Vampire and His Pleasant Companions: Volume 1 - Part 9

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The next morning, Al perched on Nukariya’s shoulder as they headed to the scene of a murder. Nukariya had arrived by car, which was driven by a man who appeared a bit younger than Nukariya. The driver was tall and well-built, with short hair and sharply defined eyebrows, giving him a strong, masculine impression. In contrast, Nukariya’s demeanor was softer and kinder.

Despite being focused on driving, the younger man kept glancing at Nukariya repeatedly.

“Nukariya-san, I’ve been wondering for a while now—is that a bat on your shoulder?”

“That’s right.”

“We’re heading to the crime scene now, aren’t we?”

“I borrowed this bat from a friend. Apparently, it has an extremely keen sense of smell, so I thought I’d bring it along to the scene and have it track the scent of blood, like a police dog.”

The younger man faced forward and was silent for a moment.

“Well… I hate to say it, but I’ve never heard of using a bat for an investigation before. Shouldn’t we get permission from our superiors? And weren’t we assigned to canvass the Hinagaoka area? Won’t we get scolded for doing something on our own?”

“I haven’t gotten permission to use the bat, but as long as you keep quiet, it won’t be a problem.”

“What?” The younger man furrowed his brow.

“Also, we’ll head to the Hinagaoka area afterward. I’m not saying we won’t do it at all.”

Nukariya gently patted Al’s head.

“But isn’t this a bit reckless? You were scolded by Chief Yamamoto before for being too much of a lone wolf.”

“If you don’t like my methods, you can go home, Detective Yanagawa,” Nukariya said nonchalantly. The young detective, Yanagawa, looked flustered.

“It’s not that I don’t like them…”

Yanagawa fell silent. Al sensed from their conversation that Nukariya, who was usually kind, might actually be quite strict. Come to think of it, Nukariya sometimes said harsh things to Akira as well.

The car drove for about twenty minutes, passing through an old residential area, and stopped near the entrance of a park. From there, they would proceed on foot. They walked through the park and, after a short distance, reached a bridge. There were few streetlights.

On the way to the bridge, there was a spot along the concrete roadside with many flowers laid out. Here, Al caught a strong scent of blood. Although it had been washed away with water and was no longer visible on the surface, the blood had deeply seeped in. This was where the person was killed. Al was certain of it.

“Al, can you tell?” Nukariya asked.

Al nodded and took off from Nukariya’s shoulder. The scent of blood led straight toward the bridge. Nukariya followed closely behind Al, with Yanagawa trailing further back, looking disgruntled.

After the attack, the culprit had put the bloodstained clothes and the weapon, a knife, into a bag and walked away, pretending nothing had happened. Even though they tried to hide it, the blood spattered on the cuffs of their pants and shoes had left traces, soaking into the ground and creating a trail.

The scent trail led across the bridge and continued into a residential area with more houses and shops. After passing four traffic lights, they emerged onto a major road. It was a wide road with three lanes on each side. They turned right there. They had been following the trail for about fifteen minutes.

“How much further do we have to go?” Yanagawa shouted from behind, his voice filled with frustration. Nukariya completely ignored him. Even though Al was going slower to accommodate the two who were on foot, Yanagawa was still complaining… Al gave a wry smile.

At some point, the scent trail started to fade. Al sniffed carefully and realized that the trail hadn’t completely disappeared but had become as thin as a thread. Looking around, Al saw the entrance to a station and many parked bicycles. The culprit might have ridden a bicycle from here. That would explain why the scent trail had thinned.

Focusing all his senses on tracking the faint scent, Al followed the trail carefully. As he reached a certain point, Al noticed that another scent of blood was mixing in with the one he was tracking.

The new blood scent started at the edge of the road on the right, near a bus stop. As he flew, Al wondered why there were so many overlapping blood scents, and suddenly, his back bristled with a chill.

Yet another scent of blood started to mix in. This one was unmistakably his own blood. There was no doubt about it. It was different from the blood he had been following and the blood from the edge of the road—his own blood scent was coming from across the street. Here, the three scents mingled and overlapped, continuing to the right.

Al landed on a wall at the corner of a house. After waiting for a while, Nukariya caught up, followed by Yanagawa, who arrived shortly after, slightly out of breath. Nukariya looked up at Al, who was perched on the wall.

“Have you lost the scent?”

Al shook his head. The scent of blood has tripled. The culprit must live nearby… Al wanted to convey this but couldn’t. Unable to speak, he wriggled his back in frustration.

“Not feeling it? Then let's take a little break here. We have some youngsters who are all size and no stamina,” Nukariya said, unleashing a harsh remark toward Yanagawa, who finally caught up with them, panting heavily and rolling his eyes. After a short rest, Al began flying again. He flew straight through the intersection, past a supermarket, and then a large white apartment building appeared on the right. From across the road where Al had flown, another scent of blood mingled with the others, forming a quartet of scents that led straight to the entrance of the apartment building. This is it! He had found the culprit’s residence.

Al hung under the large concrete eaves of the apartment building. He thought that if he stayed still, they would understand this was the right place, but just to be sure, he squawked, “Squeak! Squeak!” and pointed with his wing toward the building's entrance.

“That bat seems to be saying this is the place. But wasn’t this area assigned to Shibasaki and his team for canvassing? If they find out we messed with their turf, it could cause trouble later, don’t you think?” Yanagawa said.

“Yeah, it would probably cause trouble… But we might be able to catch the culprit,” Nukariya replied, looking up at Yanagawa.

“Which do you prefer: letting the culprit escape because you’re worried about appearances and having another victim, or arresting the culprit and getting some backlash?” Nukariya asked.

“Well, I’d prefer to catch the culprit…” Yanagawa mumbled.

“I’m glad to hear you have some sense. The culprit is in this apartment building. No doubt about it,” Nukariya said.

Al moved from the eaves to Nukariya’s shoulder. The three of them entered the building and got into the elevator. Nukariya pressed all the floor buttons from the first to the eighth floor.

“Uh, why are you pressing all the floors?” Yanagawa asked, but Nukariya didn’t respond.

As the elevator doors opened on each floor, Al sniffed around, twitching his nose. Second floor—Al shook his head. The scent doesn’t continue here. Third floor—nothing. Fourth floor—still no scent. Fifth floor… The moment the doors opened, Al could tell that the four scents of blood led onward from there. Al flew out, followed by Nukariya and, shortly after, Yanagawa. The scent trail ended in front of a door marked “503.” Al perched on the concrete railing in front of the door and gave a loud squawk, then flew back to Nukariya’s shoulder.

“So this is the place?” Nukariya asked.

Al squawked again. Nukariya turned to Yanagawa, who still looked skeptical, and sharply said, “Don’t say a word,” then rang the doorbell. There was no response the first time. No response the second time either. On the third try, a muffled male voice came from behind the door, “Yes, who is it?”

Al's body shuddered. It was the same voice as the man who had spoken to him at the park.

“Sorry to bother you, but we’re with the police,” Nukariya said, in the same gentle tone he used when chatting with Akira.

“The police? The police were here the day before yesterday…”

“I apologize for the repeated visits. We’re speaking with everyone in the area again.”

With a click, the door opened slightly, just about twenty centimeters, and a dense scent of blood from four people wafted out.

“Is this about the murder nearby? I already spoke with the detective who came by the day before yesterday,” the man said, his head slightly lowered as he raised his face. He had an unremarkable face, with oval-shaped glasses and a vague mouth that somehow stood out. Al would never forget it—it was the guy who had stabbed him in the back with a knife while smiling! Nukariya saw the man who looked exactly like the sketch, but his calm expression remained unchanged, and he smiled softly.

“I’m sorry to trouble you. Please cooperate with our investigation,” Nukariya said.

After making some small talk with the suspect, Nukariya said, "If you remember anything suspicious or see any unusual people in the area, please contact the police immediately," and then left. Al had been tense, expecting Nukariya to leap at the suspect, slap handcuffs on him, and make an immediate arrest—but it didn't turn out like a scene from a drama. Instead, Nukariya, Yanagawa, and Al got back into the elevator. As soon as it was just the two of them and Al, Yanagawa, in a fit of frustration, yelled, “What the hell was that about?!”

“Are you seriously saying that guy is the suspect?”

“Yes. That’s the serial killer,” Nukariya replied calmly.

“What?” Yanagawa muttered, curling his lip. “That’s ridiculous.”

“You call him the suspect, but we have no evidence or anything…” Yanagawa continued.

“Al... The bat followed the scent, didn’t he?” Nukariya pointed out.

“But it’s just a bat. Saying that a random guy found by an untrained animal is the culprit…”

Nukariya took out his notebook from his coat pocket and pulled out a slip of paper that was tucked inside. Yanagawa tilted his head slightly, confused. It was a sketch of the suspect drawn by a female police officer based on Al’s earlier testimony.

“That guy looks a lot like the sketch,” Yanagawa noted.

“That’s a sketch of the suspect,” Nukariya said.

“A sketch? So, there was a witness? Why didn’t you report this to the higher-ups?” Yanagawa asked.

“There are circumstances that prevent him from involving the police,” Nukariya replied.

“But... but if there was a witness…” Yanagawa stuttered.

“I just told you, we can't involve them. The witness is an illegal immigrant. He’s also a victim, but given the situation, he couldn't report it to the police. He can’t come forward, and we don’t even know who he is. There’s no proof he saw it, no proof he was stabbed. Who’s going to believe a story like that? He’d just be laughed at,” Nukariya explained.

Yanagawa didn’t respond, his face growing sullen.

“We’re getting off the elevator and leaving the apartment building now, but whatever you do, don’t look back. That guy is definitely watching us. He must be suspicious of the second round of questioning, so don't do anything that might give us away.”

“Uh, okay…”

“We’re heading back to the station. Get in touch with the apartment manager and investigate the identity of the man in room 503. You check the elevator footage from the days of the three incidents. That type of surveillance camera is likely managed by a security company. If, by any chance, the footage is managed by the building manager, we’ll have to come back here again. If that happens, disguise yourself so you’re not recognized,” Nukariya instructed.

Yanagawa’s face grew tense, perhaps because he was starting to believe that the man could actually be the suspect. When they left the apartment building, Nukariya and Yanagawa walked straight ahead without looking back even once. Al perched on Nukariya’s shoulder, facing backward, looking up at the fifth floor. From a room with a single open window, the man was indeed watching the two detectives and the bat just as Nukariya had predicted, staring down at them from the balcony.

When they were far enough from the apartment building and back on the main road, Nukariya ruffled the fur on Al’s head affectionately.

“Thank you, Al. Thanks to you, we were able to narrow down our suspect.”

Yanagawa glanced sideways at Nukariya with a mix of confusion and disbelief. When they reached the car they had parked near the crime scene and got in, Nukariya said to Yanagawa, “Before we go back to the station, let’s stop by the Old Memorial Center.”

“That’s the funeral hall, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“Why do we need to go there?”

“To return the bat to its owner.”

After about fifteen minutes, they arrived at the center. Leaving Yanagawa in the parking lot, Nukariya took Al with him and headed toward the embalming facility. Although the facility was connected to the funeral hall, the entrance was hard to find for first-time visitors. However, Nukariya walked without hesitation, indicating that he had been there before.

Entering the building, Nukariya approached the reception desk.

“Excuse me, my name is Nukariya. Could you please call Akira Takatsuka for me?”

Matsumura approached them, and Al, perched on Nukariya’s shoulder, chirped, “Squeak! Squeak!”

“Oh, is that Al?”

“I borrowed the pet bat from Takatsuka and came to return it. I heard he brought it here during the day,” Nukariya explained.

“Takatsuka-san is currently in the middle of a procedure,” replied a young woman from the office at the back.

“He left a message asking us to take care of Al if someone brought him back.”

“Oh, I see. Well, I’ll take care of him then. Come here, Al,” Matsumura said.

Al gently flew onto her outstretched palm, taking great care not to scratch her with his claws.

“Thank you, I’ll leave him with you. See you, Al,” Nukariya said with a smile and then left.

Al was petted and cooed over like a stuffed animal by the two women in the office before being taken to his usual break room.

The room was empty. Al lay face-down on the back of the sofa, staring blankly at the TV, which was turned off.

His excitement and nervousness from finding the culprit had not subsided. He hadn’t been confident that he could follow the scent of blood accurately, but he had managed to do it. He had found the serial killer who had stabbed and killed three people. That suspect would be arrested, and then no one else would be killed. This is amazing, isn’t it? he asked himself.

He spread his gray wings and flapped them, then rubbed his nose with his thumb. Since becoming a vampire, nothing good had happened to him. And since he couldn’t control his transformation, he couldn’t live a normal life either. But because he was in this form, he had been useful. Thanks to his nose, which was far keener than a human’s, he had found the murderer.

He wasn’t just living in the cracks of society like a ghost; he had truly helped someone. A warm sense of happiness spread through his body, and he let out a loud chirp, “Squeak! Squeak! Squeak!” Flying around the waiting room in excitement, he wanted to tell his story to someone. He wanted Akira to hear it. He wanted to brag that he was as good as, no, even better than a dog.

As he flew around aimlessly, he eventually grew tired and landed on the back of the sofa. Looking at the sunlight streaming through the window, he impatiently wished for nightfall so he could return to human form. When he became human again, he would grab Akira and tell him everything that had happened today. How he had sniffed the scent of blood and tracked it down. What he had felt when he saw the suspect standing behind the door. Akira might look annoyed, but Al was sure he would listen to the end.

Around four in the afternoon, Akira and his assistant Tsuno returned to the waiting room. Both of them had wet hair, as if they had just taken a shower, but the smell of blood still clung to their bodies.

“Huh? Al?”

Tsuno was the first to notice Al. Unable to contain his excitement, Al flew over to Akira’s shoulder and chirped loudly, “Squeak! Squeak! Squeak!”

“Ugh, you’re noisy. Quiet down,” Akira grumbled.

Even though he was told to quiet down, Al couldn’t hold back his urge to talk. He hopped from Akira’s right shoulder to his left shoulder and then to his head, all the while squeaking excitedly, “Squeak! Squeak!”

“I said shut up already!” Akira shouted, his voice booming. Al lowered his head, still perched on his shoulder, feeling dejected. Just when he felt grateful for being a bat, he found himself frustrated by the inability to communicate his feelings when he most wanted to.

Scratching his hair roughly, Akira walked over to his desk, pulled out two books from his bag, and silently handed them to Tsuno.

“Um, what are these?” Tsuno asked.

“They’re industry journals from the U.S. They cover the latest developments over there. You can read English, right?”

“Y-Yes, more or less,” Tsuno replied, looking slightly tense.

“If all you know is what’s in the textbooks, you’ll only ever be able to do ‘just that much,’ no matter how many years pass. Especially here in Japan, where there are fewer embalmed bodies compared to overseas, and specialized research institutions aren't as developed. If you don’t take the initiative to learn, you’ll end up knowing nothing. In a world where everything is digitally distributed, you’ll be stuck playing an endless loop of analog records for people. Well, if it were a real record, at least you could claim it’s retro and get away with it. But in this industry, being retro is more than just insensitive—it’s criminal.”

Tsuno looked back and forth between the books and Akira, somewhat bewildered, and muttered, “Y-Yes…”

“I don’t like people who lack ambition,” Akira declared firmly, making Tsuno press his lips tightly together.

“Yes,” Tsuno responded quietly.

“The reason I don’t let you assist in procedures later in the afternoon is because they go past six o’clock,” Akira explained.

Six p.m. was the end of the workday at the center.

“I—I don’t mind if it’s past six. I want to see and learn as much as I can from your procedures, Takatsuka-san.”

“Assistants don’t get overtime pay after six,” Akira stated bluntly.

“Oh,” Tsuno exclaimed softly.

“Even if you perform a lot of procedures, it’s pointless if your knowledge is still half-baked. The rule that assistants work until six is meant for you to study after that, isn’t it? That’s how I interpret it. You’re only an assistant for a year, so make sure you learn properly while you can.”

Leaving Tsuno behind, Akira exited the waiting room. He walked to the end of the corridor, descended the stairs, and stepped into the backyard, where there was a small garden built between the embalming facility and the funeral hall.

“Is this good enough for you, damn bat?” Akira muttered to Al, who was perched on his shoulder. His face flushed red as he stomped angrily on the grass. He seemed to think that Al’s squeaking earlier had been urging him to speak his mind to Tsuno.

Watching Akira, who had blurted out his true feelings and then fled in embarrassment, made Al’s chest tighten. He felt a deep affection for this man—rude, awkward, but sincere. He wanted to hug him and kiss him, but since that wasn’t possible, Al nuzzled his nose against Akira’s neck and made a soft, affectionate sniffing sound, like he was seeking comfort.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

It was mid-December, and more and more people could be seen wearing scarves and gloves. On TV, light-hearted Christmas music played continuously during the commercials that aired between news segments. Ever since the start of December, the Christmas atmosphere had intensified suddenly, leading Al to believe that Japan must be a Christian country. However, after looking into it, he discovered that there weren’t actually that many Christians in Japan. He couldn’t understand why Christmas was so prominently celebrated despite this. The hearts of the Japanese are indeed deep and mysterious.

Christmas songs stuck in Al’s head because ever since the day he located the culprit, he had been glued to the TV during the news, eagerly waiting to hear about the arrest. Despite his anticipation, the serial killer was still on the loose, and there had been no updates from Nukariya either.

Three days had passed since Al had tracked down the culprit, and seeing Al's restless state, Akira became annoyed and contacted Nukariya.

“Regarding that suspect, it seems they can’t arrest him due to lack of evidence. That’s what it says in the reply,” Akira reported.

“Evidence?” Al asked.

Plopping down on the sofa, Akira placed his phone on the table.

“Evidence that this guy committed the murders. Even if you say a bat tracked him by the smell of blood, no one’s going to believe it. So they can’t bring him in unless they find something suspicious, even if it's minor. Apparently, the guy has a perfect alibi. They’re exploring other ways to arrest him on different charges, but for now, his background is clean, with no vulnerabilities to exploit.”

“No mistake. He criminal,” Al muttered, pouting as he clenched his hands into fists.

“I stabbed by that man.”

“I’m not doubting your sense of smell. Nukariya is probably even more frustrated than you are about knowing who the culprit is but being unable to arrest him. But if it’s him, I’m sure he’ll handle it well.”

Indeed, there wasn’t much Al could do by worrying alone. He had only identified the suspect; catching him was the police’s job—Nukariya’s job.

Trying to convince himself, Al lay down on his sofa bed, but he couldn’t shake his concern. He remembered how excited he’d been when Nukariya had asked him to assist in the investigation, and he had successfully tracked down the culprit. His blood had raced with excitement. He was thrilled by the fact that he had discovered something no one else could, thanks to his special abilities. He desperately wanted the culprit to be caught. Now that he had been identified, he didn’t want him to be let loose. What if the suspect escaped while they were searching for evidence? What if he fled the country? Al lay under his blanket, feeling anxious.

…After much contemplation, Al decided to personally monitor the suspect during the day in his bat form. He could no longer stand just waiting. He wanted to help in some way. When he told Akira that he wanted to go out for a bit during the day, Akira gave him a suspicious look and asked, “Where are you going?” but didn’t press further when Al remained silent. After promising to return to the center’s entrance by 5 p.m., Al flew off toward the suspect’s apartment building.

The December wind was dry and cold, and Al shivered. He was warmer than he would have been as a human, thanks to his fur, but it was still cold. He recalled how Kyiv, a fellow vampire, once mentioned that their Northern European counterparts hibernated during the winter. He could understand the desire to hibernate; as the temperature drops, a vampire’s metabolism slows drastically.

While scanning the ground from above, Al spotted a suspicious figure. Someone was behaving oddly. Lowering his flight to get a better look, he realized it was Nukariya’s partner, Yanagawa. Yanagawa was hiding on the second floor of an apartment building across from the suspect’s apartment, lurking in the shadows of the corridor, intently watching the entrance of the suspect’s building. There was only one entrance to that building. Without Al needing to worry, Yanagawa was already keeping an eye on things to prevent the suspect from escaping.

Hoping to encourage Yanagawa, Al landed on the apartment’s railing. But Yanagawa didn’t notice him. Al descended to the concrete walkway and crawled toward Yanagawa, inching closer.

“Squeak,” he called out, as if to say, “Hey.” Yanagawa flinched and, upon spotting Al, tilted his head and muttered, “Oh, isn’t that… the bat from before?”

“Squeak! Squeak!” Al chirped, drawing closer to Yanagawa, as if to say, “Yeah, good job keeping watch…” Yanagawa recoiled, waving his right hand as if shooing away a stray dog.

“Don’t get too close. You’re creeping me out.”

Given how often he had been petted and called “cute” lately, being called “creepy” was a bit of a shock to Al. And all he wanted to do was encourage Yanagawa while he was on duty. He couldn’t help but think to himself that Yanagawa would never rise in the ranks. Feeling a bit spiteful after being insulted, Al edged even closer to Yanagawa.

“I told you, stay away! Wait… could it be that Nukariya is nearby?” Yanagawa wondered aloud.

Al made a low, drawn-out croaking sound, “Gyaah, Gyaah,” to mess with him.

“Just go away already. I hate animals,” Yanagawa said, almost in tears. Feeling sorry for him, Al backed off a bit and perched on the railing. With some distance between them, Yanagawa seemed to calm down.

“Of course, Nukariya wouldn’t be here. Two people would draw too much attention, and he said he’d be questioning people at the suspect’s workplace today. Besides, you’re not even his bat; you belong to his friend,” Yanagawa muttered, sitting down on the concrete floor. He placed a hand on his forehead and sighed deeply, looking troubled.

"I’m not lucky either. I studied hard, finally became a detective, and was really excited to be assigned to the first division. But the first partner I got stuck with was that guy. At first, I thought he seemed nice and that I’d gotten really lucky, but in reality, he never listens to what the higher-ups say, always goes off on his own, and because of that, he’s become a pariah. And now, even I get glared at just for being with him. This stakeout too—it wasn’t the higher-ups’ idea; it was Nukariya’s order. If that guy isn’t the real culprit, who’s going to take responsibility for this waste of time?” 

“Squeak, squeak, squeak!” 

Don’t worry, that’s definitely the real one! Hang in there! Al cheered, but to Yanagawa, it just sounded like a bat screeching, so he grumbled, “Annoying…” Al started to understand why Nukariya treated Yanagawa a bit dismissively. 

Since Yanagawa was keeping watch, Al figured it was probably fine if he didn’t monitor the suspect himself. Even if the suspect tried to flee, while Al could follow him, he wouldn’t be able to stop him. A human like Yanagawa was better suited for the job. 

Al remembered the overwhelming smell of blood when the front door opened. Even if blood was splattered on someone, if it was washed off right away, the smell wouldn’t linger like that. The suspect must have some bloodstained clothes or a knife hidden inside the room. Even a layman like Al could figure out that such dangerous evidence should be disposed of or hidden elsewhere. But that guy was a little off. He seemed to enjoy stabbing people, so it wouldn’t be surprising if he kept those items as a collection in his room as souvenirs. 

There was definitely evidence inside that room. If they could break in and search, they’d surely find something. But they couldn’t do that without some kind of excuse. The reason Nukariya couldn’t arrest the guy was that there wasn’t any visible evidence besides Al’s keen sense of smell. 

If Al could get inside the room, he could immediately find where the evidence was hidden by following the scent of blood. If it was a knife, he might be able to carry it out in his mouth. Even if it was something bulky like a coat, he might be able to drag it and drop it under the window. If he could pass it to Yanagawa...

As Al thought about it, the idea that “I might be able to retrieve the evidence from that room” solidified into conviction. Right now, he was a bat. People wouldn’t be as wary of him as they would of a human. 

Alright! Al made up his mind and took off. He remembered the location of the room from last time when the suspect had looked down from the balcony. 

The suspect’s room on the fifth floor had the window closed and curtains drawn, so he couldn’t see inside, but since Yanagawa was on stakeout, the suspect must be in there. Feeling like a detective closing in on the criminal, Al observed the balcony area. There was nothing unusual outside. Just a pot with a withered plant and a pair of sandals. 

Whether he could retrieve the evidence depended on getting inside the room. Just waiting around wouldn’t open the window, especially if the suspect was wary of the police’s movements. 

If it won’t open, then I’ll make him open it. Al perched on the balcony railing and let out a loud “Squeak, squeak, squeak” at the top of his lungs. Simply screaming would be exhausting, so he screeched to the tune of “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.” 

“What is it?! It’s so noisy!” came a complaint from the next room. That’s right, bats are noisy. So open the window and come see what’s making the noise outside. As he finished the first verse, the curtain behind the window swayed. Through a gap, the man was looking out. He squinted and furrowed his brows, looking extremely annoyed. 

The man banged on the window with a loud thud. Startled, Al stopped screeching for a moment, but a surge of defiance welled up within him—“I won’t lose!” He screeched even louder, his voice straining as if his throat might tear. In the midst of the noise, Al didn’t miss the sound of a lock clicking open. The curtains were drawn back, and the window opened. The man stepped out onto the balcony. Now’s my chance! With a burst of speed, Al flew into the room. As soon as he entered, he was engulfed by the mingled scent of four different bloods. His spine tingled. There was no doubt—there had to be evidence in here. 

“Get out!” the man shouted, rolling up a magazine and coming after him. Dodging a hit, Al flew from a high bookshelf to the desk and then to the cupboard, becoming more certain. The strongest scent of the four bloods was coming from the closet and the desk drawer. That’s where the evidence must be hidden. But in his current form, he couldn’t open the drawers or the closet door. 

As he pondered whether there was a way to make the suspect open the desk or closet himself, the window—the only exit—was slammed shut. Alarmed, Al realized he was now trapped in the room with the suspect. What should I do? Wait—maybe if I fly around up high, hide in a corner, and wait for him to leave, I can escape… As he was thinking, the man sprayed a red can of aerosol at Al, who was perched atop the bookshelf. 

“Squeak, squeak, squeak!” 

The mist from the spray was overwhelmingly pungent, stinging Al’s eyes. Overcome with pain, he flailed about, tumbling from the bookshelf to the floor. As he writhed on the hardwood, the man struck him on the head with the rolled-up magazine, and Al’s consciousness began to fade.

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