris wheel, then to the Port Tower where tour boats came and went from the ferry terminal, and finally to the Rokko mountains which lifted the suburbs in a great pale wave above the sea.

‘Do you know why they call this Pearl City?’ he asked.

The three dark suits at the back of the room said nothing. Their collective gaze instead fell to the middle-aged woman in a blue pants suit who sat on the leather sofa chair in front of them. She was generously built, wore her hair in a jet black bob, and rested her manicured hands on a chestnut brown handbag in her lap.

‘Because pearls are a Kobe girl’s best friend?’ she ventured.

The President boomed. His laughter rolled about the room like distant thunder. ‘Good, good! I like it,’ he said, then to the back of the room, ‘Danno, make a note of that. We could use it in advertising.’

A slim young man with a fashionable hairstyle gave a curt ‘Hai!’, drew a pen from his breast pocket and scribbled into a notepad.

The president seated himself behind a desk of polished walnut; a pink conch shell paperweight to one side, a speed-dial phone to the other. He was a short man, heavy-set, with a cherubic face and a smooth, tanned pate which caught the sunlight at such an angle it made him look almost angelic.

‘I’ll tell you why it’s called Pearl City, Ms Suzuki,’ he said. ‘Because more pearls pass through this town than anywhere else in the world, and more pearls pass through this company than any other in this town. Our reputation, like our pearls, is unblemished.’ He leaned forward. ‘That is why we have asked you here today.’

Suzuki glanced about the room. She noted the reproductions of old photos showing pearl luggers, turn-of-the-century fishing villages, and half-naked female divers—the famed ‘sea women’ of Mie prefecture. She noted the brass diving bell helmet set on the teakwood sideboard, the mounted staghorn of red coral, and the framed photo of the Empress of Japan around whose neck gleamed three strands of fine Akoya pearls. Her gaze returned to the president.

‘Someone is stealing from me and I want to know who,’ he said, then nodded towards the young man behind her. ‘Danno, here, is my assistant…’

‘Thank you for coming, Ms Suzuki,’ Danno said, stepping lightly across the room to his boss’s side. ‘You come highly recommended.’

‘Oh?’ she said.

‘You did some work for my wife’s sister a few months ago…a Ms Deguchi?’

Suzuki’s eyebrows arched. ‘The underwear thief case?’

‘She said you’re a fast worker. “Very intuitive” were the words she used.’

‘I had some help…’

‘Nevertheless,’ the president interrupted, ‘there are one hundred and twelve staff at this company, nearly all of them female. We believe a female detective, such as yourself, stands a better chance of finding a thief than the City police…We are offering a three-hundred-thousand yen fee, paid upfront, with another three-hundred thousand paid to you for proof of the thief’s identity.’ He nodded at Danno, who reached into his breast pocket, produced a white envelope and passed it to her.

She felt the tight wad of crisp banknotes inside and drew a breath, more than a month’s salary in her hands. She looked up and her gaze was arrested by the image of a solo freediver on the wall behind the president. She was full-breasted and strong-armed, wearing only a loin cloth and a line tethered to her waist as she descended the depths on shafts of sunlight. Suzuki had heard that the ‘sea women’ of Mie could stay down longer than men—their extra body fat kept them from freezing. She wondered how much a woman like that had gotten paid for her time and efforts.

‘Ms Suzuki?’ said Danno. ‘May we have your answer, please?’

Her gaze returned to the two men and she breathed out slowly.

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This is the beginning of a longer short story entitled ‘Pearl City’, which can be read on Kindle, Kobo, Smashwords, Apple Books, etc. “for the price of a coffee”. – Simon Rowe www.mightytales.net

For more by Simon, see his poem about kayaking friends here, or his piece about a trucker called Uramoto here, his excerpt from the novella ‘Sword Dancer’ here, or his account of marketing his own book here.