The shopkeeper noticed his expression and paused. "...Sir, what's wrong?"
Isaac immediately composed himself and shook his head. "Nothing."
As he spoke, he glanced over at Carlo.
Carlo was standing by the door, watching. When Isaac looked over, his expression plainly said, "You're quite the actor, kid."
The shopkeeper followed Isaac's gaze and looked at Carlo too. Naturally, he couldn't make out the "you're quite the actor, kid" in Carlo's expression. To him, it looked like another kind of expression altogether... one that was hard to describe, but suggested something really wasn't right.
The shopkeeper glanced back and forth between them, his brow furrowing slightly. "Sir, what exactly is wrong?"
"Nothing. I just thought of a few things," Isaac said.
The more he said that, the less reassured the shopkeeper felt. His tone grew a little more cautious. "Sir, when you put it that way... if you don't mind, could you tell me what you're thinking?"
"It's really nothing, just some personal speculation. I'm afraid I might offend you if I said it."
Isaac's words only made the shopkeeper more uneasy. He put down the notebook in his hand and braced both hands on the edge of the counter, his tone growing more serious. "Sir, now that you've said this much, I'm afraid I won't sleep tonight unless I hear the rest."
Isaac was silent for a few seconds, as though weighing his words, before he spoke. "To tell you the truth, I'm actually... a private detective."
"Tsk." Carlo clicked his tongue.
He meant it as "You're using my line, aren't you, kid?" but to the shopkeeper, it sounded more like "Why did you tell him?"
Isaac's expression didn't change. "You could probably tell something from my requirements for the clothes just now. They need to be presentable and practical, and easy to move around in. That's because of the nature of my work."
The shopkeeper looked Isaac up and down, recalling how he had described the clothes earlier. A thoughtful look of understanding appeared on his face.
Seeing that he had accepted the explanation, Isaac continued, "But the cases I take on are a little different from those of ordinary private detectives. I don't deal with things like marital infidelity or industrial espionage. I handle more dangerous matters."
The shopkeeper swallowed. "...More dangerous?"
"After all, not every matter is suitable for the Joint Investigation Bureau to take over."
The shopkeeper's breath caught for a moment. Isaac lowered his voice a little. "With some things, reporting them only causes more trouble. It's better to have someone make discreet inquiries first, then decide what to do once you have some idea of what's going on..."
Isaac stopped there and sighed. "I accidentally said too much. In our line of work, there's a rule: if you want to live a little longer, don't ask too many questions about things that aren't your concern. My reaction just now already broke that rule. I'm afraid my boss will scold me when I get back."
As he spoke, his gaze drifted toward Carlo again, and the shopkeeper followed it.
Carlo had no intention of playing along. He even raised an eyebrow that said, "What are you looking at?" But in light of what Isaac had just said, the shopkeeper read another meaning into it:
These two had already spotted a problem, but didn't want to get involved.
The shopkeeper fell silent for a moment and made up his mind. "Sir, could I ask you to..."
Isaac looked hesitant. "Mr. Harper, that's against the rules."
"I know, I know." The shopkeeper nodded. "But since you could tell something was amiss, you must be capable. I'll pay a commission fee. Consider it payment for helping me look into this matter. As for these clothes, consider them an extra token of my appreciation. There'll be no charge."
Isaac seemed to weigh his options before finally relenting. "Since you put it that way... I can hear you out first, but I can't promise I'll be able to help. If it's beyond my abilities, I'll tell you honestly. You can find someone more capable then, and I'll pay the full price for the clothes."
The shopkeeper was relieved to hear that he hadn't ruled anything out or made sweeping promises. "No problem."
He came out from behind the counter, walked to the door, and turned over the "Open" sign hanging on it. Then he returned behind the counter and lowered his voice. "It's not all that complicated... Half a month ago, a customer came in and bought a ready-made suit.
"The man looked ordinary, but his manner was reasonably proper, and he spoke politely. He picked out a black suit, paid for it, and left.
"Two days later, he came back. He said the suit didn't fit and wanted to return it. Ready-made clothes aren't like tailored ones. People sometimes take them home, find they're the wrong size, and bring them back for a return or exchange, so there was nothing strange about that.
"But when I took the suit and got ready to check it for damage or stains, I smelled a stench."
"What kind of stench?"
"It's hard to describe. It wasn't like the bad smells you usually come across." The wrinkles on the shopkeeper's face deepened. "I was complaining to myself at the time that he'd gotten the suit so dirty before returning it, making it impossible for me to do business. But I looked it over, and the fabric was perfectly clean, without a single stain."
"So the smell hadn't gotten onto it from something else?"
"It didn't seem that way." The shopkeeper shook his head. "I held the suit close and sniffed it. The stench was faint and intermittent, and it made me very uncomfortable."
"I thought something was wrong, so I put the suit aside and told the man he could return it, but there was a strange smell on it. I needed to check it first before I could give him a refund, so I asked him to come back another day. The man didn't say much and just left.
"After he left, I examined the suit over and over, several times. Apart from the stench, there were no stains or damage, and the fabric hadn't lost its shape. It didn't seem to have been worn much... But the smell worried me, so I hung the suit in the back room, thinking I'd see if it would go away.
"I thought airing it out overnight would get rid of the smell, but when I went into the back room to get something the next morning, the stench was stronger than the day before.
"I figured I couldn't accept the return and would have to explain it to the man. But when the agreed day came, he didn't show up. I waited another day, and he still didn't come. He wanted neither the suit nor the money. He just disappeared."
"The stench kept getting stronger and spread from the back room into the shop. I knew I couldn't let it go on, so I doused the suit in kerosene and burned it.
"The smell was even more overpowering while it burned. It was so strong I nearly threw up. Afterward, I shoveled away the ashes and rinsed the ground several times with water. Only then did it finally die down.
"The smell in the shop was so strong that day that I thought I wouldn't get any business. But a customer came in that afternoon. I was arranging the shelves when he entered, so I apologized and told him there had been a strange smell in the shop lately, and asked him to bear with it.
"That gentleman looked at me and said... he didn't smell anything strange."