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“There was no evidence that anything had been burnt in the fireplace besides regular firewood. We combed the ground around the house to a distance farther than an Olympic javelin champion could have thrown, but found nothing.

“There are no stools or stepladders. Just like Room 14, in Kajiwara’s and the Hayakawas’ rooms there are desks—well, not as fancy as that one—but they were both so large and solid that it would have been extremely difficult to move them anywhere. And their height wasn’t that much more than the bedside tables—barely another twenty centimetres.

“Then I thought that perhaps the long object we were looking for might be a javelin, so we went to check the sports equipment in Room 10. But there was no javelin in there. There were pairs of skis and ski poles in there, and in the storage shed we found a long-handled shovel, a hoe, spade, broom—all those kinds of tools. But to bring those into the house would be just the same situation as with the stepladder. We give up.”

“I’m so sorry. But I guess I kind of expected it,” said Ushikoshi with a sigh. “Do you have any other ideas?”

“As a matter of fact,” said Ozaki, “I did come up with something.”

“All right, tell me more.”

“I wondered about a frozen rope. Whether it could be used like a long pole.”

“Clever! And what did you discover?”

“Nobody had any rope, but there was some in the storage shed.”

Ushikoshi began to think furiously.

“You know that could be an important point. Some kind of long pole… Something inside this house that is long. Maybe something that is always there right in front of our eyes. Something that takes just a little bit of fixing up and suddenly you’ve got a long pole—something like that. Is there anything in that display room next door?”

“We searched it thoroughly, but a stick or a pole—”

“There has to be something somewhere. If there isn’t, it means the suspect would have had to get in and out through the door, and then somehow lock it behind him… Something that you can disassemble and end up with a long pole… I don’t think the bannister on the staircase is removable… the firewood… Did they tie several pieces together with string to make it longer?… No, not possible. Damn it! Are you sure there’s nothing at all in the next room?”

“Nothing. But why don’t you take a look for yourself?”

“I’ll do that.”

“There is one thing—the doll, Golem; its hands are constructed in a curved shape as if it were gripping something. I thought the knife could have fitted into one of its hands. I gave it a try.”

“What? You’re quite the detective, aren’t you? Talk about an overdeveloped sense of curiosity! And, what did you find?”

“A perfect fit. Like putting a dummy into a baby’s hand.”

“Ha! Well, you certainly have an eye for the ghoulish. But no matter how you look at it, it has to be a coincidence, no?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“But so much in this case has gone wrong or drawn a blank, the lack of alibi for the Kanais in Room 9 seems to be the only thing left that we can be sure of. At least that is not going to turn out to be a let-down, is it?”

Ushikoshi sounded as if he were trying to console himself. The three detectives lapsed into silence.

“Sorry? Ozaki, do you want to say something?”

Ushikoshi had noticed the junior detective fidgeting.

“Well, sir, the thing is, I’ve kept quiet about it up till now…”

“What is it?”

“It’s a difficult thing to admit, but last night after I left the salon to go to bed, I just couldn’t get it out of my head that the only people who had already gone to bed besides Okuma and myself were Kikuoka and the Kanais, and I began to wonder if they might be up to something while everyone else was still in the salon. So I went to each of their rooms and just under the doorknob, I used some hair oil to stick a hair across the space between the door and the wall. If the door was opened, the hair would get pulled off. I’m sorry that it wasn’t a very mature thing to do. I’m a bit embarrassed—”

“What are you talking about? It was inspired! Did you do the same with any of the other rooms?”

“I didn’t do any of the rooms where there was no way to come out except through the salon. I limited it to the rooms where you could get out without being seen. As for the other people staying in the west wing—Sasaki, Togai and the house staff—I planned to do the same with their doors, but they stayed up so late that I’m afraid I fell asleep before I could do it.”

“What time did you stick the hair on those doors?”

“Right after I told you that I was going to bed. So around a quarter past or twenty past 10.”

“Hm. And then?”

“I woke up once and went to check on those two rooms.”

“And what did you find?”

“The hair on Kikuoka’s door had come off. The door must have been opened at some point. But the one on the Kanais’ door…”

“Was?…”

“…Still there.”

“What?”

“The door hadn’t been opened.”

Ushikoshi looked down at floor. He seemed to be biting his lip. Then he raised his head and glared at Ozaki.

“Congratulations. You’ve just destroyed the last shred of hope in this case. Now I truly give up.”

SCENE 8

The Salon

The morning of the 28th of December dawned without further incident. It was a very minor victory for the detectives. Nothing had happened in the night, but they could hardly claim it was because of their presence…

The increasingly bitter occupants of the Ice Floe Mansion had begun to notice that the expert detectives with their airs didn’t seem to know any more about what was going on than they did. Of the three nights they had spent in the mansion since the evening of the Christmas party, there had been a murder committed on two, one of which the killer had impudently pulled off right under the noses of several police officers. And the bitter truth for these experts was that, beginning with the time of death, fingerprints and all the usual clues, all they’d managed to confirm was that there was absolutely nothing to go on.

Finally, the sun went down on what seemed to the guests a very long day, and to the detectives much too short. It was evening and both parties were called for dinner. They sat themselves without much enthusiasm around a table laden with the usual lavish food.

As the guests joined them, conversation began to dry up, which seemed to bother Kozaburo Hamamoto. He tried to keep up a jovial front, but everyone felt the absence of the gravelly voiced man with his exaggerated compliments.

“I’m so sorry that what was supposed to be a fun Christmas holiday has turned into something so dreadful,” said Kozaburo, after dinner was over. “I feel truly responsible,”

“No, please don’t feel that way, Mr President,” said Kanai from the next seat. “You have absolutely nothing to feel responsible for.”

“It’s true, Daddy. You really shouldn’t say things like that.”

Eiko’s normally shrill voice came out closer to a shriek. This was followed by a few moments of silence. It was Chief Inspector Ushikoshi who decided to pick up the conversation.

“We’re the ones who should accept responsibility.”

There was resignation in his voice. But Kozaburo continued speaking.

“There is one thing I am determined to avoid, and that is any kind of secret whispering among us about the identity of the killer. If amateurs like us get started on trying to solve these crimes, then the relationships between us will be destroyed.