The Tokyo Zodiac Murders (13 page)

At De Médicis, Heikichi also got to know the painter Yasushi Yamada. Yamada had a gentle personality, and Heikichi related to him easily. In fact, he visited Yamada’s house on two occasions, perhaps because of his attraction to Yamada’s wife, Kinue. A former model, Kinue was a poet. Heikichi was fond of Rimbaud, Baudelaire and the Marquis de Sade, and it seems likely that he and Kinue shared the same tastes. She also seemed to have knowledge of the work of André Milhaud, the artist Heikichi was so inspired by. Yasushi and Kinue both passed away in the mid-Fifties. They had established their alibis, had never visited Heikichi’s studio, and had no motive to kill him.

Of all these people, the one person who stands out is Tamio Yasukawa, the mannequin craftsman. However, it’s hard to believe that the investigators failed to include him among the suspects. Yasukawa lived in a dormitory located within a ten-minute walk from his workplace. He spent most of his free time with his co-workers. His alibi was not firm—he said he was at a movie—but he had known Heikichi only three months before the Azoth murders. Who would commit serial murders for a lunatic after knowing him just three months? And if he did do it, where could he have done it, and when? It doesn’t seem possible.

There are three separate crimes here—Heikichi Umezawa’s murder, Kazue Kanemoto’s murder and the Azoth murders. After so many years, the mystery may have died with the murderer or murderers. I regret that I can go no further. As the homicide department concluded, all the suspects seemed to be innocent.

Since I retired, I have been thinking about this case every day and night. Today, I find my thoughts going around in circles and leading nowhere. As I grow older, I feel my abilities declining both physically and mentally. I have ulcers from those stressful days. I won’t live long. And I will die without knowing the truth.

My attitude towards life has been too moderate, never going against the stream. Being an ordinary man, I wanted to end my life as an ordinary man. I should have taken the responsibility for my actions, but, to my shame, I failed to do so. I wish someone would solve this mystery. Not just for my sake and for the part I was forced to play in it, but for the sake of justice. All I can do now is pray. It is shameful that I still do not have the courage to tell the story to my son.

Whether I burn this note or keep it will be the last decision of my life. If anyone reads this after my death, I wonder if they will find it amusing, my being so indecisive… just like Hamlet?

Bunjiro Takegoshi

“Well, do you think Takegoshi went to visit Yasukawa in Kyoto?” Kiyoshi asked me in a low voice.

“No, I think that he probably died without meeting him.”

“Boy, his note certainly answers a few questions, doesn’t it? Talk about something falling into our lap. And we’re the only ones to know this stuff!”

“Yes, it’s amazing! I’m so lucky to know you!”

“Hmm. If Van Gogh had any friends, they would have said the same thing about him without knowing his real talent. Do the books mention anything about Yasukawa?”

“Yes, but Takegoshi’s note tells us much more detail.”

“You know, I got the same impression from both his note and Heikichi’s—that they seemed to be written intentionally for public exposure.”

“I agree.”

“And Takegoshi obviously decided not to burn his. I don’t think he could have,” Kiyoshi said, standing up. “But how sad his life was. No one could ever read that confession without feeling his deep remorse. As a fortune-teller, I’ve listened to all kinds of voices since I opened my office here. Do you know what the sounds of this city are? Screams! All those buildings are grey with sadness. I sometimes tell myself, ‘Enough listening, now you must help.’ We mustn’t allow ourselves to hold back any more. It’s time to move forward.” Kiyoshi sat back down.
“Takegoshi wanted someone to solve the mystery, even though his reputation would be ruined. It’s our duty to solve the case.”

“Absolutely.”

“So now that we have this information, let’s start analysing the case. But there’s something I didn’t understand—all through your explanation, and all through Takegoshi’s note—and I still don’t understand.”

“What is it?”

“Why people suspected those Umezawa women of Heikichi’s murder. When he was killed, Masako and all the girls, except Tokiko, were at home. If they had killed him, they wouldn’t have had to pretend it was a murder committed behind locked doors. If they had acted as if they didn’t know anything, any conventional style of murder would have worked.”

“Yes, but the investigators would have discovered their lies. And we still have the mystery of the footprints.”

“There are all kinds of ways around that. The footprints could have been faked. And that idea of pulling the bed up—well, it doesn’t really work. Think about it: the awkwardness, the blizzard, the strength required, and no guarantee that Umezawa would be asleep. It would never work.”

“Wait a moment! You were one of the supporters of that idea in the beginning. You’re really confusing me now. So how do you explain the rope and the bottle of poison that were found in the main house? Are you saying that the killer left those things to implicate the women?”

“Could be.”

“Who do you think would do that? Someone they knew—such as Yoshio or Ayako, or Tae? Who?”

“It could have been a stranger—a burglar, for instance.”

“What?!”

“I have no idea in particular.”

“You have to do better than that, or we’ll never get anywhere. It’s easy for you to criticize the investigators, but we have a big disadvantage: Masako’s arrest was based on investigation of the crime scene, which we can never see. So let’s get back to those three people. Tae never went near the Umezawa house after her divorce. Yoshio and Ayako could have—to make sure Masako was implicated—but surely they wouldn’t have killed their own daughters. There’s no one else.”

“Even so, it was done by a human being like you or me. How can this be so hard to figure out?”

“In my opinion, there are only two remaining possibilities. One is something that goes beyond our reasoning powers up to now…”

“Magic?”

“Come on, Kiyoshi, you know I would never say that. What I’m saying is, it was done by an outsider—or outsiders—someone outside the family. The letter to Takegoshi might not have been a fake; the secret agency could have been waiting for the chance to kill the Umezawas. If that’s right, the case is out of our control.”

“But we’ve already denied that possibility, haven’t we?” Kiyoshi replied.

“OK. Yes, I guess so. The other idea is that Heikichi wasn’t killed after all. He could have disappeared by some kind of trickery and left his own prints in the snow. He had a double, who had no beard. He killed him, beating him beyond recognition. Then, his family wouldn’t have been able to identify him. This would explain why he spent most of his time in his studio.
Hiding himself there for days, he had a perfect plan figured out in every detail. When his death was confirmed, he could do anything, just like an invisible man—killing his daughters, making Azoth, getting a new life. Why do you think this introverted man went out drinking? To look for his double! He didn’t want his wife finding out his secret other studio, so he trapped her into being arrested. Yes, that’s it! It makes sense!”

“Hmm, not so bad. If Heikichi was the sole killer, the case could be more easily solved. But too many things still don’t come together. For one, it’s unbelievable the family wouldn’t be able to recognize a double.”

“What else?”

“Wouldn’t he have wanted to finish his life’s work? Why was the twelfth painting left unfinished?”

“In order to pretend he was killed.”

“I thought you’d say that.”

“Or Azoth could essentially have become his twelfth painting.”

“Let me go on. Another question: why was Kazue killed?”

“Because Heikichi wanted her house to create and store Azoth in…”

“No!” said Kiyoshi vehemently. “I’m sure he would have looked for a better place near Mount Yahiko. There might have been a police stakeout at Kazue’s house. This is what you told me before, so don’t get lost again, please! Before her death, Kazue seduced Takegoshi. Do you suppose that was part of Heikichi’s plan? What would be the purpose of that? He could have disposed of the corpses himself.”

“Better to exploit a young policeman than do the work himself.”

“But how did he persuade Kazue, his stepdaughter, to sleep with a stranger?”

“He could have made up a story or blackmailed her somehow.”

“Two more tough questions. Why did Heikichi leave the note? If he was alive after his crime, his note would have put him in danger. And how did he get out of a studio locked from the inside? That would be the toughest question of all.”

“Exactly,” I replied. “I’m going to focus on that last question. I reckon it will be the key to determine whether I believe Heikichi was really murdered or not. We can’t think of any other suspects. It’s hard for me to believe that one family had three murder cases committed by different killers. I think that the same person did it all. You see, once he became invisible, a little magic would be all he would need. I’ll figure out how he did it.”

“Well, good luck!”

After I returned home, I went to bed, but my mind wouldn’t stop racing. No matter what Kiyoshi said, I now believed that Heikichi had
not
been killed. I was certain of it. I couldn’t find any other way to explain the mystery. He must have killed his double, and then… walked out of the studio? No, he couldn’t have locked the door from the outside. What if Masako and her daughters killed the double—who had already been locked up—believing that they were killing Heikichi?

Yes, that was it!

In order to build an apartment building on their property, Masako and her daughters planned to murder Heikichi, but it turned out that they killed the wrong person. Heikichi would then have threatened Kazue, who was one of the culprits, saying he would report them to the police… and then forced her to seduce the cop to buy herself some insurance.

Yes, that plot fits perfectly!

Takegoshi’s theory couldn’t solve the mystery of Kazue’s murder, but mine could. Heikichi knew about the women’s crime, and threatened Kazue! Then why did he kill her? Well, he wasn’t all there to begin with, so he wouldn’t have needed any specific reason to kill her. The people who didn’t believe that Heikichi had died reckoned that he had used his brother Yoshio as his double. But using a stranger was much more practicable. After the murder was accomplished, Heikichi would
be invisible; he could flee somewhere and continue with his creation of Azoth…

I need to find proof that he was still alive after the crime. Then I’ll be perfectly ready to refute Kiyoshi’s argument. Yes! From tomorrow, I’ll play the part of Sherlock Holmes and Kiyoshi will be Dr Watson!

Satisfied with my conclusion, I finally fell asleep.

The next day, I asked Kiyoshi if he had thought of anything new. He just groaned. So I told him about my idea, anticipating his surprise.

“Do you still believe the women pulled the bed up to the ceiling?” he retorted immediately. “Killing his double? How could Heikichi have kept that man in the studio? The women were living right next door; they would have noticed something. According to your theory, Heikichi would have to wait until his double grew a beard, while teaching him to draw!”

“Teaching him to draw?”

“Of course. What if his double couldn’t draw? What if the women saw the man drawing a cucumber while he was looking at a pumpkin? Ridiculous!”

Kiyoshi was being provocative, and I was getting irritated. “So how do you explain Kazue’s case?” I challenged him. “You have no idea, have you? Takegoshi hadn’t, either. I believe my deduction is correct—at least until you present me with a better idea.”

Kiyoshi was silent. My response must have stunned him. So I went on. “Sherlock Holmes would have already solved this case, and gone on to the next. Look at you, lying down on the sofa all day. Why can’t you be more aggressive, like him?”

“Sherlock Holmes? Who’s that?” asked Kiyoshi, pausing for effect. “Oh, you mean that funny English guy—that liar, barbarian and cocaine addict who always confused the real with the unreal?”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I was now getting really angry and I shouted, “And what are you? The best detective in the world? How dare you laugh at him? How dare you call him a barbarian? How dare you call him a liar?”

“Oh, you’re a typically misguided Japanese, Kazumi. Your sense of values is completely based on politics.”

“I don’t need your criticism, thank you. Please explain why you think Holmes was a liar. And why do you describe him as a barbarian?”

“Well, there are so many examples to choose from… Let me see… What’s your favourite Sherlock Holmes case?”

“I love them all!”

“Just choose one.”

“OK… ‘The Speckled Band’. That was Arthur Conan Doyle’s own favourite, and it’s also his most popular story.”

“Oh, that one! It’s the weirdest of all his cases! It’s a story about a snake, right? If you keep a snake in a safe, it will soon die from lack of oxygen. And suppose it does survive in the box: snakes don’t drink milk. Have you ever seen any reptiles breast-feeding their babies? Only mammals do that. And how about a man whistling for a snake? Actually snakes can’t be trained. They don’t have ears, so how can they respond to a man’s commands? It’s a matter of common sense. Was Holmes stupid or what? Since the incidents were so unrealistic, I have to assume the story was made up by Dr Watson. He wrote it as if he had been with Holmes, but probably Holmes just picked
up the idea from something he’d heard somewhere. Holmes was addicted to cocaine, and he could have told Watson any old thing that came into his head. In fact, seeing snakes is a good example of somebody hallucinating.”

“Holmes was able to guess a person’s occupation and personality at first glance. He was much more instinctive than you could ever be.”

“Oh, I can’t stand his guesswork! It’s so embarrassing! For example, in ‘The Adventure of the Yellow Face’, the client found a pipe, and Holmes guessed whose it was. According to Holmes, the owner had treasured this pipe, because he had had it repaired, paying almost as much as the price of the pipe itself. Holmes also said that the owner was left-handed because he lit the pipe with the flame of a lamp, not with matches, holding the pipe in his left hand. Therefore, the pipe got burnt on the right side, according to Holmes. Surely, if the pipe was so valuable to the owner, he would’ve been careful enough not to burn it. Anyway, if you smoked a pipe, which hand would you use? You would rather not use your dominant hand, especially if you smoke while doing something else. Many left-handed men might hold their pipe in their right hand. So we can’t determine whether the man was left-handed or not. Only Watson would have accepted Holmes’s dubious reasoning. Well, maybe it was just a joke—or an example of bad humour.

“What else?… Holmes was a master of disguise, wasn’t he? He dressed himself as an old woman, put on a grey wig and fake eyebrows, carried a parasol and went for a walk. Do you know how tall Holmes was? Over six feet! Obviously, the old woman would have looked like a man—or a monster! Everybody in London must have been rolling around on the floor laughing
and crying out: ‘There goes that silly Sherlock Holmes!’ Only Watson didn’t notice.

“Watson said Holmes could have been a very strong boxer. How did he know? Probably Holmes, who was addicted to cocaine, got violent and beat him up occasionally. Poor Dr Watson! But he could never leave Holmes, since Holmes provided him with all the material for his stories. Watson must have tried so hard to keep Holmes happy. Every time Holmes returned from a walk, Watson had to pretend he didn’t know it was him. That was the way Watson made his living. What? What’s wrong with you, Kazumi?”

“How dare you say such things? It’s sacrilege! You’ll be cursed, my friend!”

“Oh, pooh! And, by the way, you said that I am inferior to Holmes when guessing someone’s personality, but you’re so wrong. I have studied astrology, which I believe is the best way to know about people. I have also studied psychiatric pathology, and, of course, astronomy. To know someone’s personality, it’s best to ask his or her time of birth. Some clients don’t know exactly when they were born. Well, I can easily guess their birthday from their personality and appearance. As you’ve seen, I almost always guess right. And once I get the data, I can explore a client’s personality. Even though Holmes was born in England, he didn’t study astrology. That’s a pity. Astrology would have enabled him to do a better job.”

“I know you’re knowledgeable about people’s personalities,” I replied, “but what do you know about astronomy?”

“How can I be an astrologer if I don’t know about astronomy? Oh, I see, you’re sceptical because you’ve never seen me looking through a telescope. Well, I do have one, actually, but it’s
useless in Tokyo: the only things we can see here are particles of smog. However, I can obtain updated information. I’ll give you an example. We all know that Saturn has a ring around it. Do you know any other such planets in the solar system?”

“There are no others.”

“You’re wrong. That’s what they said decades ago. By the way, the Japanese used to think that a bunny was making rice cakes on the moon. You don’t still believe that, do you?”

I refused to answer him.

“No offence to you, Kazumi, but every minute that passes, scientific research is making progress. Sooner or later, elementary schools will be teaching kids how electromagnetic waves travel in the universe and how gravity, time and space relate to each other. In the near future, these children will look down at us as dinosaurs. But, getting back to the solar system, Uranus has a ring. So does Jupiter. These facts were discovered just the other day. I have the privilege of being informed of such new information.”

Even though Kiyoshi looked serious, his story sounded fishy to me. “I accept that you are quite knowledgeable about Holmes and astronomy,” I said, “so who would you say is the best detective? Have you ever read the Father Brown series?”

“Who? I don’t know anything about Christians.”

“What about Philo Vance?”

“What? What kind of vans?”

“Miss Jane Marple?”

“As in maple syrup?”

“Chief Inspector Maigret?”

“Is he a policeman in Meguro?”

“Hercule Poirot?”

“Sounds like the name of a liqueur.”

“I don’t know what to say. You’ve never read any of those detective stories, but still you insist that the tales of Sherlock Holmes are foolish.”

“I didn’t say I disliked him. In fact, he’s one of the detectives I love the most. I love his humour. We would never be interested in people who acted like computers, would we? Holmes showed us what a real human being is. In that sense, he’s wonderful.”

His compliment surprised me, even if it was backhanded. I was rather touched. As he saw me smiling, he hurriedly added, “But there’s one thing about him I really disagree with: his involvement with the British government during the First World War. He justified capturing German spies, while ignoring the fact that Britain had its own spies. As you’ve seen in the movie
Lawrence of Arabia
, Britain had been two-faced regarding Arab diplomacy. And look how they treated China in the Opium War. How could Holmes justify his work for a dishonourable country? He should never have gotten involved in their political crimes. You could say that his love for his own country motivated him, but justice must rise above patriotism. His reputation was ruined in his later years. When he and Moriarty fell into the waterfall, Holmes had to have been killed. The person we knew as Sherlock Holmes after that incident was an impostor that Britain used for propaganda. As a matter of fact, we can see…”

Kiyoshi’s lecture was interrupted by someone knocking loudly on the door. Before we answered, the visitor had entered the office. He was a big man in a dark-coloured suit, about forty years old.

“Are you Mr Mitarai?” he asked me.

“No, I’m not,” I replied nervously.

As he turned to Kiyoshi, he pulled out his badge from his pocket like a businessman showing off his wallet. In a low voice, he introduced himself. His name was Takegoshi.

As soon as he saw the name, Kiyoshi changed his attitude. “So you’re from the police! Well, this is an unexpected surprise! Did one of us get a parking ticket? May I examine your badge more closely, please? This is the first time for me to see a real one.”

“You don’t know how to speak to your superiors, do you?” Takegoshi said dramatically. “These days, young men aren’t acquainted with proper etiquette. That’s why we’re so busy, I tell you.”

“According to proper etiquette, a visitor waits until he is invited into an office. He does not barge in. What do you want? Tell me quickly. We don’t want to waste our time, or yours.”

“What? This is amazing! Do you know who I am? Do you always talk to people like that?”

“Only to socially uneducated people like yourself. Tell me what you want. And if you would like your fortune told, tell me your birthday right away.”

Takegoshi was taken aback, but he did not alter his high-handed manner. “You saw my sister, didn’t you?” he said. There was anger in his voice. “Her name is Misako Iida. I know that she came to see you.”

“Ah!” Kiyoshi replied, suddenly raising his voice. “She said she had a brother, and that must be you! What a surprise! This gentleman must have been raised under very different circumstances from his sister, don’t you think, Mr Ishioka?”

“I don’t know why she visited such a cheap fortune-teller as you. She brought our father’s note here, didn’t she? Don’t deny it!”

“I haven’t denied it yet.”

“My brother-in-law told me she did. That note is an important piece of evidence. I want it back!”

“Since I have finished reading it, I may be willing to return it to you, but is that acceptable to your sister?”

“She wouldn’t care. I demand that you return the note to me immediately!”

“So you haven’t spoken to your sister about this yet. Well, would she really want me to hand over the note to you? What would Bunjiro Takegoshi say if he was alive? I don’t think I can return his note, even though you are asking me very politely.”

“You rude son of a bitch! You must know that I can take certain action.”

“What kind of action might that be? It must be something nice. What do you think it is, Mr Ishioka? Putting handcuffs on us?”

“Your attitude is far different from the way I was brought up. You should learn some manners, boy.”

“I’m not quite as young as you might think,” Kiyoshi answered, yawning.

“I’m serious. My father will not rest in peace if you keep playing private detective with his note. Criminal investigation is not a parlour game. Only legwork brings success.”

“Are you talking about the investigation of the Tokyo Zodiac Murders?”

“The Zodiac Murders? What the hell is that, the title of a comic book? People jump at anything that sounds sensational, and then act like they’re private detectives. They think it’s easy and fun, but real detective work is serious. We’re professionals—not like you—and that note is required for our investigation.”

“If legwork is all that’s required, then being a detective must be the best job for the son of a shoe salesman. But you forgot something very important—brainwork. If intelligence makes a good detective, what happened in your case, eh? I don’t think you deserve to have this note. However, I will consider handing it over to you. But I have my doubts. You won’t be able to solve this case unless you use your head—because otherwise, I warn you, you will lose face.”