I have completely outlined above the deductive reasoning that leads me to believe Oyamada Rokurō was the one who wrote the threatening letters. Why then did what was only a mischievous prank by a sexual degenerate result in this murder case? Why was it that Oyamada himself was murdered? Not only that, why was he wearing a strange wig and floating naked under Azumabashi bridge? Who was responsible for the stab wounds in his back? If Ōe Shundei was not involved in this case, then a spate of questions arise, including whether there was a different criminal. I must state my observations and deductions concerning this.
To put it simply, he may have been punished by heaven, perhaps because the extreme immorality of his devilry evoked divine wrath. There was no crime of any sort, nor any perpetrator – just Oyamada’s accidental death. This prompts a question about the fatal wound in his back, but I shall answer that later, for I must follow the course of events in order and explain why I came to think this way.
My deductive trail commences with nothing other than his wig. You will perhaps recall that in order to prevent anyone spying on her Shizuko relocated her sleeping quarters to the second floor of the European-style annex on 17 March, the day after I had searched the attic. While it is not clear to what lengths Shizuko went in explaining the need for this to her husband or why her he agreed with her, it would have been from that day that he was no longer able to pry on her from the chink in the ceiling. But if we exert our imagination, we can envisage that peeping through this opening would have started to become somewhat boring around this time. Perhaps the shifting of their bedroom to the European section of the house fortuitously provided the opportunity for another piece of mischief. The wig helps answer why. The fluffy wig that he himself had ordered. As he had ordered the hairpiece at the end of last year, there must initially have been a different use for it but now the wig was just right for the new situation.
He had seen Shundei’s photograph in the frontispiece to ‘Games in the Attic.’ As this was apparently a likeness of the young Shundei, naturally enough he was not bald like Oyamada but bore a head of fluffy black hair. If Oyamada had progressed from frightening Shizuko through letters and concealment in the shadowy attic, and now schemed to become Ōe Shundei himself (in order to experience the strange sensation of Shizuko noting his presence and exposing his face to her briefly in the window of the European wing of their home), he would surely have had to hide his bald head, which would be the first thing to give away his identity. This was exactly the right sort of wig. If he wore the hairpiece, there would be no concern of the terrified Shizuko making out who it was when he flashed his face on the far side of the dark glass (and this means would be all the more effective).
That night (19 March), the gate was still open when Oyamada returned from playing go with his friend Koume. Accordingly, unnoticed by the servants he quietly rounded the garden and slipped into the study beneath the stairs in the European annex (Shizuko heard this; he kept that key on the same chain as the key to the book cabinet). There in the darkness he put on the wig, taking care that he did not disturb Shizuko in the bedroom above. He then went out, passed through the trees, climbed on to the eaves moulding and moved around outside the bedroom window where he lifted the blind and peeked in. This must have been the moment Shizuko later recounted when she saw a person’s face through the window.
This must have been the moment Shizuko later recounted
when she saw a person’s face through the window.
Before explaining how it was that Oyamada came to die, I must relate the observations I made when I peered out from the window in question on my second visit to the Oyamada household after beginning to suspect him. As you yourself will be able to confirm the details if you look, I shall forgo a minute portrayal. The window faces the Sumida River; there is hardly any empty ground underneath the eaves and this is enclosed by the same concrete wall as in front; quite a steep stone cliff follows directly on the other side. To maximize the land area, the wall stands on the edge of the stone cliff.
The upper section of the wall is about four metres above the water’s surface and the second-floor window is some two metres from the wall’s top. If Oyamada lost his footing on the eaves moulding (which is very narrow) and fell, there is the possibility that he might have the good fortune to fall inside the wall (a cramped space where two people would have difficulty passing each other) but if that was not the case once he hit the wall he would then tumble into the Sumida River. Of course, in Rokurō’s case the latter occurred.
As soon as I took note of the Sumida River’s current, it seemed more natural to me to think that the corpse had drifted downstream from the spot where it had been thrown in rather than remaining there. I was also aware that the European annex of the Oyamada home was right beside the river and upstream from Inazumabashi bridge. Accordingly, the thought crossed my mind that Oyamada had fallen from near the window, but it puzzled me for a long time that the cause of death was not drowning but the stab wound in his back.
Then one day I remembered a true story resembling this case that I had read about in ‘The Latest Crime Investigation Methods,’ by Nanba Mokusaburō. I remembered the article because I referred to this book when considering my detective fiction. The story is as follows:
‘Around the middle of May in the sixth year of the Taishō period (1917), the body of a dead man washed ashore in the vicinity of the Taikō Steamship K.K. breakwater in Otsu City, Shiga Prefecture. The corpse’s head bore a cut that looked very much as though it had been made by a sharp instrument. The investigating physician determined that the wound was received when the man was alive and was the cause of death, while the presence of some water in the abdomen indicated that the body had been thrown into the water at the time of the murder. At this point, we detectives commenced our activities, believing this to be a major case. We exhausted every method we knew to ascertain the victim’s identity, but were unable to come up with a lead. The Otsu police station had received a missing persons notification from a Mr Saitō, a goldsmith from Jofukuji-dori, Kamigyō-ku, Kyoto, regarding an employee named Kobayashi Shigezō (23). A few days later, the numerous similarities between the clothing of this subject and the victim in our case led the station to immediately contact Saitō to view the dead body. It became clear that this was indeed the said employee, and also that neither murder nor suicide could be confirmed. It seems that the dead man had used a considerable amount of his employer’s money and disappeared leaving a will. The cut to the head resulted when he threw himself into the lake and the revolving screw of a passing steamer left a wound resembling a slash.’
If I had not remembered this true story, I would probably not have come up with such a fantastic-seeming idea. However, in many cases truth is stranger than fiction and that which appears unbelievably outlandish can actually happen with ease. Still, I am not saying that Oyamada was wounded by a ship’s propeller. Slightly unlike the story above, in this case no water at all had been swallowed and there are very few steamers plying the Sumida River at one o’clock in the morning.
But what could have caused the wound in Oyamada’s back, which was so deep as to reach his lung? What could have made a wound that so resembled that of a blade? Of course, it had to have been the shards of beer bottles embedded on top of the concrete wall around the Oyamada home to ward off thieves. As these are exactly the same as those visible at the building’s front gate, you will perhaps have seen them yourself. Some of them are so large they could well cause a wound that would reach the lungs. Given that Oyamada struck these at some speed as he fell from the eaves moulding, it is hardly surprising he sustained such an awful wound. Moreover, this interpretation explains the numerous shallow stab marks around the fatal wound.
Thus, as befit his vice, Oyamada lost his footing on the roof and received a fatal wound when he struck the wall before falling into the upper Sumida River. Flowing with the current, he floated under the toilet at the A
zumabashi steamer landing place in an ignominious death he brought on himself. I have stated above most of my new interpretation related to this case. One or two points remain for me to explain. As to why Rokurō’s corpse was naked, the extremity of Azumabashi bridge is the haunt of vagrants, beggars, and persons with criminal records and if the drowned man’s body wore expensive garments (that night Rokurō wore an Ōshima kimono, a haori, and a platinum pocket watch), I think it is sufficient to point out that there would be numerous villains who would steal these late at night out of sight (nb: my speculation proved to be true, for a vagrant was indeed arrested later). Next, reasons you may consider that would explain why Shizuko did not hear Rokurō fall even though she was in the bedroom include that she was out of her wits with fear at that moment; the glass window in the concrete European annex was tightly closed; there is a considerable distance from the window to the water’s surface; and even if the splash were audible, it may have been drowned out by the sound of oars and paddles from the mud carriers that sometimes pass along the Sumida River through the night. I think it should be noted that there is not even a hint of foul play in this case and while it led to an unfortunate and bizarre death there was absolutely nothing that went beyond the bounds of a prank. Otherwise, there is no explaining the complete lack of attention to detail by Oyamada, who gave his gloves – a piece of evidence – to the driver, used his real name when ordering the wig, and left crucial pieces of evidence in the book cabinet in his home, albeit under lock and key. …
I have reproduced my statement at great length, but I inserted it here because if I do not make my deductions clear, what I am to write now would be very difficult to understand.
I noted in this statement that Ōe Shundei was not a presence from the very first. But was this actually the case? If so, the extensive details provided about him in the first chapter of my record would have been completely pointless.
The date on the personal account written for submission to Inspector Itosaki is 28 April. First, though, I visited the Oyamada home the day after writing the document to show it to Shizuko and calm her down by informing her that there was now no need to fear the Ōe Shundei phantasm. Since coming to suspect Oyamada, I had visited twice to conduct a sort of house search, but I had not yet told her about this.
At that time, relatives were gathering around Shizuko in connection with the disposal of Oyamada’s estate, and it seemed that a number of troublesome issues had arisen, but in her isolated state Shizuko relied on me to a considerable extent, making a great fuss in welcoming me when I visited. After passing through as usual to Shizuko’s parlour, I surprised her by very abruptly saying ‘Shizuko, you have nothing to worry about now. There was no Ōe Shundei from the first.’ Naturally, she did not understand what I meant. I then read aloud a draft of the personal statement that I had brought with me in much the same manner as I always read my detective fiction to friends after completing a story. For one thing, I wanted to allay Shizuko’s concerns by informing her of the details; for another I intended to obtain her opinion and discover any shortcomings in order to thoroughly correct the draft.
The section regarding Oyamada’s sadistic perversion was very cruel. Shizuko’s face reddened and it seemed as though she would like to disappear. In the part touching on the gloves, she commented, ‘I thought it strange because I was certain there was one more.’
At the place regarding Rokurō’s death by misadventure, she was so shocked that she turned pale and it seemed she was unable to speak.
A little while after I had finished reading she said ‘Oh!’ remaining blank until eventually a slight expression of relief appeared on her face. When she knew that the threatening letters from Ōe Shundei were not real and that she was no longer in any danger, she must surely have felt a great sense of relief.
If my selfish suspicions may be allowed, I believe that she must certainly have experienced some easing of guilt regarding her illicit relationship with me when she heard about the terrible harvest that Oyamada had reaped.
She would have actually been pleased to have reached a situation in which she could excuse herself, saying ‘Oh my, to think that he made me suffer by committing such horrible acts…’
As for myself, I was pleased that she had acknowledged the truth of my statement and I unwittingly drank too much at her bidding. Not being a strong drinker, I soon turned red and then, much unlike my normal self, melancholy. I sat there without saying anything gazing at Shizuko’s face.
Shizuko looked quite careworn, but that paleness was her natural colour and that strange attraction reflecting the powerful elasticity of her overall body and the dark flame burning within her core had not only not dwindled in the least, as we were now in the season for woollen garments, the contour of her form appeared more voluptuous than ever dressed in an old-style flannel. Set aquiver by that garment, I gazed at the writhing curves of her limbs and though it troubled me I limned in my heart the parts of her body swathed in some as yet unknown material.
After we had talked together for a while, I came up with a marvellous plan under the influence of the alcohol. I would rent a house in an out of the way spot to be used for assignations between Shizuko and myself and the two of us would enjoy our secret trysts without anyone knowing.
I must make the miserable confession that after making sure that the maid had left I then drew Shizuko suddenly to me and we kissed for the second time. I put both hands behind her back, enjoying the feel of the flannel while I whispered my idea in her ear. She did not rebuff my impolite advances and even accepted my suggestion with a slight nod.
How shall I describe the dreamlike sequence of trysts we enjoyed frequently over the next twenty days or so?
I rented an old house with a mud-walled storehouse on the river-bank near the famous Ogyō-no-Matsu pine tree in Negishi. I asked an old lady from the neighbourhood corner store to look after it and Shizuko usually arranged to meet here during the day.
For the first time in my life, I tasted keenly the intensity and power of a woman’s passion. Sometimes, we were like little children, me with my tongue out panting near her shoulder like a hunting hound as we rushed together around the building, which was as big as an old haunted house. As I reached out to catch her, she would twist her body skilfully like a dolphin, evading my grasp and running away. We ran until, almost dead with exhaustion and out of breath, we collapsed together in a tangle.
At other times, we shut ourselves up for one or two hours in the silence of the dark earthen storehouse. Someone listening intently at the entrance would have heard from within the sound of a woman sobbing sadly mixed in, as in a harmony, with the deep sound of a man crying unrestrainedly.
But one day, I became afraid when Shizuko brought the riding whip, used regularly by Oyamada, hidden in a large bunch of peonies. She pressed the whip into my hand and made me lash her naked flesh as Oyamada had.
Having suffered cruelty at Rokurō’s hands for such a long time, the perversion had taken root in her and she was now plagued by the irresistible appetite of a masochist. Had my assignations with her continued this way for half a year, I too would surely have been possessed by the same sickness as Oyamada.
For I shuddered to note the odd joy I felt when, unable to refuse Shizuko’s request, I applied the whip to her delicate body and saw the poisonous-looking weals rise instantly on the surface of her pale skin.
However, I did not start this record in order to outline the love affair between a man and a woman. As I intend to describe this in more detail another day when I use it to create a piece of fiction, I shall here only note one fact heard from Shizuko during the days of passion we passed together.
This was in connection with Rokurō’s wig. Actually, Rokurō had gone to the trouble of ordering this and having it made to hide his unattractive baldness in bedroom romps with Shizuko and although she had laughed about it and sought to stop him, such was his considerable
sensitivity on these matters that he went off to place the order as serious as a child. When I asked Shizuko why she had hidden this, she answered ‘I couldn’t talk about that – it’s embarrassing.’
About twenty days had passed by and as I thought it might seem strange if I was not seen at the Oyamada home I pretended nothing untoward had happened and visited the house, meeting with Shizuko and conversing very formally with her for about an hour, after which she saw me to the hallway and I went home by taxi. By coincidence, the driver was Aoki Tamizou, the man from whom I had earlier purchased the gloves, and this proved to be the event that saw me drawn into a bizarre daylight dream.
The gloves were different, but there was no change at all from a about a month ago in the shape of the hands gripping the steering wheel, the old-fashioned dark-blue spring overcoat (which he wore directly over his collared shirt), the appearance of those bulky shoulders, the windscreen, and the mirror above, and that induced in me a sense of uneasiness.
I remembered that I had addressed the driver as Ōe Shundei. Then I found that I was thinking solely of Ōe Shundei – the face in the photograph, the bizarre plots of his stories, recollections of his peculiar daily existence. Finally, I felt his presence so keenly that it seemed as if he were sitting on the cushion right beside me. My mind was a blank and in an instant I blurted out, ‘You there, Aoki. You know those gloves: when was it that Mr Oyamada gave them to you?’
‘What?’ the driver replied turning to me with a bewildered expression, just as he had a month earlier. ‘Well, it was last year of course, in November… I’m sure it was on the day I received my monthly salary from accounts because I remember thinking well I’m getting lots of things today. That makes it the 28th of November. I’m certain of it.’
The Black Lizard and Beast In the Shadows Page 22
