Murder in the Crooked House Read online

  With its stunning backdrop, the scene could have been straight out of a hitherto unknown Wagner opera. Behind the tower hung a great black curtain, concealing backstage the northern sea buried in drift ice. The audience was transported to a different time and place—to nineteenth-century northern Europe. Everyone’s attention was on this performance of winter hell playing out beyond the proscenium arch.

  Finally, there was a loud clang as the giant bridge made contact with the tower and rested on its parapet.

  “Right, the bridge is in place,” Kozaburo called over his shoulder as he set out. “It’s a little steep, so be careful as you climb.”

  There was no need for the warning. The guests gripped the handrail as if their lives depended on it, as they inched their way out into the freezing air. The stairway, which led upwards like a ladder placed on a slant, gave the illusion that with so many people climbing at once, it might suddenly lurch sideways and turn upside down. Fearing such a disaster, everyone instinctively clung to the handrail, hoping this would be the one thing that saved them from tumbling to the ground. Glancing down, they saw that they were more than three storeys up, and they became even more terrified. It didn’t deter anyone that the handrail was as cold as ice.

  Arriving at the tower ahead of the rest, Kozaburo locked the end of the drawbridge firmly in place. The walkway at the top of the tower was maybe a little over a metre wide, and circled the whole tower; the eaves didn’t completely protect it from the snow, which had piled up all around.

  Right at the point where the drawbridge made contact with the tower there was a window, and about two metres to the right, a doorway. There was no light coming from inside, so Kozaburo slipped in through the door to turn on the room lamp, and came back out. The glow that shone from the window onto the walkway was enough for everyone to see where to put their feet. Kozaburo began to move in an anti-clockwise direction around the windswept walkway, past the window and the door. The guests filed along behind him, taking care not to tread in the heaps of snow.

  “My challenge is for you to tell me the significance of the design of the flower bed at the foot of this tower. That’s really all there is to it. Because of its size, when you’re down on the ground, standing in the middle of the plants, its shape is impossible to make out. And so I’ve brought you up here for a bird’s-eye view.”

  Kozaburo stopped walking and leant over the railing.

  “This is the perfect spot to get the full effect,” he announced, tapping the railing. The rest of the party lined up next to him and looked gingerly down in the direction of their own feet. Around three floors below them there was indeed a flower bed. It wasn’t difficult to make out, illuminated as it was by three sources of light—the regular garden lighting, the bulbs on the Christmas tree, and what spilt out from the salon window. As Kozaburo had promised, the full effect was clearly visible from where they stood. Covered in a layer of white snow, it looked like a decorated Christmas cake. The raised pattern stood out in clear relief against the darker shadows. (See Fig. 2.)

  Fig. 2

  Sasaki clung to the railing as he leant out for a better look.

  “Oh, that’s what it looks like!”

  His voice shivered from the cold and its battle with the noise of the wind.

  “Whoa! Splendid!” cried Kikuoka in his usual booming voice.

  “Right now, it’s covered in snow so we can’t enjoy the colourful leaves and flowers, but the parts where they’re planted are raised above the ground, so actually the basic design is much easier to make out than usual. There aren’t any distracting features to detract from the lines.”

  “It’s a fan,” declared Kikuoka.

  “Yes. It’s shaped a bit like a folding fan. But I don’t think it’s enough to say it’s fan-shaped,” said Sasaki.

  “Right. It’s not supposed to be a fan,” said Kozaburo.

  “You designed it to surround the tower, and so it ended up being that general shape,” said Sasaki.

  “You’re exactly right.”

  “There aren’t any straight lines.”

  “Hmm. Yet again, Mr Sasaki, you’re on the right track. There’s an important point in there.”

  Kozaburo looked along the row until he found Haruo Kajiwara, the chef.

  “What do you think, Mr Kajiwara? Can you solve a riddle like this one?”

  Kajiwara looked as if he hadn’t really thought about it at all.

  “No, I can’t. I’m sorry.”

  “Well, then… What kind of object is it? What are its properties? Any ideas? But there is one more thing I need to tell you. The location of this strange and unusual flower bed within the Ice Floe Mansion is of great significance. It has to be in that exact spot. I want you to think of it as part of the mansion itself. The reason this building is leaning slightly is because of the design of that flower bed. I want you to think hard about the connection.”

  Sasaki looked astonished.

  “It’s because of that flower bed that this building leans?”

  Kozaburo nodded.

  That strange flower bed and the slant of this building… pondered Sasaki, as he watched the falling snow that seemed to be sucked down by the flower bed below. As he stared down at the white walls that showed the strange design in relief, he thought how the snow was like a multitude of little darts flying towards their target. And slowly he began to lose his sense of balance, and fear that he too was going to fall. He guessed it was probably because the main building, as well as this tower, both leant in the direction of the flower bed as if they were about to topple right into it.

  Just a minute… Sasaki thought. He believed he had just made a connection. Was that it? The slant of the tower and the feeling you were about to fall, the unease, all those kinds of sensations, did they have something to do with the puzzle?

  Human emotions? But if that were the case this was a supremely difficult puzzle to solve. Vague, abstract ideas, but how did they connect? It was like some kind of Zen-style conundrum.

  A fan… a classic Japanese symbol. One that when you look down at it from a tall tower, you get the weird sensation you’re falling. That’s because the tower leans… Now what school of thought does a tower represent…? Was it that kind of a riddle, perhaps…?

  No, probably not after all, Sasaki decided. Kozaburo Hamamoto was more Western in his style and way of thinking. This wasn’t going to be a spiritual or philosophical problem. He definitely preferred the kind of puzzle that had a clear-cut answer, which when revealed, would be immensely satisfying and cause everyone to say, “Of course!” Which meant that there was a more concrete solution. It was a clever puzzle for sure.

  Sasaki continued to ponder.

  Togai, however, was even more enthusiastic than his friend.

  “I’d like to sketch the shape of the flower bed,” he said.

  “Of course you may,” replied Kozaburo. “But you don’t have a pen and paper with you right now, I’m sure.”

  “It’s cold.”

  Eiko spoke on behalf of the rest of the guests who were all starting to shiver.

  “All right, ladies and gentlemen, if we stay out here much longer we’re all going to catch cold. Mr Togai, I’m going to leave the bridge in place, so feel free to come up here and draw your sketch whenever you’d like. I’d love to invite you all to visit my room here in the tower, but with so many people it’d be terribly cramped. Let’s go back to the salon and ask Mr Kajiwara to serve us a cup of steaming hot coffee.”

  There were no objections to that plan. Kicking the snow out of their path as they walked, they set off to finish their tour of the walkway, back to where the drawbridge waited.

  As they made their way back across towards the main building, it was as if they were re-entering the real world, and there was a general sense of relief. Outside, at least for now, the snow continued to fall.

  SCENE 4

  Room 1

  The snow had finally stopped falling and the moon was out. There’d
been no sign of it when they’d been up on the tower, but now its pale whitish glow shone through the curtains. The whole world was silent.

  Kumi Aikawa had been lying in bed for what seemed like hours, but she couldn’t sleep. One of the main reasons was that she couldn’t stop thinking about Eiko Hamamoto. And when she thought about that woman her stomach lurched. She felt like a jouster waiting for tomorrow’s tournament.

  Outside it was utterly still, and to Kumi’s mind way too much so. She began to feel uneasy. Room No. 1, to which she’d been assigned, was on the top floor of the main building. It had a great view, but Room No. 2, next door, which belonged to Eiko had a far better view of the sea. Frankly, though, she’d have been more comfortable in a room on the ground floor, where she thought perhaps there’d have been more reassuring noise.

  To city dwellers, complete silence was as disturbing to their sleep as a construction site. In Tokyo, there was always some kind of din, even in the middle of the night.

  Kumi was reminded of blotting paper. The thick layer of snow that shrouded everything outside had that effect. She was sure that it was maliciously absorbing all the sounds. She couldn’t even hear the wind any more. What a horrid night!

  But then she did hear something. A strange noise, very faint, but surprisingly close by. It seemed to be coming from above the ceiling. It was like nails scratching a rough surface—not a pleasant sound. Kumi’s body stiffened and she strained to listen. But that was it. The noise had stopped.

  What could it have been? She quickly turned and fumbled for the watch on the bedside table. It was a classic ladies’ watch with a tiny face so it was difficult to make out the dial, but it appeared to be after 1 a.m.

  Suddenly the noise was back. It made her think of a crab struggling to get out of an earthenware pot. She instinctively braced herself. It was above her. There was something there on the other side of the ceiling!

  The next sound was far louder. Kumi’s heart leapt into her throat and she almost screamed. But no, it was coming from outside. She couldn’t guess what was really making the noise, but… She pictured a giant crab stuck to the wall of the building. Step by step it was making its way up towards her upper-floor window. Now she was finding it hard not to scream.

  The sound came again. Two hard objects scraping against each other… over and over. It appeared to be getting closer. Help me, help me, she mumbled over and over to herself.

  Gradually, her whole body was overcome with acute terror. It felt as if an unseen hand was around her throat, suffocating her, and she began to silently pray.

  Please, no! I don’t know what you are but please go away! If you’re climbing up the wall, please turn around, and go back down. Go to someone else’s window!

  Suddenly there was a metallic sound. Just once, like a small bell… But no, not a bell at all. It was the window. Something was on the glass.

  Almost against her will, Kumi’s head spun around to look in the direction of the window. And it was now that she finally let out a scream, so loud that she surprised even herself. So loud that her voice filled the room, bouncing off the walls and ceiling and back to her own ears. Her hands and feet turned to jelly. When was it that she had started crying? She hadn’t even noticed.

  How could it be? This was supposed to be the top floor. There was no kind of balcony or overhang of any kind under the window. It was a completely flat wall like a vertical rock face. And yet, through the gap in the curtains, she saw a face peering into the room.

  That face… It was no normal human face. The crazy eyes—wide, staring eyes that didn’t blink. The skin charred to a deep bluish-black. The tip of the nose white with frostbite, the scraggly moustache and beard beneath. The cheeks were scarred—were they burn scars? Despite all of this, there was a faint smile of amusement on his lips. This face, bathed in the icy moonlight, stared at Kumi like some kind of crazed sleepwalker as she wept in terror.

  Kumi’s hair began to stand on end. The moment seemed so long that she felt as if she were going to faint, but it was in reality only a few seconds. Before she knew it, the face had disappeared.

  But it didn’t matter that it was gone, Kumi now summoned all her strength and let out a new, more piercing shriek. She immediately heard a man’s voice roar in the distance. It was coming from somewhere beyond the window, but Kumi couldn’t tell where for sure. It felt as if the whole house was shuddering with the sound. Kumi broke off screaming for a moment to listen. The roar had only lasted a few seconds at the most, but it echoed in her ears still.

  As soon as all was quiet again, Kumi resumed her screaming. She had no idea what she was doing or why exactly she was doing it. It just felt that if she continued to scream, somehow she would be rescued from the terror of being alone.

  Right away there was a loud banging at her door, and she heard a shrill female voice.

  “Ms Aikura! Ms Aikura! What’s the matter? Open up! Are you okay?”

  Kumi immediately stopped screaming. Sluggishly, she sat up in bed and, blinking several times, managed to drag herself up and over to the door. She unlocked it to reveal Eiko standing there in a robe.

  “What’s going on?” Eiko asked.

  “There was a… There was a man looking in my window.”

  “Looking in? This is the top floor!”

  “Yes, I know. But he was there, looking in.”

  Eiko marched into the room and walked determinedly over to the offending window. Taking hold of the gaping curtains, she briskly pulled them apart, then made to open up the casement windows beyond.

  In order to protect against the cold, there were double windows throughout the building. Each window layer had to be unlocked separately, which was a bit of a chore. Eventually, chilled air poured in and caused the curtains to sway.

  Eiko leant out and looked up and down, left and right, then pulled her head back in.

  “There’s nothing there. Look for yourself,” she said.

  Kumi was already back in her bed. Her body began to tremble, but not from the cold. Eiko closed the window again.

  “I really saw him.”

  “What did he look like? Did you see his face?”

  “It was a man. He had a totally creepy face. It wasn’t normal at all. He had crazy eyes. His skin was really dark, and he had what looked like bruises and burn scars all over his cheeks. He had a beard too—”

  At that moment there was such a loud clattering noise that they both jumped. Kumi froze. If Eiko hadn’t been right there in front of her, she was sure to have started screaming again.

  “Daddy’s coming to see what’s going on.”

  Kumi realized that the noise was Kozaburo lowering the drawbridge from the tower.

  “You must have been dreaming,” said Eiko, looking faintly amused.

  “No way! I definitely saw him. Someone was there.”

  “Look, this is the top floor. The middle-floor windows don’t even have an overhang, and there are no footprints in the snow. Look for yourself!”

  “I saw him!”

  “And there’s no one in this house with burn scars on their face. Nobody who looks frightening. I think you had a nightmare. There’s no other explanation. They say if you sleep in a different bed from your usual one, you often don’t get a good night’s sleep.”

  “That’s not what happened. I can tell the difference between a dream and real life! And that was real.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes! I heard a noise too. Didn’t you hear it?”

  “What noise?”

  “A kind of scraping sound.”

  “Nope.”

  “Then did you hear him yell?”

  “I heard you screaming plenty.”

  “Not me. A man’s voice. It sounded like a roar.”

  “What’s going on?”

  Eiko turned to see her father standing in the open doorway. Over his pyjamas he was wearing his usual jacket and trousers, with the addition of a sweater under the jacket. It was cold out on th
e drawbridge.

  “Ms Aikura has had a visit from a molester.”

  “It wasn’t a molester!” Kumi blubbered. “Somebody was looking in my window.”

  She wiped her eyes.

  “The window?” said Kozaburo in amazement. “This one here?”

  Everyone seems so surprised, thought Kumi. But I’m the one who had the biggest shock of all.

  “But this is the top floor.”

  “I told her that already, but she insists that she saw him.”

  “Because I did see him.”

  “Are you sure it wasn’t a dream?”

  “No, it wasn’t!”

  “Then he must have been an incredibly tall man. We’re pretty high up.”

  There was a rapping noise. Michio Kanai was there, knocking on the already open door.

  “What’s happening?”

  “This young lady seems to have suffered a nightmare.”

  “It wasn’t a nightmare! Mr Kanai, did you hear a man yell?”

  “Yes, I believe I did hear something.”

  “Actually, so did I. I thought it was just a dream,” said Kozaburo. “That’s why I got up in the first place.”

  SCENE 5

  The Salon

  The next day was bright and sunny, but winter mornings in the far north of Hokkaido are always cold, even with the heating on. The guests were grateful for the crackling fire in the living room. It didn’t matter how many kinds of home heating systems that human beings came up with, nothing could beat a simple fire with an open flame. Right now, as if in proof of this fact, each guest as he or she came down was drawn instinctively towards the fire, and soon everyone had gathered around the curved brick fireplace.

  To Kumi’s disbelief there were many guests who knew absolutely nothing of the mysterious bearded stranger, nor the blood-curdling roar, or even her own screams. Eiko wasn’t down yet, so Kumi decided to treat everyone to a passionate retelling of last night’s events. Her audience consisted of Mr and Mrs Kanai, Sasaki, and Yoshihiko Hamamoto, but they all seemed a little dubious about her story. Kumi felt frustrated that she didn’t seem to be able to communicate her terror sufficiently.