The Decagon House Murders (8 page)

The fire is thought to have started in the kitchen. The murderer had splashed kerosene all over the mansion and then set fire to it in the kitchen.

‘As you know, the police have set their minds on the theory that the missing gardener is the murderer. But there are still points that remain unclear.

‘For example, the problem of Kazue’s left hand. What reason could Yoshikawa have had for cutting off the lady’s hand and taking it with him? And there’s the problem of his escape route. The only motorboat on the island was still in the inlet. He could have hardly killed four people and then gone swimming across the sea to the mainland in late September. The police, of course, also looked into the possibility of the murderer being someone from the outside, but that theory seemed to fit less and less the further they pursued it. The rough outline of the case as proposed by the police based on the “Yoshikawa equals murderer” theory is—Don’t mind me, please eat your meal.’

‘Wha—oh, yes.’

Kawaminami’s pizza toast and coffee had been brought during Shimada’s explanation. It was not because he was being polite that he had not touched it. He had been so intrigued by Shimada’s story he had forgotten to eat.

‘Motives. They came up with two. The first was that he wanted Seiji’s fortune, so: robbery. The other is that he had feelings for Kazue, or that they had secretly had a relationship. It was probably a combination of the two.

‘Yoshikawa first knocked everybody out with sleeping medicine before he started his crime spree. He tied Kazue up, did the same to Seiji and locked him up somewhere else. He then took Kazue to the bedroom and satisfied himself with her. Kazue was the first to be killed, and her estimated time of death was one or two days earlier than that of the other three victims. While there is no definite proof, it appears that he raped Kazue after her death. The Kitamura couple were murdered next. They were probably still asleep because of the sleeping medicine. And Seiji was last. Yoshikawa doused Seiji with kerosene in his sleep and then went to the kitchen to start the fire.’

‘But, Mr. Shimada,’ Kawaminami asked, pausing with his cold coffee in mid-air, ‘why did the murderer keep Seiji alive until then? The same for the Kitamura couple. If he was going to kill them anyway, wouldn’t it have been safer to do it right away?’

‘He might not have planned to kill them right from the start. He might have panicked after he killed Kazue. The fact he saved Seiji for last does support the idea that the motive was robbery.’

‘Why?’

‘Because of
Nakamura Seiji’s characteristics as an architect
.’

‘Nakamura Seiji as an architect?’

‘Yes. I told you just now that Seiji was a bit peculiar. There is a certain monomania, a childish touch, a playful heart to be sensed from all the buildings Nakamura Seiji designed, including the Blue Mansion and its annex building the Decagon House. They are all a showcase for his peculiar tastes. One of them being what you might call a
love of gimmicks
.’

‘Gimmicks?’

‘Yes. I can only take a guess at the number, but the burnt-down Blue Mansion was full of gimmicks like hidden rooms, cabinets and vaults. Only Nakamura Seiji knew the location of each of them.’

‘So if someone were looking for his money, he’d need to get that information out of Seiji.’

‘Yes. Therefore the gardener wouldn’t have killed Seiji right away.’

Shimada paused for a moment and placed one elbow on the table.

‘And that’s all that’s known about the case and the investigation. The police are still looking for the missing gardener Yoshikawa. It doesn’t seem likely they will find him, though. Got any questions, my dear Conan?’

‘Let me think.’

Kawaminami drank the last few drops of his coffee in one gulp and became lost in thought.

Based on what Shimada had told him, the line of investigation the police were following did seem the best. But it was all just conjecture based on circumstance. In other words, it was nothing more than an attempt to make sense out of the confused situation.

The biggest hurdle in the case was the fact the Blue Mansion had burnt down completely. Because of that, the crime scene had even fewer hints to offer than usual. And there was nobody left alive to tell them what had happened during the incident, or the time leading up to it.

‘You’re looking very serious, Conan,’ said Shimada, licking his lips. ‘Now it’s my turn to ask you a question. It’s not directly connected to the case on Tsunojima, though.’

‘Yes?’

‘I want to ask you about that girl Chiori. I knew Kō had a niece and that she was staying at Kazue’s parents’ place because of school. I’ve also heard she died in an unfortunate accident last year, but I don’t know any of the details. What kind of girl was Nakamura Chiori?’

Immediately, a look of sadness crossed Kawaminami’s face.

‘She was a quiet girl. She wasn’t one to stand out and always had a sad aura about her. I hardly talked to her. But she was always very pleasant. She would happily help out with odd jobs during parties and suchlike.’

‘And how did she die?’

‘It happened in January last year, at the Mystery Club’s New Year’s party. She died of acute alcohol poisoning.’

As he recounted the events, Kawaminami’s eyes unconsciously wandered to the window.

‘Usually when we have parties, she would leave after the first session, but that night we had an after-after-party, and we nagged her to come along. We really were an awful lot. She always had a weak body. But everyone got caught up in it and they made her drink too much.…’

‘
They
made her drink?’

‘Yes. I went to the after-after-party myself, but I had some other business and I left early with a friend of mine, Morisu. The accident happened after that. No—.’

Kawaminami silently put his hand on the letter in his jacket pocket.

‘No, it wasn’t an accident. We might really be the ones who killed her.’

Thinking about Chiori’s death, Kawaminami really did feel some responsibility. If he hadn’t left early, he might have prevented the others from making Chiori drink too much.

‘Are you free this evening?’

As if he had perceived the dark feelings in Kawaminami’s heart, Shimada suddenly put the question in a cheerful tone.

‘What about it? Let’s have a bite and a drink somewhere.’

‘But—.’

‘My treat. But in return, I want to talk to you about mystery fiction. I don’t have any friends to talk about that, sadly enough. Do me this favour.’

‘Alright, gladly.’

‘Okay. Let’s go to O—City then.’

‘But Mr. Shimada….’

‘Yes?’

‘I haven’t asked you yet, but how did you and Kōjirō come to know each other?’

‘Ah, that’s right. Kō was my senior at university.’

‘University? You also did Buddhist Studies?’

‘Well, in a way.’

With an embarrassed look, Shimada scratched his nose.

‘Actually, my family runs a Buddhist temple just outside O—City.’

‘Oh, so you’re a Buddhist priest?’

‘I’m the youngest of three brothers and even at this age I’m still just loafing around, so I can hardly go calling other people weird. My father is over sixty, but still full of energy, so the only time I can recite a sūtra for the dead is when someone dies in a detective novel I’m reading,’ said Shimada and he solemnly put his hands together.

5

My daughter Chiori was murdered by all of you.

Morisu Kyōichi took up the letter from the low glass table once more and let out another sigh. He was leaning against the side of his bed and his two tired legs were stretched out on the thick grey carpet.

“My daughter Chiori was
murdered
by all of you.”

He read the neatly aligned letters written with a word processor. His thoughts were indescribable.

The after-after-party of the New Year’s party of the Mystery Club, January last year. Morisu and his classmate Kawaminami Taka’aki had left the party early. It had happened after their departure.

The name of the sender on the back of the envelope said “Nakamura Seiji.” The man who was murdered six months ago on Tsunojima. Someone Morisu had never even seen or spoken to.

Morisu’s room was on the fifth floor of Tatsumi Heights, a single- room apartment building just across the main street in front of O—City Station, near the harbour.

He put the letter back in the envelope and reached out for the Seven Stars on the table, as he shook his head lightly. Lately, he had not been enjoying his cigarettes as much as he used to. But the craving for nicotine had not stopped.

What could the gang on Tsunojima be doing at that very moment?

As the thought crossed his mind, Morisu looked across his neat room. Near the wall stood an easel with an oil painting in progress. Several stone Buddha statues staring into time, surrounded by trees with fading colours. He had discovered this view on the Kunisaki Peninsula, somewhere on a mountain that nobody visited. He had only just begun to add a little colour to the charcoal sketch.

The smoke irritated his throat. He almost choked and threw the cigarette he had only inhaled once or twice into the ashtray filled with water.

He had a bad feeling. As if something unexpected were about to happen.

At that moment, his phone rang.

He looked at the clock. It was almost midnight.

There’s only one person who would call me at this hour.…

After waiting several seconds, Morisu picked up the receiver.

‘Hey, are you there Morisu?’

It was the familiar voice of Kawaminami Taka’aki, as he had expected. Morisu felt relieved.

‘Hey, Doyle.’

‘I told you to stop calling me that. I tried to call you this afternoon.’

‘I went for a ride on my motorbike to Kunisaki.’

‘Kunisaki?’

‘Yes, I told you I was doing a painting there, didn’t I?’

‘Oh. By the way, Morisu, did you receive a strange letter today?’

‘Sent by Nakamura Seiji? Yes. I rang your place about twenty minutes ago to ask you the same question.’

‘So you got one, too.’

‘Yep. Where are you now? Can you come over?’

‘That’s why I called. I’m in the neighbourhood. We need to talk about this letter. I need to pick your brains.’

‘I don’t have enough brains to pick.’

‘Two heads are better than one, and three are even better. I mean, is it okay if I bring someone along?’

‘Sure. I’ll be waiting.’

*

‘I thought the letter was just a prank in very bad taste, though I didn’t really get the meaning of it,’ Morisu said as he compared the two letters placed next to each other on the table.

‘But it did say “all of you,” so I had a suspicion I wasn’t the only one who got one.’

‘Yours appears to be a copy. I think the one that came to my place is the original.’

Kawaminami took up his own letter.

‘A similar letter was delivered to Higashi’s house. I’ve already checked that on the phone. And while the message was worded slightly differently, another letter signed by Nakamura Seiji was delivered to Nakamura Kōjirō.’

‘Nakamura Kōjirō?’

Morisu frowned.

‘You mean Nakamura Seiji’s younger brother?’

‘Yes. His letter said “Chiori was murdered.” I went to Beppu today to visit him. That was where I met Mr. Shimada.’

Morisu made another small bow to the man he had just become acquainted with. Kawaminami and Shimada had been drinking before they came and the latter’s thin, swarthy face had turned quite red. Kawaminami also seemed to have drunk a lot, as his breathing was uneven and his eyes were quite red.

‘Explain everything to me from the beginning,’ said Morisu. Kawaminami leaned forward and quickly recounted what had happened that day. His breath reeked of alcohol.

‘As always, you’re like curiosity on wheels.’

After listening to the story, Morisu stared in amazement at Kawaminami.

‘So you haven’t slept at all since yesterday?’

‘Now you mention it, no. Anyway, it’s mysterious, right? Who wrote all these letters and for what purpose? Any ideas?’

Morisu put a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes.

‘An accusation, a threat and a call to reconsider the Tsunojima case. Yes, I think you’re onto something. Especially the message telling us to investigate the Tsunojima case. It feels a bit forced, but it certainly is interesting. I also think there’s something more to be discovered there. Ex—excuse me, Mr. Shimada.’

Shimada had been dozing off, his body leaning against the wall. Woken by Morisu, he stood up and rubbed his face like a cat.

‘Mr. Shimada, there’s one thing I want to ask you.’