Karaoke Killer
Karaoke Killing
Mr Masuda lay on the Velvet Lounge karaoke stage, blood flowing from two bullet wounds in his chest. He tried to speak, but all that came out of his mouth was blood and a gurgling sound. His assailant stood over him knowing that Masuda’s life was about to end. A shot rang out from the Velvet Lounge, only noticed by the empty dark streets of Hiroshima.
Masuda was underboss of the Yakuza in Hiroshima. His boss Mr Hashimoto distrusted him and kept him on a short leash; the Hyakujuu Shinkansen GM Neil Thomasfeared him; and Joe Dobbs was wary of the threat to his friend. However, any number of people could have been standing over the lifeless body of Masuda; for the young Yakuza had made enemies throughout Hiroshima. Nevertheless, three potential attackers stood out from the rest. These are their stories.
She knew he wanted to talk over what he had read in the paper, since he’d left it open at the article. Yet he’d placed his coffee mug on the paper; he didn’t want it to seem too obvious a way of bringing up the conversation.
“Have you finished with your coffee, Joe?” Helen asked him.
“It’s okay, I’ll move it,” he replied.
Before Joe could move Helen had picked the mug up.
“Joe look, Neil was made the GM of an LRS team.”
“Neil?”
“Neil Thomas; he’s working for a team called the Hyakujuu Shinkansen.”
“I thought I may have seen something about it.”
“Joe: you know full well that you’ve read it. Why don’t you phone him? I’m sure it would be easy to find the number and I bet he’d love to talk to you.”
“Too much water under the bridge; he probably wouldn’t take my call anyway.”
“We’ll just have to see then.” Helen, unknown to Joe, had gone into the kitchen and looked up the Shinkansen office number and had already called it.
“I’m sorry I don’t speak Japanese. Could I speak to Neil Thomas, your GM?”
“That’s fine, I speak English as well,” answered the voice on the other end. “Could I ask who is calling please?”
“Would you tell him it’s Helen Dobbs?”
It was just a split second before a man’s voice spoke.
“Helen!” But before she could reply the voice continued. “Helen, you and Joe are ok, aren’t you?”
“We’re both fine Neil. We just read your good news that you’re back in baseball but over in Japan.”
A few apologies from both sides of the Pacific and a phone call that lasted well into the night had turned into an invitation to Joe and Helen Dobbs to visit Japan.
It was like their friendship had never missed a beat. When Neil wasn’t working he spent every moment with his friends and when he was working Joe would stay with Neil and Helen would go shopping with Midori Okada, who had become a firm friend of Neil’s after they first met at the Velvet Lounge.
Neil and Joe were at the Velvet Lounge waiting for Helen and Midori to return from their shopping trip.
“Who’d have thought that the ex-Yuma GM would become a karaoke-singing GM of a Japanese baseball team?” Joe laughed.
“Just wish things had been different back in Yuma.”
“Forget Yuma. Anyway: looks like you have a little fan club over there; they’ve never taken their eyes off you all night, especially the young ugly one.”
Neil glimpsed over his shoulder at the bar.
“Oh; they’re Yakuza.”
“Yakuza? You mean like the mafia?”
“Yeah, just like the mafia. They own this place; well, their boss does. The young guy’s called Masuda – real bad piece of work. Look: don’t tell Helen, but when I arrived in Japan I got friendly with a lady who turned out to be involved with Masuda. Long story short: I managed to save my skin by singing karaoke here, but Masuda wants me dead or at least singing soprano.”
“You do make the job of being a GM kind of…interesting.”
No sooner had Joe and Helen’s vacation begun than it was time to go back home.
“Hi Helen. Sorry I’m late; I’ve got the car outside. Are you and Joe ready?”
“I am, but I have no idea where Joe is. He said he was going to pick up some last minute gifts to take home.”
Just at that moment Joe came in through the door.
“Joe! We’ll be late for our flight! What’s happened to your shirt? There’s some blood on it; you’ll have to change it.”
“Sorry. I cut myself shaving this morning and didn’t notice until I was out.”
When they had said goodbye to Neil and settled into their seats Helen leaned over to Joe.
“Did you get everything sorted out?”
Joe just smiled at her and gave a gentle nod.
Neil Thomas
Neil looked over at the Velvet Lounge door as Helen Dobbs and Midori Okada walked in. They were weighed down with shopping bags.
“With the looks of those bags the ladies are carrying it looks like your credit card took a hammering, Joe.”
Joe smiled. “As long as Helen’s happy it’s fine by me.”
“You ladies want a drink?” Neil asked.
“I’ll get them Neil,” Midori replied. “I owe Helen a drink for the dress she got me.”
Midori went to the bar and Neil noticed that Masuda had started to talk to her; Midori moved but before she could get away Masuda had grabbed her arm. He leaned over and whispered something to her.
“Your problems are with me Masuda, not her. Let her go.” Neil could see in Midori’s eyes that whatever Masuda had said to her had scared her; Masuda knew this was his chance to finally take care of the Hyakujuu GM. But out of the corner of his eye he could see Mr Hashimoto, his Yakuza boss, shake his head. Masuda let go of Midori and glared at Neil: “next time we meet, Hashimoto will not be around to save you. I promise you that.”
“You may think I fear you Masuda, and it may be true. But sometimes fear can be used as a weapon not only to attack someone but to defend someone; don’t forget when an animal is backed into a corner that’s when they’re most dangerous”.
Hashimoto looked over at the two men. It was just a matter of time before one or both of them would be dead. Which one though? Masuda was a killer and more skilful in the art of death. And although Neil didn’t look like a killer, he knew how to survive.
“Hiroshi, ask Mr. Masuda to let go of our singer’s throat and join me over here.”
Hashimoto was the head of the Yakuza. Masuda was underboss and resident psycho but nobody feared them more than they feared Hiroshi Fergus McDonald. He and his brother Yoshiro Cornelius McDonald were not only feared henchmen of the Yakuza within Hiroshima; they were dreaded throughout Japan amongst the criminal fraternity.
“You are weak old man; you let the singer get away with insulting me.”
“He serves a purpose Masuda.”
“He serves no purpose but to fan the flames of your desire for baseball.”
“Maybe you have forgotten who you are addressing?”
“I haven’t forgotten anything. It is you, old man, who has forgotten who you are and what you are. The Hashimoto of old would have killed him and never blinked an eye.”
As Masuda turned and walked away Hashimoto mumbled to himself:
“Maybe I’ve just remembered who the Hashimoto of old was.”