Murder in a Japanese house

Illustrator Мария Гнедькова

© Alla Krasnova, 2025

© Мария Гнедькова, illustrations, 2025

ISBN 978-5-0067-1378-9

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

The first chapter

Barbara was taking things out of a box that a friend had sent her. The package was small. The first thing Barbara took out was a long, colorful skirt. She immediately put it aside. Then she took out a pink perfume box. She put down her perfume, too, without even sniffing it. Barbara didn’t like smells. At the bottom of the box were colored notebooks, pens, and stickers. The gift was completed with a postcard in the form of a butterfly. When Barbara opened it, she saw a birthday greeting. It said: «Let everything you dream of come true this year.» The friend wrote her name and put three emoticons next to it.

Barbara was born on September 22, she turned 52 years old. A gift from my friend Simona, who lived in Astana, came on September 19. Simone sent it in advance

Simone and Barbara had been friends since high school. They congratulated each other on the holidays. Simone had more holidays, because she married twice, had children and waited for a grandchild. And Barbara only had a birthday and a New Year. She had never married, had no children, and was single. But she wasn’t sad, because she was a detective. She solved crimes and rejoiced. It was her personal holiday of a lifetime, which she celebrated with herself.

Simone was a homemaker, and Barbara was a detective. They didn’t understand each other very well, but they were still friends. And, probably, they were friends for so long, because they didn’t understand each other well, they were mysterious to each other.

Barbara didn’t think that she would soon turn 52 until she read a congratulatory message from a friend. This was unexpected.

Barbara worked hard and didn’t have time to think about her age. When there is a favorite thing, then age fades into the background, as if you do not notice it.

In the morning, Barbara gets up and goes to work. There she is called Barbara Stanislavovna, sometimes Barba, shortening her name. She likes it sometimes. But if strangers, confusing her name, call her Barbie, then she does not like it, because there is nothing doll-like and feminine about her, she is concrete and dry.

Barbara had always been introverted, and that was fine with her. She wore jeans and sneakers, was thin, and had dyed black hair. She didn’t want to meet any standards.

If you look at her from behind, you might think she’s a teenage girl. But when she turned around, it was clear that she was a very grown woman. There were wrinkles on her face, many of them. She didn’t know why to do anything about it. She was comfortable with her age and thin body. She often walked around with her hands in her pockets and thought only of investigations.

Since childhood, she had the same hairstyle-an elongated square, which she sometimes gathered in a ponytail. Sometimes she cut off her bangs and dyed her hair black every two weeks at the barber shop. And if she did not have time and her hair grew back, then there was a difference: at the roots they were completely gray. She always put red lipstick on her thin lips when she left the house, which made her face look sarcastic, as if she was always unhappy about something, but it was fine with her.

***

Barbara worked for the N5 detective agency. It was a large five-story building on the outskirts of the city. There were all the facilities for detectives: a dining room, a cafe, a swimming pool, billiards and relaxation rooms.

Barbara dreamed of becoming a detective since childhood. She worked hard and fulfilled her dream, although initially she realized that she lacked some qualities. For example, Barbara wasn’t naturally very smart. She needed more time to process and summarize the information than other good detectives. She also had a poor sense of humor, and smiled at other people’s jokes out of politeness. But she closed all her gaps with hard work and constant work on herself.

Still, Barbara felt like an outsider when other detectives talked about their families or friends. She didn’t understand their conversations, and she didn’t know how to joke. But when she solved a crime, she felt absolutely happy, because she was doing her job.

But not only did that make her heart beat faster, but so did Gregory Richardson. She had loved him for almost thirty years, they had gone to the academy together, and he had also worked as a detective for the N5 agency. They didn’t have a relationship, but fifteen years ago they had a brief one-night stand. It was a night Barbara could not and would not forget. She always wanted to be close to him and even got a job at this agency to feel his presence. It filled her with awe, because she knew he was somewhere close.

There were a lot of beautiful women around Gregory, and he was very good-looking: a strong chin, a soft voice, soft eyes, and beautiful, very well-groomed hands. He wasn’t much of a womanizer, but even in his early fifties, he attracted young women. He was paired with Valencia Shakhmatova, who was in her 30s. Barbara was sure that Valencia was in love with him, because it was simply impossible not to fall in love with him. Many of the detectives in their agency worked in pairs, such as Barbara, who worked alone, were few.

Barbara liked to walk past his office in the morning. It was her favorite ritual. His office was on the top floor, hers on the second. But first she went up to the third floor, passing office No. 34. If she could hear his voice or smell his perfume in the hallway, it was a good day. It was the only perfume she could stand, because it was his perfume with a woody powdery trail.

But this time, when she came to work, she was unable to perform her ritual. Some detectives have moved to another building because they have opened a branch office. So there were boxes in several of the offices where detectives put their belongings for moving in. Barbara didn’t like the noise. Especially since today was a special day for her – she was going to choose a new case to investigate.

«Am I not going to see him today?» Barbara thought as she passed his office, which was closed. Across from him, the door to another office was open, where detectives were packing their bags.

«Barbara Stanislavovna! A young detective in a checkered shirt called out to her. – Good afternoon! he nodded cheerfully at her.

Barbara flinched, but quickly regained her composure. She didn’t want him to know that she was walking past his office.

«Ah, Oleg Fyodorovich,» she nodded to him. «Good luck in your new place,» she said quickly, and left so that her secret love wouldn’t be revealed.

– What are you working on? A young detective shouted after her.

«I’m still choosing,» Barbara said softly, turning around and walking quickly away.

***

Barbara had an office that was chicken-colored. There was a sign on the office door with her name on it – Barbara Ryzhkova.

Her parents wanted to call her Varvara, but the midwife who delivered Barbara’s mother was named Barbara. My mother thought it was a sign. This «sign» now hung on her door sign, and she often recalled the history of her name when she looked at it.

The interior of the office was unusual for Barbara. She was thin and serious, and the office was yellow in color. Every detective in the agency could choose an office to suit their taste. The company paid for all the detectives ' requests regarding the interior, because this helped to improve their performance.

Barbara had her own office, and she knew how much she had done to get it. She was proud of him.

There was a laptop on the table. It was a muted yellow color.

Barbara turned on her laptop because she had to choose a case to investigate.

В детективном агентстве N5 detective Agency had a lot of work to do. Young detectives were given simple cases, and complex ones were given only to experienced ones. Barbara was experienced at this agency, and she had the right to choose her own case.

When Barbara started a new business, her life became interesting. Everything was becoming bright and beautiful. The food became delicious, and the lights on the city streets became bright. Most importantly, Barbara felt at home among these people.

In the catalog on the agency’s website, Barbara viewed new cases through her personal account. To take on a task, she had to put a tick in front of it. Then her name would appear next to it, and none of the detectives could take the case.

The catalog list included not only new cases, but also old ones that were returned for further investigation. Detectives could take them repeatedly, but they rarely did. No one wanted to re-investigate the cases, because if it wasn’t solved right away, then most likely the case can hardly be solved later.

But this time Barbara was attracted to one case, because it contained the names of Gregory Richardson and Valencia Shakhmatova. Barbara’s eyes lit up as she realized that this case would be hers without even reading the case file.

Barbara always tried to be close to Gregory, to have some kind of connection with him, even if it was through a general investigation. It was also a way to kick the nose of Valencia Shakhmatova, who worked with him in pairs. Barbara seemed to say, «Well, Valencia couldn’t help you solve this case, but I can. She’s a bad helper.»

Barbara thought that Valencia, despite her youth and beauty, was not worthy of Gregory. She tried to tell herself not to be jealous of him, but she couldn’t.

Barbara noted the case and reviewed the materials. There were too many of them. It was necessary to print them out in order to work further.

Barbara had heard about the case. They killed a millionaire who owned pharmacies in the city. He was killed in a Japanese house where he liked to spend time.

Barbara wanted to get ready for work. She turned off her laptop and went to the park. The park was nearby. There you could walk, sit and watch squirrels that quickly appeared as if out of nowhere, and then disappeared.

Barbara was wearing sneakers and a jacket, her hands in her pockets. From the back, she could have been mistaken for a young girl. She was walking along the path, looking at the yellow leaves near the trees. Barbara was thinking about a serious case that even detectives like Gregory Richardson and Valencia Shakhmatova couldn’t handle.

Valencia was very smart. She was 30 years old, but she made a dizzying career in the agency and was known among colleagues from other cities. Gregory had taught her everything.

Barbara sat down on a green bench, tilted her head back, and looked up at the clouds. They were different and bizarre. Barbara thought of Valencia again and smiled ruefully. It was a smile of resentment because Valencia was taking Gregory away from her.

The second chapter

That evening, when Barbara got home, she carefully put the stack of papers on the floor. It was part of her ritual. It was the case file for a murder in a Japanese house. In fact, this Japanese house had a very specific name "─う», it was translated as"meet». But everyone called it Japanese home. It was a club where fans of Japanese culture spent time, or rather, it was its Russified version with a lot of cliches and cliches.

Barbara turned on the TV, which usually ran in the background. It was her tradition to come home and turn on the TV. She didn’t have time to watch it, all the news she got was from the Internet. The TV was very quiet, she didn’t switch channels, it was mostly an adult channel, and it was very quiet. Oddly enough, the soft sound of it helped her think – when something distracted her mind a little, her subconscious mind worked better, and that was important for a detective. Sometimes she could hear snatches of conversation coming from the TV, sometimes moans of sex scenes, because it was often erotic in the evening, but Barbara was minding her own business, making herself dinner, making tea. And Barbara went to bed at midnight sharp, midnight symbolizing zeroing out for her.

***

Barbara was born with a peculiar personality, and her strange style was evident in everything. She didn’t specifically plan it and didn’t support it, it came about by itself, because she didn’t try to be like anyone else, she wasn’t interested in it. She just lived.

Barbara, who was naturally very thin, ate very little, like a bird, although she never looked after her figure. And if she’d gotten better with age, she wouldn’t have noticed it at all. For dinner, one sandwich with cheese or sausage was enough to satisfy her, and she didn’t make a cult out of food either. She preferred «the simpler the better» food, but simple food had to be of good quality.

Barbara didn’t really like eating at all, and only did it when she was really hungry. She was much more of a drinker. And everyone’s favorite coffee, which was consumed by liters of her colleagues at work.

Barbara didn’t like him very much; she could have done without him. Most of all, Barbara loved tea, which took on an almost ritual meaning for her, she drank it constantly and could drink a lot, without sugar. She had an entire cupboard set aside for the tea boxes in the kitchen, and when she opened it, its fragrance spread throughout the room. Barbara, who didn’t like scents at all, forgave tea for its ability to exude fragrance. Moreover, she liked the smell. It was the only smell she could tolerate calmly. She skillfully combined different types of tea, adding chicory and other ingredients to them to create different flavor compositions.

In her house, you could find many packages of tea that her colleagues gave her. But her colleagues didn’t know much about tea varieties, so these boxes were left unopened at Barbara’s.

As she made herself a cup of tea, Barbara began to think. But that was only part of her ritual. To set a rhythm to her inner world, Barbara sometimes wore high-heeled shoes. The rhythmic click of her heels, like a hammer, kept her focused. At 52, she had a lot of high-heeled shoes and a lot of other clothes that she didn’t wear in real life.

Previously, she only wore mini skirts, stockings, and other sexy items for the men she met when they asked. But then she realized that these unfamiliar clothes and high heels helped her think better. This reincarnation helped her relax, as if she was even more detached from herself, from the body, and thoughts thought for themselves. So she started wearing these things when she was home alone. And at home, she was always alone.

It didn’t cost her anything, she didn’t feel any discomfort at this moment, she remained a little detached as always. Barbara had had a lot of men in the last ten years, and she’d dated them for sex, and they knew it. She met them on dating sites.

Sex for Barbara was something simple and not demanding tension, because the thrill and delight she experienced only before love. In her strange world, sex didn’t connect with love, they were two different things. But they, like parallel lines that never intersect, did intersect in her world. This was one. Once in a lifetime. On New Year’s Eve fifteen years ago, and it was Gregory Richardson. It was after this brief relationship that Barbara began to think about dating anyone for the sake of intimacy, because Gregory did not accept her and did not accept her, clearly making it clear that they were not made for each other. After that night, she never talked to him about it, so it was clear without words: their short-term relationship of one night was possible only under the influence of hot drinks and New Year’s Eve intoxication in a hotel room in another city.

It just so happened that Barbara didn’t start having sex until she was in her late forties, and all her men were significantly younger than her. When she was forty, they were ten or fifteen years younger. When she turned fifty, her men remained in the same age range: from 25 to 32 years. If you think about it, Barbara was a constant person, and probably if she had turned seventy, nothing would have changed: she would have loved tea and Gregory, and she would have been surrounded by the same young lovers.

***

Barbara, in her long pointed gray shoes, crouched on the floor next to a stack of papers, exposing her bony knees, and began to look through the case file. She was thinking about the Japanese house. It was a club that everyone called the Japanese home, although it officially had a different name – «会», which did not take root. This club was quite famous in narrow circles. But if you Google on the Internet, there were very few reviews with a low rating of 3.5 out of 5 stars. Mostly in reviews, this institution was criticized for its remoteness from Japanese realities. It contained all the stamps, and it barely reflected the reality of Japanese life for those who really wanted to get acquainted with its traditions.

In the pile of papers that lay on the floor, there were more than a hundred sheets of A4 format, among these sheets were photos of the main defendants in this case. Barbara first noticed three women who were related to Mikhail Barkov: Olga S., Audrey S., and Iris F. Audrey S. was Olga’s daughter. It was Olga’s photograph that caught Barbara’s attention the most; there was something deliberately Japanese and European about it. Her forty-year-old face was mesmerizing, as faces often are when they are a mixture of different cultures.

Olga’s gaze in the photo was heavy and steady, like a deep cave, attracting mysterious depths. Barbara almost immediately decided to meet Olga. Her contacts were written on the photo, and Barbara decided to call to make an appointment. Barbara’s phone was still in the pocket of her light jacket, which was where she often carried it. But just as Barbara reached for her jacket, which was hanging on a hanger in the hallway, her phone rang in long, drawn-out tones. Barbara was slightly startled to find herself wearing a mini skirt and high heels, as if the world around her could see her.

It was Philip. It was her lover, who was 25 years younger. He called her «hare, ««baby,» and sometimes «honey,» but it seemed to pass her by. She met him on a dating site two years ago, and he still hasn’t left her life. It seemed to her that their meetings had dragged on, but he didn’t want to break up, and he wasn’t so intrusive that she blocked him. He sensed this and acted as she was comfortable with. Barbara rarely, almost never, addressed him by his first name; she simply said «you» to him, as if denying the presence of his personality in her life. He was impersonal in her life, and when he called, it wasn’t Philip who called her, it was sex.

– How’s it going?» Philip said softly.

«I’m fine,» Barbara sighed, because she wasn’t thinking about him at all.

«We’ve got an emergency at work, it’s a hot season,» he said, not knowing what to say.

«Poor thing,» Barbara said, ready to say good-bye.

«Can we meet again?»

«Not now,» Barbara said blankly, like a robot talking.

Barbara often used single words or general phrases to communicate with people. She didn’t like words at all unless they were about something important to her. And it was almost impossible to maintain a dialogue with her if she didn’t want to. All sorts of refined expressions annoyed her, and compliments baffled her, she did not understand what they were for, so she ignored them as if she did not hear. She didn’t have a relationship with Philip that couldn’t be replaced by another man, so she didn’t value it. And he was drawn to it, he felt that there was some kind of life bubbling up in her that was not available to him.

When the conversation with Philip was over, Barbara hurried to dial Olga’s number, but without success, there she was met only by long beeps. Then Barbara sent a message: «Olga, good evening! This is Detective Barbara Ryzhkova. I need to talk to you about the murder of Mikhail Barkov. When will it be convenient for you?»

Olga read the message about half an hour later and replied almost immediately afterwards: «I will be waiting for you tomorrow at any time convenient for you.»

The third chapter

Barbara and Olga agreed to meet not in the detective’s office, but in a neutral place.

Olga chose her mother’s house, which was located outside the city.

She said there were plenty of spare rooms in the house and no one would be in the way.

Before meeting Olga, Barbara had a good night’s sleep. She knew that such meetings needed careful preparation, and the best way to prepare was to have a good night’s sleep. After all, the meeting could not go according to plan, and you had to be mentally prepared for this, which means you need to gain strength. Barbara had to be rested so that she could ask the right questions intuitively and keep the conversation under control.

The meeting with Olga was scheduled for the second half of the day, at 16: 00. Barbara loved this part of the day, when the bustle had not yet reached its peak, but it was already clear that there would soon be an active movement. People were still in no hurry to get home from work, but it was already clear that they would soon fill up buses and cars, creating traffic jams on the roads.

Big-city life kept Barbara moving in her own rhythm, but it was only during this «dead» time between afternoon and evening that she fell into that rhythm. Barbara clearly felt this when she was walking through the park to get ready to meet Olga. She walked with her usual gait, hands in the pockets of her jacket, walking slowly in white sneakers.

Most of all, Barbara did not like it when she heard loud voices during a walk or when random passers-by suddenly asked her. It pulled her out of her world. She especially disliked being addressed from behind: «Girl, can you tell me where…?» and then there was a pause, because they were not addressing the girl. Although until the age of fifty, Barbara managed to hide her age: at thirty, she looked twenty, at forty-twenty-five, and only by the age of fifty, age finally caught up with her, and she began to look her age, if you do not pay attention to her «dried» figure.

As Barbara strolled along, she wondered where Olga got the money to live comfortably, since she didn’t work anywhere.

Olga’s mother owned a country house with many rooms, which was given to her by Olga. This information was contained in the case file. Olga never experienced financial problems, she had a spacious apartment in the city center, and she did not stay anywhere for more than six months. And lately, it hasn’t worked at all.

Barbara wanted to ask Olga the question: «Where did you get the money?» She felt that such questions should be asked directly, because the answer could be interesting, especially if Olga decided to evade the answer or cheat.

Barbara never showed that she understood when someone lied to her, but listened calmly to the answers and continued the conversation with the same intonation.

***

Barbara didn’t own a car and preferred to use car-sharing services. She didn’t want to be tied to anything, not even a car. Perhaps that was why she didn’t have a permanent relationship other than her relationship with Gregory, but that was a separate topic in her life.

When Barbara pulled up to the house in a silver Audi, she realized that her white sneakers would get dirty. It was raining heavily outside the city, and the road near the house was covered with puddles that were impossible to avoid. Barbara frowned in displeasure, as she didn’t like it when her clothes and shoes got dirty. She was careful to keep them clean – which was another of her tricks.

The house was an impressive two-story structure. When Barbara arrived, she did not call Olga, although it was not necessary. She saw Olga in the window on the first floor. When she came out to meet her, she didn’t try to show her joy. Her unusual beauty for a Russian person in the Japanese style contrasted with her manner of communication.

Olga went out on the porch, opened the gate with the remote control, and motioned Barbara in. Barbara’s face broke into a brief, polite smile.

When she entered the house, Olga immediately invited her to the table. Olga was a statuesque and proud woman. She carried herself with dignity, her black hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. She looked modern, but her clothes were casual, although all the details were tasteful: a coffee-colored sweatshirt with ragged edges, wide brick-colored trousers, and a white shirt that was hanging loose.