4
“When it comes down to something like this, we women are always the worst off, aren’t we? They think we’re their servants,” Agatha grumbled as she quickly took care of the dishes. Orczy stood beside her, staring at the white, supple fingers swiftly doing their work, until she realized she wasn’t doing any work of her own.
“Let’s have the boys do some work in the kitchen, too. They shouldn’t think they’re off the hook just because the two of us are here. Don’t you agree?”
“Eh, y-yes.”
“It’d be hilarious to see Ellery wearing an apron and holding a ladle with that nonchalant expression of his. He might actually look cute in it.”
Agatha laughed gaily. Orczy cast a glimpse at her beautiful profile and sighed.
A bright face with a shapely nose. Eyes that had been accentuated by a light touch of violet eyeshadow. Well-kept long, wavy hair.
Agatha was always cheerful and full of confidence. She seemed to enjoy the looks she received from the men who flocked around her glamorous beauty.
Compared to her, I’m just…
A small, round nose. Childish red cheeks covered in freckles. She did have big, wide eyes, but they weren’t in balance with the rest of her face, which gave her a permanently anxious expression. Even if she could use make-up the way Agatha did, she knew it wouldn’t suit her. She hated her own timidity, her constant worrying and the fact that, despite all that, she was also very unaware of what was going on around her.
It had always been like this. Agatha and she, as the only females in the group, inevitably seemed to end up together, and it got to Orczy.
I shouldn’t have come, she had even begun to think.
She had never wanted to come to this island in the first place. It felt… disrespectful. But she had also been too timid to decline her friends’ invitation.
“Orczy, what a wonderful ring,” Agatha said, looking at the middle finger of Orczy’s left hand. “Have you always had it?”
“No.”
“Was it a present from someone special?”
“No, nothing like that.”
Orczy had considered carefully before making up her mind to come to the island. The trip wasn’t an intrusion: she was paying her respects. I will go to the island to pay my respects to the dead. And that’s why she had to come.
“Orczy, you’re always like that, aren’t you?”
“What?”
“Always keeping your thoughts to yourself. We’ve known each other for two years now, and I still feel as if I don’t know anything at all about you. It’s fine, of course, but still, it’s so strange.”
“Strange?”
“Yes. I sometimes feel like that when I read the stories you write for the club magazine. You’re always so lively and bright in your own stories.”
“Because that’s a made-up world.” Orczy turned away from Agatha’s gaze and smiled awkwardly. “I’m not so good with reality. I’m not really very keen on my real self.”
“What are you saying?” Agatha laughed and ran her fingers through Orczy’s neat short hair. “You need to have more self-confidence. You know, you’re cute. You just don’t know it yourself. Stop looking at your feet all the time and stand proud.”
“Thanks, Agatha. You’re very kind.”
“Let’s clean this mess up fast and have lunch, OK?”
Ellery, Leroux and Van were still at what remained of the Blue Mansion. Poe had gone over to the grove on the other side of the ruins on his own.
“Listen, Ellery, and you too, Van,” Leroux began. “We’re going to be here for seven days, so I’d really like to ask you something…” Behind his comical silver-rimmed round glasses, which he himself didn’t find comical at all, Leroux’s eyes were gleaming. “I’m not asking for a hundred pages, but at least give me fifty.”
“Tell me you’re joking, Leroux?”
“I’m always serious, Ellery.”
“But this is completely out of the blue. We didn’t come here to write, don’t you agree, Van?”
“I’m with Ellery.”
“But I already explained it to you earlier. I want to publish the new issue of Dead Island a bit sooner than usual, around mid-April. We can use it to attract some new members, and it would also be a special issue to commemorate the tenth anniversary of our Mystery Club. I’ll be the new editor-in-chief soon, so I want to give it my all. I can’t come out with a flimsy club magazine for the first issue in my new job.”
Leroux, a second-year literature student, would take on the role of editor-in-chief of the club magazine Dead Island from April onwards.
“But, Leroux…”
Ellery took out a new pack of Salem cigarettes from the pocket of his wine-red shirt and removed the seal. Ellery was in the third year of his law degree. He was also the current editor-in-chief of Dead Island.
“…Carr is the one you need to butter up. I won’t comment on the quality of his work, but he is the most productive writer in the Mystery Club. Sorry. Van, have you got a light?”
“It’s not often you two fall out so badly,” said Van.
“Not my fault. Carr started it.”
“Now you mention it, Carr does seem to be in a bad mood,” Van agreed. Ellery chuckled and blew smoke out of his mouth.
“He has reason to be.”
“Oh, why’s that?”
“A while back, our poor Carr made advances to Agatha and was immediately rebuffed.”
“He went for Dame Agatha? Wow, he had guts.”
“And… I think it might have been out of spite, but he then tried his luck with Orczy, but even she wasn’t interested.”
Van frowned.
“Orczy too?” he muttered.
“And so our great writer is not amused,” Ellery concluded.
“Well, of course he wouldn’t be amused,” agreed Leroux. “Together under one roof with the two girls who rejected him.”
“Exactly. So, my dear Leroux, if you want something from Carr, you’ll need to be a smooth talker.”
At that moment they saw Agatha coming from the direction of the Decagon House. She stopped under the arch of black pine trees and waved at the three men.
“Lunch is ready—where are Poe and Carr? Weren’t you together?”
The little path led into the pine grove behind the Decagon House.
He had started along it to take a look at the cliffs on the eastern coast, but the path had become narrower and narrower as he proceeded. It was also full of twists and turns, so he hadn’t even gone fifty metres before he lost his sense of direction.
It was dark and gloomy under the pines. The long sasa bamboo shoots that grew between the trees clung to his clothes with every step, and the ground was uneven. He had almost tripped several times.
He had considered turning back, but he didn’t feel like doing that either. It was a small island. There was no way he could get lost.
The collar of the black turtleneck sweater he wore beneath his jacket was getting soaked in perspiration, but he struggled on. Just as it was becoming unbearable, the path finally led him out of the grove.
He was at the top of the cliffs. The bright reflection from the water dazzled his eyes. A big man was standing on the clifftop already, looking out to sea—it was Poe.
“Hmm? Oh, it’s you, Carr.”
Poe had turned around at the sound of footsteps, but when he saw it was Carr, he turned back again to the sea.
“This is the north coast. I think that’s Cat Island over there,” he said, pointing to some rocks sticking up out of the waves. Considering its size, it could barely be called an island. Only a few bushes grew on its barren surface. As the name suggested, it resembled a dark animal crouching in the sea.
“What’s the matter,
Carr? Why the long face?”
“I’m beginning to regret coming here,” said Carr with a scowl. “Just because something happened here last year doesn’t mean there’s anything interesting here now. I came hoping it might stimulate my imagination, but now just the thought that I’ll be looking at those same faces every day for a whole week… You should have a long face, too.”
Like Ellery, Carr was a third-year law student. But because Carr had failed the university entrance exams his first year, he was actually as old as Poe, who was one year above him.
Carr was of average height and build. But he looked smaller than he was because he stooped and had a short neck.
“And what are you doing all alone in a place like this?” he asked.
“Nothing in particular.”
Poe squinted, his small eyes peering out from beneath thick eyebrows. He took out a cigarette from the birchwood cigarette case which hung from his waist, and put it in his mouth. He held the case out to Carr.
“How many boxes did you bring? Offering cigarettes to others like this, while you’re a heavy smoker yourself.”
Poe shrugged.
“Enough. I just like to smoke. Even though I study medicine.”
“And always Lark cigarettes. Not a brand for the intelligentsia.”
Despite this remark, Carr still took him up on the offer.
“But at least they’re better than young Master Ellery’s menthols.”
“Carr, you shouldn’t let Ellery get to you all the time. Your bickering affects us all, you know. Even if you try to fight him, he’ll just laugh about it and make fun of you for it.”
Carr used his own lighter on the cigarette and turned away.
“Look who’s talking.”
Poe didn’t seem to mind. He enjoyed his smoke in silence.
After a while Carr threw his half-smoked Lark into the sea. He sat down on a nearby rock and took out a whisky flask. He jerked the cap off and took a swig.
“Boozing during the day?”
“None of your business.”
“I can’t say I approve.”
Poe’s tone became stern.
“You really should drink less, you know. Not just during the daytime, but…”
“Hah. Are you still thinking about that?”
“Yes, so you see—”
“No, I don’t see. How long has it been? We can’t keep on thinking about what happened.”
Ignoring Poe’s silent, reproachful look, Carr took another swig.
“It’s not just Ellery who’s got me upset. Whose idea was it to bring women here, to an uninhabited island?”
“It might be uninhabited, but we’re not here on a survival trip.”
“Huh. Even so, I don’t like being cooped up with someone as arrogant as Agatha. And then there’s Orczy. The seven of us have somehow became what you might call ‘a close group’ these last two years, so I can’t say this in front of everyone, but that girl’s all gloom, no redeeming features, and painfully self-conscious to boot.”
“Now you’re being unfair.”
“Oh, of course. I’d forgotten you and Orczy have been friends since you were little.”
Sourly, Poe threw his cigarette to the ground and rubbed it out with his foot. Then, as though he’d just remembered something, he looked at his wristwatch.
“It’s already half-past one. If we don’t hurry back, we won’t get any lunch.”
“Before we eat, I’ve an announcement to make.”
Wearing delicate, golden, plain-glass spectacles, Ellery spoke to the party.
“Our next editor-in-chief has something to say to us all.”
Lunch was already laid out on the decagonal table. Bacon and eggs, a simple salad, baguettes and coffee.
“Err, sorry to delay your meal,” Leroux said, rising from his chair. “I’d simply like to introduce myself as the new editor-in-chief—” He broke off and coughed to clear his throat before continuing.
“We talked about coming to the Decagon House at the club’s New Year’s party. Of course, nobody imagined it would actually come true at that time. But then Van told us his uncle had come into possession of the island and he generously invited us to visit.”
“It wasn’t as though I invited you personally,” objected Van. “I just said I could ask my uncle, if you really wanted to go.”
“Don’t be modest. Anyway, as you all know, Van’s uncle is an estate agent in S— Town. He’s also a talented entrepreneur and has big plans to transform Tsunojima into a holiday resort for the young. Right, Van?”
“I don’t think his plans are all that big.”
“Well, anyway, we’re here today also as a sort of test group. Van came here this morning to make the preparations for our stay, so we’ll have to thank him first. We all really appreciate it.”
Leroux made a deep bow to Van.
“And now for my main announcement—”
“The bacon and eggs are getting cold,” interrupted Agatha.
“I’m almost finished—ah, what does it matter, the food will get cold. Please have your lunch as I speak.
“The talents of everyone gathered here have been acknowledged by our club seniors—who have already graduated—and the seven of us have inherited their names. This is a gathering of the core writing group of our Mystery Club.”
It had been a tradition of the K—University Mystery Club since its foundation that club members called each other by nicknames. Ten years ago, the founding members had decided to give everyone names taken from famous writers from Britain, France and the United States, an idea born from the innate childishness of fans of crime fiction. Of course, with new members joining every year, fewer and fewer names were available. The solution to that problem was “inheritance”, a system whereby graduating members would pass on their name to a junior member of their choice.
In time, successors of names came to be chosen based on their contributions to the club magazine. Therefore, the seven present, who bore the names of the most famous mystery writers, were considered the core of the club and often gathered for various occasions.
“…We core members will stay here on this island for one week, starting now, with nothing to distract us. I suggest we all make good use of this time.”
Leroux looked around the table.
“I’ve brought writing paper with me, and I would like to ask each of you to write one story for the upcoming club magazine in April.”
“Ah!” Agatha yelled out. “So that’s why you had so much luggage with you. You were plotting to spring this on us!”
“Yes, this is indeed my plot. Please do write something, Agatha, and you too, Orczy.”
Leroux gave a shallow bow then stroked his round cheeks, chuckling. He looked like a lucky fukusuke doll, but with spectacles. Bitter smiles appeared on the faces of the rest of the group.
“You might only get ‘murder on a remote island’ stories, Leroux. What will you do then?” Poe asked.
“Then I’ll say it’s this issue’s theme,” said Leroux defiantly, sticking out his chest. “Better yet, let’s go with that theme right from the start. That would be even better. The magazine’s title, Dead Island, was taken from the first Japanese translation of Dame Agatha’s masterpiece anyway.”
“I fear we underestimated our new editor-in-chief,” Ellery whispered to his neighbour, Van.
5
The first day ended without incident.
The group had no commitments other than to work on the stories Leroux had asked for. They were mostly solitary types, so as evening approached they had all gone their separate ways.
“Ellery, what are you doing with those playing cards all by yourself?” said Agatha, coming out of her room. The bright-yellow scarf that held back her lon
g hair contrasted with her monochrome combination of a white blouse and black leather trousers.
“Oh, just a little something I’ve been dabbling with lately.”
“Dabbling with what? Let me guess—fortune telling?”
“You must be joking. I’m not interested in that rubbish.”
He shuffled the cards on the decagonal table and went on:
“Magic tricks, of course.”
“Card magic?”
For a second Agatha looked confused, but then she nodded knowingly.
“I see. That’s just the sort of thing you would be into.”
“Why? What do you mean?”
“I mean you like tricking people!”
“You make it sound like a bad thing.”
“Is that so?” Agatha laughed. “So show me something, then. I haven’t seen much magic before.”
“You surprise me. It’s quite rare for someone who’s interested in mystery fiction not to be interested in magic tricks as well.”
“It’s not that I’m not interested. I just haven’t had that many opportunities to see any. So show me.”
“OK. Come here and sit down.”
The sun was setting, leaving the hall of the Decagon House in twilight. Agatha sat on the chair across the table from Ellery. He gathered his cards, arranged them on the tabletop and took out another deck from his coat pocket.
“Here I have two decks with different backs: one red and one blue. You and I will each use one deck. Which will you use?”
“Blue,” Agatha answered instantly.
“All right. You take these cards.”
Ellery passed the blue deck of cards across the table.
“First make sure there’s nothing funny about them and then shuffle them anyway you like. I’ll shuffle the red cards.”
“OK. They look like ordinary cards to me. From the United States?”
“Bicycle Rider Back playing cards. There’s an illustration of an angel riding a bicycle on their backs, do you see it? They’re the most popular type of card over there.”
The Decagon House Murders Page 3