Chapter 20

Kangho Yang couldn’t help but smile whenever he watched Park Mi-young hang laundry. There weren’t words for the feeling it gave him — something warm, familiar, quietly complete.

It was mid-autumn, but the day still held its heat. She had climbed three flights to the roof to use the communal washing lines stretched across the painted concrete. Sunlight bounced off the dark green floor, and Kangho shaded his eyes as he watched her from the doorway.

Her fingers moved quickly, clipping t-shirts, socks, and her impossibly small underwear to the line. Each time she bent to reach the basket at her feet, the fabric of her shorts shifted softly with her movement. He watched without thinking, knowing she would feel him there soon enough.

She turned, just as he expected, and caught his smile. Hers came back instantly — playful, knowing.

“One day, you’ll hang it yourself,” she said. “I can watch you in your pyjamas.”

“I’d hang it wrong.”

“Amazing how a brilliant detective can struggle with attaching clothes to a piece of string.”

“Would you enjoy watching me?”

“You’d hang it wrong.”

Kangho stepped forward, slipping his arms between hers, folding himself around her.

“The chief’s putting me on the holes case,” he said. “He wants me to take the gallery as well. Same suspect.”

“Are you important enough for that?”

“I’m good enough.”

She smiled. “So what — you’re going to be a big famous detective? Like Colombo?”

Kangho scrunched his face, raised a crooked finger.

“Just one more thing… I love watching my wife hang the laundry. Really gives me a kick.”

Mi-young laughed and leaned back into him.

“But seriously,” she said, “does this mean I’ll see less of you?”

“You should be so lucky. I might be busier. But there’s nothing to worry about. I’ll catch him.”

“Still sure it’s a man.” She shook her head. “There’s probably a woman involved somewhere.”

“No doubt. Him or her, no one's been hurt yet. I’m not in danger.”

“Good.”