The Decagon House Murders (11 page)

‘Why?’

‘Think about it. In cases where several people gather in one place and they get killed one by one, the person behind it is usually the host or organiser.’

‘That’s just in mystery stories.’

‘And those plates announcing our murders were nothing more than props for this particular mystery story. He’s the one behind it. He’s our culprit. What’s wrong with assuming that it’s just like what happens in the books?’

Carr thrust out his chin.

‘Anything to say, our dear host Van?’

‘Enough of your jokes.’ Holding the jug and the glass in his hands, Van stamped his foot on the floor. ‘I wasn’t the one who invited you all here. I only told you that my uncle bought the place. The organiser of this trip was our upcoming editor-in-chief, Leroux.’

‘He’s right. Leroux told me about it and I was the one who had the idea of us all coming here,’ Ellery said angrily.

‘If you want to suspect Van, you’ll need to suspect me and Leroux too. Or else your reasoning lacks logic.’

‘I don’t like “great detectives” who spout out deductions only after someone has been killed.’

Ellery shrugged his shoulders in disdain.

‘And your theme of the host being the murderer is just too clichéd. It certainly won’t help you find a “great criminal.” If I were the culprit, I’d just have made use of the invitation sent to all of us.’

‘What nonsense!’ exclaimed Poe, putting his half-smoked cigarette out violently.

‘Great detectives, great criminals, can’t you keep fiction separate from reality? Van, you don’t have to listen to this kooky lot. Go to sleep.’

‘Kooky?’

Carr’s look hardened and he stamped his foot. ‘Who’s kooky!?’

‘Just try and use some common sense.’

With a sour look on his face, Poe lit a new cigarette.

‘First of all, this discussion is absolutely useless. This isn’t the first time the seven of us have got together somewhere. Of course it’s possible that Van’s the one, and that he lured us all here with some delicious bait. It could also have been Ellery or Leroux, who came up with the plan for the trip. Or you, Carr, might be the one who had been waiting for the perfect chance to execute your plans. If we’re just arguing possibilities, we could go on for ages.’

‘Poe’s right,’ said Agatha. ‘This argument isn’t going anywhere.’

‘Also,’ said Poe as he calmly puffed smoke out of his mouth, ‘you all assume that those plates were indicating a murder, but don’t you think that’s just nonsense? All of us love the game called mystery fiction and we’re gathered on an island with a bloody backstory. Why can’t you just consider those plates a part of the whole picture?’

Poe then expounded on the theory he’d proposed to Van in his room that afternoon.

‘That’s it, Poe!’

Leroux clapped his hands excitedly.

‘Salt in our coffee?’

Ellery put both his hands on his head and leaned backwards on his chair.

‘If this really ends with a pinch of salt, I’ll take my hat off to our criminal for his sense of humour.’

‘Glad you all can still be so optimistic.’

Carr stood up with a sullen look and stormed back to his own room. Van said “goodnight” in a hoarse voice and he, too, disappeared into his room.

‘I’m curious as to the identity of our murderer.’

Agatha smiled at Orczy.

‘Ye—yes,’ replied Orczy with downcast eyes.

Ellery took the blue bicycle cards out of his pocket and fanned them out on the table.

‘Alright, who shall “The First Victim” be? This game has become interesting.’

It might have been simply a flight from fear
.
Every one of them had felt relieved by Poe’s theory. The choking anxiety that had hung in the air since the morning had suddenly been dispersed.

However, there was one person on the island who knew that the words on the plates meant exactly what they said.
 

CHAPTER FOUR: THE SECOND DAY ON THE MAINLAND

1

The car went west on National Route 10.

Kawaminami would occasionally steal a glance at Shimada Kiyoshi, sitting in the driver’s seat behind the steering wheel. With every glance, Kawaminami needed to suppress the urge to burst out laughing. The car this third son of a Buddhist priest was driving was a red Familia. In contrast to the jeans and sweater outfit of yesterday, Shimada was wearing a dark grey suit and sporting a pair of fancy saxe-blue sunglasses. The mismatched items strangely managed to come together, however, thanks to Shimada’s personality.

The first name of the missing gardener’s wife, Yoshikawa, was Masako and she was still living in Ajimu, according to Shimada. He had managed to find out her address that morning and had made an appointment with her for the same afternoon.

The car had left Beppu in the direction of the mountains and passed through the Myōban Hot Spring area.

Tent-like structures made of straw could be seen on both sides of the small road. Smoke rose through gaps in the straw. The inhabitants were looking for mineral salt left by dried-up hot springs. The salt, known as “hot water flowers,” was
used as a bathwater additive.

They finally reached the slope which would lead them down into the Usa district.

‘And how did your work go, Conan?’ asked Shimada.

‘Ah, sorry, I haven’t told you yet.’

Kawaminami, who had been leaning on the passenger side window watching the scenery go by, scratched his head and straightened up in his seat.

‘There were some I couldn’t get hold of, but I think we can safely assume that everyone who was at the after-after-party has received the letter.’

‘Okay. And how many of them have gone to the island?’

‘Some of them live on their own, so I’m not sure, but probably all of them except for Morisu and me, who left the party early.’

‘That suggests that something really is going on.’

‘I agree. But I think Morisu would challenge that assumption and say that we might be looking at it from the wrong end.’

‘The wrong end?’

‘Yes. Because it’s hardly a coincidence that the members who were present at the after-after-party, are also the ones on the island. They’re members who often meet together anyway, and that’s why they went to the after-after-party and to the island together. So the fact they all got the letters and went on a trip to Tsunojima might mean nothing at all.’

‘That’s a peculiar way to think about it.’

‘Morisu is always careful. And he’s also very single-minded and that causes him to act even more cautiously, or something like that.’

‘But he gladly took on the role of detective last night.’

‘That’s true. That shows that even he was startled by the letters. But he’s actually a very clever guy.’

Kawaminami Taka’aki and Morisu Kyōichi had made a great team during the former’s time in the club.

Kawaminami was bursting with curiosity and energy. If something sparked his interest, he couldn’t stay still. But he was also quite aware that his own abundant curiosity could often cause him not to consider the situation deeply enough. He also knew that, while his enthusiasm could flare up in a flash, he could also lose interest just as fast.

Morisu, on the other hand, could feel passionate about things in a different way from Kawaminami, yet it was rare to see that side of him in his every-day life. He was the type who kept his thoughts to himself, thinking everything over until he was satisfied before taking any action. To Kawaminami, his friend Morisu was a wise advisor, who would stop him from making rash assumptions or jumping to wrong conclusions.

‘
For now, you’ll have to allow me to take on the role of armchair detective
,’ he’d said.

That was the perfect role for Morisu, Kawaminami thought. He wasn’t one for false modesty, but he knew that the role of Watson fitted him better. Morisu would be the one playing Holmes.

Kawaminami took another look at Shimada Kiyoshi sitting next to him.

But this man wouldn’t settle for the role of a Watson or a Lestrade either.

The car reached a plain with a great view. Slopes covered with long grass extended as far as the eye could see.

‘The mountain on our left is Mount Tsurumi, right?’

‘Yes. It’s been a popular spot for hang-gliders lately.’

‘How far is it to Ajimu?’

‘We’ll reach the Usa District at the bottom of this slope. Then we’ll have to climb another one to reach Ajimu Steppe. It’s half past one now, so we should arrive there before three.’

Kawaminami put both hands on his waist and stretched his back, yawning.

‘Tired, Conan?’

‘I’m a night person, so I had trouble getting up early today.’

‘You can sleep now. I’ll wake you when we get there.’

‘Ah, sorry, if you don’t mind.’

Kawaminami reclined his seat and Shimada put his foot down on the accelerator.

2

The woman at the front door was not at all like the person Kawaminami had vaguely imagined. Yoshikawa Masako appeared to be a reserved but friendly woman, dressed in a
komon
kimono. With the preconception he was going to meet the wife of a man who had killed four people because of some sort of distorted love, Kawaminami had actually expected an unsociable woman.

She was in her early forties at the most, but because of her worries, her face looked much older and more tired.

‘My name is Shimada, I called you this morning. I apologise for calling you out of the blue,’ said Shimada. The gardener’s wife bowed her head.

‘You said you were a friend of Mr. Kōjirō. You must have come a long way.’

‘You seem to know Kō, I mean, Nakamura Kōjirō.’

‘Yes. I’m in much debt to him. As you probably know, I was working in the mansion on Tsunojima before I married my husband. I had been there ever since Mr. Seiji moved to the island. It was Mr. Kōjirō who recommended me for that position.’

‘Ah, now I understand. So that’s where you first met your husband?’

‘Yes. My husband was also working at the mansion at the time.’

‘Is this his family home?’

‘Yes. We lived in O—City for a while after our marriage, but we moved here because of his parents’ health.’

‘So he had to travel quite a distance to work?’

‘When we moved here, he quit all his jobs except for the ones at the mansion on Tsunojima and Mr. Kōjirō’s home in Beppu.’

‘Oh, so your husband was also responsible for Kōjirō’s garden?’

‘Yes.’

‘The reason why we came here today is this letter—it was sent to my friend Kawaminami here,’ said Shimada, showing her the letter Kawaminami had given him earlier.

‘What is this?’

‘It’s a letter from someone using the name of the deceased Nakamura Seiji. A similar letter was sent to Kōjirō.’

‘How awful.’

‘We thought the letter might have something to do with what happened on Tsunojima. And we hoped you might tell us something that could help us.’

Masako seemed perplexed, but eventually looked up at the two men.

‘Come inside. And would you be so kind as to burn some incense for my husband.…’

*

Shimada and Kawaminami were led to a badly-lit
tatami
room.
Through the open sliding paper door they could see a small family altar behind Masako, who had sat down opposite them in a traditional
seiza
position.

The new memorial tablet appeared to float in the dark.

‘As you know, my husband was never found. Last month, with the new year, I finally gave up on him and we held a ceremony in private.’

She fought back tears as she was talking.

‘But isn’t there a possibility your husband is still alive?’

‘If he were still alive, he would have contacted me.’

‘But—.’

‘I will tell you this: my husband was absolutely incapable of doing something that atrocious. I know the rumours, but I don’t believe any of it. Everybody who knew him says the same.’

Masako’s tone was defiant. Shimada nodded quietly.

‘I heard that your husband left for the island three days before the mansion burned down. When exactly was that?’

‘He left here in the early morning of September 17th.’

‘And he didn’t happen to make any calls to you between then and the morning of the 20th, when the fire broke out?’

‘He did once, in the afternoon of the day he left.’

‘By phone?’

‘Yes. He told me he’d arrived safely.’

‘Did he act any differently from usual?’

‘He was the same as ever. But he did say that the madam had been ill.’

‘Mrs. Kazue?’

‘My husband didn’t see her around, so when he asked Mr. Seiji, he said the madam had been taken ill and was in bed.’

‘Aha.’

Shimada pouted his lips slightly and scratched the bridge of his nose.

‘I ask you this, knowing it to be very rude, but is there anything to the rumours of your husband having feelings for Mrs. Kazue…?’

Masako went pale. ‘Both my husband and I were very devoted to the madam,’ she replied, ‘but as I said before, my husband would never do the evil things some people suggest. The accusation that my husband was in love with the madam is just nonsense. And what’s more….’

‘Yes?’

‘The rumours my husband wanted to steal Mr. Seiji’s fortune are also nothing but baseless accusations. There wasn’t anything left.’

‘Nothing left? There was nothing to steal there anymore?’

‘I shouldn’t have spoken.’

‘No, please. I understand that you are upset.’

Shimada’s deep-sunk eyes gleamed.

‘So there was nothing left of Seiji’s fortune?’ he muttered. Then, as if he’d just remembered something, he added:

‘I heard that Seiji and Kōjirō didn’t get along as brothers. What are your views on that?’

‘Hmm,’ Masako murmured vaguely, ‘Mr. Seiji could be a bit peculiar.’

‘Did Kōjirō ever visit the island?’

‘He occasionally visited when I was still working there, but I heard he hardly went there after I left the job.’

‘During the time you were working there… I see.’

‘Excuse me.’

Kawaminami, who had been listening in silence up to that point, interrupted.

‘Do you know what happened to Nakamura Chiori? I knew her from university. That’s why I got the letter Mr. Shimada showed you.’

‘Miss Chiori?’

Masako looked down at the dark
tatami
mats.

‘I still remember her from when she was a little girl. My husband occasionally told me about her after I’d left the island—the poor girl. She was still so young when it happened.’

‘Up to what age did Chiori live on the island?’ queried Shimada.

‘I think she moved to her grandfather’s place when she started kindergarten. My husband said that she only returned sporadically to the island and it was her mother who usually went out to O—City to meet her. The madam really loved her daughter.’

‘And Seiji?’

Shimada leaned slightly forward.

‘How did Seiji treat his daughter?’

‘He….’

Masako had trouble voicing her thoughts.

‘I think Mr. Seiji was probably not very fond of children.’

3

All in all, they talked for almost two hours.

They left the Yoshikawa residence in Ajimu after five. On the way back they stopped for dinner, so by the time they got back to Beppu it was already past nine.

Shimada was naturally tired because of the long ride. From time to time he would click his tongue at the lights of the oncoming traffic.

‘Is it all right if we make a detour through Kō’s place?’ he asked suddenly.

‘I don’t mind,’ answered Kawaminami, although he didn’t really feel like it. He’d felt dispirited ever since they’d left Ajimu.

This was mostly because of lack of sleep and physical fatigue. But he was also feeling disappointed and his mind felt exhausted, too.

Even though they’d gone all that way, they hadn’t managed to discover anything significant, he thought. He hadn’t expected to find a clear-cut answer, but he’d hoped for at least some new information.

For example….

And he hated himself for hoping so.

I would have been satisfied if Yoshikawa Masako had also received a letter signed by Nakamura Seiji.