by Soji Shimada
“Progress is an illusion. We just started running faster. This morning I was in Ginza, and now I’m shivering here at the northern tip of Japan. But can we use this extra time freely? No, we most certainly cannot.”
Kiyoshi seemed intoxicated by his own words, but eventually the snorts of derision from the audience began to turn into full-on laughter. The detectives, for their part, were itching to put an end to this ludicrous performance.
“Do machines really make life easier? I think we know the truth of that. By comparison, the false advertising of the real estate agent—three minutes from the station, thirty minutes from the city centre, an ideal location with lots of green space—is far more trustworthy. We should never feel a sense of superiority towards our creations. We get machines to do our everyday chores; it also becomes possible to reach Hokkaido from Tokyo in just one hour. I can be asked one morning to come up to Hokkaido the same night even though I had other work to do. It used to take three days to get to Hokkaido but these days I have become much busier. There’s no time any more even to read a book. What a swindle! Before long policemen are going to be able to purchase their criminals from vending machines. But at the same time, those criminals will be able to drop in their own coins and buy themselves a corpse—”
“Mr Mitarai?”
The spiel was finally interrupted by Ushikoshi.
“I think that’s enough for preliminary greetings. If you’ve nothing more specific to say, it seems the tea is ready.”
“Ah, is it? Then I must introduce my companion here. This is my friend, Kazumi Ishioka.”
Just the simplest of introductions for me.
SCENE 2
The Tengu Room
After tea the indefatigable Kiyoshi Mitarai asked, “So where’s Golem?”
“Do you intend to arrest him?” asked Ushikoshi.
“No, there’s no need for that this evening,” replied Kiyoshi, in complete earnest. “I just want to examine whether or not he’s the homicidal maniac that I imagine.”
“Do you really?” said Okuma, who seemed to be very impressed.
“Then please allow me to show you the way,” said Kozaburo Hamamoto, getting to his feet.
When Kozaburo opened the door to the Tengu Room, we were greeted by the giant clown. This particular doll was mounted on a stand, so there was no way it could move.
“Whoa! This is the clown from Sleuth!” said Kiyoshi as soon as he saw it.
“Oh, you’ve seen that film?” said Kozaburo, clearly delighted.
“Three times. I think the critics were right about it being a B-movie, but I liked it.”
“It’s one of my favourites. I saw the play in England too. I think it’s well done. That’s partly where my interest in collecting all this junk came from. It was so colourful, and the music of Cole Porter was a perfect match. I’m so glad to know you’re familiar with that film.”
“Does this clown laugh and clap its hands like the one in the film?”
“Unfortunately, to borrow your words, it’s just a wooden dummy. I searched all over Europe, but I couldn’t find one like that. I think it must have been constructed especially for the film. Or perhaps it was just a trick of the camera.”
“That’s a pity… So, where is he?”
Without waiting for a reply, Kiyoshi dashed off farther into the room. Kozaburo set off after him and pointed to the corner.
“There he is… Oh, he… Well, that’s shocking.”
Kiyoshi’s loud voice surprised everyone. (Most of the people from the salon had followed us up to Room 3.)
“That’s no good at all. No you can’t do that. He’s naked. That can’t be permitted, Mr Hamamoto!”
Kiyoshi was getting quite worked up.
“Why’s that?”
“This doll is the very embodiment of warped hatred. And it’s had two hundred years to accumulate. But no—it’s more. He’s the very incarnation of all the grudges held by the Jewish people as they’ve suffered persecution after persecution. To display him naked like this is an insult, humiliation. You can’t do this. It’s extremely dangerous. This is the cause of every tragedy that has ever occurred in this house. You have to do something. Mr Hamamoto, I can hardly believe that a man of your knowledge can have overlooked something like this!”
“B-but what can I do?”
Mr Hamamoto looked at a complete loss.
“Obviously, you have to put clothes on him. Kazumi! What about those jeans and that jacket you were saying you hardly ever wear any more? Go and fetch them!”
“Kiyoshi!”
I’d had enough of this bad joke, and was desperate to make him stop.
“I know you’ve got an old sweater in your bag too. Bring that too.”
I wanted to try and warn him to stop, and opened my mouth to say something, but he urged me again to hurry. Reluctantly, I made my way back to the salon.
When I returned with the clothes, he gleefully dressed the doll in the jeans and the sweater. By the time he put the jeans jacket over the top, he was humming a cheerful tune. By contrast, the graduates of the police academy looked as if they were sucking on lemons as they watched my friend at work. With admirable patience, they managed not to utter a word.
“So is he the murderer?”
It was Sasaki who addressed Kiyoshi.
“No doubt about it. He’s a brute.”
Kiyoshi was about done dressing Golem at this point. With clothes, the doll was even creepier looking. It looked as if some kind of vagrant had sneaked into the house.
“So you’re telling me,” said Kozaburo, “that this doll murdered two people because I left it lying here naked?”
“We’ll be lucky if we end up with only two dead,” said Kiyoshi. Then he quickly added, “This won’t do. There’s something missing.”
He folded his arms.
“He’s got a jacket and a sweater, but I still don’t think it’s enough… A hat! He needs a hat. He needs to cover that head. It really shouldn’t be left exposed. But I didn’t bring a hat with me… Has anyone here got a hat? Any kind’ll be fine. I’d like to borrow one. I promise I’ll return it.”
Kiyoshi looked over at the assembled guests. It was the chef, Haruo Kajiwara, who responded.
“Er… I’ve got one,” he said haltingly. “It’s a ten-gallon cowboy hat. Like you see in Westerns.”
“A cowboy hat!?”
Kiyoshi practically screamed it. The guests had absolutely no idea what had set off the lunatic this time. They waited on tenterhooks for his next words.
“There’s nothing better to protect us from violence. It’s like a blessing from the gods. Quick! Go fetch it!”
“Okay, then…”
Shaking his head in wonder, Kajiwara left the room and headed down the stairs. A short while later he returned with the cowboy hat.
Kiyoshi positively radiated joy from head to toe. Taking the hat, he placed it with a flourish on the doll’s head.
“Perfect! Now we’ll be safe. Thank you, Mr Kajiwara. You have done great service to this case. I can’t imagine a better hat than this for the job.”
Kiyoshi was rubbing his hands together in glee, but to me Golem looked more ghoulish than ever. Now it looked as if a real person were sitting there on the floor.
There was still a piece of string tied around his wrist. Kiyoshi examined it, announced that they ought to remove it, and immediately snapped it off. I overheard Chief Inspector Ushikoshi mutter “Stop” but it was too late.
Everyone returned to the salon and Kiyoshi chatted with Kozaburo and the rest of the guests. He seemed to get along best with Sasaki, and they talked together late into the night on the topic of mental disorders. Viewed from afar, the two men seemed to be having a friendly heart-to-heart, but I couldn’t help feeling that the medical student was interested in Kiyoshi more as a patient than a conversation partner. Still, the discussion between the psychiatrist and his patient was very calm.
The room allocated to Kiyoshi a
nd me was the room in which Kazuya Ueda had been murdered—Room 10. I felt this made it very clear how our female host felt about us. Kohei Hayakawa was told to bring us an extra folding bed (the one in Room 10 was only a single). There was no toilet or bathroom in that room, so I used the shower in the detectives’ room to try to relax after the long day’s journey.
Still, to sleep in a room where a murder had been committed was a uniquely valuable experience. It wasn’t something you could get on your average sightseeing tour.
I was still trying to get to sleep in that uncomfortable bed when Kiyoshi came in, just after midnight.
SCENE 3
Room 15, The Detectives’ Bedroom
“What kind of mental hospital did that one escape from?”
The young Sergeant Ozaki was unable to control his anger any longer.
“I mean, what could have possessed them to send that complete idiot for us to babysit?”
That night, the detectives had assembled in Room 15. Constable Anan was there too.
“Never mind, Ozaki,” said Ushikoshi soothingly. “The man is definitely not normal, but that is who Superintendent Nakamura at Tokyo HQ trusted enough to send. Let’s take this opportunity to observe his skills a while.”
“His skills? We’ve seen them already. The ability to put a pair of trousers on a doll!”
“Our job’d be a whole lot easier if we could catch a suspect by dressing up a doll,” Okuma remarked.
“I’ve never seen such a complete and utter moron in my whole life,” said Ozaki. “Letting that one loose on this case is not going to help the investigation one iota. He’s going to screw the whole thing up.”
“But you can’t claim that putting trousers on the doll has hindered the investigation in any way, can you?”
“Right now he is so pleased with himself playing around with that doll that if there’s another murder, he’ll probably start spraying ketchup on the body.”
Ushikoshi sat there lost in thought. Privately he also believed that Mitarai was capable of doing something that crazy.
“Anan, what do you think about that man?” he asked.
“Hmm… I don’t really…”
“Have you given up billiards already?” said Ozaki.
“That other man he brought with him, what’s he up to right now?”
“Taking a shower in Room 12.”
“He seems like a normal bloke.”
“He’s some kind of chaperon for the lunatic, I reckon.”
“Anyway, don’t you think we should probably ask them to leave?” said Okuma.
“Yes. But let’s wait and see how it goes for now. If they start getting in the way of our work, I’ll ask them.”
“An old man with divining sticks would have been a whole lot better than this. With his bad back he’d just have been forced to sit there quietly. It’s hard to handle someone so young. That was like some kind of rain dance he was doing—taking that doll and performing his little psychic dance to proclaim it the killer. Next he’s going to try and get us to light the fire for him to dance around.”
SCENE 4
The Salon
The next morning was relatively clear and sunny. There was the sound of hammering coming from somewhere. The three detectives were back in their sofa cluster.
“What’s that hammering noise?”
“The two women guests asked to have the ventilation holes in their rooms blocked up. They said they made them too nervous, so Togai and Sasaki are playing the knights in shining armour with hammers. Sasaki said he was going to block up the one in his own room while he was at it.”
“Well, I agree it would make you feel safer. But that damned hammering is driving me crazy. Not exactly a New Year’s Eve atmosphere.”
“It’s frantic around here.”
But at that moment an even more frantic man came rushing in. Kiyoshi Mitarai was babbling something that sounded vaguely like a children’s comic-book character.
“Mr Banana!”
An uncomfortable silence fell over the salon, as nobody quite knew how to respond. Kiyoshi looked puzzled, but then the young police constable stood up, sensing that the man might be trying to say his name. I was impressed that he could work that out.
“The name’s Anan…”
“Sorry. Could you tell me the way to Wakkanai Police Station?”
“Yes, of course.”
Kiyoshi was the kind of man who always recalled someone’s date of birth, but never really made an effort to learn anyone’s name. He just used whatever name occurred to him at the time. And then, he would just keep using that made-up name forever.
Right now, he rushed out of the salon again and was immediately replaced by the arrival of Kozaburo Hamamoto, smoking his pipe. He took a seat next to Inspector Okuma.
“Where’s our famous investigator off to?” Ushikoshi asked him.
“He’s a bit strange, that one, isn’t he?”
“He’s extremely strange. A complete nut job.”
“He’s removed Golem’s head and said he wants to take it back to forensics for another look. He says there’s something suspicious about it.”
“Not again!”
“At this rate he’ll be removing all our heads,” said Okuma.
“We’d be better off with a department store security guard.”
“I’ve got no intention of going down along with that moron,” said Ozaki curtly.
“Looks like we’re about to get the psychic dance that you predicted. When he gets back it’s all going to get started.”
“I’ll get ready to light the fire.”
“This is not the time to be making jokes,” said Ozaki. He turned to Kozaburo Hamamoto, a serious expression on his face. “Did he give a reason for taking Golem’s head off?”
“Not really…”
“I don’t imagine there’s any reason at all for it.”
“It’ll get in the way when he’s dancing,” Okuma threw in.
“Personally,” said Kozaburo, “I’m not particularly thrilled that he’s taken the head off again. Well, I suppose he can if he wants. Maybe he’s looking for fingerprints?”
“Does he even have the wits to think of something like that?” said Okuma.
It felt a little like the pot calling the kettle black.
“We checked thoroughly for fingerprints already,” said Ushikoshi.
“And what did you find?” Kozaburo asked.
“Nowadays, no criminal with any kind of knowledge about police investigative techniques leaves anything like a fingerprint behind. People watch TV programmes. And if the criminal is one of the people in this house, it’ll be difficult to prove anything. It’d be perfectly normal for any of them to touch anything in the house.”
“I suppose so.”
It was well into the afternoon before Kiyoshi returned to the Ice Floe Mansion. His mood was buoyant as usual as he crossed the salon to sit by me.
“The forensic pathologist gave me a lift back. He said he was on his way here anyway.”
“Really?”
“So I asked him to drop in and have a cup of tea.”
Kiyoshi spoke as if he’d invited someone over to his own home. There was indeed a man in a white coat standing by the front door. Kiyoshi raised his voice.
“Mr Banana! Would you get Mr Kajiwara for me?”
For whatever reason, Kiyoshi had happened to remember Kajiwara’s name correctly. Constable Anan, who was leaning on the wall by the kitchen, made no protest and simply disappeared to fetch Kajiwara. He’d apparently decided to answer to his new name.
As they sipped their tea, the grandfather clock in the salon struck three. I can specify that the people in the room right then were Kiyoshi and myself, the three detectives with Constable Anan, Kozaburo Hamamoto, Mr and Mrs Kanai, Yoshihiko Hamamoto, Mr and Mrs Hayakawa. And I caught glimpses of Kajiwara too in the kitchen. In other words, the people who weren’t with us in the salon were Eiko, Kumi, Togai and Sasaki—those four. The
forensic pathologist, Dr Sano, was also with us at that time.
Suddenly we heard a howl, a man’s voice, from somewhere far away. It was more than just a scream. I’d have described it as the cry someone would make when they came face to face with unimaginable horror.
Kiyoshi kicked his chair backwards, leapt to his feet and ran in the direction of Room 12. Reflexively, I glanced up at the grandfather clock. It wasn’t even five past three: 3.04 and 30 seconds.
The three policemen rushed out shouting. They hesitated, not really knowing where they were running to, and it was annoying having to chase after Kiyoshi, so only Ushikoshi and Anan actually followed him. Ozaki and Okuma went a different way.
Everyone assumed the howl had come from either Togai or Sasaki, as they were the only men missing—the other two not present being women. But it was impossible to know which one. However, Kiyoshi had no doubt. He headed straight for Room 13 and banged on the door.
“Sasaki! Sasaki!”
He pulled out a handkerchief and turned the doorknob. But it kept sticking.
“It’s locked! Mr Hamamoto, is there a spare key?”
“Kohei, quickly, go and get Eiko! She’s got the spare.”
Hayakawa rushed off.
“Okay, get out of the way!”
Ozaki had just arrived. He too began to bang on the door. But the result was the same.
“Should I break it down?”
“No, let’s wait for the spare key,” said Ushikoshi as Eiko came running. “Is this it? Let me have it.”
He put the key in the lock and turned it. There was the click of a lock releasing, but when Ozaki tried to turn the knob, the door still refused to open.
“Oh, the other lock is on,” said Kozaburo.
Besides the push-button lock in the centre of the doorknob, each room had a second oval-shaped lock underneath, which, if you turned it 180 degrees, would send a bar bolt across. This bolt could only be turned from inside the room.