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Dr. G.I. Boleid’s Psychoanalysis – Part 05

“A man with the stench of the underworld came with his subordinate and offered a case related to the Italian mafia?” Kazuya asked, looking extremely puzzled.

In the inner room, Victorique sat on a red swivel chair in her muslin nightgown, puffing on a golden, lizard-shaped pipe, lost in thought. The radios were off, leaving the room quiet, save for the faint crackling of the fireplace. Occasionally, the distant argument from the opposite room could be heard.

Victorique’s damp silver hair shimmered enchantingly. From atop the shelf, the silent radios watched the books and red and purple potpourri scattered on the floor.

Her bewitching, emerald-green eyes stared at Kazuya. “Yes. The men left behind a bullet engraved with a banana. A bullet from a banana machine gun. It was an intimidation tactic typical of the Mafia.”

“So those men were Mafia?”

“Uh… well…” Victorique hesitated, then closed her mouth without saying anything. The look on her face said that she knew but was reluctant to voice it.

“Anyway,” Victorique went on, slowly puffing on her pipe. “I was keeping watch outside just in case, but there was no suspicious activity on the main street. It might just be my imagination, but it’s better to be safe.” She cast her gaze downward, her voice just barely audible. “We’ve just started a peaceful life after fleeing to the New World. There’s no need to bring in new troubles so soon.”

Kazuya, though looking worried, put on a smile. “Yeah, you’re right. So that’s why you were sitting outside in the cold earlier, huh?”

Victorique grunted.

“Be that as it may, this case you mentioned does sound quite strange. Gang members are killing each other every day, but they only care about three murders, and so much so that they would hire a private detective to look into it.”

Victorique smoked her golden pipe. “Yes. The man said that he did not know the motive for the killings, and that seems to be unusual in the world of gangs. They must find it disturbing, I suppose.”

The ticking of the clock echoed eerily in the room.

“Now then. These are the documents for the Gang Serial Murder Case. Let us hear your opinion.” Victorique handed Kazuya the papers.

Kazuya briefly stared at Victorique’s face in surprise, then accepted the documents without a word. He stood upright in front of the bookshelf and began reading intently.

Meanwhile, Victorique continued to smoke her pipe silently. A thin wisp of white smoke rose towards the ceiling of the apartment.

The argument in the opposite room seemed to have finally subsided. An eerie silence filled the building.

After a while, Kazuya said, “So the first victim of the Gang Serial Murder Case was Nitti. I know the guy.”

Victorique lifted her head and looked at Kazuya in surprise.

“Nitti’s family was poor, and he had many siblings,” Kazuya continued somberly. “He was the eldest son, and when he became a gangster, his brothers were able to go to school. He wasn’t the typical gangster type, being quiet and all. Now that he’s gone, his brothers must be having a difficult time. Oh, and the second victim is Fiume? He was from the Bronx, short-tempered and easily infatuated. He was notorious as a dangerous gangster who you shouldn’t anger or fall in love with. And the third one… what? Dempsey?! He’s dead too! He was a simple farm boy from the South. He was big…?”

Victorique waved her pipe, interrupting Kazuya. “So you know all three victims?” she asked very suspiciously.

Kazuya glanced back at the documents and nodded. “Well… yeah, actually. Listen. As to why I know them…”

Before Kazuya could explain, Victorique said hoarsely, “It’s because you’re the culprit.”

“Yup, that’s right. I’m the… culprit…? Wait, what?!”

Kazuya’s face contorted in shock. Finally noticing Victorique’s dangerous gaze, he hurriedly exclaimed, “Wh-Where did that come from?! Why are you suddenly accusing me?!”

Victorique drew herself back fearfully, eyeing him with suspicion. “How many Mafia members do you think there are in New York right now? And yet, you seem to know an awful lot about the three gangsters who were killed. Even for a newspaper reporter, it’s strange to know so many by sheer coincidence.”

“Good point. Now that you mention it, m-maybe I am suspicious…? B-But Victorique, there’s a proper explanation for this. Um, if you could just listen to my side of the story.”

“No, I won’t listen.” Victorique said firmly. “The Wellspring of Wisdom has spoken. The man in front of me is undoubtedly the culprit behind the Gang Serial Murder Case.”

“Wait a minute!” Kazuya was furious now. Placing his hands on his hips, he looked down at her. “You better cut that out, or else!”

Victorique kept silent.

“Victorique. I have a very important message for your magnificent intellect! It’s not what you think… Just give me a minute. I’ll prove my innocence right away!”

He dashed into the adjacent room with the black door, grabbed a briefcase, and returned immediately. Turning red and blue, he began pulling out items from the bag one by one: pen, notebook, a wallet, sewing tools, handkerchief, and various other unrelated things, shaking his head as he organized them neatly on the floor.

Victorique puffed on her pipe with an air of boredom as Kazuya frantically sorted through the items. Finally, he triumphantly presented what he was looking for in front of Victorique’s face: a stack of newspaper articles, which he spread out with a flourish.

Victorique blinked. “What’s this all about?”

“It’s back issues of the Daily Road!”

“I can see that. But what do they have to do with anything?”

“Just read it!”

Since Kazuya insisted adamantly, Victorique reluctantly started scanning through the articles.

Standing upright next to her, Kazuya explained, “It’s a column initiated by a senior journalist three weeks ago.”

“Hmm?”

“It’s called ‘Mafia’s World—I’m a Dangerous Man!’ It’s a series profiling a different mafia member each week. It’s published in the Saturday evening edition. I’ve been helping with the interviews. Nitti, Fiume, and Dempsey are all young mafia guys who happened to be featured in this column.”

“Oh!”

“By the way, the fourth one is a boy named Carlos Coppo, and he’s scheduled to appear in this Saturday’s evening edition. Wait, come to think of it, I think Nico mentioned he’s an old friend of his. Hmm? Victorique, what’s wrong?”

“I can’t believe it.”

Unlike before, Victorique’s expression looked genuinely somber. She placed the gold pipe on its stand.

“The common factor among the murdered gangsters is this serialized article.”

“Yeah… Wait, what does that mean?”

“Take a closer look,” she said grimly. “Compare the case files with the newspaper articles. Nitti, the first victim, was killed on a Sunday afternoon three weeks ago. And when was he featured in Mafia’s World?”

The two of them scanned the newspaper articles together.

“…Ah!”

“See? It was the Saturday of three weeks ago, the day before he was killed.”

“What does this mean?”

“Let’s take a look at Fiume next.” Victorique pointed. “Here, Kujou. He was killed on a Saturday night two weeks ago. And when was he featured? It was in the evening edition of the same day! And what about the third victim, Dempsey? He was found dead a week ago, on Sunday. And his article…”

They leaned in closer, their foreheads almost touching.

“…was released the day before, on the evening edition of the Saturday paper.”

“Bingo?! Wait a second, Victorique. Does this mean…” Kazuya’s face tensed up.

Victorique, with a straight face but a hint of disappointment, replied, “Well, if we assume you’re not the culprit…”

“Are you seriously still on that?!”

“It’s just a completely harmless little joke.”

“You’re always like that,” Kazuya sighed.

Victorique was getting more and more absorbed with the articles. “The unidentified murderer seems to be targeting mafia members who appear in the Daily Road articles.”

Kazuya fell silent.

“The motive is still unclear, however. There’s too little fragments of chaos—there’s not much data to work with. But one thing is certain: the culprit is likely not a gangster. It’s unlikely to be the Russian Mafia or the Irish Gang. In fact, it’s more probable that it’s someone unfamiliar with the gang world, perhaps an ordinary civilian.”

“And…?”

“Ugh, you’re such a pain in the rear!”

“Please verbalize it, Victorique.”

“Hmm?”

Victorique blinked repeatedly, overwhelmed by Kazuya’s fervor. Her silver hair stirred, and her emerald-green eyes dimmed sullenly. Her ruffled nightgown enveloped her petite frame like a winter rabbit’s fur.

She silently smoked her pipe for a while, then very reluctantly, she began to explain.

“Hmph. Firstly, for heaven knows why, the culprit likely has a strong desire to kill gangsters. Unfortunately, they’re unfamiliar with that world and don’t know whom to target. So, they’ve been selecting victims through the serialized articles they found that featured living gangsters.”

Kazuya fell silent, recalling the times he assisted with the interviews. He studied their bold smiles and poses in the newspaper photos and let his shoulders sag. The lamp’s light fell on his forlorn expression.

As the night deepened, quiet descended upon the monochromatic city. Fire crackled in the hearth. The silent radios seemed to watch over them with bated breath.

With her gold pipe in hand, Victorique opened her green eyes. “Kujou. Did you say the fourth installment of the series will be published in this Saturday’s evening edition?”

“Yeah. It’s Carlos’s article next.”

“In that case, we can predict that a fourth victim named Carlos Coppo will emerge from Saturday night to Sunday noon. The unseen gang murderer will likely stir once again.”

“Oh!”

“When that happens, those mysterious men who came today will likely be more inclined to take action.”

The two exchanged glances slowly, their expressions clouding over.

Darkness gradually invaded the chilly room. Faint moonlight spilled in through the window. It was a quiet, cold winter night.

“It seems I’ve been entangled in a rather troublesome situation,” Victorique murmured softly.