The Decagon House Murders (16 page)

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Authors: Yukito Ayatsuji

BOOK: The Decagon House Murders
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‘We need to think about this seriously.’

‘I know. We’re not joking around just because we want to.’

Ellery pushed Poe’s cigarette case back and took his own Salem pack from the breast pocket of his shirt. He took out a cigarette and tapped the filter on the table to pack the tobacco down.

‘Let’s start by going over the facts,’ he said. ‘It was Carr himself who asked for coffee. While Agatha was in the kitchen, the rest of us remained here. It took about fifteen minutes for Agatha to boil some water, make the coffee and return with the cups on the tray. Agatha placed the tray on the table. To be precise, the tray contained six coffee cups, the sugar jar, the jar of powdered milk and seven spoons placed on a saucer, one of them to be used for the milk. Is that correct, Agatha?’

She nodded meekly.

‘Regarding the order in which the cups were taken,’ continued Ellery. ‘I took the first cup. Next was?’

‘I was,’ said Leroux. ‘Almost at the same time as Carr.’

‘I was next I think,’ said Poe.

‘And then I took one and placed the tray in front of Van. Right, Van?’

‘Yes, that’s right.’

‘OK. Just to check: Myself, Leroux and Carr, Poe, Agatha and Van.’

Ellery put his cigarette in his mouth and lit it.

‘Let’s think about who had a chance to put the poison in Carr’s cup. First of all, Agatha.’

‘But I could have picked the poisoned cup myself. And there was no way I could have arranged for Carr to have chosen that particular one,’ Agatha countered with a cool voice. ‘If I were the murderer, I would have put the poison in the coffee and then handed out the cups to you myself.’

‘Now that you mention it, you’ve always handed out the cups to us. Why didn’t you do so this one time?’

‘I just didn’t feel like it this time.’

‘Ah. But I will tell you this, Agatha: the murderer might not have been targeting Carr in particular. The murderer’s end goal is to kill all of us, but it doesn’t really matter who “The Second Victim” is.’

‘So you say that Carr just happened to draw the short straw.’

‘I think that’s the most logical approach to take. Nobody was sitting on either side of Carr, correct? Nobody could have put poison in his coffee after it had been brought here. So it could only have been you.’

‘But the poison could also have been in the sugar or the milk.’

‘But you yourself also took milk, remember? And the sugar is also out. Like me, Carr took his coffee black. So he didn’t use a spoon either.’

‘Ellery, wait.’ Leroux chimed in. ‘I saw Agatha while she was making coffee. The kitchen door was open and my chair was right opposite to that, so I had a clear view of Agatha’s hands. The counter table was also well-lit because of the candle on top of it. She didn’t do anything suspicious.’

‘Glad you told us that, but I’m afraid that doesn’t constitute conclusive evidence. Considering the distance between this table and the kitchen counter, it’s possible you might have overlooked something. It isn’t like you were keeping a watch on her from start to finish.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Nothing to be sorry about.’

‘No, I mean, I
was
keeping a watch on Agatha all the time.’

‘Leroux.’

Agatha’s eyes widened in surprise. Leroux looked away and repeated ‘I’m sorry’ with a timid voice.

‘But it was the natural thing to do. The person who killed Orczy this morning is one of us here and it might have been Agatha. Even our dinner of crackers, some canned food and juice was a horror to me. In fact, I think that you of all, Ellery, acted the strangest, being the first of us who tried the food, eating as if nothing had happened.’

‘Really?’ A faint smile appeared on Ellery’s lips. ‘So Leroux, you are absolutely positive that Agatha isn’t the murderer.’

‘Well, that’s.…’

‘Carr is dead. So it’s a fact someone administered poison to him. Surely you don’t think his death was a suicide?’

‘No.…’

‘But as I just said to you, Ellery, if I were the murderer, how could I have avoided winding up with the poisoned cup myself? I drank my coffee.’

Ellery blinked slowly as he put out his Salem in the decagon-shaped ashtray.

‘There were only six cups. You could easily have remembered the position of the poisoned cup. You picked your own cup and gave the last to Van. If the poisoned cup had been among the last two cups, you could have simply passed that cup on to Van. Even if you had ended up with the poisoned cup, you could simply not have drunk from it.’

‘It wasn’t me.’

Agatha’s long hair swung wildly around as she shook her head. Her hands holding the edge of the table trembled.

‘Ellery,’ Van said weakly. ‘If Agatha’s the murderer, would she really commit it in this manner, where she would end up as the most obvious suspect? Agatha’s not that stupid. What do you think, Poe?’

‘I agree with you,’ said Poe and turned to Ellery.

‘The only light in this hall is the lamp on the table. Also, I doubt anyone was watching the others as we all got up to get our cups of coffee from the tray.’

‘What do you mean, Poe?’

‘Ellery, you were the first to pick up a cup. You could have quickly put some poison you had hidden in your hands beforehand in another cup. What about it, magician?’

‘Haha. So you noticed.’

A bitter smile appeared on Ellery’s calm face.

‘I can only say I didn’t do that.’

‘We can’t just take that on your word. But there are other possibilities, too. The poison could have been given to Carr before the coffee, for example.’

‘A slowly dissolving capsule?’

‘Precisely.’

‘But then you’re the one who becomes the most suspicious, Doctor. If you think about it, no amateur could easily get his hands on poisons like arsenic and strychnine. Poe of the medical faculty, Van of the science faculty or Agatha of the pharmacy faculty. Leroux and I are from humanities. We don’t have anything to do with labs full of dangerous drugs and strong poisons.’

‘Anyone could steal some poison if they really wanted to. The security of the labs and experiment rooms at our university is laughable. It’s the same with the agriculture and engineering faculties. If you just pretend you belong there, you can just walk in. Also, it was none other than you, Ellery, who once said he had relatives in O—City who ran a pharmacy.’

Ellery made a little whistle.

‘Good memory you have.’

‘Basically, it’s pointless for us to sit here discussing where the poison came from.’

Poe leant forward slowly.

‘And there’s still another possibility as to how the poison was administered. I can’t believe it hasn’t occurred to you. It could have been smeared on one of the cups beforehand. Then any one of us could have done it.’

‘Precisely.’

Ellery brushed back his unruly lock of hair and smiled. Agatha stared at him, perplexed.

‘You thought of that, Ellery?’

‘Of course. Don’t think I’m stupid.’

‘Yet you still accused me of being the murderer.’

‘I was also planning to go after the others and tease them a bit.’

‘I think you’re horrible.’

‘We’re not in a normal situation here, so you can’t expect me to act normal.’

‘You.…’

‘By the way, Agatha, there’s something I want to ask you.’

‘What now?’

‘Just want to check, did you wash the cups before you made the coffee?’

‘No, I didn’t.’

‘When were they last washed?’

‘We drank tea after we came back from exploring the island, remember? They were washed then. I placed the washed cups on the counter.’

‘Together with the seventh cup, Orczy’s cup?’

‘No, I put Orczy’s cup back in the cupboard. I just couldn’t look at it anymore.’

‘Hm. That’s alright. That means the possibility the cup was poisoned beforehand becomes more plausible. One could just go into the kitchen in the evening and smear some poison on one of the cups. Anyone could have done that.’

‘But Ellery,’ Leroux said, ‘how would the murderer then know which of the cups was poisoned? There was nobody here who didn’t put their lips to their cup.’

‘There must have been some sort of mark.’

‘A mark?’

‘Yes. The cup might have been chipped or the colour may have worn off,’ said Ellery and he reached out for Carr’s moss green cup.

‘Anything?’

‘Wait a sec—oh, that’s strange.’

Ellery cocked his head in surprise and passed the cup to Leroux.

‘You take a look. I don’t think it looks any different from the others, though.’

‘Really?’

‘Not even a small crack?’ Agatha asked.

‘Nothing at all. Maybe you’ll find a little crack under a microscope.’

‘Stop joking. Give me that.’

The cup was passed to Agatha.

‘You’re right. There’s nothing here that could serve as a mark.’

‘So does that mean that the cup wasn’t poisoned beforehand?’

Ellery stroked his hair with a dissatisfied look on his face.

‘So, here are the three current theories: Agatha’s the murderer, or I’m the murderer, or someone who made Carr swallow a poisoned capsule is the murderer.’

‘Whoever it is, we won’t be able to determine the method and the identity of the murderer here,’ Poe said. Ellery reached out for Carr’s cup, which Agatha had placed on the table and contemplated it.

‘If it’s someone from outside, then it wouldn’t matter whether there was a mark or not.’

‘What did you say, Ellery?’

‘Nothing…’

Ellery looked away.

‘What bothers me is the motive. I think we can assume that the person who killed Orczy and Carr and the person who arranged those plates are one and the same. That means that he, or she, is serious about taking the lives of at least five of us here on the island. Five, assuming that “The Detective” won’t end up as “The Sixth Victim” too.’

‘But a motive for that...’ muttered Leroux, shaking his head weakly.

‘There has to be one,’ Ellery said decisively, ‘however weird it might be.’

‘The murderer must be mad, insane!’ Agatha shrieked. ‘We can’t understand the thoughts of a madman!’

‘Insane…’ repeated Ellery and he lifted his left hand to look at his watch.

‘It’s almost morning. What should we do?’

‘We need to sleep. We won’t get any answers if we just keep discussing while we’re all as tired as this.’

‘I think so too, Poe. I can’t go on much longer anymore either.’

Ellery rubbed his eyes and got up unsteadily. He put his hands on his hips and went to his room.

‘Wait, Ellery.’ Poe stopped him. ‘Wouldn’t it better if we all slept together here?’

‘I don’t want to!’ Agatha looked at everybody with frightened eyes.

‘What if the person next to you is the murderer? He could just reach out with his arms and strangle you. That thought alone is enough to frighten me.’

‘I doubt the murderer would do something as stupid as killing the person next to him. He’d get caught immediately.’

‘Can you be absolutely sure, Poe? What if we’re all killed before we catch the murderer?’

Agatha almost burst into tears as she stood up, knocking her chair over.

‘Agatha, wait.’

‘No! I can’t trust any of you.’

Agatha fled to her room. Having witnessed the scene, Poe let out a long sigh.

‘She’s in bad shape.’

‘Only natural.’

Ellery raised both hands and shrugged.

‘To be honest though, I feel the same as Agatha. I’ll sleep alone, too.’

‘Me too,’ added Leroux. The eyes behind his glasses were red. Van followed as well, leaving Poe, who was running his hands through his hair, alone.

‘Make sure you lock up, everyone.’

‘We know,’ said Ellery, looking briefly at the front entrance doors.

‘Even I’m afraid to die.’

 

 

 

CHAPTER SIX: THE THIRD DAY ON THE MAINLAND

 

Dusk was approaching.

The sea was turning dark. Kawaminami was standing on an embankment, peering at the faraway shape of an island floating in the sea. Beneath the staircase that led down to the sea was the crouching, lean body of Shimada, who was disturbing some children who were fishing.

They had finally come here—to S—Town.

Could Nakamura Seiji still be alive? They had come here in the hopes of finding a clue that could support the answer they had arrived at last night. They had also wanted to take a look at Tsunojima.

But after half a day spent questioning local people and fishermen, all they had unearthed was a bunch of ghost stories. Having discovered nothing that could further their investigation, the two had come to this place down by the harbour to relax a little.

Kawaminami put a cigarette to his lips, sat down and stretched his legs. He watched Shimada, who was dressed in blue jeans and a green blouson, while listening to the rolling waves close by. Shimada didn’t seem like a man in his late thirties at all, with his childish voice and his playing with a fishing rod lent to him by the kids.

“He’s strange,” Kawaminami thought. Then he recalled how the discussion last night between Shimada and Morisu had unexpectedly taken an awkward turn, and let out a deep sigh.

Shimada and Morisu had completely opposite personalities in a way. If Morisu was yin, then Shimada was yang. In the eyes of the serious and introverted Morisu, Shimada, a person who simply followed his own interests and instincts, must have appeared to be an inconsiderate busybody. And Shimada was a lot older than Kawaminami and Morisu. That must have rubbed him the wrong way, too. Shimada in turn seemed to be disappointed in the goody-two-shoes act of Morisu, spoiling his fun.

‘Mr. Shimada, isn’t it about time to go?’ Kawaminami stood up and yelled to him. ‘The trip back will probably take another hour.’

‘Let’s go then.’

Shimada gave the children their fishing rod back and waved goodbye. His long legs brought him back to Kawaminami in a few steps.

‘You seem to like children.’

‘Well, yes,’ Shimada said without any hesitation. ‘Don’t you think it’s wonderful to be young?’

The two walked side by side along the path next to the embankment.

‘We didn’t discover anything today.’

‘Oh, really?’

Shimada grinned.

‘We gathered some ghost stories, didn’t we?’

‘Those are just rumours you’ll hear everywhere. Such stories always circulate when people die under unusual circumstances.’

‘I disagree. No matter how strange it may sound, I think that the truth might be hidden somewhere in those stories.’

A swarthy, well-built young man was repairing a net on the side of the road with expert fingers. He was probably not even twenty. There was something childlike about his enthusiasm for the job in hand.

‘You know, Conan,’ Shimada said, ‘I can only hope that your comrades—no, ex-comrades—don’t get caught up in the spell of the Tsunojima ghost.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean that the ghost of Tsunojima might well be none other than the man thought to be dead, Nakamura Seiji. Seiji is still alive and on the island. And your ex-comrades unwittingly went to his place.’

‘But that’s.…’

‘Sorry.’ A voice they didn’t know interrupted them. Surprised, they turned around. The voice was that of the young man repairing the net.

‘You friends of those students who went to the island?’

The young man asked in a loud voice, his hands still holding the net.

‘Yes,’ answered Shimada immediately and he walked up to the man. ‘Do you know them?’

‘Father and I took them to the island. We’re going to pick them up again next Tuesday.’

‘That’s interesting,’ said Shimada enthusiastically, and he crouched down next to the man. ‘Was there anything strange about the group that went to the island?’

‘Not really. They were all excited. Don’t know what’s so interesting about that island though.’

The young man spoke bluntly, but his eyes, fixed on Shimada, seemed friendly. He ran his hand through his short hair and spoke again, showing his bright white teeth.

‘You trying to find something about them ghost stories?’

‘Ah, yes. Something like that. Have you seen the ghost?’

‘No. That’s just a rumour. I don’t believe in no monsters.’

‘Ghosts and monsters are different beings.’

‘That so?’

‘You know who the ghost is?’

‘That Nakamura Seiji guy, right? They say his wife’s haunting the place too.’

‘Well then, have you never considered the possibility that Seiji might still be living on the island?’

The young man raised an eyebrow in surprise.

‘Still living? Didn’t he die? That’s why he’s a ghost.’

‘He might not have died,’ Shimada said gravely. ‘For example, that story about the lights going on in the Decagon House: it might be Seiji himself who puts on the lights there. Those stories of people seeing Seiji, isn’t it more realistic to assume he’s really still alive, rather than that they saw his ghost? And they also said a motorboat going near the island had sunk. What if Seiji had killed those fishermen and sunk the boat because he had been seen?’

‘You’re a funny lot.’ The young man chuckled in amusement. ‘But those stories about the boat are wrong. ‘Cause I was there, I saw how the boat turned over.’

‘What?’

‘The waves that day were high, you see, and I happened to be there, so I warned them. I told them there was nothing but small fish to find around that island. But they didn’t listen and went off. And they had just left here and hadn’t even come close to the island when a high wave caught them. Old folk might say a ghost sank the boat, but that was just an accident.

‘And you said the ghost killed the fishermen, but in truth nobody died. All the men on the boat were saved.’

Kawaminami, who stood next to the two listening to them, suddenly burst out laughing. Shimada pouted his lips.

‘Then I’ll take back the thing about the boat. But still, I think that Seiji might still be alive.’

‘Alive and living on the island, you mean? What’s he eating, then?’

‘He could have a motorboat hidden somewhere. He could go out sometimes to get provisions.’

‘Well now,’ the young man looked doubtful.

‘You think it’s impossible?’

‘I guess it’s possible if he came up at the other side of J—Cape in the night. Nobody goes out there. But if he just tied his boat there, somebody might discover it, don’t you reckon?’

‘He probably hides the boat somehow. Anyway, as long as there’s no storm out there, a motorboat is enough to cross the sea, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah. With the weather right now, you could manage with a boat with an outboard motor even.’

‘I see, I see.’

Shimada hummed happily and jumped up.

‘Thank you very much. Yes, I learned something good.’

‘Really? You’re really funny.’

Shimada waved to the young man and walked to the car parked further down the road. Kawaminami ran after him.

‘And Conan?’ Shimada grinned, ‘Great catch we made, don’t you think?’

Kawaminami was not sure what part of the talk right now could be called a “great catch.” He didn’t know what it was, but he was sure Shimada wasn’t talking about abandoning the theory of Nakamura Seiji still being alive.

‘Yes,’ he said half-heartedly.

But whatever he’s thinking.…

Kawaminami thought, looking at the lingering sun above the sea on the other side of the embankment:

They are on that fateful island now. Ah well, what’s the worst thing that could happen there?

The black shadow of Tsunojima melted silently into the twilight.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER SEVEN: THE FOURTH DAY ON THE ISLAND

 

1

 

The noise of people talking.

The voices were not loud, nor did they come from close by. Familiar tones, familiar intonations. And, as background music, the constant pounding of waves. Waves? Yes, the sound of waves….

Slowly, he was dragged out of his sleep. And then.…

He opened his eyes and his body sprang awake on top of the stuffy bed. His hands searched for his glasses and he turned to lie on his back. A white ceiling entered his corrected, clear vision. He sighed wearily.

I’m in the Decagon House
.

His throbbing temples ached. With each beat, memories he didn’t care to remember flashed through his mind.

Shaking his head slowly as if it was broken and in need of care, he got out of bed and, with numb movements, put on his clothes. He went over to the window and untied the belt that held both handles in place. He unlocked the window and pushed it open, together with the shutters.

The overgrown lawn. The leaning pine trees. The dark sky, as if coloured by thin ink.

He stretched his arms. He managed to take a deep breath. After inhaling some fresh air he closed the window, locked it once again and tied the belt around the handles. He finally got out of his room.

Ellery and Van were the people talking in the hall. Agatha and Poe were also already up and standing in the kitchen.

‘Morning, Leroux. I’m glad to see you’re all right,’ Ellery said without any hint of humour, pointing at a spot behind Leroux and at a slight angle.

‘What?’

Leroux turned round, put his glasses in his nose and saw, to his surprise:

 

The Second Victim

 

It was on the door of Carr’s room.

The plastic plate was hanging at eye level, covering Carr’s own nameplate, exactly as had been done with Orczy.

‘Our murderer is a reliable fellow. Glad he went to all that trouble for us.’

Leroux backed away, turned around, and looked at Ellery, who was sitting on one of the chairs with his long legs crossed.

‘You returned the remaining plates to the cupboard drawer, I assume?’

‘Yes. You’re going to suggest we get rid of them, I suppose?’

Ellery put the plates from the drawer on the table and slid them towards Leroux. He counted six plates.

‘But….’

‘As you can see, the plate of “The Second Victim” is still there. The murderer is well prepared. Figured we’d keep an eye on the plates that were first placed here once something happened. Probably has another set of the same plates. And also—keep this a secret from Agatha—.’

Ellery lowered his voice to a whisper and beckoned him to come closer.

‘A secret? Why?’

‘She might become very agitated if we don’t break it to her gently. It happened before she got up, so Van, Poe and I discussed it and decided to hide it.’

‘What did you hide?’

‘What do you think?’

‘No idea.’

‘It was Poe who found it. He woke up around noon and, after washing his face, he happened to take a look at the bath unit in the back. And there.…’

‘There was something there?’

‘Yes. Inside the bathtub lay a hand covered in blood.’

‘What!?’

Leroux put his hand to his mouth.

‘O-Orczy’s?’

‘No, you’re wrong there. It wasn’t Orczy’s hand.’

‘But then whose?’

‘It was Carr’s. Carr’s left hand was cut off and placed there.’

‘No way.’

‘The murderer probably waited for all of us to fall asleep and did it this morning. We didn’t lock the door to Carr’s room. Anyone could have sneaked in and cut off the hand. Given enough time, even Agatha could have done it.’

‘And where’s the hand now?’

‘We put it back in Carr’s bed. We can’t count on the police coming here any time soon and we couldn’t just leave it there either.’

‘But why—.’ Leroux put his fingers to his throbbing temples. ‘But why would the murderer do such a thing?’

‘Why indeed.’

‘Is it an “allusion” again? But even so….’

Agatha and Poe came out of the kitchen and prepared the table. Spaghetti, bread pudding with cheese, potato salad and soup.

Leroux sat down and looked at his wristwatch. It was already three o’clock in the afternoon.

He had only eaten once yesterday. He should have been starving, but he had no appetite at all.

‘Leroux, Poe kept an eye on me all the time, so you can just enjoy your meal without any worries. I also washed all of the tableware again. Or do you think Poe and I are in this together?’ said Agatha sarcastically. She had probably hardly slept. Her lightly made-up face showed signs of fatigue. Her rose-pink lips, too, had lost their usual colour.

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