“Couldn’t a strong wind like tonight’s blow over a tower that leans as far as this one?”
Kozaburo chuckled.
“It’ll be fine.”
“And the main building too?”
Kozaburo laughed a little harder.
“Fine, fine!”
“Okay, then, but if this mansion does collapse, at least the hidden killer’ll be trapped underneath it.”
This time Ushikoshi laughed at his own joke.
“And if the killer is out there in the snow, he’s probably frozen solid by now,” added Kozaburo.
“Yes, he would be. He’d probably need a drop of this brandy to warm him up. Is this Louis XIII? I’ve heard people talk about it, but I’ve never even seen it in real life, let alone drunk it. It’s really quite fine.”
“It doesn’t give you a hangover. Anyway, Chief Inspector, can you tell me whether you’ve got a possible suspect in mind for the murder?”
“Ah, so that’s what you want to know, is it? In mind… Someone in mind… Well, I guess I’ll have to confess to you that we don’t. We’re really quite stumped. It’s a bizarre case. I’ve never heard of another murder where a scream was heard a full thirty minutes after the victim was killed.”
“And the corpse appeared to be dancing.”
“That’s right. And the suspect seems to be a non-existent, bearded, swarthy sleepwalker with burn scars on his cheeks. It’s like something out of a horror movie. There’s nothing the police can do here.”
“After murdering a man, he flew through the air and peeped in through a young woman’s bedroom window… May I ask you some questions about that?”
“Yes. I’ll answer to the best of my ability.”
“Why did the murderer take my doll outside, break it into pieces and scatter it in the snow?”
“Um, well, I think that was a kind of smokescreen. At first sight, it seems to have some important meaning, but it was really done just to mislead us. I don’t believe it had any more significance than that.”
“And why was Ueda in that strange position?”
“That wasn’t at all significant. The dead bodies of murder victims often end up like that—in weird contortions from the agony of death.”
“What was that round mark on the floor by the small of Ueda’s back?”
“It got there by chance. While he was writhing in agony, his fingers just happened to touch the floor.”
“The stakes that Sasaki says he saw in the garden, stuck in the snow?”
“Ah, yes, about that… If those stakes had something to do with Mr Ueda’s death, then I’m sure that the killer suffers from some sort of psychosis. When it comes to criminals, especially murderers—and this is something difficult for lay people to understand—they often need to perform some kind of ritual before committing their crime. There are too many examples of this to count. There was once a burglar for whom wearing women’s stockings was some kind of good luck ritual for him. He said that if he left the house with women’s stockings on, then his next break-in would always go well. So that’s what we believe the stakes were about. Some kind of good luck ritual.”
“Hmm. Then who was the man who looked into Ms Aikura’s bedroom—the one with the burn scars on his face?”
“There’s no one fitting that description here in the house or in the neighbourhood, right? Nobody in the village has seen anyone like that either. So obviously—”
“Ms Aikura must have been dreaming. But do you really think so? The scream, the lack of footprints… it’s not a straightforward case at all, is it? And you can’t find any motive at all?”
“That’s really the problem. Trying to narrow down the occupants of this mansion to one suspect, well, no matter how difficult it may be, we will get there eventually. But whoever we pick, it always comes back to motive. Not one of the people in this house had a motive for murder. This is the toughest part of the whole thing for us police. But we have Tokyo Headquarters on the job and I’m confident they’re eventually going to come up with something we couldn’t possibly have found by ourselves.”
“I hope so. If you don’t mind my asking, Mr Ushikoshi, if I may call you that, have you been a detective long?”
“About twenty years.”
“I’ve heard that veteran detectives like yourself tend to have very strong intuition when it comes to spotting a criminal. Is there somebody in this case who you’ve got a hunch about?”
“Unfortunately not. But I think it’s going to turn out to be someone quite unexpected… By the way, do you definitely want me to spend the night here?”
“If you could, that would be great.”
“In that case, I need to inform Ozaki. I’m sure he’ll have left the door to our room unlocked for me. I’d better go and check in with him.”
“No need. I’ll just call someone. If I press this button, a bell rings in the salon and the Hayakawas’ room. Chikako will come and we’ll ask her to let Sergeant Ozaki know. She’ll be here right away.”
Minutes later, Chikako Hayakawa appeared, brushing the snow from her head. Kozaburo asked her to let Sergeant Ozaki in Room 15 know that Ushikoshi would stay the night in the tower, and asked her who was still up. Chikako responded that everyone was still awake.
“Wait about thirty more minutes, then feel free to go to bed,” said Kozaburo.
Ushikoshi glanced at the wall clock and saw it was 10.44 p.m.
A couple of minutes after Chikako had left, Eiko appeared at the door.
“Oh, Eiko! What brings you up here?”
“I’m thinking of going to bed soon. I’m really tired.”
“Ah, I see.”
“I was hoping you’d put the bridge up if Chief Inspector Ushikoshi plans to sleep here. The people in the salon are getting cold.”
“Ah, yes, of course. Who’s still there now?”
“Sasaki and Togai. Yoshihiko’s playing billiards with the policeman. And then there’s the Hayakawas and Kajiwara.”
“Do any of them look ready to go to bed?”
“No, not yet. Sasaki and Togai are watching the billiard game.”
“Has Ms Aikura gone up to her room already, then?”
“Her? A long time ago.”
“Got it. Well, you’d better get some sleep.”
Kozaburo saw his daughter out, closed the door and returned to the sofa. He took a sip of his cognac.
“Ah, the ice has all gone.”
His voice was strangely subdued.
“It’s a brutal night, isn’t it? Let’s put on some music. I only have a cassette tape player up here though.”
On the bedside table there was a desktop-sized stereo.
“My daughter always says she hates this one.”
The piano piece that began to play was a tune that Ushikoshi recognized, but he couldn’t put a name to it. He knew that if it was something familiar even to him, then it must be famous, which of course made him hesitate to ask the title. He really didn’t want to show himself up too much. It wouldn’t be good for the future of the investigation.
“I enjoy operas and symphonies and other more grandiose stuff too, but piano compositions are my favourite type of classical music. How about you, Chief Inspector? Do you like to listen to music? What kind do you like?”
“Ah… I, er…”
Ushikoshi shook his head apologetically.
“I’m not musical at all. Can’t sing, I’m tone-deaf. All Beethoven sounds the same to me.”
“I see…”
Kozaburo sounded a little sad to find that this wasn’t a topic the two men could discuss.
“I’ll go and get some more ice.”
He picked up the ice bucket and went into the kitchen.
Ushikoshi heard the sound of the refrigerator door being opened. Kozaburo hadn’t quite shut the kitchen door behind him and Ushikoshi could see Kozaburo through the opening as he moved backwards and forwards in the kitchen.
“This a real blizzard!” said Kozaburo, raising his voice.
“Sure is!” called Ushikoshi in response. The piano music continued, but the blizzard outside was about the same volume. The door from the kitchen opened and Kozaburo reappeared with a full ice bucket. He sat on the bed and dropped some cubes into Ushikoshi’s glass.
“Thank you,” said Ushikoshi, studying Kozaburo’s face. “Is something the matter? You don’t seem very well.”
Kozaburo smiled a little.
“I’m not very good on stormy nights… Anyway, let’s keep drinking until we’ve used up all the ice. Are you up to keeping me company?”
As Kozaburo spoke, the antique wall clock struck eleven.