8,39 €
Mehr erfahren.
- Herausgeber: Pushkin Vertigo
- Kategorie: Krimi
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020
A fiendish classic murder mystery, from one of Japan's greatest crime writers In 1940s Japan, the wealthy head of the Inugami Clan dies, and his family eagerly await the reading of the will. But no sooner are its strange details revealed than a series of bizarre, gruesome murders begins. Detective Kindaichi must unravel the clan's terrible secrets of forbidden liaisons, monstrous cruelty, and hidden identities to find the murderer, and lift the curse wreaking its bloody revenge on the Inugamis. The Inugami Curse is a fiendish, intricately plotted classic mystery from a giant of Japanese crime writing, starring the legendary detective Kosuke Kindaichi. Seishi Yokomizo (1902-81) was one of Japan's most famous and best-loved mystery writers. He was born in Kobe and spent his childhood reading detective stories, before beginning to write stories of his own, the first of which was published in 1921. He went on to become an extremely prolific and popular author, best known for his Kosuke Kindaichi series, which ran to 77 books, many of which were adapted for stage and television in Japan. The Inugami Curse is one of Kindaichi's most famous mysteries and has twicce been adapted for film in Japan.
Das E-Book können Sie in Legimi-Apps oder einer beliebigen App lesen, die das folgende Format unterstützen:
Ähnliche
3
CONTENTS
CHARACTER LIST
The Tale Begins
In February 194_, Sahei Inugami—one of the leading businessmen of the Shinshu region, the founder of the Inugami Group, and the so-called Silk King of Japan—died at his lakeside villa in Nasu at the venerable age of eighty-one. After his death, the rags-to-riches tale of this self-made man, already related over several decades in various newspaper and magazine articles, was published by the Inugami Foundation in its most detailed version to date.
According to this book, The Life of Sahei Inugami, Sahei was orphaned at a young age and drifted to the Lake Nasu region when he was seventeen. He had no idea where he had been born, who his parents were, or even whether his unusual surname, literally “dog god,” had been inherited from his ancestors or conferred by someone with a fertile imagination.
Most men embellish their family trees when they become rich or famous, but Sahei Inugami made no attempt to do so. “We’re all born without a stitch on our backs” was his constant declaration to those around him. “Until I turned seventeen, I was like a pauper, drifting from place to place,” he would say without hesitation. “It was only when I found my way to Nasu, and Mr. Nonomiya took me in, that fortune finally smiled on me.”
Daini Nonomiya was the priest of Nasu Shrine, a Shinto complex that graced the shores of Lake Nasu. Sahei felt he owed him a lifelong debt. So etched in his mind was 10Daini’s generosity that the usually bold and arrogant Sahei would always sit up straight in humble respect whenever Nonomiya’s name was mentioned. Yet, while his unchanging gratitude and devotion to the priest’s family were certainly commendable, Sahei failed to realize that everything—even gratitude—has a limit that should not be exceeded, and that his excessive gratitude toward the Nonomiya family would embroil his own kin in a series of bloody murders after his death. Let it be a lesson to us all that even good intentions can lead to great tragedy if not executed with the utmost care.
When the two men first met, young Sahei was, as he later recounted, an indigent drifter. One day, he lay exhausted under the raised floor of the worship hall of Nasu Shrine. It was late autumn and impossible to live without heat in this bitterly cold lakeside region, but Sahei was dressed only in the flimsiest rags, tied around him by a rope, and he had eaten hardly anything for three days. Starved and freezing, he knew he was dying. In fact, if Daini had found him any later, Sahei probably would have died there like a dog.
Astounded to discover a young pauper beneath the floorboards of the worship hall, Daini carried him back to his house so his wife, Haruyo, could tend to him. And thus began the unusual relationship between the two men. According to The Life of Sahei Inugami, Daini was forty-two at that time, while Haruyo was a young woman of twenty-two. Sahei would later say that she was as kind-hearted as a saint and as lovely as an angel.
Sahei had a naturally sturdy constitution, and thanks to the couple’s generous ministrations, he soon recovered completely. Daini, however, did not wish to see him go and, 11learning of Sahei’s wretched circumstances, urged him to stay. Because Sahei, too, was loath to leave the warm nest he had found, he continued to live with the priest of Nasu Shrine and his wife, not quite a freeloader but not quite a servant. Realizing that Sahei had never spent a day of his life in school and that he was totally illiterate, Daini took him under his wing and educated him diligently, as a father would a son.
Why did Daini so lavish his attentions on Sahei? True, he may have perceived the future that Sahei’s sharp intelligence promised, but there is said to have been another, darker reason, not mentioned even in The Life of Sahei Inugami: Sahei was an extraordinarily handsome young man. He was radiantly handsome and would retain traces of that attractiveness even in his declining years. Because of this youthful radiance, Daini was drawn to Sahei. People whispered of a homosexual relationship between them and pointed out that Haruyo, as soft-hearted and understanding as she was, left Daini a little more than a year after Sahei’s arrival and returned to her parents’ home for a time. Daini, as rumor had it, was so infatuated with Sahei that he completely ignored her.
After Sahei found other lodgings, however, the rift between husband and wife appeared to be mended, and Haruyo soon returned. Perhaps the couple grew closer, for Haruyo gave birth to a daughter, Noriko, several years later. Noriko eventually married and was blessed with a daughter she named Tamayo—one of the principals of our tale.
After leaving Daini’s home, Sahei, with the priest’s help, found employment at a small silk mill. Who would have guessed that from this humble beginning he would eventually 12establish the Inugami Group, one of Japan’s leading business enterprises? Smart and quick, Sahei mastered in one year what it took others several to learn. Moreover, although he had left Daini’s house, he remained a frequent visitor, and the priest continued to enrich Sahei’s mind, gradually transforming him into an educated and cultured man. Even Haruyo, who had left her husband once on account of Sahei, must have come to terms with her feelings, for she is said to have treated him like a brother, busily seeing to his needs whenever he visited.
The Japanese raw silk industry was in its infancy when Sahei was first employed at the silk mill in 1887. He soon understood the organization of the mill and the how-tos of selling raw silk, and when he decided to strike out on his own, it was Daini Nonomiya who provided him with the necessary capital.
Sahei’s business grew by leaps and bounds. As Japan became more powerful during the years of the Sino-Japanese War, the Russo-Japanese War, and World War I, raw silk became a major export item, and the Inugami Silk Company was solidly established as a top-ranking business enterprise.
Daini Nonomiya died in 1911 at the age of sixty-eight. Although he had been the first to finance Sahei’s business, he had steadfastly refused to accept any share of the Inugami Group’s enormous profits. No matter how much Sahei protested, Daini would accept only the amount he had originally invested, plus a bit of interest. The priest led a life of noble poverty to the end. Soon after Daini’s death, Sahei found a suitable husband for Noriko, a man who would marry into the Nonomiya family and succeed Daini as priest of Nasu Shrine. For a long time, Noriko and her husband 13were childless, but in 1924, more than ten years after they wed, they were blessed with a daughter they named Tamayo.
Both Noriko and her husband, however, died before Tamayo reached the age of twenty. And because Tamayo’s grandmother Haruyo had died before she was born, the young woman found herself with no one to turn to. Sahei therefore brought her into the Inugami household, seeing to it that this orphaned daughter from the family of his revered master and mentor was treated with the courtesy due a special guest.
Sahei himself, for some unknown reason, never married. He sired three children—three daughters—all with different women, none of whom he made his legal wife. His three daughters married and had children of their own, with each bridegroom marrying into the Inugami clan, taking on the family name, and being appointed manager of one of the company’s offices. The husband of the eldest daughter, Matsuko, was placed in charge of the Nasu head office, that of the second daughter, Takeko, the Tokyo branch office, and that of the third and youngest daughter, Umeko, the Kobe branch office. Until the day he died, however, Sahei refused to hand over the all-powerful helm of the Inugami Group to any of his sons-in-law.
On February 18, 194_, the members of the Inugami clan were gathered around the dying Sahei. Matsuko, the eldest daughter, was in her early fifties, and at the time was leading the most solitary life of all the members of the clan. Her husband had died a few years before, and her only son, Kiyo, had not yet returned from the war. He was alive, she knew, for he had written to her from Burma soon after the war’s end, but she had no idea when he would be allowed to come 14home. Kiyo was the only one of Sahei’s three grandsons who was not present on this day.
Next to Matsuko sat the second daughter, Takeko, her husband, Toranosuke, and their children, Také and Sayoko. Také was twenty-eight, and his sister, Sayoko, twenty-two. Behind them were Sahei’s youngest daughter, Umeko, her husband, Kokichi, and their only son, Tomo, who was a year younger than Také. These nine people—the eight present plus the absent Kiyo—were Sahei’s relations, making up the entire Inugami clan.
There was, however, another person—a person whose fate was closely intertwined with Sahei’s—who kept watch by his deathbed. This was the Nonomiya family’s sole surviving member, Tamayo. She was twenty-six.
Everyone sat silently, listening to the old man’s breathing become weaker and weaker. Strangely, they showed no trace of grief at losing a loved one. Not only was there no grief, but impatience—terrible impatience about something—was written on the faces of all except Tamayo, as they sat wondering, guessing, and conniving to find out what the others had in mind. Whenever they looked away from the old man, who was sinking fast, their eyes would invariably dart over the faces of the others.
It was their ignorance of Sahei’s intentions that was causing their impatience. Who would take over the huge Inugami Group after the old man’s death? How would his enormous fortune be divided? He had never given any indication of his wishes. Then, too, there was a particular reason for their irritation and anxiety: Sahei, for reasons unknown, had never felt any love for his daughters and, what was more, had not an ounce of faith in any of their husbands. 15
As the doctor took his pulse, Sahei’s breathing weakened further still. Unable to restrain herself any longer, Matsuko leaned forward. “Any last words, Father? Any last words for us?”
Sahei must have heard her voice, for his eyes opened slightly.
“Father, if you have any last wishes, please tell us. We all want to hear what you have to say.”
He must have understood Matsuko’s true meaning, for the old man smiled faintly and pointed his trembling finger at a man seated at the far end of the room. Indicated thus by Sahei, Kyozo Furudate, the Inugami clan’s attorney, coughed softly and said, “I have Mr. Inugami’s last will and testament in my safekeeping.”
Furudate’s statement exploded like a bomb in the hushed scene of impending death. Everyone except Tamayo turned in shock toward the lawyer.
“So, there’s a will…” Toranosuke gasped softly. Flustered, he took out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his brow, wet with perspiration even in the February cold.
“And when is this will to be read? As soon as the chief is dead?” Kokichi, too, could not conceal his impatience.
“No, I’m afraid not. According to Mr. Inugami’s wishes, his will is to be read only when Mr. Kiyo has returned.”
“When Kiyo has returned…” muttered Také, an uneasy look on his face.
“I hate to say it, but what if Kiyo doesn’t make it back?” At Takeko’s words, Matsuko shot a menacing glare at her half-sister.
“Takeko’s right,” chimed in Umeko. “He might be alive, but he’s in far-off Burma. Who knows what could happen before 16he reaches Japan?” There was venom in her voice, as if she cared not at all about Matsuko’s feelings.
“Well, should that be the case,” the lawyer said, clearing his throat softly, “I am authorized to read the will on the first anniversary of Mr. Inugami’s death. Until that time, the Inugami Foundation will be entirely in charge of managing all Inugami businesses and the estate.”
An uncomfortable silence fell over the group. On everyone’s face—everyone’s, that is, except Tamayo’s—there was restlessness, apprehension, and a certain hostility. Even Matsuko stared at the old man’s face with a mixture of hope, anxiety, expectation, and hate.
Sahei, however, continued to lie with a faint smile on his lips. Opening wide his eyes, which could no longer focus clearly, he looked one by one at the faces of Matsuko and the other members of his clan. Finally, his gaze reached Tamayo and stopped. The doctor, who had been taking Sahei’s pulse, solemnly proclaimed him dead.
That was the end of the life of Sahei Inugami—the end of his eighty-one turbulent years. In hindsight, we now know that his death set in motion the blood-soaked series of events that later befell the Inugami clan.
A Woman of Extraordinary Beauty
On October 18, eight months after Sahei’s death, a man checked into the lakeside Nasu Inn. He was, to put it mildly, of less-than-impressive appearance: mid-thirties, slightly built, with an unruly mop of hair, and wearing an unfashionable serge kimono and wide-legged, pleated hakama trousers, both very wrinkled and worn—and he had a slight tendency to stutter. The name he wrote in the guest register was Kosuke Kindaichi.
Those who have read of Kindaichi’s exploits in the series of chronicles that begin with The Honjin Murders are, of course, already familiar with him. For those readers who have yet to meet him, I will briefly introduce him.
Kosuke Kindaichi is a private investigator. He has what can be described as an inscrutable air, seeming, as he does, to float above worldly cares and desires. Physically, he is a stammering, inconsequential fellow with nothing to recommend him, but his remarkable faculty for reasoning and deduction has been attested to in the cases of The Honjin Murders, Gokumon Island, and Yatsuhaka Village. When he is excited, his stuttering is aggravated, and he tends to scratch his tousle-haired head with frightful vigor. It is not a very pleasant habit.
Shown by the maid into a second-floor tatami-mat room commanding a view of the lake, Kindaichi immediately picked up the phone and asked the operator for an outside line. 18
“Yes, in an hour, then. That’s fine. I’ll be waiting for you.” He hung up and glanced back at the maid. “I’m expecting someone in about an hour. When he comes and asks for me, please show him to this room. My name? Kindaichi.”
After a quick soak in the inn’s bath, Kindaichi returned to his room. Then, with a frown forming on his face, he took a book and a letter from his suitcase. The book was The Life of Sahei Inugami, which had been published by the Inugami Foundation the previous month. The letter was from a man named Toyoichiro Wakabayashi of the Furudate Law Office in Nasu.
Kindaichi pulled a chair onto the balcony overlooking the lake and began leafing through the pages of the obviously much-read book. Soon, laying the book aside, he took the letter from its envelope and began rereading its extraordinary contents:
Dear Mr. Kindaichi:
It is with tremendous regret that I, who have not yet had the pleasure of your acquaintance, am disturbing you with this unexpected correspondence, but there is something that I absolutely must request of you. My request involves the surviving family of none other than Sahei Inugami, whose biography I have taken upon myself to send to you under separate cover. I am extremely concerned that the Inugami clan will be faced with a grave situation in the near future. By grave situation, I mean events soaked in blood, the sort of events which I believe are your specialty. One family member after another falling victim—when I think of this, I cannot sleep at night. In fact, it is not a situation that might occur in the future; 19it is already occurring this very minute. If we ignore it, I have no idea what a terrible catastrophe it could lead to. Therefore, although I realize the impertinence of my request, I am writing to bid you to come to Nasu and to conduct an investigation into this matter, so as to prevent such a tragedy. When you read this letter, you will probably doubt my sanity. But let me assure you, I am not insane. It is not because of insanity, but from the utmost anxiety, dread, and terror, that I am imploring you for help.
If upon your arrival, you will please phone me at the Furudate Law Office number shown on the envelope, I will come to see you immediately. On bended knees, I beseech you not to ignore my request.
Best regards,toyoichiro wakabayashi
p.s. Please keep the contents of this letter strictly confidential.
The letter was awkwardly written, as if someone used to writing in a formal epistolary style was trying hard to adopt a colloquial tone. When he had first received it, even Kindaichi, who was rarely perturbed, could not help but be stunned. “I am not insane,” the correspondent had written, but everything indicated otherwise. Kindaichi had even considered the possibility of a practical joke.
The words “events soaked in blood” and “one family member after another falling victim” meant that the writer was anticipating a series of murders. But if so, how could he know that? Someone planning a murder would not divulge such a secret, and besides, murder is not something that 20can be carried out so easily, even if one has formed a plan to do so. The writer’s strong confidence that the impending murders were certain to occur made him sound a little crazy.
Assume, then, that such a plan did exist and that this Wakabayashi had somehow found out about it. Why not, then, inform the potential victims? Even if he found it difficult to go to the police when no crime had yet been committed, he could surely whisper it confidentially to those unfortunate enough to be the intended victims. If for some reason he could not tell them in person, he could use some other means—an anonymous letter, for instance.
At first, therefore, Kindaichi had considered just laughing off the letter. But a certain sentence had left him vaguely uneasy: “In fact, it is not a situation that might occur in the future; it is already occurring this very minute.” Did the writer mean that some sinister event had already transpired? Kindaichi had also been struck by how Wakabayashi seemed to work for a law office, indicating that he was probably an attorney or trainee—a person who might indeed be in a position to uncover a family secret and detect a murder plot.
For these reasons, Kindaichi had studied the letter repeatedly and then read the copy of The Life of Sahei Inugami that Wakabayashi had sent. His interest had instantly been aroused by the book’s description of the complex family circumstances surrounding the Inugami clan. Kindaichi already knew that old Sahei Inugami had died in early spring, but when he recalled having learned somewhere that the reading of Sahei’s will was being postponed until one of his grandsons was repatriated, his curiosity grew even more. So, Kindaichi had scurried to finish the case that had been 21occupying him at the time, and with suitcase in hand, he had appeared suddenly in Nasu.
With the letter and book in his lap, Kindaichi was abstractedly mulling over the situation when the maid entered his room, bringing tea.
“Oh, Miss, Miss.” Kindaichi hastily stopped her, for she had turned to go as soon as she had placed the cup of tea on the table. “Where is the Inugami estate?”
“You can see it over there.” Looking to where the maid pointed, Kindaichi saw, several blocks from the inn, a handsome, cream-colored European-style villa and a Japanese-style building, topped by a roof with an intricate confusion of angles. The back yard extended all the way to the lake and was connected with its waters by a large sluice.
“I see. A grand mansion indeed. By the way, I read that one of Mr. Inugami’s grandsons hasn’t returned from the war yet. Has anything happened since? Is there no word yet?”
“Actually, they say that Mr. Kiyo arrived in Hakata the other day. His mother was overjoyed, of course, and she’s gone to fetch him. I heard they’re staying at their house in Tokyo right now, but that they’re coming to Nasu in a few days.”
“Ah, so he’s back in Japan.” The timing of this new turn of events made Kindaichi’s heart race.
Just then, the sluice gate of the Inugami estate slid silently upward, and a rowboat glided out onto the lake. In it was a lone figure, a young woman. A man ran onto the berm outside the gate as if to see her off, and they exchanged a few words, but she waved goodbye and the man shuffled back inside the gate. The woman rowed smoothly, pulling the oars with accomplished strokes. She was clearly enjoying herself. 22
“Is that woman one of the Inugamis?” asked Kindaichi.
“Oh, that’s Miss Tamayo,” the maid replied. “No, she’s not a family member, but I heard that she’s related to someone who used to be like a master to old Mr. Inugami. She’s so unbelievably beautiful. Everyone says there couldn’t be anyone more beautiful in all of Japan.”
“Wow, that attractive? Alright, let’s get a good look at her face.”
Chuckling at the maid’s exaggerated words, Kindaichi fished a pair of binoculars out of his suitcase and focused it on the woman in the boat. As he fixed his eyes on the comely face that appeared through the lens, a thrill ran up his spine. The maid had not exaggerated. Kindaichi, too, had never seen such an extraordinary beauty in all his life. As Tamayo pulled on the oars with her chin slightly lifted, lost in her pleasure, her loveliness was almost ethereal. Her shoulder-length hair curled softly at the ends, and she had full, healthy cheeks, long eyelashes, a well-shaped nose, and irresistible, charming lips. With her sporty outfit clinging tightly to her supple body, the graceful line of her figure was something words could not adequately describe.
When a woman is so exquisite, the effect can be frightening, even terrifying. Kindaichi was watching Tamayo with bated breath, when suddenly her expression changed. Tamayo stopped rowing and glanced quickly around the bottom of the boat. Then, for some reason, she cried out, dropping her oars, causing the boat to list and sway violently. She stood up, eyes wide with terror, and frantically waved her hands above her head. The boat was rapidly sinking beneath her. Kindaichi leaped out of his wicker chair.
The Viper in the Bedroom
Kindaichi had by no means forgotten about the visitor he was expecting, but he assumed Wakabayashi would not arrive for some time. Besides, he could not ignore someone drowning in front of his eyes. He therefore dashed headlong out of his room and down the stairs. In hindsight, this was the first event that disrupted his investigation of the Inugami case. If Tamayo had not been facing a watery death at that moment, and if Kindaichi had not rushed to her rescue, no doubt he would have been able to solve the case much earlier than he did.
Kindaichi scrambled down to the ground floor, the maid following close behind. Shouting, “This way, sir!” she dashed into the yard in her socks and began running toward the back gate. Kindaichi chased after her. The lake was nearby, and moored to the small pier were several of the inn’s boats, provided so guests could enjoy themselves on the lake.
“Can you handle a rowboat, sir?”
“Yes, don’t worry.” He knew he was a good oarsman. Kindaichi jumped into one of the boats, and the maid swiftly undid the mooring line.
“Be careful, sir.”
“Right.” Taking hold of the oars, Kindaichi began rowing with all his strength. Looking out toward the middle of the lake, he saw the boat, already half submerged, and Tamayo crying desperately for help. 24
Lake Nasu was not very deep, but its shallowness made it all the more treacherous. The weeds grew to lengths of several meters from the bottom, and tangled as they were, like a woman’s hair, it was not unusual for someone—even an expert swimmer—to drown if accidentally caught in them. What was more, it often took a very long time for the corpse to rise to the surface.
Others must have heard Tamayo’s screams, for soon after Kindaichi set off, several boats began pulling away from the pier of the boat rental shop across the way. From the inn, too, the manager and other male employees who had rushed outside at the maid’s calls were noisily following in other boats. Ahead of them all, Kindaichi was rowing frantically, when all of a sudden he noticed a man—the one whom he had earlier seen waving at Tamayo—run from the area of the sluice gate onto the berm. Realizing what was happening out on the water, the man swiftly took off his jacket and trousers and, diving with a splash into the lake, started swimming toward the sinking boat.
His speed was amazing. His arms whirled round and round like waterwheels, raising a terrific spray. Leaving a long trail behind him like a silver snake slithering over the water, he made straight for the boat.
In the end, it was he who reached Tamayo first. By the time Kindaichi finally drew near, her boat was already submerged up to the gunwale, and the man was holding her, as she slumped exhausted in the water.
“Are you alright? Come on, climb up quick.”
“Thanks, sir. Help Missy here, will you? I’ll keep the boat steady.”
“Alright, then, let me have her.” 25
Tamayo thanked Kindaichi and, clinging to his arm, just barely managed to pull herself into his boat.
“Now it’s your turn,” Kindaichi said to the man. “Climb aboard.”
“Yeah, thanks. Don’t mind if I do. Will you hold on to that side so the boat don’t flip over?”
He scrambled aboard with great agility, and in that moment, Kindaichi, observing him square in the face for the first time, was struck by a singular impression: the man looked just like a monkey. With his low brow, deep-set eyes, and abnormally hollow cheeks, his appearance could only be described as simian. Yet though his face was ugly beyond measure, his every action radiated sincerity.
The man spoke sharply to Tamayo as if scolding her. “See now, Missy, I told you so. Didn’t I tell you over and over to be careful? I mean, this is the third time.”
The third time? The words rang loudly in Kindaichi’s ears.
Tamayo looked somewhat startled and, like a child reprimanded for being disobedient, half laughed and half cried, “But, Monkey, there was nothing I could do. I had no idea there was a hole in the boat.”
“There was a hole in the boat?” Kindaichi stared at Tamayo in spite of himself, eyes wide in surprise.
“Yes, I think so. It seems there was a hole, and someone had plugged it up with something. Whatever it was, it got dislodged and…”
Just then, the manager of the inn and a crowd of customers from the boat rental shop drew near. Kindaichi sat lost in thought for some time before turning to the manager. “I wonder if you could do something for me. Could you find 26some way to keep this boat afloat and tow it back to shore? I’d like to take a look at it later on.”
The manager agreed to do so, though he had a puzzled expression on his face. Ignoring his look, Kindaichi turned to Tamayo. “Okay, let’s take you home. As soon as you get there, I want you to jump into a hot bath and keep warm so you don’t catch cold.”
“Yes,” she replied. “Thank you very much.”
Leaving the manager and onlookers still clamoring loudly about this and that, Kindaichi began slowly rowing the boat, Tamayo and Monkey sitting in front of him. With her head resting against Monkey’s broad chest, Tamayo seemed completely reassured and content. Monkey had a horribly unattractive face but a powerful, rock-like body, and as Kindaichi watched Tamayo being held securely in Monkey’s thick, sturdy arms, he was reminded of a fragile vine clinging to an ancient pine tree.
Seen up close in this way, Tamayo’s beauty was all the more remarkable. The loveliness of her features went without saying, but the faint, youthful glow of her wet skin was absolutely radiant. Even Kindaichi, who was rarely affected by feminine allure, felt his heart pounding.
He sat gazing dreamily at Tamayo’s face for some time, but realizing that she had noticed his stare and was blushing, he became flustered and gulped. Somewhat abashed, he turned to Monkey. “You said something strange a while ago—that this was the third time. Have things like this happened before?”
Monkey’s eyes flashed suspiciously. Searching Kindaichi’s face, he said sullenly, “Yeah, a lot of strange things have been happening recently. That’s why I’m worried.” 27
“Strange things?”
“Oh, it’s nothing, really,” Tamayo interjected. “Monkey, you’re just being foolish. Are you still dwelling on what happened? Those were just silly accidents.”
“Accidents? Missy, you could’ve been killed. I just think it’s all very strange.”
“What do you mean? Just what kind of things have happened?”
“One time, a snake was coiled up inside Missy’s bedding. Good thing she noticed quick like, ’cause if it’d bit her, well, she may not have died, but she would’ve been really sick. Then, the second time, somebody messed with the brakes on her car so they wouldn’t work. Almost went off a cliff, she did.”
“No, no, it wasn’t like that. It all happened purely by chance. Monkey, you just worry too much.”
“But if these kinds of things keep happening, who knows what might happen next? When I think of that, I get really worried.”
“You silly thing. What more could possibly happen? I’ve got luck on my side. I’m just naturally lucky, so I’ve always come out alright. Don’t worry so much, or you’ll end up making me nervous.” As Tamayo and Monkey were thus sparring, the boat reached the sluice gate of the Inugami estate.
Kindaichi left them on the berm. They thanked him, and he rowed back toward the inn. On the way, he reflected upon what he had just heard from Monkey. A viper in the bedroom, faulty brakes, and now, a hole in the boat—were they really all chance occurrences, as Tamayo insisted? Or was someone’s relentless will at work? If the latter, it meant only one thing: that someone was after Tamayo’s life. Couldn’t there 28also be some connection between these so-called accidents and Wakabayashi’s ominous premonition? Yes, he would ask Wakabayashi, who should be arriving at the inn soon. Kindaichi began to pull the oars more strongly.
Returning to the inn, he found that Wakabayashi had already arrived. The maid informed him, “Your guest came asking for you, sir, so I showed him up to your room.”
Kindaichi hastened to the second floor and went to his room, but Wakabayashi was nowhere in sight. He had definitely been there, however, for a cigarette butt lay still smoldering in the ashtray and an unfamiliar hat had been tossed in a corner of the tatami-mat room. He must have gone to the restroom, Kindaichi thought, and sat down in the wicker chair. But wait as he did, the visitor did not reappear. Too impatient to wait any longer, Kindaichi rang for the maid.
“What happened to my guest? He seems to have disappeared.”
“He has? I wonder what happened. Maybe he’s gone to the restroom.”
“That’s possible, but even so, he’s been gone too long. Maybe he’s waiting in some other room by mistake. Try to find him, will you?”
“How strange. I wonder where he’s gone.” The maid left with a puzzled expression on her face. She had not been gone long, however, when Kindaichi heard her shrill scream. Leaping to his feet in alarm, he ran in the direction of her voice and found her cowering in front of the restroom, her face pale as if drained of all blood.
“W-w-what’s wrong?”
“Sir, sir, your guest, your guest…” 29
Kindaichi looked where she was pointing. The door of the restroom was ajar, and through the opening he could see a man’s legs sprawled across the floor. With a sharp intake of breath, he opened the door and stepped inside the restroom. The sight before him riveted him where he stood.
A man wearing dark sunglasses was lying prone on the white tile floor of the restroom. He must have writhed in horrible agony before he died, for the collar of his overcoat and his muffler were in disarray, and his fingers were contorted, as if he had desperately clawed the floor. The white tiles were spattered with the blood he had coughed up.
Kindaichi stood frozen for a while, but then approached cautiously and lifted the man’s arm. Of course, there was no pulse. He removed the man’s sunglasses and looked back at the maid. “Do you recognize him?”
The maid peered fearfully into the dead man’s face. “Why, it’s Mr. Wakabayashi!”
At her words, Kindaichi’s heart turned over. Stunned, he was unable to move.
Mr. Furudate
Kindaichi could not imagine a worse disgrace. He had always believed the relationship between private investigator and client to be like that between priest and confessor. Just as a sinful confessor pours out his soul to his priest and places himself in the priest’s hands, a client divulges to a detective secrets he would never tell anyone else and seeks his help. To do this, a client must have the utmost confidence in the detective’s character, and so the detective must repay his client’s trust. Kindaichi had always believed this and prided himself on never having betrayed a client’s trust. With this case, however, no sooner had the client turned to him for help than he had been murdered, and after coming to Kindaichi’s own room, no less. For Kindaichi, could there be a worse humiliation?
Examined from a different angle, moreover, it seemed undeniable that the person who had killed Wakabayashi had realized that the victim had intended to reveal at least part of his secret to a detective named Kindaichi, and that the killer had resorted to such a ruthless act so as to prevent this from occurring. That would mean that the murderer already knew of Kindaichi’s existence and was presenting him with a challenge. Speculating in this way, Kindaichi felt his blood boil and a fierce desire to fight growing inside him.
At first, Kindaichi had been rather skeptical about this case and had doubted that the events Wakabayashi feared would actually come to pass. Now, however, all his doubts had 31been cast aside. The case seemed to have roots far deeper than even Wakabayashi’s letter had indicated.
Be that as it may, Kindaichi at the outset found himself in a rather awkward position. He was not, after all, Sherlock Holmes: his renown had not reached every far corner of the earth—including this one. It was therefore quite difficult for him to explain his situation to the chief of the Nasu police and the detective in charge, both of whom had rushed to the inn upon hearing the news. Moreover, he had some scruples about making the contents of Wakabayashi’s letter public immediately, and for that reason especially, he hesitated to let the police know his real reason for coming to Nasu.
As a result, the detective in charge was vaguely suspicious of Kindaichi. He interrogated him regarding every minor detail of his relationship with Wakabayashi. Kindaichi finally hedged by saying that he had been commissioned to conduct an investigation, but that now, with the client dead, he had no way of finding out what it was about. The detective made it clear, although he took pains to phrase it discreetly, that Kindaichi was to remain in Nasu for the time being—something to which Kindaichi had no objections, for he himself had firmly resolved not to leave town until he had solved the case.
An autopsy was conducted on Wakabayashi’s body that very day, and the cause of death was confirmed. He had indeed been poisoned. Oddly, however, the poison had been detected not in gastric tissue but in lung tissue. In short, Wakabayashi had not drunk the poison, but had smoked it.
With this revelation, the cigarette butt the victim had left in the ashtray instantly commanded attention. It was a foreign brand, and tests showed that the poison had been 32mixed in with the tobacco. Curiously, too, although several cigarettes still remained in Wakabayashi’s cigarette case, none of them had been tampered with, and only the one in the ashtray had been lethal. In other words, the murderer had not decided to kill Wakabayashi on a specific day or at a specific time; all that mattered was that he die sooner or later.
This method seemed extremely casual, yet for that reason it was all the more subtle and ingenious. The killer did not need to be in the victim’s presence when the death occurred and so would be much less likely to fall under suspicion than with other means of poisoning. Kindaichi could not help but marvel at this devious plan. The person who had thrown this challenge in his face was no easy foe.
On the day after Wakabayashi’s death, Kindaichi received a visitor at the Nasu Inn. The card the maid brought up read “Kyozo Furudate.”
Recognizing the name with a start, Kindaichi narrowed his eyes. This Furudate must be the head of the Furudate Law Office, the man who was the Inugami clan’s family lawyer and who was charged with the safekeeping of Sahei Inugami’s will. With some apprehension, Kindaichi told the maid to show him up immediately.
Furudate was a middle-aged gentleman of swarthy complexion and a rather stern countenance. All the time observing Kindaichi cautiously, with a lawyer’s sharp, shrewd eyes, he nonetheless used the politest of terms to introduce himself and to apologize for visiting unannounced.
Kindaichi, as was his habit, scratched his head briskly. “I must say, I was quite shocked yesterday. But it must have come as a big blow to you, too.” 33
“Yes, it’s so extraordinary, I still can’t believe it’s true. I came here today because I wanted to ask you about it.”
“Yes?”
“The police told me just now that Wakabayashi intended to commission you to investigate some matter.”
“Yes, that’s right. But he was killed before he had a chance to tell me what it was, so I’m afraid I’ll never know what he wanted me to look into.”
“Surely you must have some idea. I mean, he must have contacted you by letter or something.”
“Well, yes…” Kindaichi fixed his gaze intently on the lawyer. “Mr. Furudate, you’re the Inugami clan’s attorney, are you not?”
“Yes, I am.”
“In that case, you wish to protect the family’s honor?”
“Of course.”
“To tell the truth, Mr. Furudate,” Kindaichi abruptly lowered his voice, “I kept this from the police since I, too, did not want to damage their honor, and I thought it best not to say anything unnecessarily—but I received this letter from Mr. Wakabayashi.” Kindaichi took out the letter, passed it to Furudate, and carefully studied his expression as he read it.
Profound surprise swept rapidly over the lawyer’s face. Deep furrows lined his dark brow, and he began to perspire freely. His hands trembled as he held the letter.
“Mr. Furudate, do you know anything about what is written in this letter?”
Furudate, who had sat stupefied for some time, started when Kindaichi spoke. “Well, no…”
“I find it quite strange. I mean, even if there were indications that something might happen to the Inugamis, why 34would Mr. Wakabayashi know about it? From this letter, it seems that he was quite certain. Do you have any idea why he felt so sure?”
An expression of utmost agitation had appeared on Furudate’s face. He obviously knew something.
Kindaichi leaned forward. “Mr. Furudate, weren’t you aware that Mr. Wakabayashi had sent this letter, that he had asked me to investigate something?”
“Not at all. Thinking back, though, he was acting strange. He seemed jumpy, afraid of something.”
“Afraid of something?”
“Yes. Of course, I realized this only after he was killed.”
“What could he have been afraid of? Do you have any idea?”
“Well, in regard to that…” Furudate seemed to be debating something with himself. Making up his mind, he went on, “Actually, that’s what I came to discuss with you today. It’s about Sahei Inugami’s will.”
“What about the will?”
“I have the will locked inside my office safe. Yesterday, after what happened to Wakabayashi, I felt uneasy, so I looked inside the safe. There are indications that someone has opened and read it.”
“Someone’s read the will?”
Furudate nodded gravely. Kindaichi asked somewhat breathlessly, “And would there be a problem if someone has read the will?”
“Well, it would have been opened and read sooner or later anyway. Now, of course, since Kiyo has finally returned, it will be read in a few days. But I have always been concerned that it might cause big trouble.” 35
“Is there something unusual about the will?”
“Extremely!” Furudate spoke with emotion. “It is so unusual as to be somewhat irrational. I tried my best to dissuade the old man—I told him it would make the members of his family hate each other—but he was so stubborn.”
“Can’t you tell me what it says?”
