Detective Shimizu was looking for murder. He almost never looked at the victims. Victims, by definition, aren’t doing anything wrong. Whenever he sa... someone, he was looking at a suspect. The woman in the kimono was definitely a suspect. She walked straight into the station, right up to the platform and stood perfectly still for more than half an hour. Both of the lines that stopped at that platform had come and gone while she stood there. The decedent walked up next to her and spoke to her,. "I am a man."His words seemed to penetrate into my peculiarly soft brain, and I found Iwanted nothing more than to agree with them. "Yes," I told him. "Yes,you are a man."The new son of the First Citizen turned his amber gaze upon me, and I feltpinned to the spot, unable to retreat. He now commanded my masculinity,every drop and dram of it, and I was helpless to resist him. "So,Ovidia," he said to me, and again my ears thrilled to the commanding soundof his male voice. "What were we saying. More

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