by Ben Stevens
‘Namely, her own and the murderer’s – walking side-by-side to where her body now lies – and then just the murderer’s footprints walking back away.’
‘You are for some reason certain that these other footprints belong to this woman’s murderer?’ asked Holmes curiously, in his near-flawless Japanese.
‘Oh please, Holmes-san,’ returned the magistrate, waving one hand in a disparaging manner. ‘When two sets of footprints lead to a corpse, and only one set can then be seen walking away…’
At this declaration, Holmes looked thoughtfully up at the cliff which jutted out almost directly overhead this part of the riverbank. The sea lay no great distance away; I could just hear its waves crashing against the shore…
As I say, this rocky cliff jutted out, forming a small plateau that was perhaps one hundred feet above. From where we now stood, it was obvious that not even a ninja could have scaled up that craggy, protruding rock face to the top. Some scraggy, hardy vegetation grew out of this rock face, here and there.
The magistrate, following Holmes’s gaze, barely restrained a shake of his head.
‘Really, Holmes-san,’ he began. ‘I’m fully aware of your reputation for investigating the – shall we say – rare and unusual; and yet, may I ask, exactly what are you expecting to discover here? Evidence of a levitating assassin, perhaps, despite the footprints we see leading away from the dead body…?’
‘So you need only to discover who made these rather indistinct footprints, then?’ asked Holmes, returning his attention to the magistrate.
I looked at these footprints myself. They really were rather indistinct. They could have been made by anyone. But the other footprints – there was no doubt that these belonged to that pretty, but rather stern-faced woman now lying dead there in the mud...
(Here, I should say that the magistrate had been meticulous that no one should trample these footprints as we approached the body. To this end, he had insisted that we come from over the top of the riverbank, rather than along the riverbed itself.)
‘There are a number of clues to be going on with, Holmes-san,’ returned the magistrate evasively.
‘Quite,’ said Holmes, in a voice that was suddenly curt and dismissive. As I was already aware, he had only a limited patience for this type of small-town magistrate. They tended (one might almost say quite remarkably) to have to a man almost exactly the same type of character.
‘Is total idiocy a requirement for such a profession?’ Holmes had previously (and more than once) demanded in exasperation…
…Now, Holmes leant down close to the woman’s face. And utilizing some of those skills I had inevitably learnt from being in his service, I saw what he saw: the lines of tightness either side of the mouth; a rigidity which not even death itself could displace. There had been great pain in the body during life – or great pain in the heart…
‘We will go now,’ Holmes then informed the magistrate. ‘Thank you.’
And with that, he walked suddenly away, so that I had to hurry to catch up with him…
2
Back in the town that was close to the riverbed, it did not take long for Holmes to discover that the dead woman had a daughter. We went to visit her at the small home she had shared with her mother. With some reluctance, it seemed to me, the young woman – who gave her name as Rinko – invited us inside.
As she poured us both a cup of green tea, I noticed a snow-white robe hanging from a doorframe. This was Rinko’s, presumably – she was also a river-dancer…?
‘I do not know who could have killed my mother,’ said the young woman (she appeared to be still in her late teens) sullenly, kneeling to face us across a low table in a tatami mat room. Her long black hair half-obscured her face, so that it was difficult to see her eyes. Also, she spoke almost in a mumble.
‘And you – you will continue in your mother’s profession?’ asked Holmes gently.
‘Hardly my mother’s ‘profession’ anymore, seeing that she is dead – but yes, I will,’ returned the young woman morosely. ‘It is common for daughters to follow their mothers as Shinto dancers, after all.’
‘And your mother had not spoken of any fears recently, concerning…’
Holmes let his last word fade into silence – an open question, inviting confidence.
‘No,’ returned Rinko; a little too quickly, I thought. The single word sounded almost defensive. Or maybe, I then considered, she was merely uncomfortable talking to a foreigner…
‘There was nothing,’ she continued. ‘She did not seem upset or worried about anything and – I say again – I do not know who could have killed her. That is all.’
Holmes nodded, and seemed about to say something else when there came suddenly a loud knocking upon the front door. With a sigh, Rinko rose to open it; and a moment later we heard the magistrate’s voice declare –
‘We have found your mother’s killer!’
At this, Holmes rose hurriedly. I followed him out of the small room, to the entrance of the house. The magistrate, stood just outside, raised his eyebrows upon observing the foreign detective.
‘Well, Holmes-san, I assume you were following some line of enquiry by coming here,’ he began, pompously. ‘But while you have been sitting here and… talking… I have both tracked down and arrested the murderer!’
‘Who… who is it?’ stammered Rinko, and for a moment Holmes glanced sharply at her.
‘The merchant named Akiyama.’
At this, Rinko gave a small gasp.
‘But he and my mother were – ’
‘Yes – lovers,’ broke in the magistrate. ‘And it’s also no secret, here in this town, that Akiyama treated your mother cruelly during the course of their long relationship together. Only, your mother was devoted to him, and so would seek no other. We can say such things now, with this killer safely under arrest!’
‘And the proofs of his guilt are…?’ asked Holmes quietly.
‘A mud-covered set of shoes, and a bloodstained knife, discovered hastily concealed under one of the pigsties that Akiyama has in one part of his large garden,’ returned the magistrate instantly, now looking almost with contempt at the famous Englishman. ‘This would seem to indicate Akiyama’s guilt rather firmly to me, at least. So how about to the great Sherlock Holmes?’
Ignoring such tedious goading (this was hardly the first time a small-town official had been visibly riled by Holmes’s presence), Holmes instead said –
‘How, exactly, did you come to discover these… items?’
‘I already had my suspicions, concerning Akiyama’s involvement in this matter,’ returned the magistrate, with an infuriating air of self-importance. ‘But naturally I had to visit his large residence, to inform him of the death of the woman who had been his lover for a considerable number of years now.
‘Naturally,’ muttered Holmes, so that the magistrate glanced sharply at him.
‘But then, crossing the ‘yard area’ – if you will – that surrounds his home (he is known to deal in many things, from animals to furniture), my trained eye deduced that a board under one of the pigsties had recently been removed and then replaced – only this time with the inside face now showing on the outside!
‘Naturally, this part of the board that had until now been protected from the weather showed a somewhat ‘fresher’ appearance than those other boards. So, I immediately suspected that it had been removed in order to conceal something behind it – in the cavity beneath the pigsty – with it then being put back in such haste that its different appearance to the others went unnoticed.’
‘Yes,’ nodded Holmes. ‘That would make sense…’
‘I’m glad you think so, Holmes-san,’ returned the magistrate brusquely. ‘Anyway, at the very least, the wealth of this merchant named Akiyama will now pass to the victim’s daughter here, in accordance with the law of this region. This may prove of some small consolation, perhaps.
‘Akiyama is denying everything, but the facts are obvious,�
� continued the magistrate. ‘He went with Aoki-san to this riverbed, away from prying eyes, and there stabbed his victim before walking back away. He then attempted to hide his muddy footwear and bloodstained knife – and yet still I succeeded in finding them.’
‘Did this Akiyama also paint the words ‘I am the killer’ on a large wooden board, which he then carried up by his chest as he paraded around town?’
‘What?’ snapped the magistrate, looking at the Englishman as though he’d gone mad.
‘I mean along with the fact that this merchant left such obvious traces of his guilt: the footprints on the riverbed (the most obvious of all, naturally), and the almost deliberately clumsy attempt to conceal the muddy footwear and alleged ‘murder weapon’.
‘Really,’ Holmes continued, ‘one can only assume that this Akiyama, this merchant, wanted to be captured.’
The magistrate opened his small, puckered mouth as though to speak… Then he abruptly closed it again, instead choosing to glower at Holmes.
‘You have this merchant under custody, I assume?’ asked Holmes.
The magistrate nodded moodily.
‘I should like to talk with him – in an hour or so.’
When there was no immediate reply, Holmes continued –
‘I promise I will not take long – ’
‘Yes, yes,’ barked the magistrate. ‘He is in the prison here. Whenever you like – if you must…’
‘Thank you,’ returned Holmes. ‘I will be there in a short while. Shall we depart, Yoshida-sensei?’
And with that, Holmes and I left the small house.
3
Holmes tasked me with finding a long length of rope, and explained that he had to go on some errand of his own. Of course, I did not ask what this was; but meeting me again just a little while later, he said –
‘I have visited the physician of this town, Yoshida-sensei. As I suspected, he had lately been attempting to treat the river-dancer named Aoki.’
‘I noticed those lines around her mouth, Holmes-san,’ I declared. ‘I am a physician myself, after all… Though whether these lines came from physical or mental pain, I could not be quite certain.’
‘Well, a visit to this physician has informed me that such lines were – in part – due to recent ill-health. Rather… severe ill-health, I regret to say.’
The words in part caused me immediate confusion. Was Holmes implying that those lines had also been caused by some mental, or rather some emotional upset? Yet Holmes’s attention was now firmly fixed upon the thick coil of rope I had purchased, and was now obliged to carry with both hands.
Taking this coil from me, Holmes first put it over one shoulder before proceeding to climb up a nearby tree! I watched in amazement as he made his way along a stout branch some twenty feet above my head, before tying one end of the rope around it and letting the remainder drop down to the ground. In just a few moments, he had climbed down this rope and was back on the ground.
‘Now,’ said Holmes. ‘I will give that fool of a magistrate a clue as to the real answer to this case.’
‘The killer climbed up a rope,’ I cried. ‘A rope hanging from the top of the cliff above – the one which juts out over the riverbank. I thought that no one could climb up that cliff; and yet I did not think of a rope, tied to something on the plateau at the very top.
‘Or maybe there was an accomplice – someone holding the rope… But those footprints, though, along the riverbed… and the discovery of the muddy shoes and bloodstained knife…’
The gentle smile Holmes gave me in return was one I knew all too well. It informed me that I was entirely incorrect in everything I was surmising.
‘But the lines either side of the victim’s mouth, my dear Yoshida-sensei? What about those…?’
I did not answer, as Holmes and I walked to the small prison that was nearby. Here, the magistrate brusquely escorted us to the small cell which contained the magistrate named Akiyama. He was a somewhat fleshy, indeed almost corpulent man – no doubt he ate well – and it was immediately obvious that he, at least, would be entirely unable to climb up any rope. Far less one which led to a plateau at the top of a cliff located approximately one hundred feet above the ground!
Still, with the magistrate grumbling in protest, Holmes requested that Akiyama be escorted from his cell to the tree nearby. Here, Holmes demanded that the man attempt to climb the rope!
‘And be warned,’ said Holmes severely to the merchant, ‘do not attempt to trick me. I shall know if you are merely pretending not to be able to climb this rope.’
With the merchant left with no alternative but to do as instructed, he took hold of the rope and vainly attempted to pull himself upwards. It was a sight somehow pathetic to see, as his feet scrabbled for purchase before his fleshy body slowly slid downwards, the merchant then yelping with pain and blowing on his hands, which had been ‘burnt’ slightly by the friction on the rope.
‘Need we prolong this pantomime any further, Holmes-san?’ asked the magistrate with affected weariness, though I saw now that the sight of the rope had stirred the same sort of questions in his mind that it had in mine.
‘You should know…’ continued the magistrate then, ‘you should know that this man had recently begun to see another woman. Knowing of the deceased’s extreme loyalty and affection towards him – despite his repeated physical and mental ill-treatment of her – Akiyama decided that it would be best just to murder her, so to prevent any embarrassing public ‘scenes’ that would result from Aoki-san finding out about his philandering, and which would potentially damage his social standing as a prosperous merchant.’
‘It’s not true!’ cried the merchant, tears showing in his piggish eyes as he stared beseechingly at Holmes. ‘Yes – yes I was cruel to her sometimes, may Buddha forgive me, and yes, I had taken to seeing a younger woman… But I would never have killed Hitomi.’
‘And those muddy shoes, and the bloodstained knife, concealed there beneath one of your pigsties, eh? What about those?’ cried the magistrate, stabbing one finger towards the quivering suspect.
‘I don’t know,’ returned Akiyama despairingly. ‘I don’t know why they were there – or who put them there. All I can say was, it wasn’t me…’
‘I know it wasn’t,’ said Holmes, his voice reassuring. ‘And I know it wasn’t you who killed Hitomi Aoki. So take heart, Akiyama – you will not be executed for this crime.’
I noticed that Holmes did not address the merchant by adding san to his name. A clear indication that although the English detective was determined to prove his innocence, he still held the man in contempt for his apparent ill-treatment of the dead woman.
‘Be careful, Holmes-san,’ cautioned the magistrate. ‘Be exceedingly careful. Don’t make promises which you may very well not be able to – ’
Despite the seriousness of this matter, I could barely repress a smile as Holmes irritably waved this pompous idiot into silence.
‘Those footprints were all made by the victim herself,’ said Holmes then, so that I at once forgot my minor merriment. Instead I (along with the magistrate, suspect and two accompanying guards) stared askance at him.
‘Hitomi Aoki first walked along the riverbed wearing her own footwear. Then she changed into the shoes she was carrying – of the type commonly worn by men – and proceeded to walk backwards, alongside the footprints she had just made, to a point on the riverbank.
‘Then she had only to walk backwards again, returning to the point where we found her body. This would, of course, give the impression that she had walked to that spot with an accomplice – who had then returned from that place alone.’
‘What is… what is this…?’ breathed the magistrate.
‘She did this ‘backwards walking’ most skillfully, so that it took me a few moments to realize it,’ continued Holmes remorselessly. ‘And then we have only to look at this rope, to realize the rest of the puzzle. That is – broadly speaking. There are a few other, minor de
tails which are, of course, immediately obvious to the trained mind.’
‘The… the murderer climbed up this… this rope, to the top of the cliff?’ stammered the magistrate helplessly. ‘But how does that explain… explain there are only two sets of footprints, and…’
Again, with a curt wave of his hand, Holmes dismissed the magistrate’s almost dazed-sounding ramblings.
‘I’d better be the one to detach this rope from the branch above; and then I shall return to the house where Aoki-san’s daughter now lives by herself.’
Holmes looked at the magistrate, continuing –
‘Kindly come to this house in approximately half an hour, accompanied only by my good friend here, the doctor Yoshida-sensei. This merchant you can put back in his cell, and these two guards can return to their duties. When you return from that house – having had all the facts relating to this case revealed to you – you can release the merchant immediately.’
‘But I –’
The magistrate’s voice fell into silence, Holmes not listening, instead pulling himself up the rope in a series of easy, fluid movements to the branch above.
Appearing rather dejected, the magistrate motioned for the guards and the merchant to follow him back to the small prison. And I followed them, in accordance with Holmes’s wishes.
4
When the magistrate and I entered into Rinko Aoki’s small house a short while later, it was to discover Holmes sat with that young woman in the small tatami room, a letter lying on the low table.
‘I informed this young lady that her best chance was to make a clean breast of what really happened, concerning the death of her mother, and she – to her credit – immediately obliged.’
‘You seemed to know of everything already, Holmes-san,’ said Aoki, gazing at the hawk-faced foreigner almost in awe.
‘Tell the magistrate here what you said to me,’ commanded Holmes gravely.
