Содзи Симада - Murder in the Crooked House

“You’re quite right about that. I already asked Mr Hayakawa here about it.”

“So then, how is it there are no footprints?”

“If the wind had been strong last night, the powdery snow would have blown over the footprints,” said Sasaki. “But there wasn’t that much wind.”

“I don’t believe it was blowing at all around midnight,” said Eiko.

“And what about the other mysterious aspects of this crime?” continued Sasaki.

“Right, right. The string attached to the knife. And that weird dancing pose that Mr Ueda was in,” said Togai.

“The position of the body was hardly something unusual as far as we are concerned,” said Ushikoshi. “It’s obviously agony to have a knife stuck into you. Kazuya Ueda was in terrible pain. I’ve heard of cases where the victims died in all kinds of convoluted poses. As for the string, I’ve heard of cases where someone was lightly dressed for summer and had no pockets to hide a knife in, so tied it to his body instead.”

Everyone had the same immediate thought: But it’s winter!

“What about the cord tying his right hand to the bed?”

“Yes, that is one of the unique aspects of this case.”

“So you don’t have a precedent for that one, then?”

“Hey, hey, calm down, everybody!”

Okuma, the local cop, looking as if he rather regretted the frank exchange between the laymen and the professionals, placed himself between the two camps.

“That’s our job to investigate. You can trust us to get it done properly. We’d appreciate your total cooperation.”

Cooperation? As suspects in a murder investigation? thought Sasaki privately. But of course all he could do was nod.

“So here’s a simple diagram of the murder scene,” said Ushikoshi, unfolding what looked like a sheet of writing paper. “Is this the state of the room when you found it?”

All the guests and staff stood up and leant forward to study the paper.

“Right here there should be a circular dot that looked like it was drawn in blood,” said Togai.

“Yes, yes, the blood mark,” replied Ushikoshi, as if it were a childish prank that he didn’t particularly care about.

“Looks about right to me,” said Kikuoka in his gravelly voice.

“Is this chair usually in this position, Mr Hamamoto?”

“Yes, it is. The top shelf is just too high to reach, so it’s there to stand on.”

“I see. And then there are the windows. The one on the west side has bars on the outside, but the south side doesn’t. It’s made of clear glass, and unlike in all the other rooms, it isn’t a double window.”

“That’s right. That’s because the south-side window is on the middle floor. I believed it was far enough from the ground that it was too difficult for an intruder to enter. On the west side he could climb the stairs and break open the window. But there’s nothing much of value in there, really.”

“There are some shot-puts on the floor here. Are they always there?”

“Hmm. I hadn’t noticed them.”

“Are they usually kept on the shelf?”

“No, they could be anywhere in the room.”

“These shot-puts seem to have string wound around them several times with a wooden tag on the end. What’s that for?”

“Yes, I own two types of shot-put—four-kilogram and seven-kilogram. When I purchased them I attached wooden tags to write their weight on them, so I could tell them apart easily. I’m afraid after I bought them they met the same fate as the discuses I purchased too—I never used them and they just got left sitting around.”

“That’s how it seems, except that the string attached to the tag on the seven-kilo shot-put seems to be rather long…”

“Really? I wonder if it came loose? I never noticed.”

“Actually, it looks to us as if more string was added to make it longer. The length of the string from the shot-put to the tag was a total of 1 metre 48 centimetres.”

“What? Do you think the killer did that?”

“Probably. This wooden tag that reads ‘7kg’ is 3 centimetres by 5 centimetres, and about 1 centimetre thick. Here it has a piece of Sellotape attached that extends about 3 centimetres beyond the tag. It looks like a fresh piece of tape.”

“Wow.”

“Do you have any knowledge of this?”

“No, none at all.”

“Is it some kind of trick?” Sasaki asked. “Do you think the killer stuck it there on purpose?”

“I wonder… And then, over here, there’s an approximately twenty-centimetre-square ventilation hole. It faces the open space by this indoor staircase. Is that right?”

“That’s correct. But it’s not at a height that would allow anybody in the main building to stand in the corridor and be able to see into Room 10. If you stand in front of Room 12, you’ll be able to tell—Room 10’s air vent is way up high in the wall on the inside. The other rooms, Room 12 for example, if you stood on a step stool or something, I suppose you might be able to see inside, but not Room 10…” (See Fig. 1.)

“Yes, I’m aware of that. I already checked it for myself.”

“So this isn’t a perfect locked room after all,” said Togai. “As there are no footprints outside, the killer must have performed some sort of trick using this air vent.”

Sasaki was quick to respond.

“A twenty-centimetre-square hole isn’t even big enough for someone to get their head through. And what about the cord tied around the victim’s wrist? And the trick with the shot-put? He had to have been inside the room.”

“So what happened to his footprints?”

“Beats me. But it wouldn’t have been all that difficult to lock the room from the inside.”

“I see,” said Ushikoshi, with interest. “I’d love to hear how.”

“May I?” asked Sasaki. The Detective Chief Inspector nodded.

“This whole thing is very simple. Room 10 is normally used as a storeroom, and has a padlock on the door. Whenever a guest stays there, the padlock is removed and the door then has only a simple latch that can be raised to open and clicked down to lock, like the door of a toilet stall. (See Fig. 4.) It was added so people could stay in that room, and it’s very rudimentary. All the killer needed to do to this simple lever was to prop it up with a snowball as he left the room. After a while, the heat of the room would melt the snow and the lever would drop into place, locking the door from the inside.”

There were cries of “Amazing! Incredible!” from the Kikuoka Bearings contingent. But Ushikoshi was not so easily impressed.

“We already thought of that,” he said. “But that metal bracket was attached to a wooden support, and it’s completely dry. Not even slightly damp. It’s highly unlikely that they tried that method.”

Sasaki was taken aback.

“That’s not how they did it?”

“I’m afraid not.”

There was a short silence.

“And yet, I feel the locked-room mystery won’t be too much of a challenge to solve. It’s not all that mystifying. No, it’s another matter altogether that has us stumped.”

“What’s that?”

“Yes, well, it looks like this one’s going to take some serious thought. I’d like to ask for everyone’s help to puzzle it out. Well, it can’t be helped—better to just be up front about it, I suppose. The murderer doesn’t seem to be among you.”

There was a slight ripple of laughter.

“I know it contradicts everything I’ve said up to now, but I can’t see any of you as the murderer. And that’s my problem. I’m talking about motive, of course. There are very few of you who were even acquainted with Kazuya Ueda before yesterday. With the exception of the people from Kikuoka Bearings, this was only the second time for most of you to meet him, following his visit here last summer. That would be Mr Kozaburo Hamamoto, Ms Eiko Hamamoto, Mr and Mrs Hayakawa, Mr Kajiwara, Mr Togai, Mr Sasaki and finally, Yoshihiko Hamamoto, is that right? And I’m sure you hardly spent any time with him, given what a taciturn type Mr Ueda was. I can’t imagine any of you having known him well enough to even think about murdering him.”