by Soji Shimada
Kozaburo nodded. And in that moment the solution to the puzzle was clear even to me.
“I see! The chrysanthemum is Kikuoka! The hanging flower head is your vow to kill him.”
“I never meant to break that promise. I always intended to end up in jail one day. I hated leading that false life. But I always hoped that someone just once would be clever enough to see through that layer that surrounded me, through to the guilt of my past. So I built this tower that reflected my thoughts.
“There’s another meaning behind this design. Noma’s parents ran a flower shop. His father was famous for cultivating chrysanthemums. Before the war, he used to display dolls made entirely from chrysanthemum blooms. Noma’s plan after returning from the war was to take over from his father and grow chrysanthemums. As you know, to people of our generation the chrysanthemum was a flower that symbolized so much. At the very least this is a tribute to my friend.
“I suppose if I’m honest I would have liked to forget my promise to Noma. Perhaps if I’d been surrounded by a different kind of people, I would have been able to…”
Kozaburo broke off and gave a bitter laugh.
“Mr Mitarai, I’d like to ask you one last question. Why did you always pretend to clown around so much?”
Kiyoshi looked puzzled.
“I wasn’t pretending. That’s just my personality.”
I nodded my agreement.
“I don’t think that’s true,” said Kozaburo. “I think you were trying to get me to let my guard down. If you’d revealed right away what a sharp mind you have, I’d have been much more cautious and you’d never have been able to fool me.
“I did have a slight suspicion about you last night when Eiko began to get sleepy. I wondered for a moment whether you’d set some kind of trap. I know it sounds as if I’m talking with the benefit of hindsight, but I was suspicious. But just in case Eiko was in real danger, I couldn’t assume anything at the time.”
Kozaburo Hamamoto stopped and regarded Kiyoshi quietly.
“By the way, what do you think of my daughter, Eiko?”
Kiyoshi considered for a moment.
“She’s a great pianist; a very well-educated young lady,” he said carefully.
“Hmm. And…?”
“She’s also very self-centred and egotistical. Rather too much like me, I’m afraid.”
Kozaburo looked away from Kiyoshi.
“Well, you and I do have a lot in common,” he said with a wry smile. “But in some ways we are completely different. And as I see it now, your way is probably right. Mr Mitarai, I am very glad to have met you. I had hoped to ask you to explain the current situation to my daughter for me, but I won’t be so selfish as to insist.”
He held out his right hand.
“There will be a much better person for her,” said Kiyoshi, shaking Kozaburo’s hand.
“You mean someone who loves money more than you do?”
“Maybe someone who will put it to a better purpose. You were one such person too, I believe?”
The brief handshake done, the two men stepped apart, never to come together again.
“You have a very soft hand. You’ve never done much in the way of hard work?”
Kiyoshi grinned.
“If you have no money to hold on to, your palm never gets rough.”
EPILOGUE
Throughout my lifetime I’ve seen weak and cowardly men, without a single exception commit all kinds of stupid acts, reduce their allies to the level of beasts, pervert their souls by any means possible. And all this in the name of “glory”.
LE COMTE DE LAUTRÉAMONT,
Les Chants de Maldoror
Standing in the exact same spot on the exact same hill it feels as if it happened yesterday.
Right now it’s late summer, or rather up here in the northern tip of Japan, it’s already more like autumn. The wind blows through the dry grass, which has not yet been hidden by the first snowfall of winter; the indigo-blue sea is not yet covered in ice.
That house of horrors that once had us in panic has now fallen into ruin; now home to nothing more than a few shed snakeskins and a whole lot of dust. Nobody visits, and nobody wants to live there.
No news ever reached us that Sasaki, or even Togai, was to be married to Eiko Hamamoto. Nor did we ever hear from Michio Kanai again. A note came in the mail addressed to Kiyoshi and myself to let us know that Kumi Aikura had opened a bar in Aoyama somewhere, but to this day neither one of us has dropped by.
In the end, Kiyoshi let on about a major aspect of the case. I feel it’s my duty to write it down here.
“Do you think it was purely to avenge his daughter’s death that Kohei Hayakawa hired Kazuya Ueda to kill Kikuoka?” he asked me one day out of the blue.
“Do you think there was some other reason?”
“I do.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Simple. If Kozaburo Hamamoto wanted to practise sliding icicles down the stairs, there’s no way he could have done it alone. For example, while he was in Room 3 adjusting the position of the noses on those Tengu masks, he’d have needed someone at the top of the stairs to let the icicle go. And who do you think used to help him?”
“Kohei Hayakawa?”
“Yes. There’s no one else it could have been. And so Hayakawa knew about his employer’s plan to kill Kikuoka. But he—”
“He wanted to stop him, so he hired Ueda to do it before Hamamoto could!”
“I think so.
“You mean that he tried to rescue the one person he believed to be honourable from the dishonour of being a murderer.”
“Right… But it went wrong. Hamamoto was too determined.”
“Mr Hamamoto probably went to prison without ever knowing just how loyal his trusted servant had been. But typically of him, he insisted to the end that he had carried out the whole operation entirely unassisted. And Hayakawa too, never told anyone what he’d done.”
“Why do you think that was? Why did Hayakawa never confess that he had helped his respected employer to practise sliding icicles?”
“I’m guessing because of Eiko. He knew how Hamamoto felt about her. He was guilty of aiding and abetting a murder, but the seriousness of the offence was much less than Hamamoto’s. I think he knew that a daughter who lost both parents would be in need of someone to watch over her.”
“Possibly so.”
*
As the Ice Floe Mansion slowly rots away, its tilted angle is even more symbolic. Having played its role, and living out its very short life, it is trying to return to the ground from whence it came. Or with the northern sea as its backdrop, it appears to be sinking slowly, like some giant ship.
I had this opportunity to travel up to the north, and I found myself drawn to this hill and the site I spent that unforgettable New Year.
The sun is setting, and somehow I feel uneasy. The grass rustles at my feet. It doesn’t have long to live free either, before being imprisoned itself under a dense layer of snow.
THE END
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Born in 1948 in Hiroshima prefecture, Soji Shimada has been dubbed the “God of Mystery” by Japanese crime fans. A novelist, essayist and short-story writer, he made his literary debut in 1981 with The Tokyo Zodiac Murders, which was shortlisted for the Edogawa Rampo Prize. Blending classical detective fiction with grisly violence and elements of the occult, he has gone on to publish several highly acclaimed series of mystery fiction, totalling more than 100 books. In 2009 Shimada received the prestigious Japan Mystery Literature Award in recognition of his life’s work.
Louise Heal Kawai grew up in Manchester, England, but Japan has been her home since 1990. She has translated a variety of novels and short stories from Japanese, including Mieko Kawakami’s novella Ms Ice Sandwich for Pushkin Press, Seicho Matsumoto’s A Quiet Place, and Seventeen by Hideo Yokoyama.
ALSO AVAILABLE FROM SOJI SHIMADA
‘The solution is one of the most origin
al that I’ve ever read’
Anthony Horowitz, author of The House of Silk
COPYRIGHT
Pushkin Press
71–75 Shelton Street
London WC2H 9JQ
Naname Yashiki no Hanzai © 2016 Soji Shimada
First published in 1982 in Japan by Kodansha Ltd., Tokyo
Publication rights for this edition arranged through Kodansha Ltd.
English translation © Louise Heal Kawai 2019
First published by Pushkin Press in 2019
1 3 5 7 9 8 6 4 2
ISBN 13: 978–1–78227–464–3
Although this translation is of the 2016 revised Japanese edition of Murder in the Crooked House, the novel was originally published in 1982, and all details, such as the angle of the Leaning Tower of Pisa, are correct as of that date. The translator has attempted to stay faithful to place and time.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission in writing from Pushkin Press.
www.pushkinpress.com