Содзи Симада - Murder in the Crooked House

“I see. But your relationship with Mr Ueda was only at this mansion, right?”

“Yes, naturally. There was no other place I could have met him, seeing as I never leave this house. But I only finished construction a year ago. Before that, I used to live in Kokura City. I noticed Ueda was Mr Kikuoka’s chauffeur back then when he used to visit my home, but we never exchanged any words at that time.”

“Would I be right in thinking Mr Kikuoka and Mr Ueda have only visited you here at this house twice—once in the summer, and this current visit?”

“Right.”

“How long did they stay in the summer?”

“A week.”

“I see.”

“And then, as for your second question, I went up to my room around 10.30. I’m sorry but I can’t provide an alibi.”

“10.30? That was rather late, wasn’t it?”

“I was chatting with Eiko. However, I don’t know if this information is enough to be my alibi, but as you know, my room is at the top of the tower, and the only way for me to get back to the main building is by a staircase in the form of a drawbridge. Whenever I lower or raise that bridge, it makes a noise that echoes throughout the whole of the main building. It’s winter now so I don’t leave it down for any period of time, because while it’s in the down position it means that the door to the main building is left open, and it’s much too cold for that. Therefore, if you hear the drawbridge being lowered and then raised at night, and you don’t hear that sound again until the next morning you can be sure that I haven’t left my room in the tower.”

“Aha, I understand. But of course, Mr Hamamoto, you aren’t under suspicion. It’s hard to imagine any reason that a man of your social standing and prestige would destroy everything he had by murdering a simple chauffeur. What time did you lower the drawbridge this morning?”

“Around 8.30, I believe. If I get up any earlier my daughter complains that the noise of the bridge wakes her up. By the way, you do realize that the murderer isn’t in this house?”

“Well, if the murderer isn’t in this house, then Mr Ueda must have killed himself. But in our experience we’ve never seen anything like that manner of suicide. If it does indeed turn out to be murder, then I regret to say the murderer must be here in your house.”

“But it doesn’t appear that he or she is.”

“You are quite right. But we have our colleagues in Tokyo working on this case too, and I’m confident they will discover the hidden motive for this crime. By the way, regarding this noise that the drawbridge makes, can it be heard by anybody anywhere in the main building?”

“I’m pretty sure you can hear it anywhere. It’s very loud. But I couldn’t swear that you can hear it down in the basement. In that sense, it makes Room 14 where Mr Kikuoka is staying such a special room. The people in Room 1 or 2 would definitely be able to hear it.”

“And how about question number three?”

“You mean whether I noticed anything suspicious? Well, my room is up in the tower, far away from everyone else, so I have no idea whatsoever. That said, I did hear that man’s voice and Ms Aikura screaming. Apart from that I didn’t see or hear anything out of the ordinary.”

“Hmm. And what do you think it was that Ms Aikura saw, Mr Hamamoto?”

“Well, that’s quite a mystery. I can’t imagine it being anything besides a nightmare.”

“But you definitely heard a man’s scream?”

“Yes, I heard it. But it was very faint. At the time I thought it came from somewhere far beyond this house—a drunk yelling or something.”

“I see. And then I’d like to ask you why someone took—what’s its name again?—from Room 3?”

“You mean Golem?”

“That’s it. Do you think someone deliberately carried it out?”

“I really don’t know. It was right by the window, and therefore quite easy to remove from the room.”

“If someone wanted to make you suffer, would taking that doll and dumping it in the snow be a good way to do it?”

“Not at all, really. There are other smaller, lighter and more valuable items that I truly care about. And if they really wanted to upset me, rather than taking it apart, they could have smashed it to pieces. And they could have done that inside Room 3. There was no need to take it outside.”

“So it isn’t something you really care about?”

“Not at all. It was something I just picked up on a whim.”

“Why do you call it—er… Golem?

“It was a doll shop in Prague. That’s what they called him. There’s a bit of an odd story behind the name. Surely you don’t need me to tell that story to the police?”

“What kind of story?”

“There’s a belief that he can walk by himself and always heads towards water.”

“What the…!”

Hamamoto laughed.

“You don’t believe me! But in medieval Europe there was a great folklore tradition, and they believed in all sorts of myths.”

“It’s a grotesque-looking doll. Why did you want to buy something like that?”

“Why did I buy it…? Hmm… I suppose it’s because I just don’t feel the appeal of those cute French dolls.”

“That reminds me, this is quite an unusual residence, isn’t it? I’d like to ask you about it. The stairs and the corridors—or perhaps the right word is landings—on every floor are made of metal. Even the handrails are metal.

“And then, at the far end of every L-shaped corridor, the floor doesn’t quite reach as far as the wall. There’s an open gap, and that has a handrail too. What was your reason for making it like that?”

“That gap was a mistake. A young architect placed an order for metal floorboards and the wrong size was delivered. He said he’d redo it but I told them it would be all right. Actually, I preferred it that way. It makes them look like a kind of aerial walkaway. But I asked them to put in the guard rail. My staircases and passageways are all metallic, and I’ve gone overboard and put in metal handrails too. And then my stairs are steep, and look as if they’re getting rusty. I kind of like that grim, gloomy effect.

“Ever since I was a university student, I’ve loved the copper-plate prints of the Italian artist, Giovanni Battista Piranesi. Piranesi left many sombre prints of prisons. He was a portrayer of imaginary prisons. Floor upon floor of high ceilings and dark metal staircases, and also towers and aerial walkways. And of course metal drawbridges. His prints were full of those kinds of things. I wanted to build this house in that image. I even thought about calling it ‘Piranesi Mansion’.”

“I see. That’s fine,” said Ushikoshi, but Kozaburo didn’t notice. He was passionately caught up in his story.

Next Hamamoto’s members of staff were called. Haruo Kajiwara turned out to have no other interests besides cooking and watching TV in his own room. He’d never spoken to Ueda, nor seen anything unusual the night before.

Chikako Hayakawa was the same, but her husband, Kohei, left a different impression. He was around fifty but came across as a rather timid character who looked much older than he was. Kohei Hayakawa’s replies were exactly like those of a politician denying a scandal. It sounded as if everything he said was a lie. The detectives had a hunch he was hiding something.

Sergeant Ozaki raised his voice. Up to now, everyone’s answers had been so pedestrian and conventional, his irritation had been building.

“So you didn’t even exchange a single word with the victim, Ueda; you went to your room around 10.30 and never came out again, and therefore you have no alibi; and finally you saw nothing suspicious. Is that what you’re claiming?”

Hayakawa looked startled, then stared down at his feet. The veteran detectives recognized that this was a person who, given one more push, would spill the beans. Outside, the wind was getting louder, the prelude to a heavy blizzard.