The Moai Island Puzzle

by Alice Arisugawa

  ‘I agree,’ added Junji, who was leaning against the wall with one hand in his pocket. ‘What he did a while ago in the hall was nothing more than a desperate performance. I think it all fits. His suicide note might’ve been a bit brief, but the contents are convincing.’

  ‘We’d better not be too hasty jumping to conclusions,’ said Sonobe sharply. ‘If this is murder, then this note might’ve been written by the murderer and the rifle might’ve been brought here by the murderer who’d hidden it somewhere. We can’t say for sure either way for the time being, so let’s consider everything more carefully.’

  After peering at Kazuto’s right hand, Egami announced: ‘I smell gunpowder.’ Another point in favour of the Suicide Theory. He took a mechanical pen from the pencil holder with his left hand and used that to bring the pistol up to eye level. With a handkerchief in his right hand, he checked the magazine.

  ‘Still one shot left. Kazuto told us earlier he had three shots left, so if that was true, two shots should’ve been fired. Now I think about it, I think I did hear two shots.’

  The whereabouts of one bullet were obvious. It was inside Kazuto’s skull. I looked around to see where the other shot had gone and soon found it.

  ‘I think it’s over there.’

  On the wall to the right of the desk, about two metres away, hung a painting—no, a completed jigsaw puzzle. I pointed to the black hole in the centre of it. It was a scene of Candle Rock and the Twin Rocks, as seen from the observation platform. From the style, I gathered the puzzle was based on a painting by Hirakawa. Hirakawa had asked Kazuto to make a jigsaw puzzle of his painting of Low Tide Cape in the morning sun when it was finished. The puzzle here was probably one they’d made earlier.

  One scenario came into my mind. If Kazuto’s death was a suicide, then it might’ve happened as follows. First he took out the rifle he’d hidden and put it against the side of the desk. After he’d finished typing out his suicide note on the word processor, he picked up the pistol. It was then that his eye caught the Hirakawa painting hanging on the wall to the right. It was a painting by a man he hated so much he’d murdered him, of a place that held unpleasant memories for him. It could’ve been either hatred or fear that made him point the pistol at the painting and pull the trigger. After making a hole in the centre of the painting, he put the pistol to his temple and put an end to his own life. I was satisfied by this scenario I’d constructed in my own mind.

  ‘Perhaps he hated this painting?’ Sonobe muttered as he looked at it. He’d probably envisaged the same scenario as I had. He nodded slightly in agreement with himself.

  ‘We’d better take a look in the desk drawer,’ said Toshiyuki loudly. ‘Didn’t the note at the end say evidence was kept there? We’d better see what it is.’

  ‘Ah, that’s right.’

  Sonobe clapped his hands together and opened the top drawer. I saw that inside were a pocket book entitled Politics as a Vocation and what appeared to be a diary carrying the title Happy Fish Villa Diary. Sonobe reached out, not for the pocket book, but for the diary. Everyone had their eyes set on the diary in his hands, expecting it to contain the truth behind the whole case.

  Sonobe opened the leather cover and two pieces of paper, folded in four, fell out from between the pages, drifted through the air and landed on the floor. Several pairs of eyes followed their fall.

  ‘What’s this?’

  The doctor crouched down, picked up the pieces of paper, and unfolded them. A deep frown appeared in his brow for an instant and I could hear him growl.

  ‘What is it, Doctor? Show all of us,’ said Toshiyuki impatiently. Sonobe clasped the diary beneath his armpit and held one piece of paper up in each of his hands, turning them left and right for everyone to see.

  ‘It’s the moai map!’ cried Toshiyuki, moving closer. ‘This is a follow-up to the map Alice picked up from the roadside, isn’t it? Yes, it is.’

  He was right. The two pieces of papers were the continuation of my map with the twenty-five arrows. On one of the pieces of papers, the twenty-five symbols had been connected by lines. On the other was a sketch of eight surfaces that had been pieced together to form the figure of the Candle Rock. To the side of it, the words “Low tide?” had been scribbled. This was without a doubt a recreation of the process we’d gone through when we solved the puzzle.

  ‘Isn’t this figure the Candle Rock? That means…the treasure is hidden on Candle Rock?’ said Toshiyuki, with even more excitement.

  As I listened to him, I recalled that Egami, Maria and I had decided to keep it a secret that we’d already solved the puzzle ourselves, had found the hiding place of the treasure and had discovered the diamonds had already been taken by someone.

  ‘Yes, it has to be,’ said Junji, after which Reiko, who was standing by the window, added in a soft voice:

  ‘That’s Hideto’s writing….’

  Ryūichi got up from the bed.

  ‘You’re sure he wrote this?’

  The room fell into confusion. Convincing evidence that Hideto had been the first person to solve the moai puzzle had now surfaced and it was also evidence that supported what had been written in Kazuto’s suicide note. But now was not the time to get all excited, I wanted to say. Shouldn’t we be looking at the contents of the diary?

  ‘Doctor, what’s written in the diary?’

  Urged by Egami, Sonobe put the pieces of paper down on the desk and turned the pages of the diary over. Egami, Toshiyuki and I stood behind him and peeked inside the diary. I saw the following written on the pages.

  July 30 (Tuesday) – Clear and sunny

  No guests today either.

  Only words like ‘Okay’ and ‘Yes’ made their way out of my mouth once or twice. All day making sketches of the sea outside. No compositions, just the wide azure. Learned that there is such a thing as an invigorating feeling of fatigue.

  It was indeed a diary. The title it bore was probably a pun on Kafū Nagai’s Begonia House Diary. The diary also contained the following passage.

  August 5 (Monday) – Clear

  Mr. Kango and Ms. Sumako visited my abode. My first guests in three days. Perhaps my mouth had been wanting for company. Discussed all sorts of trivial matters. Might have perplexed my two guests. Mr. Kango had an abundance of tales to share. Miss Sumako is looking more and more charming. Thanks to her, this has been a good day.

  The line “Miss Sumako is looking more and more charming” attracted my eye. Sonobe looked the page over quickly over and turned to another. As the title suggested, this diary was only used while the artist was staying here on the island. On the ninth of August, it only said “Tomorrow, return to the normal world” and then the date jumped to July 28, 1986.

  ‘1986. Three years ago….’ Toshiyuki mumbled.

  Sonobe’s hands stopped and he now read each page carefully before he turned them over. For example, July 31.

  July 31 (Thursday) – Clear

  Typhoon avoided.

  Sumako visited my abode. Painted for five hours with some pauses. Both of us were tired. Had some tea, talked about puzzles and Hideto and his fiancée.

  The word “Sumako” caught my eye. Not “Miss Sumako” any more, but plain “Sumako.” Their relationship, or at least the painter’s feelings towards her, had changed. The speed at which Sonobe turned the pages had slowed down.

  August 1 (Friday) – Clear and sunny

  Painting Sumako.

  Hideto and his fiancée visited. Four of us had a talk. Starting to feel even younger.

  This time it was “Starting to feel even younger” that asked for attention. Even before he’d had a talk with the young couple who’d made him feel younger, there’d already been something that had made him feel like that. I imagined that he and Sumako had started a romantic affair. This diary of a man who had been a firm believer of “living well,” but who had also been a practical person, was short and simple, but it was possible to read between the lines.

  August 2 (Sa
turday) – Cloudy, afterwards clear

  Sumako’s painting is coming together splendidly. Can start on finishing it, save for the background. Perhaps should reconsider being a landscape painter.

  I’m grateful to Sumako.

  These days have been so pleasant, as if I were a baby floating in amniotic fluids.

  The artist had been in a good mood.

  August 3 (Sunday) – As clear and sunny as can be

  Spent whole day with Sumako.

  Mr. Arima had invited me over to stay for a night, but I made up some nonsense reason and asked Sumako to politely decline for me. I don’t know why. Perhaps I don’t feel at ease facing Mr. Kango. Both of them are crazy about fishing.

  Sumako left Happy Fish Villa past ten thirty. Slightly worried about her journey back.

  These short, but telling entries continued. We were caught up completely in following the artist’s letters in blue ink, and kept on reading, ignoring the others who were also curious as to what was written in this diary.

  And then came the fourth of August.

  ‘The day Hideto died,’ said Sonobe and he held the diary up so we could all take a good look at the page.

  I could tell the writer was in shock from how much more he had written than usual, the change in style and the chaotic handwriting.

  August 4 (Monday) – Clear

  To turn your back on society and live following your whims, with no other purpose in life than not having a purpose. If that is a sin by itself, then I was born a sinner. By now, I have learnt not to mind the frightful word “sin” any more and have even grown fond of it.

  Tonight I was given the promise that my way of life will be safeguarded. Even though my chest feels as heavy as lead, my arms and legs feel light as feathers. I do not know how I will feel when I wake up tomorrow morning, but there is nothing more I can do now the act has been done.

  What are Sumako and Kazuto thinking as this night is passing by? I can feel them holding their breath, trying to endure the night, from across the cliff on the other side of the sea. We need to sleep this night. Even if it doesn’t want to, time will pass by and eventually change into a usual day.

  I am tired. I think I’ll sleep even better than usual. Oh, accomplices, let’s watch this night pass by soon. I will go to bed first.

  I am really sorry for Hideto. What found its way to this world in exchange for your life, will be used for the purposeless life of this man. I will pay for this sin in the underworld.

  I will keep your maps as long as I live with me, as proof of your victory, as proof of our sin. But I will have to lock my desk drawer from now on.

  Tomorrow will be a sad day. Will I be able to live through it when I wake up? I hope so.

  Now I will sleep.

  Those who will be sad tomorrow, I hope at least tonight, you will sleep peacefully.

  6

  Nobody said anything after we’d finished reading. It was abnormal. Why had he penned such a crazy entry right after witnessing a murder, blackmailing the murderer for hush money, helping the murderer take care of the body and coming back home? And why hadn’t he destroyed this writing afterwards, which obviously had been written on the spur of the moment? Did he think that by putting his sins down in this diary, he had sealed it away?

  ‘Do you think this was really written by Mr. Hirakawa?’

  Sonobe nodded in response to Egami’s question.

  ‘Without a doubt. This is his handwriting. We’ll know for sure once the police have analysed it. While it doesn’t confirm all of what was written in Kazuto’s suicide note, it does appear that their stories roughly match.’

  He was about to pass the diary around, when Egami stopped him.

  ‘Excuse me, but I think there’s more after that entry?’

  Sonobe turned the page.

  ‘Yes indeed. He wrote on without missing a day. But the following day it only says “A sad day” and the day after that only has “Leaving the island tomorrow.”

  ‘Let me read all of that later. But for now, I want to see what was written this year, the day before yesterday.’

  ‘Hmm, the day before yesterday? This is it.’

  August 4 (Friday) – Clear

  With fear I read what I wrote in this diary that night three years ago. It is the first time I’ve read it. No matter how much I try to forget, it’s a past that won’t fade away. I took the three maps—proof of our sin—out of their holding place. Setting Mr. Kango’s death aside, I can’t help but feel—even if it’s based on nothing—that Sumako’s cruel death was the result of our sin that night. Our sin rose up from the past and attacked her. No, that can’t be. The poor thing was simply a victim of Mr. Kango. I shed no tears, but I feel pity for her.

  Living well.

  Revenge for reality.

  Young Egami talked about that and it was uncanny. It felt as though he was not talking about me, but about himself.

  The wind is calm tonight. Silence.

  A boat is out in the moonlit bay. Perhaps a little boat trip, but I don’t see anyone.

  Past midnight.

  The third anniversary of my crime has passed.

  That was the artist’s final entry. How long after he’d written that had he been robbed of his life? Right after? Nobody knows in advance when death will take them away. This solemn fact became all the more clear to me while reading this diary of the deceased.

  ‘Three maps. So there were three of them.’ Egami mumbled feverishly.

  There had been three maps in total. Two of them were here, and the other map I’d picked up from the roadside. It added up.

  ‘Have you finished?’ asked Sonobe of Egami. He then passed the Happy Fish Villa Diary to the others.

  ‘Of the three maps, Alice picked one up….’

  While the diary passed from one hand to another, Egami stood still, not moving a single muscle. But I was the only one who thought he was behaving strangely.

  ‘This is material evidence.’ I heard Toshiyuki say from my right. ‘This was without a doubt written by Mr. Hirakawa. And it contains a vital piece of information. We now know the murder was committed after midnight.’

  ‘My poor father-in-law,’ said Junji from my left. ‘Getting involved with all of this was just bad luck.’

  ‘But I still can’t believe it.’ Satomi’s voice came from behind me. ‘To think that Kazuto would do something like that.’

  ‘The tyre marks….’ Egami was mumbling. ‘But what could that…?’

  ‘And I can’t even begin to understand what went on in Mr. Hirakawa’s mind,’ muttered Maria from somewhere. ‘What was he thinking?’

  Reiko’s voice came from the same direction. ‘But now Hideto, Hideto might be able to find some peace….’

  ‘There were two bicycles.’ Egami was looking up at the ceiling. ‘Before one o’clock and around twenty past….’

  ‘How did he get rid of the diamonds?’ asked Junji of Toshiyuki. ‘Could he have known some route to get money for them?’

  ‘Probably,’ replied Toshiyuki. ‘They probably beat the price down and now he’d gone through all of his money.’

  ‘And that’s why he did it again,’ said Satomi in a subdued voice. ‘That’s why he asked Kazuto for money again.’

  ‘Kazuto.’ Ryūichi was sitting on the bed. ‘Hideto….’

  ‘There’s still a lot we don’t know,’ said Sonobe to nobody in particular. ‘But the details will become clear once the authorities start their investigation.’

  ‘This is horrible.’ Junji’s voice. ‘It’ll be all over the news.’

  Egami walked over to the desk and started going over Kazuto’s typewritten suicide note again.

  ‘It’s my father’s fault,’ said Ryūichi painfully. ‘That puzzle is what brought forth this tragedy.’

  ‘No, it was Kazuto’s fault.’ Maria’s voice trembled. ‘It’s all Kazuto’s fault. He’s the most horrible person in all of this.’

  ‘Stop it,’ said Reiko softly.
‘Let’s stop talking like this.’

  Egami put the suicide note down, walked over to the wall and peered at the bullet hole in the jigsaw puzzle.

  ‘He must have been suffering a lot,’ said Sonobe to someone. ‘Too much tension and anyone can snap suddenly.’

  ‘Still, his suicide came out of nowhere,’ answered somebody.

  ‘I was so surprised when I came here,’ said a male voice.

  ‘But we’re all safe now.’ Somebody’s voice.

  ‘So it’s over now?’ Somebody’s voice.

  ‘Yes.’ Somebody’s voice.

  ‘No.’

  Egami’s voice hushed all the other voices in the room. Everyone looked at him standing by the wall, wondering what he meant.

  ‘No. It’s not over yet.’

  Several seconds passed, during which everyone remained silent. Finally, Sonobe stepped up as representative of us all and asked: ‘What isn’t over yet?’

  Egami didn’t hesitate with his answer.

  ‘The murder case. This case hasn’t been solved yet.’

  ‘Nonsense.’ Junji raised his voice angrily. ‘The murderer left us a suicide note, the murder weapons and the diary and maps as material evidence. Everything is here. Right in front of your eyes. What have you been listening to? What have you been looking at to arrive at such conclusion?’

  ‘This.’

  Egami pointed at the bullet hole in the centre of the puzzle hanging from the wall. Everyone’s eyes followed the movement of his finger and were pulled into that black hole.

  ‘We already saw that. Kazuto put a bullet in that painting he hated, right before he committed suicide. Have you any problems with that?’

  ‘There is one problem.’

  Egami asked Junji to come over to the wall. Because their eyes met, Sonobe was asked over as well. We couldn’t all peek inside the hole at the same time, so the others, including me, started to focus on what was being said.