“Sayonara is about the extent of my Japanese,” Hal said. “And Bluey’s too, it seems. Which is why I find it hard to believe that he would have been able to write the murderer’s name in English as he was being drowned, let alone in a language in which he was utterly incompetent.
“I don’t know why you thought you’d get away with it, Patrick,” he finished, turning towards the young personal assistant.
“You thought you could point the finger of blame by writing Edgar’s name next to Bluey’s body, like Bluey was telling us who murdered him,” Hal continued. “But he couldn’t have – his Japanese was rubbish. You’re the only one who could have written it. You’re the only one who’s lived in Japan. You let it slip how well you knew the metro train system after all those years there.”
Even Fabio had managed to put his phone down, enthralled by the shock revelation.
“Why did you kill Bluey?” he asked now.
Patrick rolled his eyes. “Do I really need to explain? The man wanted to build hotels in the shape of giant sushi rolls. He had to be stopped. It doesn’t get any more tasteless than that, does it?”
“Maybe in jail,” Hal said. “I’ve heard the food there is pretty bland. But I’ll let you discover that for yourself. You’ve just got time now to say sayonara.”