Vices: A Race **Chapter 009**

“So a movie was showing last night on HBO,” Peters told Touta as the latter drank from his paper cup, “The one with Morgan Freeman as a cop. You heard of that one?” Touta shook his head. “It was released around mid-nineties. I think it was a favorite of dad’s. Anyway, it had Brad Pitt as Freeman’s partner. Both of them were police.”

“Did this get you anywhere in the case, Peters?”

“I’m getting there, I’m getting there. So, the two of them are investigating a weird series of serial murders. After two victims, they have clues and shit, and then they realize that the victims were set up in some kind of symbolic fashion.”

Touta furrowed his brows, “Symbolic?”

“They believed that the serial killer related his victims to the seven deadly sins.” Both of them remained silent at that, Touta rubbing his temples and Peters merely staring out the windows of A’s office, blankly observing the cars that drove on and on.

“So you believe that our killer’s doing the same?”Peters turned to see A standing in the doorway, clutching at a hot cup of coffee with sunglasses on her face. As she shut the door, Peters gave a tight nod.

“Look, it all makes sense. Gambler is greed. Drug addict is probably gluttony. Prostitute is lust. Seven weeks, seven murders then he wins if he gets all seven without us catching up,” the American told the two, his voice growing tighter as he got the pieces of his theory together. “It works. We search for the next sin, then eliminate potential victims then boom – we catch our killer. We win, he goes to jail, we get our paychecks.”

“It’s not that easy,” A finally said, sitting at her own desk and removing her sunglasses.

Peters stared. “But why not – and why the hell didn’t you come back yesterday after interviewing Matsumoto?” Touta noticed her eyes dart away at the question.

“I had to look for more people to associate the second victim with. It didn’t go well.” Peters gave a shrug at that and searched for the movie’s plot on his smartphone, but Touta kept his eyes on the young female, a frown tugging at his lips.

She had to go home for a reason.

Later that hour, when she excused herself to go out for water, Touta did the same. Upon stepping out of the office, he immediately asked her where she went.

“You’re not a good liar,” he told her, and she smiled a bit as she walked to the water station, fishing a plastic cup out of the plastic.

“God. I thought you’d fall for it.”

“Peters isn’t so quick to body language. Forgive him for that,” the Japanese watched as she poured cold water into the cup, “But where did she really go?”

It took her a few minutes and a few refills into the plastic cup for her to reply, he seeing that she had bit her lip in slight hesitance. “Hey – you can tell me,” he offered. “It’s nothing for you to worry about. If you were tired, it’s fine. We’ve been working on this for the past four days nonstop after all.”

She blinked at that. “It’s been four days?” he nodded. “…we have three days left,” she said with a tone of irritation, and he set a hand on her shoulder to calm her down.

“Don’t think about the day limit,” he told her. “Just think about our progress. We have to settle this as soon as possible or else another life will be at stake.”

She had started making her way back to the office when she started again, “What do you think about Peters’ theory?”

“Seven Deadly Sins? It’s possible.”

“To be fair, the elements are in there. Businessman-slash-gambler. Drug addict. A prostitute,” she repeated slowly, “But similar ways of killing. When you would go on a Seven Deadly Sin spree, wouldn’t you kill according to the sin?”

Touta pondered on that for a moment. “It seems that he wanted less dirty work on his hands, so he reverted to much simpler means.”

“Because killing is easy to begin with,” she said dryly, and he chuckled.

“Let’s talk about this with Peters.” A agreed and once they had gotten back inside, Peters was still on his smart phone, this time watching something on the internet that had gotten his attention. He looked up upon seeing Touta and A reenter.

“I’m sticking to my guns about the theory. It works out well.”

“We aren’t going to argue that,” Touta told him, A sitting down and rubbing her eyes, “A said that it was pretty in there.”

“But if ever,” the woman interrupted, “Which would be the next one? He’s got three down and four more to go. So which among the four would he target next?”

“Before we do that, we have to make sure that the victims are connected to the ones we’ve identified so far.” Peters and A nodded, “So, Taro Watanabe.”

“A CEO turned gambler,” she mused quietly. “My best bet is on greed just like what we agreed on a while ago.” Peters smirked a bit at the pun, Touta laughing a bit before nodding his head in agreement.

“Punny. We’ve got Taro identified – how about Sato?”

“Sato,” Touta repeated. “Drug addict. Let’s judge by the definition of Gluttony. “Gluttony isn’t just manifested through food or drink. It’s like alcohol – sorry, A – he wanted it so bad that he was willing to kill for it.”

“Well, he was reported to brawl a lot for things he wanted,” A said slowly, and Touta gave a nod, “And he was found as if he was in a struggle to get what he needed. The drug which eventually killed him.”

“Exactly. He threw his life away for the pill.” Peters shifted in the chair. “Not that I mean to put the blame on him. But it was still a vice that he ended up dying for, which isn’t really worth it.”

“Wise words from the resident smoker,” A told him, and Peters did his own rendition of an exaggerated bow. “But do you think there’s significance in having his head submerged in water?”

“I’m guessing that the killer wanted to leave behind something symbolic. Overindulge, and you die.”

“But if that was the case, then what about victims one and three? There was  nothing symbolic there,” Peters argued, but Touta defended his theory.

“Not so. Remember, Taro died in front of the casino. Kazumi Tanaka, the third victim – come to think of it, she was in a provocative pose when her body was seen.”

“The killer must have moved her, then.”

“It’s either that, or it’s purely coincidental. We can’t get fingerprint marks on her because it’s likely that the killer was smart and wore gloves just like he did in the surveillance tape.”

Satisfied, the American nodded stood up. “Progress. I’ll treat to drinks as a reward. The usual?” the two agreed and Peters went out, A and Touta discussing other potential theories as well.

As Peters walked out the office and down the street to the usual coffee place, he tightened his coat around himself and reached for his pocket, feeling that his wallet was just in place.

“Goddamn crowd,” he muttered, itching for a smoke and feeling for his cigarettes. As he was about to take one out, a presence knocked into his shoulder he stumbled back, head snapping up and mouth opening to hiss a retort.

To his chagrin, the person had merely moved on without an apology.

“Fucker.”

“Are you okay?” Peters blinked, seeing a middle-aged man eyeing the other who had walked down the road. 

“Yeah, fine. People nowadays,” he said with a tone of irritation, and the man nodded sympathetically.

“I apologize in behalf of him.”

“That isn’t needed, but thanks.” With that, the man smiled and nodded before walking away as well. Peters stood there for a moment, glared daggers at the man who had nearly knocked him down, and continued on to the coffee shop where warmth and the scent of sweetness awaited.