The Decagon House Murders (4 page)

‘Yes. I sometimes feel like that when I read the stories you write for the club magazine. You’re always so lively and bright in your own stories.’

‘Because that’s a made-up world.’

Orczy turned away from Agatha’s gaze and smiled awkwardly.

‘I’m not good with reality. I hate my real self. I don’t like myself.’

‘What are you saying?’ Agatha laughed and ran her fingers through Orczy’s neat short hair. ‘You need to have more self-confidence. You know, you’re cute. You just don’t know it yourself. Don’t look down so much and stand proud.’

‘You’re a nice person, Agatha.’

‘Let’s clean this mess up fast and have lunch, okay?’

*

Ellery, Leroux and Van were still at the remains of the Blue Mansion. Poe had gone over to the grove on the other side of the burn site on his own.

‘Ellery, and you too, Van. We’ll be here for seven days, so I’d really like to ask you—.’

Behind his comical silver-rimmed round glasses—although he himself didn’t find them comical—Leroux’s eyes were gleaming.

‘—I don’t say a hundred pages, but at least give me fifty.’

‘Y—you’re joking, right?’

‘I’m always serious, Ellery.’

‘But this is completely out of the blue. We didn’t come here to write, don’t you agree, Van?’

‘I’m with Ellery.’

‘But I already explained it to you earlier. I want to publish the new issue of
Dead Island
a bit sooner than usual, about mid-April. We can use it to attract some new members, and it would also be a special issue to commemorate the tenth anniversary of our Mystery Club. I’ll be the new editor-in-chief soon, so I want to give it my all. I can’t come out with a flimsy club magazine for the first issue in my new job.’

Leroux, a second year student in the faculty of literature, would take on the role of editor-in-chief of the club magazine
Dead Island
from April onwards.

‘But Leroux—.’

Ellery took out a new pack of Salem cigarettes from the pocket of his wine-red shirt and removed the seal. Ellery was in the third year in the faculty of law. He was also the current editor-in-chief of
Dead Island
.

‘—Carr is the one you need to butter up. I won’t comment on the contents, but he is the most productive writer in the Mystery Club. Sorry. Van, have you got a light for me?’

‘It’s not often you two fall so foul of each other.’

‘Not my fault. Carr started it.’

‘Now you mention it, Carr does seem to be in a bad mood,’ said Leroux. Ellery chuckled and blew smoke out of his mouth.

‘He has reason to be.’

‘What reason?’

‘A while back, our poor Carr made advances to Agatha and was immediately rebuffed.’

‘He went for Dame Agatha? Wow, he had guts.’

‘And… I think it might have been out of spite, but he then tried his luck with Orczy, but even she wouldn’t talk to him.’

‘Orczy.…’

Van frowned.

‘And so our great writer is not amused.’

‘Well, of course he wouldn’t be amused. Together under one roof with the two girls who rejected him.’

‘Exactly. So, my dear Leroux, if you want something from Carr, you’ll need to be a smooth talker.’

At that moment they saw Agatha coming from the direction of the Decagon House. She stopped under the arch of black pine trees and waved her arms to the three men.

‘Lunch is ready—where are Poe and Carr? Weren’t you together?’

*

The little path went into the pine grove behind the Decagon House.

He had started along it to take a look at the cliffs on the eastern coast, but the path had become smaller and smaller as he proceeded. It was also full of twist and turns, so he hadn’t even gone fifty metres when he lost his sense of direction.

It was a gloomy grove.

The long
sasa
bamboo shoots that grew between the pine trees clung to his clothes with every step. Also, the ground was uneven and he had almost tripped several times.

He had considered turning back, but he didn’t feel like doing that either. It was a small island. No way he could get lost and not find his way back.

The collar of the black turtle-neck sweater he wore beneath his jacket was getting soaked in perspiration. Just as it was becoming unbearable, the path finally led him out of the grove.

He was at the top of the cliffs. The bright reflection from the water dazzled his eyes. And a big man was standing there looking out to sea—it was Poe.

‘Hmm? Oh, it’s you, Carr.’

Poe had turned around at the sound of footsteps, but when he saw it was Carr, he turned back again to the sea.

‘This is the north coast of the island. I think that’s Cat Island over there.’

He pointed towards a small island close by.

Considering its size, it might as well have been called a reef. Only a few bushes grew on the undulating elevated ground. As the name suggested, it resembled a dark animal crouching in the sea.

Looking at the island, Carr nodded briefly.

‘What’s the matter, Carr? Why the long face?’

‘Heh, I’m beginning to regret coming here.’

With a scowl on his face, Carr began complaining.

‘Just because something happened here last year, doesn’t mean there’s something interesting here now. I came hoping it might stimulate my imagination, but now just the thought that I’ll be looking at those same faces every day for a whole week… You should have a long face, too.’

Like Ellery, Carr was a third year student in the faculty of law. But because Carr had failed the university entrance exams his first year, he was actually as old as Poe, who was one year above him.

Carr was of average height and build. But he looked smaller than he was because he stooped and had a short neck.

‘And what are you doing all alone in a place like this?’

‘Nothing in particular.’

Poe squinted his already small eyes beneath thick eyebrows. He took out a cigarette from the birch-wood cigarette case which hung from his waist like a traditional pillbox, and put it in his mouth. He held the case out to Carr.

‘How many boxes did you bring? Offering cigarettes to others like this, while you’re a heavy smoker yourself.’

‘I just like to smoke. Even though I study medicine.’

‘And always Lark cigarettes. Not a brand for the intelligentsia.’

Despite this remark, Carr still took him up on the offer.

‘But at least it’s better than young Master Ellery’s menthols.’

‘Carr, you shouldn’t get upset like this all the time because of Ellery. Your bickering is a bother to us too, you know. Even if you try to get in a fight with him, he’ll just laugh about it and make fun of you for it.’

Carr used his own lighter on the cigarette and turned away.

‘Look who’s talking.’

Poe didn’t seem to mind. He enjoyed his smoke in silence.

After a while Carr threw his half-smoked Lark into the sea. He sat down on a nearby rock and took out a whisky flask. He jerked the cap off and took a swig.

‘Booze in daytime?’

‘None of your business.’

‘Can’t say I approve.’

Poe’s tone became stern.

‘You should really drink less. Not just in daytime, but….’

‘Hah. Are you still thinking about
that
?’

‘Yes, so you see—.’

‘No, I don’t see. How long has it been? We can’t keep on thinking about what happened.’

Ignoring Poe’s silent, reproachful look, Carr took another swig.

‘It’s not just Ellery who’s got me upset. What about having women here on an uninhabited island?’

‘It might be uninhabited, but we’re not here on a survival trip.’

‘Huh. Even so, I don’t like being together with someone as arrogant as Agatha. And then there’s Orczy. The seven of us somehow became what you might call “a close group” these last two years, so I can’t say this out loud, but that girl’s all gloom and is worth absolutely nothing, plus she’s overly self-conscious about herself.’

‘Now you’re just nit-picking.’

‘Oh, I’d forgotten you and Orczy have been friends since you were little.’

Sourly, Poe put out his cigarette with his foot. As though he’d just remembered, he looked at his wristwatch.

‘It’s already half past one. If we don’t hurry back, we won’t get any lunch.’

*

‘Before we eat, I’ve an announcement to make.’

Wearing delicate golden plain-glass spectacles, Ellery spoke to the party.

‘Our next editor-in-chief has something to say to us all.’

Lunch was already laid out on the decagonal table. Bacon and eggs, a simple salad, baguettes and coffee.

‘Err, sorry to interrupt your meal. I’d like to introduce myself as the new editor-in-chief—,’ Leroux said, tensing and coughing to clear his throat.

‘We had talked about coming to the Decagon House at the club’s New Year’s party. Of course, nobody had imagined it would actually come true at that time. But then Van told us his uncle had come into possession of the island and he invited us.’

‘It wasn’t as though I invited you. I just said I could ask my uncle, if you really wanted to go.’

‘Don’t be modest. Anyway, as you all know, Van’s uncle is a real estate agent in S—Town. He’s also a talented entrepreneur and has big plans to transform Tsunojima into a leisure island for the young. Right, Van?’

‘I don’t think his plans are that big.’

‘Anyway, we’re here today also as a sort of test panel. Van came here this morning to make the preparations for our stay, so we’ll have to thank him first. We all really appreciate it.’

Leroux made a deep bow to Van.

‘And now for my main announcement—.’

‘The bacon and eggs are getting cold,’ interrupted Agatha.

‘I’m almost finished—ah, what does it matter, the food will get cold. Please have your lunch as I speak.

‘The talents of everyone gathered here have been acknowledged by our club seniors—who have already graduated—and the seven of us have inherited their names. This is a gathering of the core writing group of our Mystery Club.’

It had been a tradition of the K—University Mystery Club since the club’s foundation that club members called each other by nicknames. Ten years ago, the founding members had decided to give everyone nicknames taken from famous writers from the United Kingdom, France and the United States, an idea born from the innate childishness of fans of mystery fiction. Of course, with the number of members growing every year, fewer and fewer names remained. The solution to that problem was “inheriting names,” a system whereby graduating members would pass on their name to a junior member of their choice.

In time, successors of names came to be chosen based on their contributions to the club magazine. Therefore, the seven present, who each bore a nickname, were considered the core of the club and often gathered for various occasions.

‘…these top class members will stay here on this island for one week, starting now, with nothing to distract them. You can all make the best use of your time.’

Leroux looked at everyone in the room.

‘I’ve brought writing paper with me, so I’ll ask each of you to write one story for the upcoming club magazine in April.’

‘Ah!’ Agatha yelled out. ‘So that’s why you had so much luggage with you. You were scheming this!’

‘Yes, this is my scheme. Agatha, and you too Orczy, please write something.’

Leroux bowed lightly and stroked his round cheeks, chuckling. He resembled one of those lucky
Fukusuke
dolls, but with spectacles. Bitter smiles appeared on the party members’ faces.

‘You might only get “murders on a remote island” stories, Leroux. What will you do then?’ Poe asked. Leroux stuck out his chest.

‘Then I’ll say it’s this issue’s theme. Or let’s go with that theme right from the start. That would be even better. The magazine’s title,
Dead Island
[i]
, was taken from the first Japanese translation of Dame Agatha’s masterpiece anyway.’

Ellery, who had been leaning on his elbows, whispered to Van next to him: ‘I fear we underestimated our new editor-in-chief.’

5

The first day ended without incident.

They had no other commitments except for Leroux’s call for manuscripts. They weren’t the kind of people who would go out and have fun together anyway, so in their free time, everyone went their own way.

And so the evening arrived.

‘Ellery, what are you doing with those playing cards all by yourself?’