Kazuo re-investigates the crime scene with Hoshizono. I'd like the readers to look for clues, as well. Hoshizono declares that two sets of footprints belong to the culprit. There's nothing wrong with that theory.
Kazuo re-investigates the crime scene with Hoshizono.
I'd like the readers to look for clues, as well.
Hoshizono declares that two sets of footprints belong to the culprit.
There's nothing wrong with that theory.
Kazuo and Hoshizono arrived at Iwagishi's lodge.
The wind showed no signs of letting up as it whipped past them with a long, piercing whistle.
At the entrance to the lodge, Hoshizono turned around and regarded Kazuo with cool eyes.
“Kazuo, I might miss something if I look on my own. Could you keep an eye out for any clues?”
“I got it.”
Kazuo nodded without question. He'd expected this as soon as they stepped outside. Hoshizono was looking for clues to help resolve this tragedy. It may have been impossible for them, who weren't professional investigators, to unveil the murderer's identity. However, Hoshizono was still willing to face that difficulty head on. Kazuo, too, had some faint hope. He believed that Hoshizono could use his unusual intellect – the same power of observation that allowed him to tell at a glance that Kazuo had taken girls to bars – and that he would be able to discover at least a single clue. If it were possible, he'd be willing to serve as even a detective's assistant or errand boy...
“Alright then, let's go.”
Hoshizono pulled a pair of gloves from his pocket.
“Just in case.”
“Fingerprints?”
“Yes. I know I went in with my bare hands earlier, but back then I didn't touch anything. I'd hate to cause trouble for the police by leaving traces.”
Hoshizono put on his gloves, and Kazuo followed suit. When he'd brought these gloves to protect himself from the cold, he'd never expected they'd be used for something like this.
Hoshizono smoothly stepped into the lodge. Kazuo followed him.
Kazuo immediately averted his eyes, startled by the sight of the corpse. No matter how many times he saw it, he'd never get used to it. It wasn't that he was afraid, he just didn't want to see it. It was an object – and object in the shape of a person. Last night, it had been walking and talking like one of them. Now it would never move again. That was what made it so difficult to watch. Kazuo was suddenly overcome with righteous anger. As he looked at the tips of Iwagishi's feet in the corner of his vision, he couldn't suppress the heat rising in his stomach. He'd never had a good impression of the old man, but nobody had the right to do something like this. He didn't know who did it, but he wouldn't let them get away with it.
“Kazuo, focus,” said Hoshizono. “Let's start the investigation. I don't want to stay here any longer than we have to.”
He was looking under the table. Kazuo went to join him. Oddly enough, he wasn't afraid anymore. Perhaps his fear had been smothered by his anger. The air was still warm from the stove, but he wasn't sweating like he had been earlier.
Kazuo and Hoshizono began their investigation.
Not that there was much to investigate. The lodge wasn't that big – it had just enough room for the two bunk beds, the table and stools, and the wardrobe to the left of the entrance.
The bed frames were made of plain wood without embellishments. They consisted of little more than four rounded pillars and two boards. The bed on the left had exposed wood on both the top on the bottom, as did the bottom bunk on the right. Only the top right bunk actually had a mattress. Kazuo climbed halfway up the ladder and, after nearly hitting his head on the ceiling, pulled down the blankets. However, he saw nothing of note: no bloodstains, no markings, just an impression where it appeared someone had slept.
The window next to the bed had light green curtains. There was a small gap between them. Last night, he'd caught a glimpse of Iwagishi through that gap. Looking back, that was the last time he'd seen him alive, but now he couldn't remember how he'd looked at the time. Kazuo was sorry about that.
In the center of the back wall, near the ceiling, hung an old-timey lantern. It hung from a nail, its glass covered in soot. On either side of it were more nails – the objects that had once hung from them were now on the floor. One was the bloodied ice axe, the other a nylon rope tied around Iwagishi's neck.
“Sir, what about the knot?”
Kazuo indicated the end of the rope tied around the leg of the bed.
“Can it give us any clues? Like, maybe it's tied a certain way?”
“Ah, like a sailor's knot? If it was tied abnormally, that would certainly be a clue to the culprit's identity.”
Hoshizono, who had been bent over examining the ice axe, looked up.
“Looking more closely, it appears to be a simple knot that anyone can tie. It's unlikely to tell us anything.”
“Ah... right.”
It was indeed an ordinary knot. It seemed Hoshizono had already thought of Kazuo's theory.
“More importantly, Kazuo, can you check the floor for anything unusual?”
“On the floor?”
“You know, in crime dramas they're always finding contact lenses and tubes of lipstick fallen on the floor.”
“I don't think we'll find anything so convenient...”
“They were examples. I don't actually expect to solve it that easily. Anything's fine, even a piece of thread could be a clue.”
Kazuo crawled on the floor and even checked under the bed, but he found nothing. The kettle that Sagashima had knocked over and Iwagishi's shoes were both next to the bed. The shoes didn't bear so much as a speck of dust. It seemed reality wasn't going to be as convent as a drama.
“There's nothing here.”
Kazuo stood up.
“I see. Too bad.”
Hoshizono opened the door on the wardrobe. There hung the double-breasted coat they'd seen Iwagishi wearing yesterday. In front of the wardrobe was a Boston bag. Hoshizono appeared to notice it at the same time as Kazuo.
“If I were alone, this might cause problems down the line, but if we're together, it should be fine.”
“Are you sure it's alright to open that without permission?”
“I'm prepared to explain myself to the police.”
Hoshizono quickly unzipped the bag.
“I just hope we don't get arrested for this...”
To Kazuo's disappointment, the bag's contents didn't tell them much. A change of clothes, toiletries, an electric razor... and that was about it. It was the sort of luggage you'd expect from a man on an overnight trip, and it held no clues.
“There's nothing there.”
“I suppose not.”
Hoshizono stuck his hand in the hanging coat.
“Nothing here either.”
On the same hanger was also hanging a pair of pants and a jacket. In the pockets, they found a wallet, a business card holder, a key ring, a handkerchief, and some pocket tissues. Nothing that helped them. Hoshizono even went through his wallet.
“Is that all right?”
“Where's your sense of adventure, Kazuo? Just take a look.”
Hoshizono turned and showed him. The wallet held a lot of money – not a truly massive amount, but more than an ordinary salaryman like Kazuo could imagine carrying.
“He had a lot of money, didn't he?”
“That's not the point... The murderer didn't take it.”
“Oh, so the motive wasn't money...”
“That's what I'm getting at. Look, his cards are all here too, absolutely nothing was taken. This wasn't a theft... Although, I guess a burglar coming out here to the mountains wasn't all that likely to begin with.”
Hoshizono put everything back in the pockets, exactly as he'd found them.
“We didn't find anything at all, did we?”
At Kazuo's question, Hoshizono gave a pretentious shrug.
“I knew it was possible, but this trip appears to have been a total waste. It seems our cautious culprit didn't leave a single clue.”
He sounded regretful. Then:
“I guess we have no choice but to give up. Kazuo, shall we?”
Hoshizono went to leave, but Kazuo stopped him.
“Sir, what should we do with that?”
“With what?”
“That, over there... Mr. Iwagishi.”
He couldn't stand the thought of just leaving him lying on the floor. He thought they could at least move him to the bed.
“I understand your feelings, but...”
Hoshizono waved a finger in the air.
“There's nothing we can do. If we tamper with the body, we'll really be in trouble.”
“Right...”
Reluctantly, Kazuo and Hoshizono left the lodge.
They were immediately assailed by the wind. Hoshizono's wavy fair fluttered around his head.
Descending the three stairs, Kazuo took a peak under the raised floor. Perhaps he'd gotten in the habit of searching. But there was nothing but bare earth. There was no snow below the building. There wasn't anything on the ground, except some paneling, probably left behind by repairmen.
Squinting against the wind, Hoshizono looked at the footprints left in the snow. He stood there in the snow, finger to his brow, deep in thought on some subject. He looked as though a master craftsman had poured his soul into capturing his visage. He could have been a picture hanging in the Utsukushigahara Open-Air Museum.
“Kazuo, these footprints...”
Hoshizono's voice was deep and subdued.
“Come take a look at these.”
“Okay.”
They were the footprints he'd seen earlier. Three lines connecting the lodge and the left shoveled path in straight lines.
“Can you tell which ones are coming from the lodge and which ones are leaving it?”
“No, I don't think so.”
The footprints had been weathered into almost perfectly ovular depressions. There was no way to tell the fronts from the backs, let alone distinguish any unique or identifying traits. The killer must have left their footprints, knowing they'd be reduced to this by morning. They were awfully calm.
“You don't know... No, I suppose not. In that case, we have no choice but to assume these were left long before we found them, that is, late last night. The newer ones are more clear, but not these.”
As Hoshizono explained, he struck his signature pose, pointing a finger to the sky.
“Um, sir, could you... stop doing that when it's just the two of us?”
“Doing what?”
“No, you know, that.”
Kazuo pointed at Hoshizono's skyward-pointing finger.
“Ah, sorry... It's a habit.”
Hoshizono was clearly embarrassed.
“Can we call that an occupational hazard?”
“Yes... I tend to show off without realizing.”
“Do you do that even when you're home alone?”
“Yes, I catch myself posing... Well, at any rate.”
Hoshizono blushed and cleared his throat.
“More importantly, the problem is with these footprints... Looking at them, it's clear they were left a while ago.”
He spoke gingerly. It was amusing, seeing the eyes in that marble sculpture head looking so uncomfortable, but Kazuo decided not to push any further.
“You're probably right.”
“I think this set likely belongs to Mr. Iwagishi.”
Hoshizono still looked embarrassed.
“Yesterday, we didn't decide on lodge assignments until after dinner, so that would mean he's only come here once, when he went to bed.”
“Right.”
“Mr. Iwagishi came here once and never left, so he should have only left one set of prints.”
“Then the other two sets...”
“Yes, I'm certain they belong to our murderer. They're the footprints of the culprit who came here and left after committing the crime.”
Hoshizono seemed to have recovered and made his declaration with conviction.
“But, sir, couldn't they have used a trick?”
“A trick?”
“Yes. Not to start talking about dramas again, but you know, all those stories about footprints in the snow?”
Hoshizono didn't accept Kazuo's explanation.
“When you say 'trick', just what do you have in mind?”
“Well, for example, you could walk backwards over your own footprints, going back and forth but only leaving one set.”
“But look, Kazuo, do you see any traces of that happening? No matter how careful they were, the culprit would have had to act in the dark of night. It would be strange if there wasn't even a single footprint out of alignment. But all these sets are straight and clean, so I don't think that trick was used.”
“That's true, but what about using stilts or a sled to avoid leaving any prints at all?”
“That won't do either. I'm certain, this set belongs to Mr. Iwagishi, and the other two to the murderer. There's no doubt in my mind.”
Hoshizono was full of confidence. Kazuo couldn't object to that. The tricks he was thinking of were all just idle speculation. If one of the three sets of footprints came from the victim, then the other two must have belonged to the culprit. With no other footprints, that was the only possibility.
“In that case, then the voice I heard last night must have also belonged to the culprit, right?”
When Kazuo said that, Hoshizono relaxed his face a bit.
“Oh, that lover's quarrel?”
“At the time I thought it was a woman's voice, but I'm not sure. It could have been a man's voice. I don't know.”
“What did it sound like? Do you have any idea whose voice it was?”
“No, I can't remember.”
He'd been trying for a while now. He kept reaching out for the voice, but he just couldn't get his hands around it. The more he thought about it, the more it slipped from his memory's grasp – and the more frustrated he became.
“It's too bad, if you could just remember it, the case would be solved in one fell swoop.”
“I'm pretty frustrated with myself... I'm pretty sure I heard Iwagishi's voice, and he was having some kind of trouble with his killer, but... I'm sorry, my memory is still fuzzy.”
“There's nothing to apologize for. I can't blame you for not remembering something like that.”
Hoshizono spoke boldly, as though trying to encourage him.
“Moreover, what do you make of the footprints, Kazuo? If I'm right, there should have been two sets of footprints when you overheard them, one from Mr. Iwagishi, and one from the culprit.”
“Yeah, but I didn't see them since it was so dark out.”
At the time, Kazuo had had no interest in who Iwagishi's guest was, so he hadn't thought to look for things like that. Now he regretted having been so inattentive.
“It's a pity, but it's understandable in that darkness.”
Once again, Hoshizono consoled him.
“Whatever the case, there's no doubt that only one other person set foot in that lodge last night. Those footprints prove that.”
“The one whose voice I heard, you mean.”
“That's exactly it.”
Hoshizono's expression grew serious.
“Was it really someone from our group...?”
Kazuo turned to look at the administration building.
“There's no doubt about it. When Mr. Zaino discovered the body, the culprit was only pretending to be surprised. They acted like they were one of us, while on the inside, they were laughing.”
“Unforgivable...”
The flames of anger flared in Kazuo's chest again. Hoshizono silently stared at the roof of the administration building with a far-away look in his eyes. His profile was as well proportioned as ever, but his dark eyes were sharp. He must have been like Kazuo, internally gnashing his teeth in rage. The wind continued to blow through his soft hair.
After a few moments of silence, Hoshizono spoke up.
“Let's go, Kazuo.”
His quiet voice disappeared into the wind.
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