The Inugami Curse

by Seishi Yokomizo

  Hearing the news, Kindaichi and Chief Tachibana rushed to the sluice gate, arriving there just as a man, water streaming from his wide-brimmed waterproof hat and down his long raincoat, was making his way from his motorboat past the milling detectives and uniformed officers.

  “Hi, there. Good to see you again.”

  Greeted unexpectedly by the man in this way, Kindaichi stared at him in surprise. He had seen the face with its wire-rimmed glasses before, but he could not place it. Seeing Kindaichi searching for an answer in confusion, the man chuckled and said, “Have you forgotten me? I’m the priest of Nasu Shrine.”

  Kindaichi finally remembered. Indeed, it was Oyama, the priest from the other day.

  “P-p-please forgive me. You look so different.”

  “Everybody tells me that,” the priest laughed. “But I certainly can’t go about dressed in my priest’s clothing in this rain. I learned this trick during the war,” he said, tapping the traveling bag he was carrying under his arm. No doubt his priest’s vestments were inside.

  “You came by motorboat?”

  “Yes, it’s much faster. I debated whether I should in this storm, but you get wet either way. So, I decided to take my chances and come across the lake, and ended up bumping into something unbelievable on the way.”

  “Také’s body?”

  “Yes, I was the first to find it. What’s more, it was headless. Talk about creepy…” The priest screwed up his face and shook himself like a dog.

  “Yes, well, I’m sure the police are thankful you found it.”

  “See you later, then.”

  The priest shook the water off his body once more and was starting to leave, carrying his traveling bag, when Kindaichi called after him, “Mr. Oyama, wait.”

  “Do you want something?”

  “There’s something I’d like to ask you, so could I see you later?”

  “Certainly, any time,” the priest replied. “Later, then.”

  When the priest had gone, Kindaichi finally turned his eyes toward the lake. Outside the sluice gate were a police launch and several motorboats, bobbing on the water like scattered leaves. The body must be in the launch, for policemen with stern expressions, Tachibana among them, were climbing in and out of it.

  Kindaichi debated for a moment what he should do, but since he was not particularly interested in the corpse itself, he decided not to board the launch. The doctor and Tachibana could do the forensics work well enough, and there was no reason to subject himself unnecessarily to such an unpleasant sight.

  As Kindaichi stood there waiting, Tachibana came out of the launch wiping the sweat off his face.

  “Pretty ugly, huh?”

  “I know it’s my job, but I really wish I didn’t have to look at things like that.” The chief contorted his face and kept rubbing his forehead with his handkerchief.

  “It’s Také’s body for sure?”

  “We’ll eventually have to have one of the family members identify it, of course, but fortunately Dr. Kusuda has examined Také several times before and swears it’s him.” Kusuda was the town doctor who also doubled part-time as the police medical examiner.

  “I see. So there’s no mistake. Do you know the cause of death yet? There wasn’t any particular damage to the head.”

  “Yes, a single stab wound in the back, toward the chest. The doctor says that, assuming Také was caught by surprise, he probably would have died instantaneously, without so much as uttering a sound.”

  “And the weapon?”

  “He thinks it must have been a Japanese sword of some kind. There are supposed to be quite a few of them in this house. Sahei was an avid collector for a time.”

  “So, kill him with a thrust of the sword and then cut off the head later. What about the surface where the head was cut off?”

  “It was an amateur job. The doctor says the murderer must have had a hard time with it.”

  “I see. By the way, Chief,” said Kindaichi, suddenly speaking more emphatically, “your impression of the headless corpse. Did you see anything there that would make the murderer want to hide it?”

  At Kindaichi’s question, Tachibana made a wry face and scratched the side of his head. “No, there wasn’t anything unusual. I can’t think of any reason to go to all the trouble of disposing of that body in the middle of the lake.”

  “I suppose you’ve looked in the vest pocket. You know, for the watch Tamayo said she gave him.”

  “Of course, we looked for it, but it wasn’t anywhere on the body. Maybe the murderer took it, or maybe it’s lying on the bottom of the lake. Either way, though, I don’t think the killer rowed all that way and threw in the body just to hide the watch. No, the reason may be just as you said, Mr. Kindaichi.”

  Tachibana stood rubbing his chin thoughtfully, when a detective trotted up to him in the rain.

  “Chief, Mr. Fujisaki of Forensics is here. He’s got the results on the hand print.”

  “Alright.” Tachibana glanced at Kindaichi, with somewhat nervous eyes. Returning his look, Kindaichi, too, swallowed hard. “We’ll be right there. Ask the members of the family to gather in the same room.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Leaving his men with detailed instructions, Tachibana joined Kindaichi and they made their way back to the same room where they had previously met with the family. None of the family members had assembled yet, however. They found Oyama sitting alone in his priest’s garb, calmly holding a wooden scepter.

  As the two men entered the room, the priest squinted at them from behind wire-rimmed glasses and greeted them, “Hello again. Is something going to happen in this room?”

  “Yes, but you’re welcome to stay. You’re concerned in this matter also.”

  “Wha-what is it? What’s going to happen?”

  “It’s about that hand print, the one we got from your place. We’re comparing it with one Kiyo made in front of us a while ago, and the results are about to be announced.”

  “Oh, I see.” The priest squirmed on his seat a bit and coughed awkwardly.

  Eyeing Oyama sharply, Kindaichi asked, “Concerning which, I’ve been wanting to ask you something. Was it your idea, Mr. Oyama, to compare hand prints?”

  The priest, in consternation, cast a quick glance at Kindaichi. He immediately shifted his gaze, however, and taking out a handkerchief from the bosom of his kimono, hurriedly wiped the sweat from his brow. Kindaichi observed him steadily. “Just as I thought,” he said. “So, there was someone who suggested it to you. I’d thought it strange from the first, how someone like you, who would seem to have no interest whatsoever in criminal investigations, detective novels, and the like, had thought of such things as fingerprints and hand prints. Who urged you to do this?”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say anyone actually urged me to do it, but two days ago, a visitor to the shrine asked to see Mr. Kiyo’s votive hand print. I myself had forgotten long ago that such a scroll existed and was reminded of it only then. I had no reason to refuse, so I brought out the scroll, and that person studied it in silence for a while and then thanked me and left. That’s all. But actually, it was because that was all that happened that I thought it very strange. I kept thinking, what was the purpose of looking at Mr. Kiyo’s hand print, when all of a sudden the word ‘fingerprint’ came to my mind. So, yesterday, I told Mr. Také and Mr. Tomo about the scroll.”

  Kindaichi’s and Chief Tachibana’s eyes met. “I see. So that person came to look at the scroll to suggest the idea to you. Who was this individual, Mr. Oyama?”

  The priest hesitated a bit but soon said with decision, “It was Tamayo. As you know, she was born and raised at Nasu Shrine, so she often comes to visit.”

  The moment Tamayo’s name was mentioned, Kindaichi and Tachibana exchanged intense glances that crackled with shared understanding. Tamayo again! No, not just again—everything involved Tamayo! What plot hid behind her tantalizing face?

  Now, in that same room, Tamayo again sat, as impassive and e
nigmatic as a sphinx. Even though the other members of the Inugami clan seated around the masked Kiyo and Matsuko were all agitated to some degree, she alone remained prim, proper, and sublimely calm. Kindaichi found her calmness detestable, her impassiveness unpleasant, and what was more, her excessive beauty terrifying.

  The room was hushed. The atmosphere was tense: even the forensics specialist Fujisaki seemed nervous and coughed awkwardly. “Now, I would like to announce the results of my investigation. I will submit a more detailed report to the chief here eventually, but at this time I would like to state my conclusions very simply, avoiding all complicated technical jargon.”

  Fujisaki again cleared his throat. “These two hand prints are identical. Therefore, the man who is sitting there is without a doubt Mr. Kiyo Inugami. These two hand prints attest to that most eloquently.”

  You could have heard a pin drop—how better to describe the scene? No one said a word. They all sat staring blankly ahead, as if they had not heard anything Fujisaki had said. But Kindaichi had seen her—Tamayo, at that very moment, half-opening her mouth as if to speak. The next instant, however, she had drawn her lips together tight and closed her eyes, reverting to the enigmatic and impassive sphinx. Kindaichi could hardly contain the unspoken impatience seething in the pit of his stomach. What was it that she had started to say?

  Inside the Chinese Chest

  It was over. Comparison of the hand prints had proven without a doubt that the man in the strange mask was Kiyo Inugami. Také and Tomo had merely been building castles in the air when they had thought that maybe, just maybe, someone else had come back disguised as Kiyo. Yet why was it that dissatisfaction still hung heavy in the air, despite the clearly stated verdict? Why was it that everyone looked like they were suppressing something they wanted to say?

  Alright, so the two hand prints were identical. Was it possible, though, to forge fingerprints in some way? Even if that could not be done, had some trick or gimmick been involved?

  Although it was not surprising to see such doubts on the hostile faces of the other family members, why, strange to say, did even Kiyo’s mother, Matsuko, seem confused? Why, at the moment Fujisaki declared that the man sitting beside her was without a doubt her son, did an incomprehensible look of agitation pass over her face?

  Matsuko, though, was too cool to be disconcerted for long. She immediately composed herself and looked pointedly around at the others in the room with her usual malicious expression. Eventually, she said in her catty way, “You all heard the results. Does anyone want to raise any objections? If you do, please state them here and now.”

  Of course everyone had objections. They just did not know how they should phrase them. Because everyone remained waiting silently, Matsuko repeated, driving home her point, “Since no one seems to want to say anything, I assume you all have no complaints. In other words, you recognize that this man is Kiyo. Chief Tachibana, thank you very much. Kiyo, shall we go?”

  Matsuko stood up, and after her, the masked Kiyo. Was it because his legs were numb from sitting rigid on the tatami so long that he seemed to totter a bit?

  Just then, however, Kindaichi noticed it again: Tamayo half-opening her mouth to speak. Breathless, he stared intently at Tamayo’s lips, but this time, too, she shut her lips tightly and lowered her eyes.

  Matsuko and Kiyo were no longer in the room.

  What had Tamayo intended to say? She had started to speak not once, but twice, and her expression and determination had indicated that she was about to say something most important. For that very reason, Kindaichi felt indescribably irritated at her hesitation. In hindsight, he should have insisted that she speak her mind, even if he had to force her, for if she had, he could have solved at least half of the case then and there. More than that, he might have been able to prevent the crimes that were to occur.

  “Well,” Chief Tachibana said with almost a sigh of relief after the family members had left the room, “at least we’ve made some progress by verifying that masked man’s identity. In these kinds of cases, there’s nothing you can do but peel away the mysteries, one by one, like the layers of an onion.”

  That same day, the body of Také, which had been fished out of the lake, was autopsied and returned to the Inugami villa. According to the autopsy findings, the cause of death was a single stab wound in the back, toward the chest, with death probably occurring sometime between eleven and twelve the previous night. What was interesting, however, was that from the appearance of the wound, it was concluded that Také had been fatally stabbed not with a Japanese sword, but with something like a dagger.

  The moment he heard the contents of this report, Kindaichi’s interest was aroused. True, a dagger would suffice to take someone’s life, but decapitating a corpse with one would be impossible. Did the murderer then have two types of weapons ready, a dagger and something to cut off the head?

  In any case, because Také’s body had been returned to the family, a perfunctory wake was held that night at the Inugami villa, with Oyama, the priest of Nasu Shrine, performing the services in accordance with the Inugamis’ Shinto beliefs. Kindaichi, too, ended up attending the wake, and it was there that he heard a strange story from the priest.

  “Guess what, Mr. Kindaichi. I found something interesting the other day.” Oyama must have been drunk from the liquor that had been served, for why else would he seek out Kindaichi expressly to tell him such a tale as he then related?

  “What did you find?”

  The priest grinned wickedly at Kindaichi’s question. “Well, perhaps I shouldn’t use the word interesting, but it’s about old Sahei’s secret. It’s an open secret, since everyone in these parts knows about it, but recently I found proof.”

  “What is this secret of Mr. Inugami’s you’re talking about?” asked Kindaichi, his curiosity piqued.

  Oyama contorted his oily face with a sleazy smile. “You know what I mean. Or maybe you don’t. No, surely, you must. After all, whenever people tell the story of Sahei Inugami, they always tack this secret on at the end,” said Oyama suggestively. “You know that there was a homosexual relationship between Sahei and Tamayo’s grandfather, Daini Nonomiya, don’t you?”

  “W-w-what?” Kindaichi blurted out loudly, but immediately came to himself and glanced around. Fortunately, the others at the wake were all gathered together in a far corner of the room, and no one was paying Kindaichi any heed. Flustered, he gulped down all the tea in his cup.

  For Kindaichi, the priest’s revelation was a bolt out of the blue. This was one aspect of Sahei’s life that was not mentioned in The Life of Sahei Inugami, and Kindaichi was hearing about it for the first time.

  Surprised in turn by the intensity of Kindaichi’s amazement, Oyama blinked and said, “Then you didn’t know about this?”

  “No, I didn’t. The Life of Sahei Inugami said nothing about it, even though it went into quite a lot of detail about Sahei’s relationship with Daini Nonomiya.”

  “Of course, it’s not something people say out in the open, but everybody around here knows about it. Didn’t Mr. Furudate say anything?” Furudate was a gentleman and no doubt had refrained from commenting on other people’s private affairs indiscriminately. Yet perhaps this fact—that there had been a homosexual relationship between Daini and Sahei—was somehow affecting the current case.

  Kindaichi remained lost in thought for some time, his eyes seeming to peer into a deep abyss. Eventually, however, he looked up and said, “You just said that you had discovered some proof of this. What kind of proof?”

  Although the priest had at last begun to show some signs of embarrassment at his indiscretion, he still could not restrain himself from divulging his discovery to someone. “Yes, the proof…” he began, leaning forward and blowing breath reeking of liquor in Kindaichi’s face.

  According to Oyama, he had recently had to rearrange some articles stored in the shrine treasure hall and had discovered an old Chinese chest there. Hidden beneath dust and piles of junk
as it was, he had never noticed it before, but the lid, he saw, had been carefully sealed shut with a strip of paper that had something written on it in ink. So old and black with soot was the paper, however, that he could not discern what was written at first, but after much effort, he finally made out the following characters: “Sealed in the presence of Daini Nonomiya and Sahei Inugami. March 25, 1911.”

  “March 25, 1911. The date struck a familiar chord. If you have read The Life of Sahei Inugami, you know that Daini Nonomiya died in May of 1911. The Chinese chest, therefore, was sealed by the two men a little before Daini passed away. Probably, Daini had realized he didn’t have long to live and, together with Sahei, stored something in the chest. That’s what I surmised.”

  “So you broke the seal?”

  At Kindaichi’s somewhat accusatory tone, the priest hurriedly waved his right hand in remonstrance. “No, no. It’s misleading to say I broke the seal. Like I said, the strip of paper was quite old. It was completely moth-eaten, and seal or no seal, the chest came open, just like that, when I lifted the lid.”

  “I see, so you just happened to look inside. And what did you find?”

  “An unbelievable number of documents, enough to fill up the whole chest. Letters, account books, diaries, notebooks—everything on washi paper, since it was a long time ago. I read a few of the letters and found they were, well, love letters that Daini and old Sahei had exchanged. Of course, back then, he wasn’t old Sahei but a strapping young man.” So Oyama said, and smirked as if someone had tickled him.

  He immediately continued, however, as if to justify himself, “Mr. Kindaichi, I don’t want you to think that I’ve been consumed by some kind of vulgar curiosity. I respect Sahei Inugami. I revere him. After all, he was not only a benefactor to all the people of Nasu but the most distinguished man in the Shinshu region as well. I just want to know what this great man was really like. In fact, I’d like to write his biography some day. I want to depict his real, undisguised self, not the glossed-over portrait they give in The Life of Sahei Inugami. I’m certain that it would in no way harm his memory but in fact would show his true greatness. For that reason, I intend to examine the contents of that Chinese chest thoroughly. I think I might find some valuable document that no one else has ever known about before.”