Foreign Bodies

by Martin Edwards

  But I couldn’t afford just to stand there. The kidnapped child’s safety was at stake. Two people had died in the house and I had to contact the police at once.

  I went straight towards the town. Locating the closest police box, I reported the crime. But, even as I went back with a young policeman, I still couldn’t fathom the disappearance in the field.

  When we finally arrived back at Sanshirō’s house, we found a couple of people from the neighbourhood there who had just learnt of the incident and were just about to go to the police. Amongst the people in front of the house was also a shocked Miki, who looked as if she would cry at any moment. Mr Tabei, whom I had sent Miki to fetch, was in the house, loudly opening and closing the doors of the rooms in search of the child, just as I had done.

  Entering the house and taking a look around, the policeman told us not to tamper with the crime scene until the detectives from the precinct arrived. Then he called us into the room Sanshirō used as his study, Miki included, and started questioning us. Both Miki and I talked feverishly about how we had discovered the crime and about the inhabitants of the house, occasionally interrupting each other. Tabei, however, was very calm and talked little.

  Finally a stout, apparently high-ranking policeman arrived, together with several of his subordinates and started investigating the crime scene. I could hear the sound of a shutter several times, as they took photographs. When they had finished with the room, the police officers went back outside the house and gathered by the open window. The stout official was listening to the young policeman’s report and looking at the bodies, while the policemen outside the window started following the tracks through the opening in the hedge towards the open field. The stout officer couldn’t stay still either and, leaving the rest to the young policeman, went outside as well.

  I wrote a telegram to Sanshirō and asked Miki to take it to the post office. When I finally regained my composure, I turned to Tabei.

  He had been calm while I was explaining the events to the policeman, but now he wasn’t looking calm at all, more as though he was thinking very deeply. What was he thinking about? Had he discovered a clue?

  ‘Mr Tabei,’ I began resolutely, ‘what are your thoughts about this case?’

  ‘My thoughts?’ Tabei replied, raising his head and blinking.

  ‘What I mean is,’ I said as I turned towards the other room, ‘you probably saw it too. The tracks of the man who committed those violent crimes and abducted a child just disappeared into thin air. It’s a very strange case.’

  ‘That’s true. It’s really strange. But then everything about this case is strange.’

  ‘I don’t quite…’

  ‘The toys and candy lying around here, do you think they had been here from the start, I mean, before any of this had happened?’

  ‘Well, they had probably been there already, with the kid playing and eating, I think.’

  ‘I don’t think so. If he’d been eating here, there should also have been silver wrapping paper or paraffin paper here and there. I took a look before the police arrived, but there’s nothing at all. And those toys lying there, they’re all brand new. And the fact that the crushed cardboard toy box lying in front of the sofa is all wet, even though nothing—not even a drop of tea—has been spilt, is very strange, too…I think it might have been snow from the top of the cover, which melted because of the room temperature. But even without those trifling details,’ Tabei continued, changing his tone and looking me straight in the eye, ‘the ingredients for a mystery have been gathering here from the start. It’s Christmas Eve…skis in the snow…going in and out of the window…and returning to the sky…’

  Tabei suddenly stopped talking and, gazing into my eyes, asked:

  ‘Who do you think it was…?’

  ‘Hmm,’ I groaned. ‘Do you mean…are you suggesting it was Santa Claus?’

  ‘Yes. To put it simply, Santa Claus appeared in this room.’

  I was very surprised. ‘It must have been a very violent Santa Claus.’

  ‘Precisely. A Santa Claus such as you’ve never seen before…maybe the devil himself turned into Santa Claus and paid a visit here.’ Tabei suddenly took a serious tone and stood up. ‘…but I’m starting to see through the masquerade…I’ve already solved more than half of the puzzle. Let’s track this Santa Claus down.’

  Tabei went to the door of the living room and told the policeman, who had eagerly been taking notes of the crime scene there, that he was going outside. Giving me a meaningful look, he left through the front door. I didn’t really understand what was going on, but, impressed by his confident attitude, I stood up too, rather uncertainly. As I went out after Tabei, the image of the tracks I was about to follow again, and the image of the stout officer probably looking up into the night sky with his arms folded, appeared in my mind’s eye.

  But Tabei didn’t go to the window in the back. Instead, he went to the hedge at the front, looking at the road there. In the snow were the tracks of the people who had entered and left the house, and some of the people from the neighbourhood were standing there with pale faces. What was he doing?

  ‘Mr Tabei, the tracks are at the window in the back.’

  ‘Oh, those tracks,’ he said as he turned around. ‘I don’t care about them anymore. I’m looking for another set of tracks.’

  ‘Another set of tracks?’ I repeated.

  ‘Yes.’ Tabei laughed grimly, and continued: ‘There was just one set of tracks outside the window, if you recall? You can’t come and then go again leaving just one set of tracks. If someone entered back there, there should be tracks leaving here.’

  He looked at the roof of Sanshirō’s house and grinned. ‘Even if he was Santa Claus, he wouldn’t have been able to enter through that small chimney…because this murder case isn’t just a fairy-tale.’

  I saw it now: there had to be tracks entering the house, too. Realizing my own carelessness, I felt ashamed. But suddenly, a thought entered my mind.

  ‘Mr Tabei, I see what you mean. It was snowing before eight. Santa Claus came here before eight, and went out after the snow had stopped. That’s why the tracks of him arriving have been erased, and why only the tracks of him leaving remain.’

  But, to my surprise, Tabei silently shook his head.

  ‘You’re gravely mistaken there. True, that’s one way to look at the case. When I first took a look at the tracks outside the window, I myself thought so too for a while. But when I heard about the disappearing tracks from you, I understood I was wrong. The problem lies in the tracks that suddenly disappear.’

  ‘By which you mean…?’

  ‘So you think snow had fallen on top of the tracks?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then why had the snow fallen in such an uneven, irregular way?’

  Tabei placed his hand on my shoulder. ‘The starting point of your deduction is wrong, you see. Inside, people have been murdered and a child has been abducted. The window has been opened, and in the snow outside are ski tracks with just one ski pole; indeed as if someone had been carrying a child. But as you were observing this, you deduced that the fiend had abducted the child and gone out through the window. That was your mistake.’

  Tabei changed his tone and added hand movements.

  ‘So let’s think about this situation…Let’s suppose a man is walking in the middle of a heavy snow fall…but during his walk, the snow tapers off and the sky clears. How would the man’s footprints appear then?…You see, while the snow was falling, the footprints would be obliterated by the snow immediately, but if the snow started to taper off, his footprints would gradually appear deeper and deeper as they were less and less filled by the snow. But if you now think about ski tracks and follow them in reverse—unlike footprints, you can’t tell which direction ski tracks are pointing in—the tracks in the snow would become shallower and shallower until the
y were gone completely, just as if a man had disappeared…So the snow didn’t fall after someone had arrived here, nor did someone leave here after the snow had stopped: the snow tapered off just as someone was skiing…So now do you understand the mystery behind those disappearing tracks? The man who made them didn’t go out through the window, he came in. Tonight, the snow stopped falling at eight, so Santa Claus must have come from the town and entered the house shortly after eight.

  ‘Now I get it.’ I scratched my head and asked:

  ‘But what do you make of the tracks of just one snow pole?’

  ‘That’s easy. It was just as you thought from the beginning. Santa Claus was carrying something in his arms. Not a child, but that big cardboard toy box that was wet from the snow. It was a present from Santa…’

  Tabei then said seriously: ‘So now most of the case is clear to you, too. The tracks outside the window were made when entering the house and there are no tracks leaving the house from there. As there are no signs of either Santa Claus or the child inside the house, the two of them must have left through the front door…by the way, when you first arrived here, were there tracks like that at the front?…They should have left here before you arrived.’

  ‘That’s a difficult one…don’t forget, I was in a panic then…’

  ‘It can’t be helped. It might take a while, but let’s search for tracks with one snow pole amongst all these here.’

  Tabei crouched down and started to look for such tracks. I did the same, of course, and started the hunt in the pale snow light. The onlookers on the road looked puzzled, not sure what was going on.

  The snow had become messy because of all the different tracks, including ours and those of the police, and we couldn’t find any ski tracks with just one ski pole. The policemen who had gone to the end point of the disappearing ski tracks, had returned and it had become crowded inside the house.

  It was then that Tabei suddenly asked:

  ‘Miki of class A arrived before you, didn’t she? Was she wearing adult skis?’

  I nodded.

  ‘That means it must’ve been the child’s skis,’ Tabei mumbled mysteriously and he led me to where the hedge followed the road, and pointed to two sets of tracks that were still visible there.

  ‘Of course we couldn’t find a set of tracks with one ski pole. Santa Claus wasn’t carrying the child. The child was wearing his own skis as he was being led away by Santa.’

  Indeed, there in the snow were the tracks of narrow skis, next to an adult’s skis, going towards the main road.

  ‘Let’s hurry and follow these tracks before the police call us in for questioning.’

  We set out immediately.

  A lot of time had passed since the incident, so we had no idea how far the owners of those tracks could have gone. Or so I thought at first, but after having gone about fifty metres parallel to the hedge, the two tracks, as if to evade something coming from the opposite side, suddenly made a sharp turn to the right. I felt a shiver. It was the empty house in the nearby block. The two tracks went through the front side of the small hedge, turning away from the entrance, and going round the side to the back of the dark building. I held my breath.

  ‘That was unexpectedly close by,’ said Tabei with a pale face, as he followed the tracks. ‘It seems likely there’s a bad ending ahead…By the way, who do you think Santa Claus is? You probably already know, don’t you?’

  I shook my head vigorously as I scratched my head. As Tabei reached the rear of the empty house, he said: ‘It’s difficult to say it, even if you do know, isn’t it?…Who’s the person who dressed like Santa Claus and came through the window with presents?…And the child followed him on his skis, without any resistance…I believe there’s a train which arrives at half past seven every day here in H-Town…I think that Sanshirō Asami arrived by that train, one day earlier than expected.’

  ‘What? Sanshirō!?’ I cried. ‘That’s ridiculous…even if Sanshirō had come back, why would he have done such a dreadful thing?…No, someone who loved his family so much would never do something like that!’

  But then Tabei discovered a large and a small set of skis beneath an open window, through which he too entered a pitch-dark room. I started to follow suit and it was then that I heard Tabei’s quavering, painful cry.

  ‘We’re too late…’

  When my eyes got used to the darkness, I could see the cold, dead figure of Sanshirō hanging from a curtain cord attached to the ceiling. At his feet was his child, strangled with a belt, lying there as if he were asleep. Some chocolate candies lay on the ground. A neatly folded piece of paper lay beside them. Tabei picked it up, looked briefly at it and then handed it to me. There were Sanshirō’s last words, addressed to me. It seemed to have been written in a rush with nothing but the snow light, but as I stood trembling near the window, I could just make out the words.

  Dear Hatano,

  I have finally fallen down to hell. But I want you to be the only one to know the truth. Because of a snowslide, the agricultural school started vacation one day early. I arrived back in town by the seven-thirty train, when I remembered it was Christmas Eve and I bought some presents for Haruo and headed home. I think you know I am just a simple man, and how much I loved my wife, my child, my family. Thinking of how happy my wife and child would be with me coming back one day earlier, made me even happier and that’s why I thought of Santa Claus. Bursting with joy, I went all the way to the back of the house, and silently sneaked up to the window. I removed my skis there and imagined the surprised look of my family as I went to the glass window and opened it.

  But then I saw something I should never have witnessed. I entered the room to find Oikawa and my wife locked in an intimate embrace on the sofa. I threw the toy box, together with my happiness, at them.

  But Hatano, do you think that would be enough to quell my overflowing rage? You probably know what I did with the poker I grabbed as I was crying with grief. Haruo, who had been sleeping in the room next door had woken up, so, making sure he wouldn’t know what had happened, I lied to him and fled with him through the front door. But I have nowhere left to flee now. Even if I did, nothing can save my broken heart anymore.

  Hatano. I go with the joy that my beloved Haruo will be beside me as I leave on this dark voyage.

  Farewell.

  Sanshirō

  Outside, snow blown by the night wind which had just started, seemed like a funeral wreath. The church bells stopped ringing then, but their lingering sounds weighed heavily on my trembling heart.

  The Mystery of the Green Room

  Pierre Véry

  Pierre Véry (1900–1960) was one of several French mystery writers of the Golden Age—Noel Vindry and Marcel Lanteaume were others—whose clever detective stories were ignored by British and American publishers. Véry also wrote children’s fiction and screenplays with considerable success. His first crime novel, The Testament of Basil Crookes (1927) satirized the classic mystery; it brims with youthful verve, and was the first winner of the Grand Prix du Roman d’Aventures. In Great French Detective Stories (1983), T.J. Hale quoted Véry as saying: ‘My dream is to renew detective fiction by rendering it poetic and humorous…hence my decision to write a series of mystery stories…with characters who will no longer be mere puppets in the service of an enigma to resolve, but human beings fighting towards their truth.’ Hale argues that: ‘It is difficult to communicate Pierre Véry’s uniqueness to an audience which has never been favoured with translations of his work—briefly they are detective stories but they are also fairy stories for grown-ups.’

  Written in 1936, this story pays homage to Gaston Leroux’s The Mystery of the Yellow Room, and is translated by British-born, US-based locked room mystery expert and publisher John Pugmire. Leroux is now remembered primarily as the author of The Phantom of the Opera (1910), but The Mystery of the Yellow Room (190
7) was one of the most popular detective novels published before the First World War. An ingenious locked room whodunit, it introduced the youthful journalist and amateur detective Joseph Rouletabille, who proceeded to become a popular series detective. The story’s enduring appeal, coupled with its historic significance as a milestone in the evolution of the detective novel is illustrated by the Folio Society’s recent decision to republish the book as one of a collectors’ edition of three ‘locked room’ classics. John Dickson Carr himself rated it the greatest locked room mystery of all time.

  Dedicated to the memory of Gaston Leroux

  The colour of the wallpaper was old pink.

  The salon wallpaper, of course—for in the bedroom it was green, an exquisite Trianon green.

  ‘Yes, gentlemen,’ declared Madame Emilienne de Rouvres, ‘it was about two in the morning. I was sound asleep. But suddenly…’

  Upset by the recollection of her adventure, Madame de Rouvres shuddered at the word ‘suddenly.’ The two listeners seated opposite her shuddered as well, out of respect and with perfect tact. One was Inspector Jean Martin of the local detective squad; the other was a private investigator, Marcel Fermier, under contract to Sirius, the company with whom Madame de Rouvres had taken out an insurance policy against fire and theft.

  It was ten o’clock in the morning. The only sounds to disturb the peace and quiet of Rue Sablons in Paris came from the squealing brakes of the delivery tricycles ridden at breakneck speed by butchers’ or grocers’ assistants.

  ‘Suddenly,’ continued Madame de Rouvres doggedly, ‘I am woken with a start by creaking noises in the corridor. I turn on the light. “Who goes there?” I ask. No reply. “Who goes there?” I ask again. Silence. I live alone, gentlemen, and there are no firearms here. Still, I get out of bed and get as far as the bedroom door. A masked individual is standing there in front of me, blocking my path. Before I have time to cry out, he throws himself on me…’