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Murder at the New York Library / Murder in Harlem / Murder in Central Park – Part 02

The two stepped out into the corridor.

Lamps lined both sides of the hallway, resembling a palace corridor, and small chandeliers hung from the ceiling. A stone statue of a goddess was pointing somewhere in a heroic pose.

As they descended the stairs, Kazuya took out a bag of honey-glazed nuts he bought from a food stand on the way and handed it to Victorique.

“I didn’t expect us to find the culprit so quickly,” he said.

Victorique promptly opened the bag of sweets and started eating.

“First things first, Kujou. A detective has to gather evidence. There should be a tobacco shop nearby, so let’s go ask if Benny Sander bought some African Style cigarettes three weeks ago.”

“Okay.” Kazuya then fell into thought. “But we still don’t know his motive. Why would an ordinary… no, a much wealthier college student like Benny Sander, want to kill gangsters?”

“A good question.”

“He did mention something weird about wanting to kick someone squatting. Is he one of those people who enjoys doing cruel things to others? If Benny Sander killed Nitti, that means he also killed Fiume and Dempsey, right? Is that college student from earlier really a ruthless and bloodthirsty serial killer, who targets gangsters one after another?”

“Hmm…”

Victorique opened her eyes. Emerald green light filled the surroundings. Her stunning silver hair gave color to the increasingly dark and narrow corridor.

Eating her snacks, Victorique tilted her head. “We still don’t know that. I suspected it was the same person committing the crimes, but I can’t be certain without investigating the other two cases.”

“Yeah…”

“If the bloodthirsty Benny Sander was lurking suspiciously in Harlem or Central Park, it would make things easy. Well, let us hurry. Wait, where are we? We don’t have time to waste.”

“The exit, where else? Huh?” Kazuya looked around, bewildered.

After descending the stairs and walking along, they found themselves in a dim and narrow corridor. They had wandered into the underground passage of the New York Public Library.

Victorique, eating snacks like a squirrel pre-hibernation, said, “Kujou, explain where we are right now. I said right now!”

“Huh, me? Right now? Uh… well…” Kazuya blushed awkwardly. “You were walking with so much confidence that I kind of just followed along. S-Sorry. You don’t have to give me such a terrifying stare! And you just keep on eating.”

“Unbelievable. Don’t you have any will of your own? You’re such a hopeless man!”

“You’re one to talk! You were so engrossed in your deduction that you lost track of where you were and ended up who knows where! You’re like a puppy on its first walk.”

Victorique looked up at Kazuya with a puzzled expression. “So, what do we do now?”

“D-Don’t look at me. Ah, I’ve got an idea!” Kazuya turned around and pointed down the dim corridor. “We just have to follow that.”

“Hmm?” Victorique narrowed her eyes.

The passage glittered with fallen honey-glazed nuts. She seemed to have spilled them.

Victorique nodded with satisfaction. “You’re welcome.”

“Ugh… I would prefer you not to spill food.”

Victorique walked on with an air of arrogance. Kazuya hurriedly followed.

Turning around one corner, and then another, they retraced their steps through the narrow labyrinthine corridors, when suddenly a chilly breeze swept through.

While Victorique walked on without a care in the world, Kazuya stopped in his tracks, feeling uneasy.

As Victorique turned around the dark corner, a tall woman in a medieval-style purple dress appeared. Victorique narrowed her emerald eyes and looked up. The woman silently glided forward as if her feet were hovering in the air. As she passed by, she breathed a sigh that sounded like the northern wind.

Kazuya watched cautiously. Who is that?

A pallid face. Heavy makeup, and purplish red lipstick. Icy gaze.

She seemed well over six feet tall, holding a fan of purple feathers. The hem of her dress made an unpleasant noise as it brushed against the floor.

As Kazuya looked up at her face, his breath caught.

A ghost of a noblewoman? No, on closer inspection, it’s not a woman. He swallowed. It’s a man dressed as a woman! Who on earth is it?

Kazuya watched the figure slip past with a wide-eyed gaze. The figure turned the corner and vanished.

Kazuya and Victorique exchanged bewildered glances. Nodding at each other, they dashed and turned the same corner.

It was a dead end. A crude wooden door swayed in the darkness, just about to close.

Kazuya approached and examined the door. There was a plain name plate nailed to it.

“Hoover’s File.”

He quietly brought his ears closer. There was no sound.

Kazuya turned to look at Victorique. Instead of her usual calm demeanor, she looked at him with a strange expression.

“Let’s go, Kujou,” she whispered.

“Okay.” Kazuya stepped back from the door. “Wait a moment.” He operated the necktie pin camera and took a picture of the eerie wooden door.

Victorique grabbed his hand and pulled him back to the main corridor. Her grasp was tight, as if she were the one protecting him. Using the fallen nuts as a marker, they ran and ran until they burst out into the bright, spacious corridor on the first floor.

After developing the photo of Benny Sander, they headed to the cigarette shop near the library.

“Oh, that kid bought African Style,” said the elderly shopkeeper. “It’s pricey, and has a funky smell, so it’s not flying off the shelves. I remember him well.”

“Just as suspected!”

The two exchanged glances.

“So, the culprit who killed the gangster bookworm Nitti was the rich college student Benny Sander. He intentionally dropped a cigarette box with a bomb inside to lure him into picking it up.”

“Yes.”

Carlos, who had been lounging in the shade, spotted them and strolled over lazily.

“Found anything yet?”

Victorique shot him a sidelong glance. “We’re heading to Harlem next. Are you coming too?”

“Well, I don’t really have a choice.” Carlos let out a tired sigh. He sauntered along. “The library might be safe, but Harlem is dangerous, so you’ll need protection. Rest assured. This mighty gangster will make sure you’re okay.” He tapped Kazuya’s shoulder.

Kazuya hung his head. In the small park behind the library, the bench was deserted due to the cold, but the grass was alive with children playing. Kazuya bit his lip, his jet-black eyes shimmering.

“Rokushou,” he murmured softly.

He went to his bicycle and mounted it.

“Hey, Victorique. That door earlier,” he whispered.

“Ahuh.”

“The one labeled Hoover’s File…”

Victorique remained expressionless and silent.

“I’ve heard of it before… Um, I think…”

“There was a branch of the newly formed government agency FBI called Hoover’s File. But the FBI’s headquarters should be near the White House in Washington. What’s it doing in New York and underneath a library?”

Victorique sighed and climbed onto the back of the bicycle, resting her head gently against Kazuya’s back.

“In any case, we need to hurry up with the investigation. Rokushou is waiting for us. Next stop, Harlem.”

“Yeah.”

Kazuya pedaled vigorously. The cold winter wind buffeted them as the bicycle zoomed along the road. Roadside trees rustled.

“Hey! Slow down a bit!” Carlos shouted.

He attempted to chase after them, but soon gave up and raised his hand to flag down a yellow cab.

Meanwhile, at the Roma Café in Little Italy…

In a corner of the bustling kitchen, where cooks were busy preparing for the lunchtime rush, Nico and Rebecca huddled together, whispering behind a stack of tomatoes.

Though it had been their gossip spot since childhood, both had grown considerably larger than average, often getting bumped by waitresses carrying plates or grazed by hot pots.

“Read it, Rebecca.”

Rebecca proudly raised her shoulders. “All right! ‘Oh, a lunch break of sorrow and misery. A youth penned a letter to his beloved and went to deliver it. But dost thou know? His tale ended tragically in the Tower of Babel that is the Wall Street.”

“Wow, that’s amazing! Kujou would be jealous. You’re definitely the smartest of all. You’re the best!” Nico exclaimed, clapping his hands animatedly.

Balancing plates stacked high enough to almost brush the ceiling, Mrs. Sacco sighed. “When are you two growing up?” She soon returned, tossing black olive pickles into their mouths.

“All right. Let’s head to the Daily Road’s editorial department right away and stick this to the chief,” Nico said, chewing on his snack. “He’s always so angry, but when he reads this, he’ll be speechless for sure.”

“Is your boss really that scary?”

“Yeah,” Nico said sullenly, as if recalling an unpleasant memory.

Upon receiving Rebecca’s manuscript for the Wall Street Rhapsody, he glanced down for a moment.

“You know how I can’t read,” he said, suddenly adopting an innocent, childlike tone. “Maybe that’s why I feel glad whenever you’re around. And… also with Kujou. Oh, yesterday, we were chatting, and I ended up following him all the way to Brooklyn.”

“I see,” Rebecca said. “I remember when you first started working. You were furious because they paired you with an inscrutable Asian guy. But it seems like you have fun when you’re with Kujou.”

“Hmm…” Nico cast his gaze down, then stood up. “Let’s go.”

Rebecca also rose, looking somewhat cheerful, and together they headed toward the back door.