If upon your arrival, you will please phone me at the Furudate Law Office number shown on the envelope, I will come to see you immediately. On bended knees, I beseech you not to ignore my request.
Best regards,
toyoichiro wakabayashi
p.s. Please keep the contents of this letter strictly confidential.
The letter was awkwardly written, as if someone used to writing in a formal epistolary style was trying hard to adopt a colloquial tone. When he had first received it, even Kindaichi, who was rarely perturbed, could not help but be stunned. “I am not insane,” the correspondent had written, but everything indicated otherwise. Kindaichi had even considered the possibility of a practical joke.
The words “events soaked in blood” and “one family member after another falling victim” meant that the writer was anticipating a series of murders. But if so, how could he know that? Someone planning a murder would not divulge such a secret, and besides, murder is not something that can be carried out so easily, even if one has formed a plan to do so. The writer’s strong confidence that the impending murders were certain to occur made him sound a little crazy.
Assume, then, that such a plan did exist and that this Wakabayashi had somehow found out about it. Why not, then, inform the potential victims? Even if he found it difficult to go to the police when no crime had yet been committed, he could surely whisper it confidentially to those unfortunate enough to be the intended victims. If for some reason he could not tell them in person, he could use some other means—an anonymous letter, for instance.
At first, therefore, Kindaichi had considered just laughing off the letter. But a certain sentence had left him vaguely uneasy: “In fact, it is not a situation that might occur in the future; it is already occurring this very minute.” Did the writer mean that some sinister event had already transpired? Kindaichi had also been struck by how Wakabayashi seemed to work for a law office, indicating that he was probably an attorney or trainee—a person who might indeed be in a position to uncover a family secret and detect a murder plot.
For these reasons, Kindaichi had studied the letter repeatedly and then read the copy of The Life of Sahei Inugami that Wakabayashi had sent. His interest had instantly been aroused by the book’s description of the complex family circumstances surrounding the Inugami clan. Kindaichi already knew that old Sahei Inugami had died in early spring, but when he recalled having learned somewhere that the reading of Sahei’s will was being postponed until one of his grandsons was repatriated, his curiosity grew even more. So, Kindaichi had scurried to finish the case that had been occupying him at the time, and with suitcase in hand, he had appeared suddenly in Nasu.
With the letter and book in his lap, Kindaichi was abstractedly mulling over the situation when the maid entered his room, bringing tea.
“Oh, Miss, Miss.” Kindaichi hastily stopped her, for she had turned to go as soon as she had placed the cup of tea on the table. “Where is the Inugami estate?”
“You can see it over there.” Looking to where the maid pointed, Kindaichi saw, several blocks from the inn, a handsome, cream-colored European-style villa and a Japanese-style building, topped by a roof with an intricate confusion of angles. The back yard extended all the way to the lake and was connected with its waters by a large sluice.
“I see. A grand mansion indeed. By the way, I read that one of Mr. Inugami’s grandsons hasn’t returned from the war yet. Has anything happened since? Is there no word yet?”
“Actually, they say that Mr. Kiyo arrived in Hakata the other day. His mother was overjoyed, of course, and she’s gone to fetch him. I heard they’re staying at their house in Tokyo right now, but that they’re coming to Nasu in a few days.”
“Ah, so he’s back in Japan.” The timing of this new turn of events made Kindaichi’s heart race.
Just then, the sluice gate of the Inugami estate slid silently upward, and a rowboat glided out onto the lake. In it was a lone figure, a young woman. A man ran onto the berm outside the gate as if to see her off, and they exchanged a few words, but she waved goodbye and the man shuffled back inside the gate. The woman rowed smoothly, pulling the oars with accomplished strokes. She was clearly enjoying herself.
“Is that woman one of the Inugamis?” asked Kindaichi.
“Oh, that’s Miss Tamayo,” the maid replied. “No, she’s not a family member, but I heard that she’s related to someone who used to be like a master to old Mr. Inugami. She’s so unbelievably beautiful. Everyone says there couldn’t be anyone more beautiful in all of Japan.”
“Wow, that attractive? Alright, let’s get a good look at her face.”
Chuckling at the maid’s exaggerated words, Kindaichi fished a pair of binoculars out of his suitcase and focused it on the woman in the boat. As he fixed his eyes on the comely face that appeared through the lens, a thrill ran up his spine. The maid had not exaggerated. Kindaichi, too, had never seen such an extraordinary beauty in all his life. As Tamayo pulled on the oars with her chin slightly lifted, lost in her pleasure, her loveliness was almost ethereal. Her shoulder-length hair curled softly at the ends, and she had full, healthy cheeks, long eyelashes, a well-shaped nose, and irresistible, charming lips. With her sporty outfit clinging tightly to her supple body, the graceful line of her figure was something words could not adequately describe.
When a woman is so exquisite, the effect can be frightening, even terrifying. Kindaichi was watching Tamayo with bated breath, when suddenly her expression changed. Tamayo stopped rowing and glanced quickly around the bottom of the boat. Then, for some reason, she cried out, dropping her oars, causing the boat to list and sway violently. She stood up, eyes wide with terror, and frantically waved her hands above her head. The boat was rapidly sinking beneath her. Kindaichi leaped out of his wicker chair.
The Viper in the Bedroom
Kindaichi had by no means forgotten about the visitor he was expecting, but he assumed Wakabayashi would not arrive for some time. Besides, he could not ignore someone drowning in front of his eyes. He therefore dashed headlong out of his room and down the stairs. In hindsight, this was the first event that disrupted his investigation of the Inugami case. If Tamayo had not been facing a watery death at that moment, and if Kindaichi had not rushed to her rescue, no doubt he would have been able to solve the case much earlier than he did.
Kindaichi scrambled down to the ground floor, the maid following close behind. Shouting, “This way, sir!” she dashed into the yard in her socks and began running toward the back gate. Kindaichi chased after her. The lake was nearby, and moored to the small pier were several of the inn’s boats, provided so guests could enjoy themselves on the lake.
“Can you handle a rowboat, sir?”
“Yes, don’t worry.” He knew he was a good oarsman. Kindaichi jumped into one of the boats, and the maid swiftly undid the mooring line.
“Be careful, sir.”
“Right.” Taking hold of the oars, Kindaichi began rowing with all his strength. Looking out toward the middle of the lake, he saw the boat, already half submerged, and Tamayo crying desperately for help.
Lake Nasu was not very deep, but its shallowness made it all the more treacherous. The weeds grew to lengths of several meters from the bottom, and tangled as they were, like a woman’s hair, it was not unusual for someone—even an expert swimmer—to drown if accidentally caught in them. What was more, it often took a very long time for the corpse to rise to the surface.
Others must have heard Tamayo’s screams, for soon after Kindaichi set off, several boats began pulling away from the pier of the boat rental shop across the way. From the inn, too, the manager and other male employees who had rushed outside at the maid’s calls were noisily following in other boats. Ahead of them all, Kindaichi was rowing frantically, when all of a sudden he noticed a man—the one whom he had earlier seen waving at Tamayo—run from the area of the sluice gate onto the berm. Realizing what was happening out on the water, the man swiftly took off his jac
ket and trousers and, diving with a splash into the lake, started swimming toward the sinking boat.
His speed was amazing. His arms whirled round and round like waterwheels, raising a terrific spray. Leaving a long trail behind him like a silver snake slithering over the water, he made straight for the boat.
In the end, it was he who reached Tamayo first. By the time Kindaichi finally drew near, her boat was already submerged up to the gunwale, and the man was holding her, as she slumped exhausted in the water.
“Are you alright? Come on, climb up quick.”
“Thanks, sir. Help Missy here, will you? I’ll keep the boat steady.”
“Alright, then, let me have her.”
Tamayo thanked Kindaichi and, clinging to his arm, just barely managed to pull herself into his boat.
“Now it’s your turn,” Kindaichi said to the man. “Climb aboard.”
“Yeah, thanks. Don’t mind if I do. Will you hold on to that side so the boat don’t flip over?”
He scrambled aboard with great agility, and in that moment, Kindaichi, observing him square in the face for the first time, was struck by a singular impression: the man looked just like a monkey. With his low brow, deep-set eyes, and abnormally hollow cheeks, his appearance could only be described as simian. Yet though his face was ugly beyond measure, his every action radiated sincerity.
The man spoke sharply to Tamayo as if scolding her. “See now, Missy, I told you so. Didn’t I tell you over and over to be careful? I mean, this is the third time.”
The third time? The words rang loudly in Kindaichi’s ears.
Tamayo looked somewhat startled and, like a child reprimanded for being disobedient, half laughed and half cried, “But, Monkey, there was nothing I could do. I had no idea there was a hole in the boat.”
“There was a hole in the boat?” Kindaichi stared at Tamayo in spite of himself, eyes wide in surprise.
“Yes, I think so. It seems there was a hole, and someone had plugged it up with something. Whatever it was, it got dislodged and…”
Just then, the manager of the inn and a crowd of customers from the boat rental shop drew near. Kindaichi sat lost in thought for some time before turning to the manager. “I wonder if you could do something for me. Could you find some way to keep this boat afloat and tow it back to shore? I’d like to take a look at it later on.”
The manager agreed to do so, though he had a puzzled expression on his face. Ignoring his look, Kindaichi turned to Tamayo. “Okay, let’s take you home. As soon as you get there, I want you to jump into a hot bath and keep warm so you don’t catch cold.”
“Yes,” she replied. “Thank you very much.”
Leaving the manager and onlookers still clamoring loudly about this and that, Kindaichi began slowly rowing the boat, Tamayo and Monkey sitting in front of him. With her head resting against Monkey’s broad chest, Tamayo seemed completely reassured and content. Monkey had a horribly unattractive face but a powerful, rock-like body, and as Kindaichi watched Tamayo being held securely in Monkey’s thick, sturdy arms, he was reminded of a fragile vine clinging to an ancient pine tree.
Seen up close in this way, Tamayo’s beauty was all the more remarkable. The loveliness of her features went without saying, but the faint, youthful glow of her wet skin was absolutely radiant. Even Kindaichi, who was rarely affected by feminine allure, felt his heart pounding.
He sat gazing dreamily at Tamayo’s face for some time, but realizing that she had noticed his stare and was blushing, he became flustered and gulped. Somewhat abashed, he turned to Monkey. “You said something strange a while ago—that this was the third time. Have things like this happened before?”
Monkey’s eyes flashed suspiciously. Searching Kindaichi’s face, he said sullenly, “Yeah, a lot of strange things have been happening recently. That’s why I’m worried.”
“Strange things?”
“Oh, it’s nothing, really,” Tamayo interjected. “Monkey, you’re just being foolish. Are you still dwelling on what happened? Those were just silly accidents.”
“Accidents? Missy, you could’ve been killed. I just think it’s all very strange.”
“What do you mean? Just what kind of things have happened?”
“One time, a snake was coiled up inside Missy’s bedding. Good thing she noticed quick like, ’cause if it’d bit her, well, she may not have died, but she would’ve been really sick. Then, the second time, somebody messed with the brakes on her car so they wouldn’t work. Almost went off a cliff, she did.”
“No, no, it wasn’t like that. It all happened purely by chance. Monkey, you just worry too much.”
“But if these kinds of things keep happening, who knows what might happen next? When I think of that, I get really worried.”
“You silly thing. What more could possibly happen? I’ve got luck on my side. I’m just naturally lucky, so I’ve always come out alright. Don’t worry so much, or you’ll end up making me nervous.” As Tamayo and Monkey were thus sparring, the boat reached the sluice gate of the Inugami estate.
Kindaichi left them on the berm. They thanked him, and he rowed back toward the inn. On the way, he reflected upon what he had just heard from Monkey. A viper in the bedroom, faulty brakes, and now, a hole in the boat—were they really all chance occurrences, as Tamayo insisted? Or was someone’s relentless will at work? If the latter, it meant only one thing: that someone was after Tamayo’s life. Couldn’t there also be some connection between these so-called accidents and Wakabayashi’s ominous premonition? Yes, he would ask Wakabayashi, who should be arriving at the inn soon. Kindaichi began to pull the oars more strongly.
Returning to the inn, he found that Wakabayashi had already arrived. The maid informed him, “Your guest came asking for you, sir, so I showed him up to your room.”
Kindaichi hastened to the second floor and went to his room, but Wakabayashi was nowhere in sight. He had definitely been there, however, for a cigarette butt lay still smoldering in the ashtray and an unfamiliar hat had been tossed in a corner of the tatami-mat room. He must have gone to the restroom, Kindaichi thought, and sat down in the wicker chair. But wait as he did, the visitor did not reappear. Too impatient to wait any longer, Kindaichi rang for the maid.
“What happened to my guest? He seems to have disappeared.”
“He has? I wonder what happened. Maybe he’s gone to the restroom.”
“That’s possible, but even so, he’s been gone too long. Maybe he’s waiting in some other room by mistake. Try to find him, will you?”
“How strange. I wonder where he’s gone.” The maid left with a puzzled expression on her face. She had not been gone long, however, when Kindaichi heard her shrill scream. Leaping to his feet in alarm, he ran in the direction of her voice and found her cowering in front of the restroom, her face pale as if drained of all blood.
“W-w-what’s wrong?”
“Sir, sir, your guest, your guest…”
Kindaichi looked where she was pointing. The door of the restroom was ajar, and through the opening he could see a man’s legs sprawled across the floor. With a sharp intake of breath, he opened the door and stepped inside the restroom. The sight before him riveted him where he stood.
A man wearing dark sunglasses was lying prone on the white tile floor of the restroom. He must have writhed in horrible agony before he died, for the collar of his overcoat and his muffler were in disarray, and his fingers were contorted, as if he had desperately clawed the floor. The white tiles were spattered with the blood he had coughed up.
Kindaichi stood frozen for a while, but then approached cautiously and lifted the man’s arm. Of course, there was no pulse. He removed the man’s sunglasses and looked back at the maid. “Do you recognize him?”
The maid peered fearfully into the dead man’s face. “Why, it’s Mr. Wakabayashi!”
At her words, Kindaichi’s heart turned over. Stunned, he was unable to move.
Mr. Furudate
Kindaichi co
uld not imagine a worse disgrace. He had always believed the relationship between private investigator and client to be like that between priest and confessor. Just as a sinful confessor pours out his soul to his priest and places himself in the priest’s hands, a client divulges to a detective secrets he would never tell anyone else and seeks his help. To do this, a client must have the utmost confidence in the detective’s character, and so the detective must repay his client’s trust. Kindaichi had always believed this and prided himself on never having betrayed a client’s trust. With this case, however, no sooner had the client turned to him for help than he had been murdered, and after coming to Kindaichi’s own room, no less. For Kindaichi, could there be a worse humiliation?
Examined from a different angle, moreover, it seemed undeniable that the person who had killed Wakabayashi had realized that the victim had intended to reveal at least part of his secret to a detective named Kindaichi, and that the killer had resorted to such a ruthless act so as to prevent this from occurring. That would mean that the murderer already knew of Kindaichi’s existence and was presenting him with a challenge. Speculating in this way, Kindaichi felt his blood boil and a fierce desire to fight growing inside him.
At first, Kindaichi had been rather skeptical about this case and had doubted that the events Wakabayashi feared would actually come to pass. Now, however, all his doubts had been cast aside. The case seemed to have roots far deeper than even Wakabayashi’s letter had indicated.
The Inugami Curse Page 2
