“To Catch a Kumiho” was short-listed for the 2023 CWC Award of Excellence for Best Short Story. This chilling supernatural cross-over tale centers on a Korean demon, the kumiho, a nine-tailed fox monster that can transform into a beautiful woman, so it can eat the heart of its victim.

TO CATCH A KUMIHO

by

BLAIR KEETCH

“Spicy enough for you?”

I regarded Sujin over my dak-galbi—spicy Korean stir-fried chicken. “I like it hot,” I said, ignoring the rivulets of sweat rolling down my forehead.

She smiled at me enigmatically. “That’s what every man says, but few can stand the heat.”

Sujin was dressed in her usual attire, that of a sophisticated grad student—white silk blouse, black skirt, and a Burberry beret. She was likely in her late 30s, but her unlined face and stylish wardrobe made her appear a decade younger. I probably shouldn’t have been flirting with her, but I couldn’t resist her playful double entendres.

We’d met a few years ago, when the law firm where she’d been articling needed an investigator on short notice. I’d been hired, and she had been my liaison, though I had resolved the case within a couple of days.

Afterward, we’d get together for an occasional lunch, even though, by then, she’d abandoned pursuing a career in law. While I liked to think it was because of my rugged good looks, I suspected our rendezvous was driven more out of her need to network.

As if reading my thoughts, she said, “I have to confess, I have ulterior motives for this lunch invitation.” She paused, while I gratefully took a sip of water. “I didn’t ask you here just so I could flirt with you shamelessly.”

“How disappointing.”

“I need your professional talents.” She noted my skepticism. “No, really. I want you to investigate my brother’s girlfriend.”

“Let me think about it,” I said. “Family issues, unfaithful spouses, it’s not really what I do.”

She looked at me with luminous, tear-filled eyes, and my resolve crumbled.

“What are you looking for? A hidden past? Unsavory history?”

She hesitated. “Something like that.”

“You think she’s a gold digger?”

 Sujin’s forehead creased. I realized English was her second language, and some North American idioms were perplexing to her.

“You think she’s seducing him for her own gain?”

“That’s part of it,” she said.

I bit down my exasperation and leaned across the table, taking her hand in mine. “Please be honest with me.”

She took a deep breath. “I think she’s a kumiho .”

I was confused. “A what, exactly?”

Sujin cleared her throat and looked directly into my eyes. “Kumiho,” she explained. “A Korean spirit. I think my brother’s girlfriend is a nine-tailed fox who wants to eat his heart and liver.”

Hard to beat that as a conversation stopper. “How many tails?” I asked eventually.

Sujin brushed aside my inane question. “It’s called a kumiho. Part of Korean mythology that I dismissed as just a fairy tale, but then Jiho met Maja, and there was something I didn’t trust from the moment I laid eyes on her.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Many people don’t like their family’s choice in lovers.”

“This isn’t some tale of twisted psychology,” Sujin interrupted. “Jiho is a handsome man, successful—and I’ve never had a problem with any of his previous girlfriends.”

I pushed away the dessert menu. “If you want to prove that Maja is a fox spirit, or a murderer, I think you need someone else. Maybe a ghost hunter or exorcist.”

Sujin looked back at me with her shining eyes. “I didn’t expect you to believe me, but I thought I could trust you. Everyone else would make fun at me.” Her lower lip trembled, and I conceded defeat.

“Let me poke around a little bit,” I offered.

Her smile was my reward—incandescent, with hints of intimacy. Or so I hoped.

#

Instead of consulting a university professor specializing in Asian folklore, I had a better idea. My first stop was an industrial park on the Toronto outskirts.

Alabaster Costumes was low-key to the point of being invisible. No signage, no exterior graphics—just a discreet brass plaque by the entrance. Apart from a large loading dock at the back, the parking lot had space for barely a dozen cars—testament to the exclusive clientele.

I pushed the lobby entrance button, and a tall blonde dressed in futuristic leather approached. She opened the door reluctantly, as if I were selling vacuums door-to-door.

I took in her eyes, cloaked in smoky mascara, and the leather bodice. “Let me guess. Total Recall.”

She looked at me disparagingly. “Pris,” she said. “Blade Runner.” She tried to close the door, but I quickly said, “Here to see Miss Emily.”

She shook her head. “Not without an appointment.”

“We have a special arrangement—I can show up unannounced.”

She went to close the door, so I stated firmly. “Your choice—go ahead and take the risk.”

She held up a finger, retreated to the lobby desk, and picked up a phone. Seconds later, she silently led me inside.

“Beats Party City,” I said as I followed her through room after room packed with costumes.

Emily sat behind a massive mahogany desk. Her outfit was a malaria-fueled vision of Anne of Green Gables. Her luxurious red hair was tied back in pigtails, but her cleavage-revealing costume would scare off any Japanese tourist.

A soft-looking man with unwieldy glasses and a cheap haircut was stuffing papers into an expandable briefcase.

“Love the accountant costume,” I said.

“That’s because I am an accountant,” he replied gruffly as he left.

“I have an Oscar the Grouch costume,” Emily said. “Probably a perfect fit for you.”

She wasn’t one for lengthy social pleasantries, so I dove right in. “Kumiho costumes. Kumiho, as in a nine-tailed— ”

“Nine-tailed fox,” she interrupted impatiently. “We have seven versions in stock.” She consulted her laptop. “All of them exclusive rentals—meaning very expensive. All made with real fox fur, very ornate.”

“You know about kumihos?” I asked in surprise.

“Kumihos—sometimes known as gumihos. In Japan, referred to as kitsune, though it’s probably derived from the Chinese legend of huli jing.” Her pigtails swung in emphasis. “However, the kumiho differs from its other counterparts. It’s not mischievous; it’s downright evil.”

“It transforms itself into a beautiful girl?” I thought of Maja Rav, whom I had yet to meet, but had been told was strikingly attractive.

“The spirit eventually wants to kill her suitor, and then eat the heart and liver. Often there are warning signs…mysterious deaths of animals—even people—nearby.”

“Not exactly eternal love.”

“Depends,” she replied. “If the kumiho can last 100 days without killing, it can change permanently into a human. But, usually, the desire to kill is overwhelming.”

I shivered.

“Follow me,” she instructed, and strode out the office, the heels of her thigh-high boots clicking on the ceramic tiles. I followed her to a small room stuffed with various anime figures. She rummaged through one of the racks. “See. One of them is rented out. The nicest model. Look away.”

Obediently, I turned around and tried to ignore her reflection in the mirror.

“Turn back,” she instructed.

I gasped. Emily had disappeared. In front of me was a human-like fox, tails resplendent. Its face had a sly grin, and cunning eyes looked back at me. “Of course, for the full effect, you’d need the appropriate makeup. And, of course, the right mindset.”

“Thank you,” I said. “This has been very…illuminating and illustrative.”

She playfully bared her teeth at me. “Anytime.”

“And you don’t know why I’m asking about kumihos?”

“I’m sure I’ll find out later.” Her eyes glittered. “But I suspect that someone fears a kumiho has entered his or her life—or that of a loved one.”

I shrugged.

“Don’t treat this as a joke. That would be a fatal mistake,” she warned. With that, she stepped into a wall of costumes and disappeared.

#

I was barely out of the Alabaster parking lot, blinking at the afternoon sun streaming through my windshield, when Sujin called.

“Jiho can meet you tomorrow. Noon at his office.” She recited an address in the Design District.

“What did you tell him? That I’m curious whether his girlfriend is a murderous fox spirit?”

The line disconnected.

Sujin hadn’t told me much about her brother, apart from his menacing girlfriend. Yet there was something vaguely familiar about his name.

Three blocks later, as I drove through a posh neighborhood, it became clear. A newly built monster house stood on a corner, towering over its diminutive neighbors. In front, a sign proclaimed For Sale—Team Jiho . Not only was her brother successful and handsome, but he was also likely rich.

Twenty minutes later, I pulled up in front of my modest bungalow. Only seven miles distant from the monster home, but a world away. I walked up my rickety stairs and stopped. The hairs on my arms stood up in warning.

My eyes searched the porch. My ears strained for any sounds out of the ordinary. Then I sensed it—the smell of blood.

In the shadows, there was something small and white. Moving closer, I saw it—a rabbit, still and lifeless, splashes of red blood around its twisted neck.

I retrieved a shovel and deposited the lifeless rabbit in the trash can. There had been many reports of coyotes invading the city, grabbing cats and small dogs as prey, but this seemed different. Far different.

#

The next morning, fortified by coffee, I spent an hour on my laptop searching in vain for any mention of Maja Rav. It was almost as if she didn’t exist—no mean feat in today’s world of social media footprints.

As noon approached, I headed out, dressed in my Sunday best: dark gray suit and snow-white shirt, but no tie.

The head office for Team Jiho was the exact opposite of Alabaster Costumes. Large digital billboards on the roof corners proclaimed its virtues via an endless loop of videos. The windows were tinted smoky gold, except for a section of clear windows that deliberately framed busy office workers, intended to show their dedication to their clients.

The receptionist greeted me like a long-lost family member as her eyes quickly appraised the cut and quality of my suit. An element of cosplay lingered as she led me through a vast open work area: standalone computer pods were interspersed with beanbag chairs, foosball tables, and what I suspected were sleep pods for taking quick naps. The overall effect was that of being the ideal workspace for Gen Y or Gen Z or whatever they were called now, though I noticed all the furniture was pristine and seemingly untouched. Everyone was earnestly at work, most eating lunch at their workstations. So much for life–work balance.

A tall, lean man with model good looks stood at a computer, staring intently at the screen, until he noticed our presence.

“Mr. Kim,” the receptionist said softly.

He gave her a dismissive wave as he approached me, hand extended. He possessed an air of easy confidence.

“Call me Jiho,” he said warmly. “Thanks for coming here. I’m always interested in what’s going on in my half sister’s life, though she’s rather adept at shutting me out.”

The different birth parents clicked in.

Jiho’s Asian features were only noticeable in his dark hair and eyes. On closer look, he was probably biracial and had inherited the best of both parents.

“I thought we could have a light lunch in our staff cafeteria,” Jiho suggested. He led me down a corridor to a large airy room with several circular tables. Private dining room would be a more fitting description than cafeteria.

“Maya will join us soon, though she’s probably eaten already. I’ve never met anyone who has such an impressive appetite,” he said fondly.

Indeed, there was an aroma in the air evocative of my childhood. I couldn’t quite place it until it struck me—liver and fried onions.

At that moment, Maja entered the room, and we both ceased talking. Maja was not the dark-haired Korean beauty I had expected, but rather a tall, striking blonde—wholesome and beautiful, except for a trickle of bloody juice that escaped from her mouth.

“Maja!” Jiho gently chided.

“Oops,” Maja said. “I cook everything rare.” Her voice possessed a Scandinavian lilt. Indeed, she could have been a poster child for Swedish tourism had it not been for her slightly imperfect features—a rather sharp nose and eyes that were a little too small. She took my hand in a surprisingly muscular grip.

“So, you’re Jiho’s paramour,” I said.

“Not sure if I’d go quite that far. Exaggeration is one of Sujin’s charms,” Maja replied.

“Acceptable in a sister,” Jiho said.

“Half sister,” Maja corrected.

“I take it Team Jiho is not a family business,” I said.

“Sujin believes ambition is not to be admired, though she doesn’t mind reaping its benefits,” Jiho said.

I contemplated what to say next when I heard a low, growling sound. Maja stared out the window, her mouth open slightly and her teeth exposed.

“Maja!” Jiho gently chided her.

She shook her head, as if noticing us for the first time. “Excuse me. I’m famished.”

She strode past me, her gold-flecked eyes meeting mine for a split second. I felt an electric spark, and watched her walk out of the room.

I slowly looked back at Jiho. “How do Maja and Sujin get along?”

Jiho laughed bitterly. “They don’t.” He gestured to an expensive coffee machine that was probably worth more than my car. “Espresso?”

“Latte, if possible.”

Jiho fiddled with the controls. “I’m at a loss as to what to do. Maja does her best, but Sujin continues to give her the cold shoulder.”

I noted his easy use of English idioms. “Were you born in Korea?”

“No, just Sujin. When my parents separated, my father moved first to Vancouver, where he met my mother. Later, they came east to Toronto, where I was born.”

“Sujin came along?” Sujin had never said why or how she had moved to Canada.

“No. Sujin stayed with her mother until she was 16. Then her mother was killed.”

A shadow passed over the outside window. I looked out—a murder of crows had settled on the telephone lines across from the office.

“Terrible accident,” Jiho continued. “Out hiking with her daughter, she was attacked by a bear.”

“In Korea?” I asked dubiously.

“Asiatic Bear.” Jiho shrugged. “Somewhere near the North Korea border, I think. Lots of forests there.”

I felt another electric ripple. Maja had returned with a tray of appetizers. Jiho stared out the window distractedly; Maja gave me a secretive smile that hinted at carnal pleasures.

“Poor little girl. To have her mother devoured like that,” Maja said. She scooped half a dozen shrimp into her open palm and devoured them ravenously.

Suddenly, I wanted the charade to end. “Thanks, but I really must go.”

“Oh, good—more food for me.” Maja smiled wolfishly.

Jiho beckoned toward me. “Let me escort you out.”

“Hope to see you soon,” Maja called out as we left. “Maybe the four of us can get together for dinner.”

I thought Jiho would be horrified, but instead he nodded thoughtfully. “Might be worth exploring. Maybe with you by her side, Sujin will be more open.”

“Perhaps,” I said uncertainly.

We went back past the rows of gleaming workstations and returned to the lobby. Suddenly, Jiho stopped. Behind him, a wall of screens scrolled images of custom-made homes for sale. Occasionally, Jiho’s face filled the screen, his gleaming hair and handsome features dominating the room.

“A pleasure to meet you—and let’s follow up on Maja’s suggestion.” He started to turn away. “You know that Sujin thinks that Maja is trying to kill me.”

I nodded. “She cares about you. She’s being overly protective.”

Jiho looked at me directly. “And I care more about Maja than anyone else in the world.” He gripped my arm. “You know, a few years ago, Sujin was convinced our house was occupied by a gwisin—the Korean word for ghost.”

I did my best to hide my surprise.

“Her mother,” he said. “Sujin didn’t tell you?”

Jiho escorted me to the door, but I smiled and said I’d be fine from there. I had no desire to have him watch me walk to my Toyota when he’d probably be expecting a Lexus.

Partway to my car, I stopped, feeling I was being watched. Dozens, perhaps hundreds, of crows had now settled on the hydro line, to the point where it was sagging. I stared up at the army of birds, when suddenly they took to the sky as one.

Their departure seemed out of fear. I instinctively glanced upward. Maja Rav was looking out the window, her mouth open as if in hunger.

#

The next morning, I awoke frustrated and annoyed. This didn’t feel like an investigation, but more like a favor for a friend who might be delusional.

Wanting to accomplish something—no matter how minor—I placed a GPS unit underneath Jiho’s personal Audi. Parked beside it was a white SUV with a Swedish flag decal in the back window. On impulse, I took a spare tracker and quickly affixed it to the SUV’s rear bumper.

It didn’t feel warranted, but at least I was doing something.

While I was deciding how to approach Sujin, she texted me. ‘Let’s do lunch. Patio @ Cluny.’

I bit back my irritation at a number of things—the suspicion I was being played, her arrogant assumption that I’d come running at her beck and call, and the fact I’d likely be picking up the tab.

I growled in frustration in what I realized was an unconscious echoing of Maja.

To keep myself occupied, before my lunch date with Sujin, I decided to look closer at Jiho Lee.

I didn’t have to look far.

I walked down my street, past four houses to the corner, and turned right, arriving at a modest bungalow with a spacious veranda. As I expected, Margie Sergeant sat at a table, flipping through pages of house sale listings. She puffed away at what I assumed was her tenth cigarette of the morning.

Margie was the exact opposite of Jiho. Team Jiho was all about Facebook ads and digital billboards; Margie was the opposite. In certain parts of town, you’d be hard-pressed to miss her ads on every bus-stop bench, her bleary eyes staring back at you. Put the Sarge to Work was her slogan, and that’s exactly what people loved about her.

As I clambered up her front stairs, she put down her coffee cup and exchanged it for a cigarette. “You look like a man with a question.”

I didn’t waste time on greetings—not her style. “Jiho Kim.”

“The Golden Boy of Real Estate.” She gave a phlegmy laugh. “He probably made more money yesterday than I’ll pull in all year.”

I raised an eyebrow. Despite her appearance, Margie sold a lot of houses. “Well, he does have a lot of resources behind him,” I said.

“Not bad, considering he was a pariah five years ago.”

“Pretty strong words.”

“Trust me, I’m being kind.” She looked at the cigarette in her hand, as if surprised to see it there. “Oh, he was a wunderkind back in the day. Loved to party. Put most of the profits up his nose, from what I heard.”

“What happened?”

“A townhouse project fell apart in spectacular fashion. Didn’t do his due diligence—it was on a former industrial site, and the soil turned out to be contaminated.”

“So how did he bounce back?”

“I heard his sister bailed him out.”

No further questions came to mind, and since Margie wasn’t one for small talk, I left her to her fumes and caffeine.

#

Lunch was a change in menu and a subtle change in our relationship.

Instead of looking like a sexy student, today Sujin wore an elegant yet demure business suit and very little makeup. She still looked ageless, but I noticed a faint network of lines around her eyes.

“You’re looking very sophisticated,” I said.

“I feel comfortable being with you.”

“Enough to tell me about the gwisin ?”

She gave a casual shrug. “It was a ghost. My mother’s ghost.”

“I thought your mom lived in Korea all her life.”

“She did, but her ghost followed me here.”

I put down my calamari untouched. “Where exactly?”

“Our house. My brother’s house. He bought a place for us to live together. One of his first investments.” She sighed. “Everything was fine for the first few weeks, until I began to see her. Usually late at night. I’d wake up and find her staring at me from the foot of the bed. Pale and translucent, but it was her. She stared at me with great sadness.”

Despite the warm summer afternoon, I felt a chill. “And you’re sure this gwisin was your mother?”

“Absolutely.” She took a gulp of wine. “She was wearing the same clothes I remembered from my childhood.”

“Why do you think she looked sad?”

“I don’t know. Maybe the way my life turned out.” Her eyes welled up. “No husband. No children. I never found someone to love me.” She looked at me expectantly.

I avoided the hoped-for response—that it wasn’t too late, that she still possessed beauty and was worthy of love. Instead, I asked, “What did your brother think?”

“What he always thinks. It was all in my mind, and I should seek professional help.”

“Did you?”

She looked at me coldly. “I got help. A spiritual adviser. She did a cleansing ceremony, and my mother’s gwisin was never seen again.” She frowned. “I don’t think this is working out.”

“My search for the kumiho?”

“No, I mean us.” She stood up abruptly, knocking over her glass of wine.

I watched silently as the blood-red stain traveled across the white tablecloth, but made no move to clean it up.

She stormed out the patio, leaving a crowd of amused diners in her wake.

#

The highlight of my day was going to be my lunchtime steak frites, but after Sujin stomped away, my appetite quickly vanished.

I returned home later that afternoon, fatigued and irritable, but determined to salvage my evening.  I’d pulled out my trusty cast-iron frying pan, opened a bottle of wine, and was preparing a steak when the front doorbell rang.

I opened the door, half expecting, half hoping it would be Sujin wanting to apologize. Instead, it was Jiho, looking wild and disheveled.

He pushed past me with no greeting. “Where is she?” He looked around wildly, his shirt damp from the evening rain. His breath had the sweet-sour smell of soju, a Korean brandy.

“Your sister?” I asked. “I haven’t seen her since this afternoon.”

“I mean Maja! Where is she?”

“Not sure, but she’s not here.”

Jiho strode past me into the living room, where my plate sat forlornly alone on the dining table. He noticed the single wineglass and the open bottle of wine nearby.

He stared down the hall where the bedrooms were. “She has strong appetites. I can’t always keep up.” He sniffed the air. “What’s that?”

“I was cooking dinner. Steak for one, if you must know.”

He stood in the middle of the room, panting with exertion. One of the books I’d taken out from the library was on the coffee table, lying half-open at a page with a glossy illustration of a kumiho facing up. He picked it up and flipped through a couple of pages. “You believe her, don’t you? That Maja is a kumiho.”

“It’s what Sujin believes that matters.”

“Maja is very intense. Loving her isn’t easy. At times, it feels like a hallucination.” Jiho looked at me. “Sometimes I don’t know what to think.”

He nodded as if to finally confirm I was alone. Without a word, he opened my front door and rushed out. I listened to his footsteps on the walkway and the sound of his Lexus starting up.

Despite my best intentions, I poured myself another glass of wine. Halfway through, I stopped. Looking into the mirror above my fireplace, I could see Maja’s reflection. She was standing outside my patio door. Her hair was unkempt and feral, wet from the summer shower. Her clothes clung tightly to her body, leaving little to my imagination. She tugged at the patio door with a reckless abandon, but it did not budge.

My hands shook partly from arousal, partly out of fear, as I walked over to the window. I didn’t meet her eyes as I tugged the curtains closed.

The tapping on the glass grew urgent. I lay down on the couch. Eventually, it ceased, and I fell into a dreamless, fitful sleep.

#

I awoke the next morning, my body stiff and my mind foggy. I was no longer sure about what was real and what I’d imagined from the previous night.

The doorbell sounded like a steamship departing port. I staggered groggily to the front door, half expecting to see Jiho back with more wild-eyed accusations.

Instead, it was Sujin, wearing a summer dress and holding a bouquet of daisies. The epitome of innocence.

“I always wondered what you looked like first thing in the morning,” she said.

“Trust me, I’m usually in better shape.” I rubbed my unshaven face. “Plus, I’m not sure if it’s still morning.”

“Nothing coffee won’t cure.” Sujin brandished a take-out cup and a white cardboard box. She strode past me into the house and yanked open the patio curtains. Outside, I saw only the empty tranquility of my back garden. “Designer donuts. A peace offering.”

“For what? I’m the one who was rude.”

“No, you were being honest with me. I appreciate that. Not everyone has the courage.”

“Apology not needed, but accepted.” I froze.  From down the hall came a sweet, melodic woman’s voice, singing in Swedish.

Sujin stared at me, transfixed.

The shower had been turned off. I hadn’t noticed the sound of it earlier, but now the silence was agonizing.

Sujin didn’t say a word, but her smile faded. Her eyes became dark and forbidding. I couldn’t hold her accusing gaze any longer.

Maja brazenly advanced down the hall, completely naked. Her long blond hair was still damp and plastered to her shoulders. Her body was firm and slick; despite my shock, I felt an animalistic pull.

“Good,” Maja said when she spied the box of pastries. “I’m famished. Always am after a good workout.”

Sujin’s voice was a hoarse whisper. “What are you doing here?”

“Simple. I had to prove to your dear friend that I don’t have nine tails.” She grinned wickedly. “And I didn’t eat his heart, though I did suck his soul out—in a matter of speaking.”

“What about Jiho?”

“He’ll forgive me. He loves me too much,” she said. “Besides he won’t believe you. I’ll just tell him it’s another one of your delusional accusations.”

“Sujin.” I stepped toward her.

She turned to me, trembling with anger. “I had doubts about to you, but I was willing to try. Because above all else, I thought I could trust you.”

With a violent slam of the door, she was gone.

When I turned around, the room was empty. I cautiously went upstairs, but saw no sign of Maja. She had vanished.

#

The following week was a jumble of restless nights and days. I was constantly jumpy, as if shadows had moved just outside my line of sight.

Yet overall, it was a relief to be free of Sujin, Jiho, and the bewitching Maja.

I was sitting on my back patio with a book and a glass of wine on the table beside me. Twilight had fallen. I saw the occasional reflection of animal eyes in the ravine behind my house, but they no longer made me afraid.

When my phone rang, the display showed Unknown Number. I hesitated a moment before answering.

“God help me. She was right. Sujin was right.” The voice was slurred and frantic.

“Jiho?”

“I need your help. It’s Maja. She’s gone berserk. She’s changed.”

“Changed how?”

I could hear glass breaking. A crash—maybe furniture overturned.

“This can’t be real…” The sound of a gunshot. “Stay away from me.”

“Jiho, where are you?” I shouted.

“At home. On Mill Crescent.”

“Don’t do anything foolish. I’ll be there in 30 minutes.” I grabbed my car keys. “Lock yourself in another room if you have to.”

There was a bloodcurdling scream and another crash before the line went dead.

I sprinted toward my car. As I raced down the streets, I started to call 911, but thought better of it and dialed another number—that of Geena Gordon, a homicide inspector, someone who viewed me as a nuisance but also as an occasional ally.

“Thanks, but I don’t need a bedtime story tonight,” she said.

I breathlessly explained about Jiho’s call.

“What number on Mill Crescent?”

“Don’t know, but please send someone out there. And tell the officers to be careful—there might be a crazed kumiho.”

“A what?”

“Just do it,” I yelled and disconnected. I drove urgently, not knowing if anyone would be dispatched. I kept calling Sujin’s number, but it just went to voice mail .

Mill Crescent was a cul-de-sac with fewer than 20 houses, but I didn’t have to figure out which house belonged to Jiho. Midway along the road was a stately mansion with a garage for four cars, faux turrets, and a guest lodge on the perimeter.

A fire truck, ambulance and police cars were parked out front, their colored lights spinning in the summer night. Geena had heeded my pleas for help.

A sense of dread wrapped itself around me as I emerged from my car. A cluster of officers stood talking. Their lack of urgency hit home.

A tall, lanky woman spotted me and strode purposefully toward me. “You made good time,” Geena said.

I nodded. “But I’m still too late.”

“Dead,” she agreed. “Fell off the third-story balcony. Under rather suspicious circumstances.”

I thought of Maja, transformed into a nine-tailed fox, advancing toward Jiho, her teeth bared, her eyes locked with his. I laughed bitterly. “That’s one way to describe it.”

“Why did he call you?”

“Don’t know, but he was hysterical and delusional.”

“Nothing official yet, but I think the coroner will likely find coke and alcohol in his bloodstream.”

“Soju.” In response to her questioning look, I added, “A Korean brandy.”

She grunted, filing away this bit of information. “We found a gun, along with three bullet holes in the wall.” She regarded me closely. “Fired just before he fell off the balcony.”

“Pushed or fell?”

“Can’t tell, but no signs of anyone else.”

“No security cameras?”

“Front door only. Nothing on tape.” Geena paused. “So why did Jiho need a private detective?”

“He didn’t.” It was my turn to hesitate. “I’m helping his sister.”

She noted my careful choice of words. “And where is she, exactly?”

“Not sure. I can’t reach her. Or her brother’s girlfriend.”

Then I saw it—a faint light in the guesthouse.

Geena followed my gaze. “Shall we?”

Neither of us spoke on the short walk to the guesthouse.

The door was unlocked. Geena quickly stepped inside. Ignoring her instructions, I slipped in behind her. She shot me an annoyed look, but didn’t say anything.

The interior held a living room with dining table, adjacent kitchen, a fireplace and a large-screen TV. Double doors at the rear were closed.

Geena gestured for me to stay back as she approached the doors. She put her ear to the door and shook her head. Carefully, she turned the handle, pulled it open—and froze.

I joined her and stood paralyzed.

Moonlight streamed through the windows onto a king-size bed revealing Sujin and Maja. Their naked bodies were intertwined, a tangle of jet-black and blond hair.

A low whistling sound from Sujin. Geena stepped forwarded and prodded her with her foot; Sujin murmured, but remained fast asleep.

Geena glanced at the empty bottle of wine on the side table. “Must have been some party.” She looked at me; I must have blushed in embarrassment.

“Better step outside,” she said. “I’ll handle it from here.” She threw me an accusing stare, as if she’d caught a voyeur, but in truth, I was eager to leave.

#

The next month was a fight to return to normalcy. For the first few days, Sujin called me every hour, but I never answered. Eventually, her calls tapered off.

Several weeks later, Geena Gordon dropped by the house, but she didn’t come inside. “Just a courtesy call. Wanted to let you know the case is officially closed—death by misadventure.”

“Everyone has to die of something.” I slowly closed the door.

Later that morning, I remembered my two GPS trackers. I was going to dismiss the loss, but out of curiosity, I logged into my laptop.

Little surprise to see that Jiho’s car had not moved since the night of his death and still sat in the driveway.

I was about to shut down my laptop when I decided to look at Maja’s travels during the past several weeks. Lots of commuting between Team Jiho’s head office and an address I knew to be Sujin’s home. A lengthy stay outside what I was pretty sure was the latest and trendiest steakhouse.

Then a journey to a destination that I recognized. I double-checked to be sure, then dialed a number from memory.

“I gather the kumiho costume has now been returned,” I said.

“As a matter of fact, it has,” Emily purred. “Truly a remarkable costume, incredibly lifelike.”

“I don’t suppose you can tell me who rented it?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she replied. “You know, customer confidentiality.”

“And protecting the sisterhood,” I guessed.

“Does it matter? It doesn’t prove anything.”

I was going to protest, but realized she probably was right. I hung up without a word.

#

Past midnight, and still sleep eluded me.

Since Jiho’s death, I’d suffered from insomnia. Each night, while the hot summer breezes blew, I’d drive for hours through town, but always ended up at Sujin’s house, which stood dark and forlorn.

Like a lovesick teenager, I’d sit in the blackness and watch for any signs of life, but the house felt empty and abandoned.

Tonight, something was different. An object on the front lawn. I angled my car up to the curb and flicked my high beams on. A For Sale sign hung from a frame.

Images of Sujin and Maja stared back at me, their smiles bright, their arms intertwined. Maja & Sujin—Get the Foxy Ladies on Your Side.

Had I been played from the start? Had Sujin toyed with me, knowing that I would be an unwitting accomplice? That I’d testify that her brother was unbalanced, but never say anything to betray her? The possibilities were endless, and I would never know the truth.

I laughed quietly to myself and turned my car back toward home. I recalled what Jiho had said to me when we left his office. How he’d stopped suddenly and grabbed me by the elbow. “You realize that you can never truly ever know anyone,” he’d said, staring into my eyes.

Thinking he was talking about Maja, I had pulled away, eager to be on my way home.

Now as I drove along the darkened streets, I realized too late that he had been warning me about Sujin.

---

THE END