The policeman looked at me with his tired eyes. “Shall we go?” He asked. I bowed. We crossed the door, went to the step, god rid of our shoes and hop into the changing room. Instead of the generic “yukata”, this private onsen was having as many different ones of them as a shop. There were some apart from the general ones , obviously dedicated to specific purposes. We undressed and took two of the blue ones, looking like a friendly version of the Japanese police officer uniforms. Then we entered. “Look there” he said. ” The second island is the crime scene”. I looked. Oddly, the whole place was apparently running ad usual. No police tape, no body mark on the floor. “Who was her?” I asked.”Embassador attaché”. He said. I looked around once more. Another particularity of the place was that it was mixed, that is , there was no visible separation between the men and women’s areas. The place was, anyway, big enough to make the distinction irrelevant, so women were on the left islands, men to the right. The rule appeared to be to get rid of the yukata close to the island shore, so the chance of actually watching somebody naked was reduced to a few seconds. “What shall we do?” I asked. “You are still young, you should go to the women’s area” was his laconic answer.