The Case of the Kidnapped Friend

An Akari Hoshinatsu Mystery

by Freya Gersemi

©Copyright 2025 Freya Gersemi. All rights reserved

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permission requests, contact freyagersemi@gmail.com.

The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.

Book Cover Design by ahorsewithnoname

Foreword

As I embark on a new series (and, for me, an entirely new genre of storytelling), I can still thank the same people that have been there for me for what seems like eons.

Thank you, AlexFourways. Always there with a kind word and a much-appreciated compliment.

Thank you, Figjamkiss. You clean up my grammatical messes and catch my wayward misspellings and most of all, you keep my scattered ramblings focused.

Thank you, ahorsewithnoname. All of my work would still be languishing on my laptop were it not for you.

Chapter 1 - “Greta’s Been Kidnapped”

Only half-awake, Akari rolled over and fumbled for the phone. “Hello?” she mumbled, trying to shake off the thick tendrils of sleep.

The frantic voice on the other end shouted, “Greta’s been kidnapped!”

“Huh?”

“Greta’s been kidnapped,” came the voice again.

Greta was one of Akari’s best friends. Greta also happened to be the only child of Mr. Heinrich Breitenbach, the man on the other end of the phone. Akari, now instantly wide awake, sat up in bed. “What do you mean?”

“I was in bed watching TV, heard some banging downstairs, I thought I heard a muffled scream, and then the front door slammed. When I got downstairs, Greta was gone. She’s nowhere in the house.”

“Did you call the police?”

“Yes. I’m not sure they believe me though.”

Akari nodded to herself. Greta had a bit of a… wild streak in high school and was somewhat well-known to the law enforcement folks in town. Of course, the fact that Mr. B. was truly a beloved member of the community - not to mention the sympathy received after the horrific way his wife’s life had been torn from him and his daughter - and doubly not to mention his immense wealth - meant that none of the dozen or so different possible charges over the years had ever been officially filed against Greta, although none of them had really been much worse than egging houses or one time “borrowing” a neighbor’s car for a joyride.

It may have been in character for Greta to randomly take off with someone even as recently as a year ago, but since graduating high school, it seemed that Greta had outgrown her temporary rebellion and was currently attending a local college - and doing quite well - while working part-time with Akari at Lord’s, a large department store in town.

Mr. B. continued, “Of course, they’re sending a cruiser right over, but I wanted to check with you to see if you thought that, just maybe… she went off somewhere? With someone? Maybe you have an idea?”

Maureen rolled over in bed and moaned. “What’s going on?”

Akari covered the phone’s mouthpiece. “It’s Mr. B. He says that Greta’s missing.”

“Is that Maureen?” Mr. B. asked. “I’m so sorry for calling you this late.”

“No. Of course.” Akari stifled a yawn. “We’ll be right over.”

“Oh, no. I don’t want you to come over. I just wanted to see if maybe you had any other possible idea where she could be. I mean, I don’t even know if she’s been kidnapped. It just was the first thing that popped into my head. Why would she be kidnapped?”

“We’ll be right there,” Akari told him. He’d had so much trouble in his life recently and he was all alone. He’d always treated Akari - and now Maureen - like family. “We’ll be right there,” Akari repeated and hung up the phone.

“You sure she didn’t just take off with some guy?” Maureen asked, stretching and then absentmindedly scratching the side of her naked right boob.

“No,” Akari stated, getting out of bed. “She’s not like that.” Akari looked at her girlfriend who was staring back at her with raised eyebrows. “Well, she’s not like that anymore,” Akari amended as she slipped out of her nightshirt and started to get dressed. “You coming?”

“Yeah,” Maureen replied, stretching again. “Of course.”

When they got to the Breitenbachs’, there was a police car in the circular driveway and the front door was open. As the two girls climbed the marble steps, they could see Mr. B. talking to two police officers.

“No. I don’t know where she is!” He insisted. Then he saw Akari and Maureen in the doorway. “Come in. Come in,” he told them, waving his hand.

They gave him a small smile and a nod as they stepped into the foyer.

“These are friends of Greta’s,” Mr. B. told the officers.

Both policemen looked at the girls and then one of them turned his attention back to Mr. Breitenbach. Maureen noticed how the younger officer’s gaze lingered on Akari for a few extra moments.

Maureen was used to the stares. Her girlfriend was cute. Akari was the stereotypical adorably petite and angelically darling Japanese girl that almost all men found utterly irresistible. Some women, too, as Maureen could personally attest!

But Akari never played up that stereotype. In fact, she did just the opposite. When they arrived in The States, her father had insisted that they all assimilate into American culture as fully and quickly as possible. And although he was a loving and caring father, in the Hoshinatsu household, what he said was law and that law was to be followed without question. So if you could ignore the cherubically Asian facial features, porcelain-white skin, slender delicate hands, and the straight jet-black hair, Akari looked like any other 20-something modern American woman.

Although leaning quite a bit on the tomboy side.

Ever since Akari’s body had “blossomed” - and blossomed in a way quite unlike the average Japanese young woman - Mr. Hoshinatsu had not allowed Akari to dress in anything less than nearly complete body coverage. He knew what American boys were like. As it turned out, there was no need for him to worry about any boys around his daughter.

This strict upbringing had drilled its way into Akari’s subconscious mind - and into much of her conscious mind.

So, unlike other young Japanese immigrant girls, Akari never wore the tiny skirts, fishnet leggings, and patent leather shoes that seemed to be the “de rigueur” for girls of her descent. She never had the cute handbags of backpacks emblazoned with childish cartoon characters. Akari never wore anything to accentuate her slim but still very curvy form.

Nonetheless, Akari still drew many admiring - and many lustful - stares. Even dressed in a baggy sweater, baggy jeans, and clunky work boots. Akari just had a certain sensual glow about her that more than assured anyone there was an incredibly sexy woman underneath the decidedly un-sexy woman-like clothing.

Akari slowly wandered around the foyer, oblivious to the officer’s lingering looks.

“So, Mr. Breitenbach, why do you think your daughter has been kidnapped?” The first officer asked for the second time since Akari and Maureen had gotten there, sounding even more dubious than the first time he had asked.

“I just feel it. I know it.”

“I think she was, too,” Akari suddenly stated.

Surprised, all eyes turned to her.

Akari was standing next to a chair in a corner. “This is her jacket and that’s the strap of her purse underneath it.” She knew enough not to touch anything that could be evidence. “It’s pretty chilly out, so she wouldn’t have left her jacket here.”

“If she was in a hurry -” the first officer started, but Akari continued as if she hadn’t heard him. “She may have gone out without her jacket, but she never would have gone anywhere without her purse. She practically lives out of this thing.”

Akari had always struggled in school, but was able to do well enough with her knack for seeing connections and her unerring ability to piece things together. In fact, she had once received straight A’s in a class after she realized that the teacher used a certain pattern for the correct multiple-choice test answers.

“She didn’t just leave,” Akari stated.

“That’s still not really enough to file a missing person’s report,” the first officer said, hoping to avoid any more paperwork than was necessary. Especially on a Friday night.

“But we could certainly look around,” the second officer offered, much to the obvious chagrin of his partner.

The police officers started exploring the expansive first floor of the Breitenbach home and when they reached the solarium, one of Greta’s favorite rooms in the house - it had been her mother’s favorite room, too - Akari stepped away from the group. Pointing to a window, she asked, “Mr. B., was this window unlocked?”

“What?” He asked, rushing over to her. “No. No. They’re all locked. It’s been too cool, so this room is all locked up for the winter.”

She pointed to the latch. “It’s unlocked.”

“There’s a gouge in the wood,” the second officer, O’Malley according to his name badge, said as he inspected the window latch. “It looks like it may have been pried open from outside.”

Realizing that at least some paperwork was imminent, the first officer said, “I’ll go outside and take a look.” Besides, he liked Mr. Breitenbach. Just about everyone in town did.

“You’re really observant,” Officer O’Malley told Akari with a smile. “First the purse left behind and now the window.”

“Yeah. She’s like half idiot savant,” Maureen commented. “We’re just not sure which half.”

Akari frowned at her girlfriend. Maureen was always cracking jokes. Usually inappropriate and almost always at the wrong times.

“Well, I think that it was pretty impressive,” Officer O’Malley stated. His eyes were practically sparkling at Akari. Maureen had seen this dozens of times and knew that he was going to be quite disappointed when he found out that Maureen wasn’t just one of Akari’s platonic “friends.” Maureen shrugged to herself while Akari obliviously brushed off both the man’s compliment as well as his attention.

“Okay. Do not touch anything,” the first officer loudly told them from the other side of the closed window. “Pete, I’m calling this in. This looks like a break-in.”

“Ohhh,” Mr. B. moaned as he slumped into one of the three chairs in the room, the weight of his fears suddenly becoming much more real.

A few hours later, a detective was sitting with Mr. B. at their kitchen table asking questions and writing information down in a little notebook. “Do you know anyone that would have any reason to harm your daughter?”

“No. No one.”

“Does she have any friends that… she may have gone somewhere with?” The detective asked, choosing his words carefully.

“No,” Mr. B. shook his head slowly. “Akari. And Maureen. Sophia, but she’s at school right now.”

“Could I get Sophia’s last name and a phone number for her?”

“Of course.” Mr. B. stood up. “I’ll go get that number. Is there anything else that you need?”

“I think I have everything right now, sir. But if we need anything, we’ll be in touch.”

“Yes. Yes.” Mr. B. looked haggard and old as he walked past Akari and Maureen.

“Poor Mr. B.,” Akari said, watching him leave the kitchen.

Officer O’Malley came up behind the girls. “I think we’re finishing things up here. Thank you so much for your help.”

“We didn’t really do anything,” Akari told him.

“The unlocked window. That’s what turned this from an upset - and possibly needlessly concerned - father to a crime scene.”

“You guys would have noticed the window,” Akari said. “I just happened to notice it first.”

“Probably,” O’Malley admitted. “But you noticed it almost immediately. And the jacket and pocketbook, too.”

“I told you,” Maureen explained. “She’s weird. She just stares at stuff and all of the sudden sees things. You should see her do one of those word search puzzles. It’s bizarre. She just stares at the page and starts circling words. She finds words that aren’t even on the search list! She doesn’t even look at the search list!”

“The words just kind of pop out at me,” Akari offered, a little embarrassed. “It’s nothing special.”

“Well, I was impressed,” O’Malley stated.

From Maureen’s point of view, that wasn’t all that Akari had impressed him with. Like a lot of men that come into contact with Akari, he was clearly quite smitten with her. Maureen would have liked to take Akari’s hand, just to ease the poor guy into the idea that he had no chance with her, but she knew that Akari wouldn’t have appreciated that. As much as she was fine with her sexual orientation, Akari did not like flaunting it anywhere outside of their bedroom. Another one of her strict father’s influences.