by Soji Shimada
“But it’s the Tengu noses that surprised me the most,” said Kiyoshi. “I remember the discussion about the export of Tengu masks.”
“What was that?” I asked.
“In the past, Japan received an order from the United States for a large number of Tengu masks. The mask manufacturers made a huge profit from these sales. So they went on to manufacture great numbers of Okame and Hyottoko, the comic man and woman masks, and exported those too, but they failed to sell at all.”
“Why was that?”
“Apparently, Americans were using the Tengu masks to hang hats and other stuff on. Perhaps it’s only Japanese people who failed to see those noses as something useful.”
“But there was nothing to support the icicle between the stairs and the ventilation holes either,” Okuma pointed out.
“Yes, just outside the ventilation hole to Room 14. That’s true. But by that point it was travelling so fast there was no need for anything. Outside the ventilation hole into Room 3, there’s a decorative wall carving, part of which juts out at just the right level to support the icicle.
(On this point, the author feels he may have been unfair to the reader. However, he believes that it will not cause any lasting damage to those with a vivid imagination.)
“I see. After leaving the noses in the Tengu Room, the second staircase would take care of the rest,” I said.
“And that’s why there was such a narrow bed in Room 14 with feet that couldn’t be moved…”
This was the first time that Sergeant Ozaki had spoken since leaving the Tengu Room.
“It was so the victim’s heart would be in the right location,” continued Kiyoshi. “And that’s why he only had a thin electric blanket to cover him—so he could be killed while he was in bed. If he’d had a thick duvet or a blanket, it would have made it difficult for the knife to penetrate his body.
“But reality is stranger than fiction. At this point Mr Hamamoto had an unforeseen stroke of luck along with another similar piece of bad luck.”
“What was that?” asked Ushikoshi and Okuma in accidental unison.
“The brilliance of this whole trick was that the icicle would melt, leaving just the knife stuck in the corpse, so it would look like a stabbing. To add to the illusion, just one night earlier Kazuya Ueda had in fact been stabbed to death, making it even more likely that everyone would believe that the same method was used in both murders.”
“Yes, I see.”
“And to make sure that the ice did melt, Mr Hamamoto instructed that the heating that night be turned up. The good stroke of luck was that Mr Kikuoka was so warm that he had taken off the electric blanket, and was sleeping with nothing over him. And so the knife went straight into his body unimpeded. The bad luck was that he was sleeping on his stomach.
“This whole trick was devised to pierce the heart of someone sleeping face up on that bed. But it seems that Mr Kikuoka was in the habit of sleeping face down. And so the knife ended up going into the right side of his back.
“But then, ironically, that one piece of bad luck was followed by another unexpected stroke of good luck. Mr Kikuoka had—how should I say it—a cowardly side to his character. His chauffeur had just been murdered, and he was so terrified that he wasn’t satisfied with setting all three of the locks on the door; he had also dragged the sofa over to block it, and even put the coffee table on top of that. And that’s why when, severely injured and on the point of death, he wasn’t able to get out of the room and get help.
“As the knife hadn’t reached his heart, if he hadn’t built that barricade, he might have got out of his room and maybe even staggered up to the salon and got help. Instead, he ended up using his last ounce of strength to push over the table and sofa before collapsing. And so the crime scene ended up with another similarity to Mr Ueda’s, which Mr Hamamoto had never intended: traces of the murderer having been in the room.”
“It’s true. I was very lucky. There was only the one bit of bad luck—that a talented investigator like you came along to solve the crime.”
Kozaburo Hamamoto didn’t seem particularly upset by his misfortune.
“Hang on! I just remembered!” cried Ushikoshi. “Right at 11 o’clock, the time of Mr Kikuoka’s death, when we were drinking cognac together in the tower, you played that piece of music. It was—”
“It was ‘Chanson de l’adieu’—Farewell.”
“Yes, of course. That’s what it was.”
“I told you my daughter hated it, but for me it was the very first piece by Chopin that I ever heard.”
“Me too,” said Ushikoshi. “But in my case, I still don’t know anything else of his.”
“Because that one’s in the school textbook,” offered Okuma.
“If only I’d remembered its title that night,” said Ushikoshi regretfully.
But I couldn’t help thinking that if Chief Inspector Ushikoshi had guessed the truth that night from the title of a tune, the outcome would have been so much less satisfying.
“I guessed the truth,” said Kiyoshi, getting to his feet, “when I heard that Golem had peeped in through Ms Aikura’s window; I guessed immediately that it had to be the work of someone used to passing to and fro across that drawbridge. Nobody else would have come up with a plan that involved leaving the door to the drawbridge open—to what was essentially Mr Hamamoto’s domain.
“But when I thought about it, the only way of establishing proof of the crime was to establish proof of the identity of the criminal. By experimenting, I could easily explain how the killer had managed to commit the crimes, but as to the who—well, there were other people besides Kozaburo Hamamoto who could have done it.”
Everyone pondered the meaning of his words.
“To cut a long story short, the occupants of Rooms 1 and 2 could have done it, and if Chikako Hayakawa had been in the room in the tower around the time of death, she could have done it too.
“Right then, the hypothesis was that the icicle was sent all the way down the slide from the very top. But imagine the point on the slide just beyond Room 3, in other words, the staircase that you have to climb to get up to Room 3 from the ground floor. I couldn’t completely rule out the possibility that someone quite different might have sent the icicle from that much lower point with a very strong push. As long as the motive for this murder remained so vague, I had to assume that anyone could have prepared a similar icicle under the eaves outside their own bedroom window. Outdoors is the perfect freezer.
“So I decided that the only way to be sure was to hear an explanation from the killer himself. In other words, to corner him so that he would be encouraged to confess everything in his own words. I’m not personally into tying someone up and forcing it out of them. That’s not the way I work.”
Kiyoshi threw Sergeant Ozaki a sideways glance.
“Obviously, I had already guessed the identity of the killer, but the method I devised to flush him out was by using the thing most beloved to him, that is, the life of his daughter. I made him fear that someone was planning to kill her in the exact same manner as Mr Kikuoka had been murdered. The only way to do that was to have her sleep on the bed in Room 14.
“But her father wasn’t able to confide in the police why he was anxious for her life without explaining his own part in Kikuoka’s murder, so he made up his mind to protect her by himself. He was a murderer himself. And the conditions were perfect—there was a blizzard outside. Oh… it seems to have stopped.”
It was true—the noise of the wind had become much softer.
“For Kikuoka’s murder there needed to be something loud like that storm. The icicle made quite a noise at it slid down the stairs.”
“I see. So that’s why Kikuoka’s murder came so close after Ueda’s!” I said.
“That’s right. He couldn’t squander the chance of using a stormy night like that one. There was no way of knowing when the next blizzard would blow in. However, anyone with their ear close to a door frame or a pillar c
ould hear the sound of the icicle slithering down the stairs. That was—”
“The snake!”
“The sound like a woman sobbing!”
“And as it was an icicle the conditions needed to be full-on winter. But in my case, it wouldn’t matter if the night outside was silent as a cemetery, I planned to go ahead with the trick I was going to play on Mr Hamamoto. I had everything set up.
“Of course Mr Hamamoto didn’t know for sure that someone planned to kill his daughter. And he couldn’t confide in anyone. But he knew the exact way Mr Kikuoka had been murdered, and feared that someone was going to try to take their revenge the same way. Perhaps he thought that Kikuoka’s employee was the one who was going to do it.
“This is what he decided. If the door to the drawbridge was shut, it would be practically impossible for whoever it was to open it and lower the bridge without making a lot of noise. So he figured the theoretical killer would probably push the icicle from the point on the east wing staircase just below the drawbridge.
“It was more difficult for me to imagine what he would decide next. What would be his next course of action? I couldn’t read him with a hundred per cent accuracy. Would he go to the east wing staircase? That would mean coming face to face with the person planning to kill his daughter. Would Kozaburo Hamamoto choose this route? Or would he go to the west wing staircase and try his best to stop the icicle as it came sliding down? No, that would be difficult to achieve. There were several courses of action he might have taken. He could have placed bricks on the west staircase and then headed up to the east one. But in the end I was convinced that he was going to try something completely different. And that was to go to Room 3 and take down the Tengu masks from the wall.”
For the umpteenth time that evening, the “aahs” could be heard around the room.
“Obviously I couldn’t be a hundred per cent sure about that either. He might have left the masks intact and used another method to stop the icicle. It was a gamble, but a good one. There was a long time until morning, and Mr Hamamoto had no idea what time the killer would strike. It was better for him not to be seen. Putting bricks on the stairs might not succeed in stopping the icicle, and he really didn’t want to hang out on the stairs all night waiting for the killer to arrive.
“But the position of the Tengu masks was crucial. If he took some down, burned them or just bent the noses of a few of them, the attack from the east wing was almost sure to be blocked. I believed he’d go for it.
“Thus I figured that if Mr Hamamoto could be caught red-handed removing the masks from the wall, then he wouldn’t be able to talk his way out of it. By this point I was sure that Mr Hamamoto was the killer. His own daughter was in danger, but he didn’t ask the police for help, because this would have revealed his knowledge of the method used to kill Kikuoka.
“But how to catch him red-handed? That was still a major problem. Hide in the library next door and wait for him? But what if Mr Hamamoto checked the library before going into Room 3?
“Anyway, as the house’s designer he would know all the places that I could possibly find to hide. I was bound to lose if I tried that kind of game with him. And if I were simply to go up there shortly after Mr Hamamoto and catch him with the masks in his hand, well, that wouldn’t have much impact. He could have just claimed he was unable to sleep, came to check out the room, and found that someone had broken in and destroyed his Tengu mask display. He would be intelligent enough to use the policemen who had come running with me; he’d have quickly regrouped and gone with that strategy.
“So I had to catch him in the process of removing the masks from the wall. And in addition, to avoid any kind of confusion afterwards, make it crystal clear to him that he had been seen. In order to do that I had to find the perfect place to conceal myself. And as you know, Mr Hamamoto, I found myself the best seat in the house.”
“Brilliant! A truly excellent plan.”
Kozaburo was full of genuine admiration.
“But how did you make that mask of Golem’s face? And in such a short time? How on earth did you manage that?”
“I did it when I took his head to the forensics lab. I got in touch with an artist friend of mine and had him make it.”
“Could I take a look?”
Kiyoshi handed Kozaburo the mask.
“Ah! Excellent workmanship. I’m surprised to hear of such a craftsman living in Hokkaido.”
“Actually, I don’t think there are any outside Kyoto. This was done by a mutual friend of mine and Kazumi’s. He’s quite a famous doll maker in Kyoto.”
“Oh!”
I was surprised to hear of my friend’s involvement.
“Did you go all the way to Kyoto in that short time?”
“I set out the evening of the 31st and called him from a phone in the village. He told me he could have it ready by the morning of the 3rd. That was why the conclusion of this case had to take place tonight, the night of the 3rd.”
“A full two days’ work…” said Kozaburo, deeply impressed. “You’ve got a great friend there.”
“Did you get one of the police officers to fetch it from Kyoto?” I asked.
“No. It’s not my place to get the police running errands for me.”
“But I never noticed you getting any delivery of a Golem mask.”
“Who cares how some mask was delivered?” said Okuma irritably. “I want to hear about the murder of Sasaki in Room 13!”
Personally, I had no objection to moving on.
“But, Mr Hamamoto, there’s still one thing I don’t understand,” said Kiyoshi. “It’s the motive. It’s the one thing I can’t work out. I can’t imagine someone of your standing killing someone just for fun. I can’t see any reason for you to kill Eikichi Kikuoka, who you don’t even really know that well. I’d like to hear it from your own mouth.”
“Hey, before that can we please hear about the other locked-room murder?” I begged. “There’s so much more that we still need an explanation for.”
“There’s no need for any explanation!” Kiyoshi rudely interrupted me.
“I’ll explain,” said Kozaburo in a much calmer voice.
“Then should I call the other person who deserves to hear this?” asked Kiyoshi.
“You mean Anan?” said Okuma. “Right, I’ll go get him.”
Okuma got up and started to head off to Room 14.
“Mr Okuma?” called Kiyoshi. “If you don’t mind, could you also, er…”
The Inspector stopped and turned around.
“Could you also fetch Mr Sasaki from Room 13?”
Gobsmacked would not be strong enough a word to describe the look on Okuma’s face at that moment. Even if a UFO had landed right in front of him and a two-headed alien had stepped out, he could not have been more stunned.
But nobody was laughing at him. Myself included, everyone at the dining table wore pretty much the identical expression.
When Sasaki arrived in the salon along with Constable Anan, everybody was so delighted by the one single piece of good news among all the depressing events of the past few days that a small cheer went up.
“Here’s Mr Sasaki returned from Heaven,” announced Kiyoshi.
“So he’s the one who went to Kyoto for you,” I cried. “And the Golem ghost that Mrs Kanai saw, and the person who set fire to Ms Hamamoto’s bed.”
“He’s also the one who ate the bread and ham,” said Kiyoshi with a grin. “He was the perfect person to play the role of a dying man. As he was a real medical student, we didn’t need to use ketchup for blood. And he knew the exact amount that would have resulted from the injury.”
“I’ve been pretty much fasting these past few days, hiding away in Room 10 or hanging around outside. For a while I was hiding in the large wardrobe in Room 1. I almost became a real corpse!”
Sasaki seemed rather cheerful about it. It was easy to imagine why Kiyoshi had picked him for this important role.
“I see now. The most inex
plicable locked-room murder was inexplicable because it never happened,” I said.
“You have to trust logic,” said Kiyoshi.
“But I could have gone to Kyoto for you,” I said.
“That’s very true. But to be perfectly honest, you’re not a very good actor. You’d probably not convince anyone the knife was really in your heart. Someone would have told you to get up and stop pretending. It was important for Mr Hamamoto to feel the pressure of one of his guests being murdered.”
It seemed to me as if Kozaburo had felt greater pressure when he thought his daughter was in danger.
“Did you write that threatening letter too?” Ushikoshi asked. “It’s a good thing I didn’t decide to run an analysis of everyone’s handwriting.”
“This one is about to tell me he’d have liked to write that for me too,” said Kiyoshi, slapping me on the shoulder.
“You didn’t need to trick us too,” said Ozaki, clearly annoyed.
“Really? So if I’d confided my plan to you, you’d have agreed at once to go along with it?”
“It looks like you got the straight-laced lot back at my station to play along,” said Okuma, with a touch of admiration.
“Yes, I have to admit that was the most difficult part of this whole case.”
“Must’ve been.”
“But I got Superintendent Nakamura from Tokyo HQ to keep on at them until they gave in.”
“That Nakamura has a discerning eye all right,” murmured Ushikoshi, loud enough only for me to overhear.
“Right, I don’t think there’s any more to add about that. Now—”
He was cut off by Ushikoshi.
“I just realized! That’s why that night you insisted so strongly that Yoshihiko and Eiko stay all night at the billiard table. You wanted them to be with a police officer to give them the perfect alibi for Mr Kikuoka’s murder.”
Kozaburo nodded. A father’s love for his daughter—the fatal weakness that had caused him to fall into the trap set by my friend.