Togakushi Legend Murders (Tuttle Classics)

by Yasuo Uchida

  When Takano pushed the button, the "In Use" lamp lit up simultaneously with the sound of a motor starting somewhere below. In a surprisingly short time, the motor stopped, and the door opened. The compartment behind the door was a little over a meter deep. Takano pushed the cart in. There were buttons inside for each of the three floors. He pressed the button marked "1" and started walking away immediately.

  "Now we've got to go down and take out the cart," he said. Right beside them was a crude staircase for employees only. Takano started down it at a rather rapid pace.

  "Wouldn't it be easier just to ride down with it?" suggested Takemura.

  "That's against the law. I hear somebody once got killed in Chiba Prefecture or somewhere, riding on a food-service dumbwaiter."

  When they reached the first floor, the laundry cart was already waiting for them behind the open dumbwaiter door.

  "Gee, that's convenient!" exclaimed Takemura, impressed, turning to Kinoshita for agreement. "Don't you think so?"

  "Yeah," mumbled Kinoshita.

  * * *

  When they left the hotel, the sun was already low, and the evening breeze felt almost chilly. The mysterious West Peak looked purple in the remaining light, towering over the plateau that seemed like an expanse of sea. One could imagine that gods, or more likely evil spirits lived there.

  "Drive down that road, will you?" Takemura told Kinoshita after they got into the car. He was pointing to the gravel road that headed west, the one someone resembling Kisuke Takeda had been seen walking down. "Take it slowly."

  Takemura looked all around him as the car moved slowly along, with the sound of gravel shooting out from under the tires. "There's nothing at all out here, is there?" he said.

  Ahead of them to the right was a wasteland covered with bamboo brush, out of which grew an occasional low tree. To the left was a luxuriant forest of beech, oak, and larch, through which could be seen flickering lights that Takemura guessed must be coming from the villas. As the desk clerk had told them, they soon came to an intersection with another gravel road like the one they were on.

  "This must be the old road," said Takemura.

  Down the road to the left, buildings that looked like villas were dimly visible in the dusk. Crossing that road, they soon came out on a big, open area where a paved road cut through, and there was a parking lot the size of an athletic field for cars and busses of visitors to the Inner Shrine. With the sun down, the lot was unoccupied, and the only people around were those working inside the restaurant. Directly across the paved road stood a large shrine gate, beyond which the worshippers' approach disappeared into the distance between rows of giant cedar in the direction of West Peak.

  "Wait here a minute, will you?" said Takemura, getting out of the car and heading toward the approach. Beyond the shrine gate, it quickly got dark. Just a short distance along the approach, he felt like he was in another world. The roots of the ancient cedar trees seemed to coil like snakes under his feet, and he almost tripped several times. He had not gone a hundred meters before he gave in to the urge to turn back, with an unconsciously quickened pace. He felt like something was coming after him.

  Back at the road, he walked toward the restaurant, Kinoshita following slowly behind in the car. The restaurant was just closing up, and when Takemura entered, a middle-aged man and woman who appeared to be husband and wife looked at him rather disgruntled. He showed them his badge.

  "On the night of the 3rd, around 7:00 P.M., did you by any chance see a gentleman of about sixty around here?" asked Takemura.

  "No, we didn't." The abrupt reply came from the woman. "We close by 7:00."

  Glancing at his watch, Takemura saw that it was indeed almost 7:00 now. Feeling unwelcome, he left the restaurant and returned to the car.

  "Well, are you ready for those buckwheat noodles now?" asked Kinoshita impatiently.

  "Would you drive back along the road we just came on, please?" said Takemura, without pity.

  Takemura had Kinoshita drive back along the gravel road as far as the old road, where this time they turned right, toward the villas. The sky was still quite light, but darkness surrounded them under the trees. They passed one villa after another, submerged in the gray shadows. About half the signs at the gates contained the names of individuals, and half those of companies.

  It didn't seem like they had gone very far before they came out on the main road connecting the Middle Shrine and the Koshimizu Plateau Hotel.

  "You want me to drive back through it again?" asked Kinoshita, resigned.

  "Yes, please."

  Kinoshita turned around and headed back along the gravel road again. As before, they met not a soul. The evening dusk was thickening every minute. Near the end of the stretch of villas, approaching a large plot on the left with quite a big villa toward the hack of it. they saw a woman running out from the direction of the villa, arm raised, apparently calling to them.

  "Hey, stop here a minute," said Takemura. He waited for the woman with his head out the window.

  She came up out of breath. "Excuse me, are you Mr. Yamaguchi?" she asked, leaning forward. Close up, she was quite pretty. Though surely something over thirty, she had the artless smile of a little girl.

  "No, I'm afraid not," said Takemura.

  "Oh." The woman was embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I thought I saw your car come by before, and I was afraid some of our guests might be having trouble finding us." She looked suddenly tired.

  "Sorry to have made you come out like that," said Takemura. "Do you live in that villa?"

  "Yes, as caretaker. It's a company recreation villa."

  "You live there alone?"

  "Oh no. With my husband and two children. I couldn't possibly take care of that place alone," she laughed, in a way that reminded Takemura of his wife, Yoko.

  "Do you often run out to meet people like this?"

  "Yes. You can see how hard this place would be to find. So when we're expecting someone for the first time, I often wait out here beside the road."

  "How about last Saturday, the 3rd, about this time?"

  "Last Saturday? Yes, I was waiting out here for a little while around seven."

  "You were? Really?" said Takemura eagerly. "Then do you mind my asking if you saw a gentleman of around sixty at about that time?"

  "Yes, as a matter of fact, I did."

  Without thinking, Takemura sprang out of the door. "Did you really?"

  "Yes, it was just as the guest's car drove up, and I got a good look at the man in the light of the headlights. He was right up there, walking this way. I think he was about sixty, and he was dressed like a gentleman."

  "Could you show me exactly where he was?" Takemura ran up the road about thirty meters and turned around. "Was it about here?"

  "Uh, I believe it was just a little further. Yes, that's right, just about there."

  Takemura came back happily rubbing his hands together. "Now, what did this gentleman look like?"

  "I don't remember exactly, but I'd say he looked like some sort of department head or maybe company head. He was wearing a suit and tie. We don't see many people dressed like that around here." Suddenly realizing how Takemura was dressed, she quickly added, "Oh, I don't mean it's bad to be dressed that way."

  A guffaw was heard from Kinoshita, inside the car.

  "No offense. Anyway, that helped you remember him, right?" said Takemura, in high spirits. "Now, tell me, which way did he go?"

  "Well, right after that, I led the guest's car that way, up to the house. I was running, so I didn't see where he went. Er, excuse me, but are you a policeman?"

  "Oh, yes. I'm sorry, I forgot. Takemura's the name. Nagano prefectural police."

  "Then the gentleman you're talking about must be the man who was murdered on Poison Plain, right?"

  "Exactly. That's a very good guess."

  "I thought so. That place, Poison Plain, is connected with the legend of the Demoness Maple. Do you know the legend?"

  "Yes,
some of it."

  "Then did you know that place is where the Demoness Maple served poisoned sake to Taira no Koremochi?"

  "Why no, I didn't. So that's where the name Poison Plain comes from, is it?"

  "That's right. Actually, you see, I'm a member of a circle that studies the legends and folk tales of Togakushi. When I heard on the news that someone had been found poisoned on Poison Plain, I had this awful feeling. I don't think that was any coincidence. No, I'll bet it was the Curse of the Demoness."

  In the evening darkness, the woman's own eyes glittered like those of a demoness. Apparently she loved such stories. For Takemura, however, it was nothing to laugh about. His curiosity was aroused. "I see," he said. "That's very interesting."

  But just then, a car came grinding along the gravel.

  "Oh, that must be our guests!" said the woman, turning toward the headlights, raising her hand, and moving quickly away from Takemura. The car did turn out to be the one she had been waiting for, and amidst a noisy exchange of greetings, she began to lead it toward the villa.

  "Thank you," Takemura called out as she started off. "Just as a precaution, could I have your name?"

  "Junko Murata," she called back. Takemura didn't have time to ask her how it was written.

  The search of Poison Plain picked up virtually nothing. Not a thing of any help had been left at the scene, nor were there any eyewitnesses, anyone who had heard the sound of a car, nor any worthwhile information about suspicious characters seen in the area. Whenever the police checked out the rare piece of information that did come in, they always found that it was a case of mistaken perception, or that it had nothing to do with the crime. Even the dogs could find nothing, probably because the rain that had been falling until dawn that day had washed away all scents.

  It was particularly strange that no one had even heard the sound of a car. Eyewitnesses or no, it was still hard to understand how, in such a quiet village as Imai, not a single person could have heard the sound of a car in the middle of the night, a car that would have had to negotiate quite a number of upward slopes.

  At the investigators' conference on the morning of the second day after discovery of the body, Takemura assigned four men to question residents of the villas on the Koshimizu Plateau. Feeling that the key to the mystery lay there, he selected three veterans for the job and put them under the command of the trusted Sergeant Yoshii.

  "We can assume that Kisuke Takeda must have visited or stayed overnight at one of those villas on the night of July 3rd. Furthermore, there is a strong possibility that he was murdered there, so I want you to be very thorough," he emphasized. "If you need more support, ask for it."

  He also had the Poison Plain questioning teams expand their operations to cover several possible routes between the Koshimizu Plateau and Poison Plain, but he did not expect too much there.

  Although Takeda's disappearance had turned into a murder case, Investigative Section Two was still on the job. In contrast to Section One, which concentrated on the crime itself, Section Two worked on the political and financial aspects—an operation for which Section One was not well equipped—trying to pick up information about activities that might provide a motive. In such a situation, it was inevitable that a sense of competition should develop between the two sections, and the nervous Miyazaki kept pushing his men feverishly.

  Convinced that Section Two was on entirely the wrong track, Takemura regarded the pushing as no more than a small annoyance. "This murder was not committed for political or financial motives, I tell you. It was something deeper than that," he said, trying to calm Miyazaki down.

  Miyazaki had a lot of confidence in Takemura, but not enough to leave it at that. "Really? What makes you think so?" he asked.

  "My intuition," said Takemura with an easy laugh, "my intuition."

  That did not quite seem to satisfy Miyazaki, but with the matter more or less settled for the time being, Takemura left investigation headquarters with Kinoshita, turning over all his desk work to a veteran assistant inspector named Katahira. It had always been Takemura's habit, once the overall direction of an investigation had been settled, to take one man and go out and check around himself.

  * * *

  Kisuke Takeda's residence was a palatial mansion that stood out even in the high-class residential area of Nagano City where it was located. Takemura recalled hearing that it was the finest house in any city in the prefecture. The brick-patterned concrete wall with tile coping that surrounded the grounds enclosed practically an entire block. A magnificent gateway with an intimidating iron gate confronted the visitor. Between the gate and the drive-up entrance to the mansion was an area the size of a traffic circle planted with three fir trees. The gigantic mansion itself was now overrun with people.

  After the autopsy, Takeda's body had been quietly returned home in the middle of the night. It was rumored that the intention of the police to deliver it in the morning had been blown away in one thunderous cry from the widow. "Do you think I'm going to let you make a spectacle of it for all to see?" she was reported to have screamed at Chief Nagakura of the Nagano prefectural police. The story had gotten around about how Nagakura, younger than his head of detectives, had had to calm the older man down as he fumed that the woman did not have to be given her own way.

  Whatever the rumors, the fact was that Takeda's body had been delivered to his mansion a little after midnight. The delivery had been witnessed by a single reporter from a local paper who happened to have been staked out there, and as a result, his paper had gotten a big scoop to brandish in the morning edition.

  The house was buried in wreaths, inside and out. There must have been over a hundred, with more arriving every minute. But the cars outnumbered the wreaths. Ones that couldn't get in through the gate were parked on both sides of the street, and traffic police were trying to restore order and keep more cars from entering the street.

  As Kinoshita tried to move forward, a traffic officer came running up waving to him to stop, probably assuming that the puny little domestic-make car belonged to some youngster in the neighborhood. But seeing Takemura sitting next to the driver, he quickly saluted and apologized.

  "You've become something of a celebrity, Inspector," said Kinoshita, half-teasing, but delighted with the situation.

  The traffic officer found them a good parking place. Flashbulbs flickered as sharp-eyed cameramen caught sight of Takemura. But his celebrity status was not great enough for the waves of people in black mourning clothes, packed inside the gate, to make way for him.

  "Can I go in like this?" said Kinoshita, worried about his casual dress.

  "I don't see why not. We're not here to mourn," said Takemura, walking briskly up to the reception table. In doing so, he passed a long line of mourners waiting to register, and the young man in charge looked at him with a suggestion of disapproval.

  "Police," said Takemura, showing his badge. "We'd like to see Mrs. Takeda."

  Noticeably upset, the man turned to whisper to an older man next to him. The older man turned to the man next to him, and that man looked at Takemura and then came over to him.

  "My name is Izawa. I'm Mr. Takeda's secretary," he introduced himself with a bow. "Would you come this way, please?"

  He led them into a garden to the left of the house, to a white marble table surrounded by four ceramic stools. More composed than the first two men, he invited them to take seats and sat down with them.

  "I was told you would be paying a visit, Inspector," said Izawa, formally presenting his card, "but I'm afraid I wasn't expecting you so soon. You can see with all this commotion that we're not really equipped to give you a proper reception."

  "That's perfectly all right. I wasn't expecting one. I'm only here to get some simple information. It's best to do this sort of thing as soon as possible."

  "I see. Well, then, I'll be glad to tell you all I can now, but I wonder if I could ask you to forgo your questioning of Mrs. Takeda for today?"

  "We
ll, I suppose that might be all right. I guess it's you who were more familiar with Mr. Takeda's business anyway. But would it be all right if we just see her for a moment, after we finish here?"

  Izawa thought about that. "Well, after we finish, I can ask her if she minds."

  "Fine," said Takemura, going right to his questioning. First he asked about the connections between Izawa and Kisuke Takeda. Izawa, a distant relative of Takeda's wife, had worked for another company for three years after graduation from a private university in Tokyo. Then he had joined the Takeda Firm, where he soon became secretary to the boss. It came out that, at the time, Takeda already had two other secretaries, but Izawa was soon promoted above them to the position of top secretary—apparently because he was Mrs. Takeda's relative. He had occupied that position for the past ten years, was now thirty-eight years old, and single.

  "What, you're not married?" asked Takemura.

  "No, I'm afraid I've never been blessed with the chance."

  "You mean, because you've had to be with the boss all the time?"

  "I'm afraid so," said Izawa with a strained smile. "Except, of course, at night, when I'm sleeping."

  "I see. And yet, on the evening of the 3rd, Mr. Takeda went out without a word to you, right?"

  "Yes. I was careless."

  "Careless? You mean, you let him give you the slip?"

  "Er, no, that's not what I..." said Izawa, losing some of his composure. "I mean, if I had been with him, this wouldn't have happened."

  "No, I suppose not. But why would he have gone out secretly without telling you?"

  "Most likely out of consideration for me. To give me a little time to relax, I imagine."

  "On the other hand, maybe it was to give himself a little time to relax," remarked Takemura, not without sarcasm.

  "What? Ridiculous! That's impossible!" said Izawa, giving him a dirty look.

  "No, I don't think it's impossible. Actually, we have information that Mr. Takeda had gone out alone several times in the past from the Koshimizu Plateau Hotel."