"I thought at the time that the customer was probably just being polite, or that his sense of smell was dull, so I didn't think much of it. But two more customers came in afterward, and when I mentioned the odor, each of them said they hadn't smelled anything strange.
"Over the next few days, I could still smell it, and instead of fading, it only grew stronger. I thoroughly cleaned the back room again and even replaced the shelves, but nothing worked. The smell wasn't just in the shop. I could smell it at home and on the street too... As if it had grown inside my nose."
"I asked my wife and my son, and they both said they couldn't smell it either. That was when I became sure I really was the only one who could smell that stench."
Isaac frowned. From the shopkeeper's description, it seemed he was the only one who could smell the odor; no one else noticed it at all. That meant the smell was acting on a level only the shopkeeper could perceive. Its source was a garment someone had deliberately returned, after which the person who returned it had disappeared without a trace.
"Why didn't you report it?"
The shopkeeper sighed. "I thought about it, but I didn't. If word got out, it would be bad for my reputation. If other people heard about it, they'd be bound to feel uncomfortable and think there was something unclean about my shop.
"Besides, the smell only affects me. It's just a strange smell, so it's not really a big deal. I've been smelling it for over half a month, and I've almost gotten used to it. I even wondered if I was getting old and something had gone wrong with my sense of smell..."
Isaac understood. From what he had observed earlier, the shopkeeper was the sort of person who neither liked causing trouble nor wanted to damage his shop's reputation. Faced with something bad whose effects weren't particularly severe, he probably only wanted to shoulder it alone.
If Isaac hadn't reacted as though he had "noticed a problem," the shopkeeper probably wouldn't have mentioned it at all.
...But how did Carlo notice? Could he smell it too?
Isaac pondered for a moment. "Do you remember what the customer who returned the garment looked like?"
The shopkeeper thought for a moment. "About thirty, I'd say. Average build, brown hair and eyes, and not particularly striking. He wore an old dark green coat both times I saw him, all bundled up. He spoke with a bit of an accent... I couldn't tell you where it was from."
"Did he do anything unusual when he came to buy the garment or return it? For example, did he touch anything else in the shop, or stay for an unusually long time?"
"I don't remember when he bought it. But when he returned it, I remember he put it on the counter and said he wanted to return it. I picked it up to take a look and smelled that odor, so I told him I'd have to check it before I could accept the return. He didn't argue. He just said, 'Then I'll come back another day,' and left."
Isaac asked a few more questions about the garment's details-its style, color, size, and markings. The shopkeeper answered each one, but the information was very limited. At least as far as the shopkeeper could tell, it was an ordinary black ready-made garment.
"Sir, about this matter..." The shopkeeper adjusted his glasses.
Isaac didn't agree immediately. "I need to, um, ask my boss first."
The shopkeeper nodded. Isaac turned and went back to Carlo. "Boss, what do you think?"
Carlo tilted his head. "You did get the information, but how did you jump straight to taking the job?"
"Uh..." Isaac rubbed his nose, thinking that he didn't have much experience drawing information out of people.
In this situation, the best way to get the other person talking was to guide the conversation as someone capable of solving the problem. "I'm just asking around" sounded too unreliable, and it would be hard to get the shopkeeper to volunteer the truth by beating around the bush. "I'm from the Joint Investigation Bureau" would make the matter too serious. By comparison, "a private detective willing to take a commission" was a more suitable choice.
Carlo said no more. He yawned and walked over to the counter.
When the shopkeeper saw him coming, he instinctively straightened up a little.
"What you're dealing with involves a curse," Carlo said without preamble.
The shopkeeper's expression changed. "A c-curse?"
"That stench only you can smell is a sign that a curse has attached itself to you. If you really keep putting it off, there's no telling what it might turn into."
The shopkeeper opened his mouth. "Then... can you two gentlemen deal with it?"
"It's not impossible for us to take the commission," Carlo said. "But there are different tiers."
"What's the difference?"
"The difference between top-tier talent and cheap labor."
The shopkeeper clearly didn't understand. Carlo said, "In other words, the difference is whether I handle it or he does. If it's me, it'll be over quickly. If it's him, it'll probably take a more roundabout course."
The shopkeeper's gaze moved back and forth between Carlo and Isaac. After a moment's hesitation, he asked, "Then... how much would it cost to ask for your help?"
"100 pounds. A token fee."
The shopkeeper stared blankly.
Isaac did the math. 100 pounds was roughly a year's income for a middle-class person in an ordinary profession. Judging by how well the shop was doing, the shopkeeper should be able to afford it, but it would probably still hurt.
Sure enough, the shopkeeper glanced at Isaac, a little hesitant and tentative. "Then... what about that gentleman?"
Carlo glanced at Isaac. "He's cheap labor, so naturally he doesn't cost as much as I do. Ask him directly what his rate is."
The shopkeeper turned to Isaac with a complex expression, embarrassed to ask. Isaac hadn't expected Carlo to leave the pricing entirely up to him, and he considered it.
He had only just entered the profession and had little idea what the going rate for this kind of commission was. But although Carlo's price of 100 pounds seemed casual, it had in fact set clear boundaries for the pricing.
The upper limit was 100 pounds, a "token fee for top-tier talent." That meant that, in Carlo's view, the severity of this incident was only worth that much.
At the same time, he had offered the option of "cheap labor," which meant that, at least by Carlo's assessment, it fell within the range of jobs a newcomer could practice on.
Isaac couldn't name too low a figure either. That would look unprofessional and make it seem as though the job wasn't worth much, and that he really was cheap labor.
"20 pounds," Isaac said.
The shopkeeper's expression relaxed somewhat. Compared with the 100 pounds from before, 20 pounds was within a range he could accept. "20 pounds... Then, gentlemen, I'll leave this matter in your hands."
Isaac thought that although he had named a price, he wasn't sure whether he was actually worth the 20 pounds. Carlo tapped the counter. "Half as a deposit first."
The shopkeeper took out a 10-pound note and handed it over. Carlo accepted it, pulled a notepad from his pocket, produced a fountain pen, wrote a line on a sheet, and tossed it onto the counter.
The shopkeeper picked up the note, unfolded it, and glanced at it, his expression becoming somewhat subtle. "This is..."
"Proof. If we don't get the job done, the deposit will be refunded. If you can't find me, come to my office. If you're still worried, go to the Joint Investigation Bureau."