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Chapter 1: The Case of Toy-Knife

It's your business.

Whenever you have baseless anxieties or vague worries, give it to us. Even if you worry the sky might fall, we maybe may be able to help resolve it. That's what a detective is.

As light came through the frosted glass into this orange room, we got two customers.

"Yes, here's."

"Oh, thank you. Sorry to treat here like a cafe."

"No, not at all. I invited you. Anyway, is she your daughter?"

"No. She's our neighbor. Keiko, would you like some drinks?"

"No, thank you."

The lady brought it to her lips. With a soundless sigh of warmth, she smiled and said, "Thank you, detective. It's delicious always."

The detective nodded and returned to the kitchen without words. Compared to him, despite in elementary school, Keiko seemed very clever. She's the eldest of three sisters.

"We received these, please look at."

Keiko put on a toy knife and a flyer for a lecture with handed disfigured words on its back: "Please commit." Toy knife has a plastic blade, of course impossible to kill.

"I found it when I looked in the mailbox today." Keiko said.

"I was cleaning outside at the time, so I was surprised to see Keiko holding a knife." The lady said.

"So you brought it to us. Didn't you go to the police?" I said.

"Well, no. I don't think they have time to move if we say 'we might be kill by toy knife.'" The lady said.

We do not have time neither.

"Keiko, do you have any idea who send you letters or knives?" I asked.

"I don't know." Keiko said.

"Who else know this?" I asked again.

"Maybe just her mother. I thought I should announce not to be a kidnap." Lady answered.

"I see. Was there anything else you found?" I asked three times.

"Oh, this knife and letter weren't stamped, so I think someone put them directly into the box. Also, I asked neighborhoods to check their boxes, but I didn't find any knives or letters. So, this massage send to our family on purpose." Keiko explained radically.

"...Wonderful of you, like a detective. But is it not mere considence?." I said.

Keiko started to groan and curled up on the guest's sofa.

"Oh, right! Uh, sorry, I have to do my assignment of today, so I'll leave now."

Keiko suddenly stood up and bowed deeply right there. Then she got out.

"Well, should I ask you to sign up this form, Madam?"

"Ok. Here's my charge."

"Thank you. Please come again anytime."

"You're really suited to be a good mother. The assistant will be tough, but good luck."

"Yes, I'll do my best!"

They left the knife and letter here, and the lady took Keiko home. The adult male detective who had been hiding in the kitchen returned to the reception area, so I gave up my armchair and sat on the sofa across from him.

"You've heard the details."

"Yeah."

"What do you think about this knife and letter?"

"Well, as you three said, it's either a murderous massage or just a sprendid joke."

"Which one?"

"I don't know."

"Huh, don't have any thoughts?"

"First of all, don't call it a letter."

"Oh, right. A flyer. A flyer and a knife."

"Yeah, a glossy, flimsy flyer. Someone took troubles to write with a pencil on it."

"Certainly."

"I felt the writer chose this. They could have used plain papers that's easier to write on."

I checked the contents of the flyer again. It was for a seminar titled 'We want to tell a lot to sexual violence sufferer.'

"What could that mean? Why a seminar on sexual violence?" Detective said.

"I don't know either."

"So, the knife is mere a joke. And we can close this case."

"Absolutely not."

"Why?"

"Because our job is to reassure our clients."

"Quite simple. I like it. If we do, a fear for unknown's threat will last forever. Alright."

The detective indexed me.

"Fixed. You'll see. It's your business."

"Why me?"

"Because you're more motivated."

"Don't you have it?"

"Would you believe me?"

"Um, if you so, for example... observe this like Holmes."

"No way."

"Can't you do it?"

"Yes, I can't. Now is the era of word processors. Handwritten text is the most anonymous thing for me. Isn't it your role?"

Being told that, I began to stare at the 10 characters.

"They wrote this message and erased it and rewrite it many times."

"So it's not just a joke, so much heavy intention."

"Moreover, even the flyer was overkilledly erased, but there's not a single wrinkle on it. They must have been treated much slowly, and much carefully."

"Indeed. It doesn't look like a flyer from about ten years ago."

"Ten years ago? Oh, I see. Wow."

"You just noticed that now? Your observation is immature."

"I'm sorry for the lack. To summarize it, this is probably directed at Keiko's father."

"Then who's the sender?"

"It seems that ten years ago, a woman who had been sexually assaulted tracked down guilty Keiko's father's address and placed these flyers and knives in the mailbox."

"You said the criminal is an ex-lover who was discareded ten years ago, right?"

"...I don't think so."

"Of course not. We aren't Agatha Christie."

I groaned and curled up in the sofa, holding my head.