Содзи Симада - Murder in the Crooked House

“I have discovered from my own research that before this mansion was built, this area was a large, open plain. One evening long, long ago, a young Ainu man threw himself off the very cliff that this house is built on.”

That’s how Kiyoshi’s story began, but it was clear to me that he was making it up as he went along. I had no idea what his true intentions were. It felt to me as if he were trying to play for time.

“This Ainu boy had a young lover by the name of Pirika, who out of sorrow jumped off the cliff after him.”

Kiyoshi was clearly retelling some tale he’d heard somewhere or other.

“Every spring since then, on that very spot, a blood-red iris is said to bloom.”

I remembered that Pirika had been the name of the restaurant in the village where we’d eaten the day we arrived at the Ice Floe Mansion. There’d been a photograph of irises on the wall, and a printed poem about the flowers. Still, these irises had been the regular purple shade. I’d never seen or heard of a red iris.

“The young lovers had been kept apart by the selfishness of the other villagers. The son of the most powerful clan in the village wanted to marry Pirika himself. If Pirika agreed to marry him, the boy’s father had promised to give everyone in the village a wheelbarrow. Despairing of ever being free to be together, the lovers took their own lives. Since then, the grudge that the two lovers held against the rest of the village has been roaming this land. With the construction of this mansion their souls have found a kind of base from which to act. Their spirits—”

“Ah!”

He was interrupted by the voice of someone in distress. I realized it was Eiko, who had just sunk to her knees, her hand pressed to her forehead.

“Please… my cup…”

I reached out to grab her teacup right as she slumped to the floor. Togai and Kozaburo came rushing over.

“Get her to the bed!” said Ushikoshi.

“Looks like some kind of sleeping drug,” said Kiyoshi, as he examined her. “If we leave her to sleep, she’ll wake up just fine in the morning.”

“Are you sure it’s just sleeping pills?” Kozaburo asked him.

“I’m positive. Look how peacefully she’s breathing.”

“Who could have done this?” said Kozaburo, looking at the household staff.

“No idea.” The three of them shook their heads.

“The criminal is in this room!”

When angry, Kozaburo had the energy of a much a younger man.

“Anyway,” he continued, “it’s dangerous for Eiko to stay here. Let’s get her up to her room.”

His tone made it clear that there was no room for discussion. Right now it was easy to picture what he’d been like back in his youth.

“But the bed in Ms Hamamoto’s room got burnt,” said Ozaki.

Kozaburo looked for a moment as if he’d had an electric shock.

“If she’s been drugged, then I think we should let her sleep it off right here,” said Ushikoshi.

“All right then, but that hole! That hole needs to be blocked up!”

“But to do that we need to stand on the bed…”

“Then do it from the outside!”

“But truly, to start hammering right by the head of someone sleeping after a dose of pills like that, well, tomorrow morning she’s going to wake up with a terrible headache,” said Kiyoshi.

“But this room is dangerous!”

“Why? Room 10 or Room 13 are exactly the same as this one.”

Kiyoshi hadn’t said it, but in Room 13 where Sasaki had died, the ventilation hole had been completely blocked up. What would be the point of blocking Room 14’s vent too? Everyone was thinking the same thing.

Kozaburo stood still, his fists clenched and his head hanging down.

“If you’re worried about your daughter, I can have a guard put on this room all night. Of course, it’d be inappropriate to have him actually sleep in here with her, but we can lock the door and set a chair outside in the corridor. He can keep watch until morning. How does that sound?”

Ushikoshi turned to Constable Anan.

“Anan, how about it? If you think it would be too hard to stay awake, I can get Ozaki to take over halfway through the night.

“This room doesn’t have a spare key, does it?” he continued. “So I suggest that you keep hold of the key yourself, Mr Hamamoto.

“Anan, I don’t know who the killer is, but he or she is probably one of us. Therefore, if someone comes, you don’t let them in. Even if it’s me or Okuma. Not until everyone has got up tomorrow morning and checked in. Is that acceptable to you, Mr Hamamoto?

“Right, everybody, you’ve heard the plan. As for me, I’m feeling a bit sleepy after listening to our learned fortune teller’s fascinating bit of folklore. I’m dying to hear the rest but I’m afraid it’s really going to send me to sleep. And it wouldn’t do to make too much noise while our lady hostess is trying to rest. So how about going to bed now, everybody? It’s already late. Let’s hear the rest tomorrow.”

Everyone seemed pretty much in agreement, except for Kozaburo. He couldn’t help thinking of how many people had already been murdered in completely locked rooms.

“I’m not completely comfortable with this,” he mumbled.

Everyone had settled down to sleep. The dark corridors and spaces of the Ice Floe Mansion were deserted, and the only sound was the wind raging to itself.

The lock on the door of Room 3 made a faint noise as it turned, ever so gently, and the door very slowly opened. The pale light that filtered in from the corridor brushed the faces of the dolls, vaguely illuminating them. Among them, Golem’s grinning face.

Someone tiptoed into the room, as cautiously as if they’d been crossing a thin layer of ice, and approached Golem. When they reached the window, the light from the corridor revealed their face in profile.

It was Kozaburo Hamamoto. Well, he was, of course, the only person who had a key to that room.

Kozaburo never even glanced at Golem, sprawled in his usual position on the floor. Instead, he turned his attention to the southern wall of Tengu masks and began to do something quite mysterious. He set about removing the masks from the wall, one by one.

Each time he had gathered about ten or so in his arms, he would lay them down on the floor, and gradually, the gently sloping middle section of the room’s south wall was revealed for the first time.

But then something astounding happened. Golem’s feet twitched, and then his wooden joints began to creak as his legs were gradually pulled in towards his body. The painted grin on his face never changed.

The doll got slowly to its feet, and with the clumsy, jerky movements of a puppet, took a step towards Kozaburo.

Slowly, but steadily as the second hand on a clock, Golem lifted both his arms and drew his palms closer together in a circular formation as if to place them around Kozaburo’s neck.

Kozaburo, still absorbed in his work, had now cleared the major part of the south wall. Several masks still clutched in his hands, he took a couple of steps over to the corner of the room, to fetch some bricks that were lying there. He had turned his back and was bending down to pick up a brick when he sensed something. With the brick in his right hand he turned slowly around. And there was Golem, standing right behind him.

The shock sent Kozaburo’s body into convulsions and his face froze in an expression of terror. The wind howled, and at the same time he somehow managed to call out. The masks in his hands fell and scattered on the floor, and the brick followed with a dull thud.

Right then there was a flash of lightning and suddenly the room was lit with a fluorescent glow as bright as daylight. Automatically, Kozaburo looked towards the doorway. All the detectives stood there.