The Ginza Ghost Page 13

  I had finished a late dinner around eight. Because vacation had already started at the girls’ academy, I was preparing for a trip somewhere to the south. Suddenly Miki, a student in Sanshirō’s refresher course A, arrived at my door, bringing me the bad news of what had happened at the Asami home. Despite feeling a shudder because of the cold weather, I immediately grabbed my skis and hurried there with Miki. As I was leaving, I could hear the Christmas Eve bells of the town church ringing, so it must have been around nine o’clock.

  Miki was a tall and lively girl, one of the early-maturing ones you see in every girls’ academy. She had already mastered the secrets of make-up, the length of her skirt was always changing, and she was always filling the corners of her class-books with the names of poets in very small print. Miki often went to visit Sanshirō at his home. ‘Mr. Asami is teaching me literature,’ she would say, but she also visited the home during Sanshirō’s absence, so it might have been Oikawa, and not Sanshirō, who was “teaching her literature.” Anyway, that night Miki had gone to Sanshirō’s house, but it seemed as though nobody was home, even though the doors and windows weren’t locked. Thinking this was a bit strange, she opened the front door and went to the back, as she always did when visiting. When she discovered the abnormal state inside the house, she hurried to my place, it being one of the closest.

  I lived less than ten minutes away from the Asami residence by ski. Their house was stylish, like a timbered lodge. It was the right-most house in a block of three. The people of the house on the far left seemed to have gone to sleep already, as the curtains were drawn. The house in the middle was also dark; a notice said it was for rent. When we stopped in front of Sanshirō’s house, Miki was trembling and seemed as if she didn’t want to go inside, so I told her to go to the house of Tabei, a physics teacher at the academy, who also lived close by. Finally, I got a grip on myself and entered the house.

  Haruo’s room was near the front door. A child’s crayon drawings of “a general” and “a soldier with tulips” were pinned to the wall. In the middle of the room stood a potted fir tree, with braids of golden wire and chains of coloured paper threaded between the branches, topped by snow made of white cotton. It was the Christmas tree Sanshirō had bought for his son just before he had left for his temporary assignment.

  But the first thing I noticed as I entered the room was the empty bed of the little master of the Christmas tree standing in front of a small desk in one corner. The blankets had been thrown back and the child who should have been sleeping there was nowhere to be seen. The silver-paper stars of the Christmas tree that had lost its master sparkled as they started to turn and sway in the cold currents of air.

  It was then that I found the other, temporary, inhabitant of the room. Oikawa was lying in the opening of the door leading to the living room in the back, face down towards me. I recoiled, but when I saw the chaotic state of the living room through the door, I pulled myself together, cautiously sneaked to the opening and looked at both the man lying at my feet and the occupant of the living room.

  Sanshirō’s wife Hiroko was lying with her head leaning on a stove which was standing on a galvanized plate. The awful stench of burnt hair hung in the room. I stood there for a while, trembling in shock, but finally pulled myself together, crouched and carefully touched Oikawa’s body. It was not the body of a living person.

  From the disorder around their fallen figures, it seemed as though both Oikawa and Hiroko had put up a struggle. They seemed to have been beaten, as I could see countless purple welts on their foreheads, faces, arms and necks. I quickly found the weapon: the stove’s iron poker, slightly bent, had been thrown near Oikawa’s feet. The room was in chaos. The chairs had been overturned, the table pushed away and a big cardboard toy box, which had probably been on top of the table, had been thrown in front of the sofa. It was wet and crushed. A toy train, a mascot figure, a beautiful big spinning top and more had been thrown out of the box, together with caramel, bonbon and chocolate animal candies. You could almost sense a childish purity from these toys which had lost their master.

  If I’d been a witness to this kind of scene in the house of a total stranger, I probably wouldn’t have stayed to take in so much detail of what I saw. I’d have been so shocked at finding dead bodies that I’d have run to the police immediately. But at the time I was less troubled by what I’d seen than by what I hadn’t seen. It dawned on me that I hadn’t seen the son ever since I’d entered the house. It might seem strange, but I felt more anxious about the missing child than about the dead people in front of me. Just like Oikawa and Hiroko, I, too had been responsible for his safety during Sanshirō’s absence.

  The house was divided into four rooms. I quickly searched the other two as I tried to keep my fearful heart in check, but even after going through the whole house, I couldn’t find any sign of the child.

  Then a thought suddenly occurred to me: the sliding window of the room where the tragedy had happened was open. That was strange: nobody would normally leave a window open on such a cold night. I imagined that the individual who had beaten two people to death and taken the child must have fled through the window, failing to shut it in his haste. And so, with some trepidation, I returned to the living room. Inching slowly round the wall, and ready to take on the invisible enemy if necessary, I peeked out of the window, which looked out on a garden and hedge at the back of the house.

  I saw exactly what I’d expected to see, there in the snow below the window. The chaotic prints of someone putting on skis were clearly visible, even in the dark. From those prints, two long lines went through an opening in the hedge and disappeared into the darkness beyond. Beneath the star-filled sky, I could clearly hear the tolling of the Christmas bells. They sounded eerie, like the whisper of the devil.

  Without hesitation I returned to the front door, strapped on my own skis, and went round to the back of the house, to the open window of the living room. There were two parallel lines there in the snow, so one person must have skied there. Making sure not to erase the tracks, I went through the opening in the hedge and followed them. I’d only just started my chase, when I found an important clue: even though he was skiing on a flat surface, the kidnapper hadn’t used both of his ski poles. On the left side of the tracks, I could see the snow being scattered around by the ring at the end of the ski pole every three or four metres, but there were no such marks on the right side. I felt anxiety in my heart. I was right: the skier was using a pole in his left hand, but couldn’t use one with his right hand. That meant he was holding something else in his right hand. In my mind’s eye I could clearly see the image of the child struggling in the arms of his kidnapper. I grew more tense as I followed the tracks, which seemed to continue forever.

  The tracks went through the hedge, across an open field, and towards a silent back road. This was a new residential area of H Town. The houses here were spread far apart and had a lot of green space, with snow-covered fields. I couldn’t tell whether they were farm fields or just open ground.

  The snow had fallen from dusk till eight and almost no ski tracks had touched the fair snow skin. Besides some footprints in front of people’s houses, and dog prints, nothing had disturbed the tracks I was chasing. But I had to watch out for my prey. I shuddered and continued to glide carefully beneath the silent night sky.

  The ski tracks turned right at the back street and entered a wide snowfield. On the other side of the field was the main road that passed in front of Sanshirō’s house, going towards the town. The ski tracks crossed the field diagonally, going in the direction of the town and looked as if they might get back onto the main road at some point. If so, I might be able to ask for help from a policeman on the way. My spirits rose at the thought, and I hurried across the large field towards the road. But my hopes were dashed in the most surprising way.

  It had been a mistake in the first place to assume the tracks would continue on the main road. When I reached a point halfway across the field, I
suddenly realised I had lost sight of the ski tracks. Shocked, I looked about me. But there was nothing there except my own meandering tracks! Cursing myself for my inattention, I hurriedly retraced my own tracks, looking from side to side as I went. But no matter how much I went back and looked around, there was no sign of those tracks. I felt perplexed.

  But near the entrance to the field, I did finally manage to find the tracks again in the pale snow. Relieved, I went near them and followed them carefully like following a piece of thread, making sure I would not lose them once again. Once again the tracks appeared to cross the field diagonally, heading towards the road on the other side. I wondered how I had managed to lose them the first time. I cursed myself again, and proceeded very cautiously with my eyes locked on the tracks. This time I noticed something truly unexpected.

  The tracks became less deep near the centre of the field. They hadn’t been deep in the first place, but they became shallower and shallower with every metre and every centimetre as I proceeded forward. Finally, to my utter surprise, when the tracks reached the middle of the field, they disappeared completely, as if the person who had been skiing here had flown right into the sky above.

  Judging from the way he disappeared, the owner of the skis had to have grown a set of wings, or fresh snow had to have fallen on top of the tracks; there could be no other explanation for such a strange disappearance.

  Still perplexed, I thought as hard I could. But, as I said before, the snow that had started at dusk had stopped completely by eight, and it had been the Cold Night’s Clearing ever since; snow had not fallen since then. Even supposing it had, why would it only have erased the tracks here and not the tracks back at the house? Snow would have fallen everywhere, and all the tracks would have been erased. Well then, could a strange wind phenomenon have happened here on the field, with the snow carried by the wind erasing the tracks just at this spot? But no wind able to do that had been blowing that night. I stood still in the field, feeling like I had seen a ghost. The eerie bells had not stopped tolling and the sound carried across the field, seeming like the sneering of the devil himself.

  But I couldn’t afford just to stand there. The kidnapped child’s safety was at stake. Two people had died in the house and I had to contact the police at once.

  I went straight towards the town. Locating the closest police box, I reported the crime. But, even as I went back with a young policeman, I still couldn’t fathom the disappearance in the field.

  When we finally arrived back at Sanshirō’s house, we found a couple of people from the neighbourhood there who had just learnt of the incident and were just about to go to the police. Amongst the people in front of the house was also a shocked Miki, who looked as if she would cry at any moment. Mr. Tabei, whom I had sent Miki to fetch, was in the house, loudly opening and closing the doors of the rooms in search of the child, just as I had done.

  Entering the house and taking a look around, the policeman told us not to tamper with the crime scene until the detectives from the precinct arrived. Then he called us, Miki included, into the room Sanshirō used as his study, and started questioning us. Both Miki and I talked feverishly about how we had discovered the crime and about the inhabitants of the house, occasionally interrupting each other. Tabei, however, was very calm and talked little.

  Finally a stout, apparently high-ranking policeman arrived, together with several of his subordinates and started investigating the crime scene. I could hear the sound of a shutter several times, as they took photographs. When they had finished with the room, the police officers went back outside the house and gathered by the open window. The stout official was listening to the young policeman’s report and looking at the bodies, while the policemen outside the window started following the tracks through the opening in the hedge towards the open field. The stout officer couldn’t stay still either and, leaving the rest to the young policeman, went outside as well.

  I wrote a telegram to Sanshirō and asked Miki to take it to the post office. When I finally regained my composure, I turned to Tabei.

  He had been calm while I was explaining the events to the policeman, but now he wasn’t looking calm at all, more as though he was thinking very deeply. What was he thinking about? Had he discovered a clue?

  ‘Mr. Tabei,’ I began resolutely, ‘what are your thoughts about this case?’

  ‘My thoughts?’ Tabei replied, raising his head and blinking.

  ‘What I mean is,’ I said as I turned towards the other room, ‘you probably saw it too. The tracks of the man who committed those violent crimes and abducted a child just disappeared into thin air. It’s a very strange case.’

  ‘That’s true. It’s really strange. But then, everything about this case is strange.’

  ‘I don’t quite….’

  ‘The toys and candy lying around here, do you think they had been here from the start, I mean, before any of this had happened?’

  ‘Well, they had probably been there already, with the kid playing and eating, I think.’

  ‘I don’t think so. If he’d been eating here, there should also have been silver wrapping paper or paraffin paper here and there. I took a look before the police arrived, but there’s nothing at all. And those toys lying there, they’re all brand new. And the fact that the crushed cardboard toy box lying in front of the sofa is all wet, even though nothing—not even a drop of tea—has been spilt, is very strange, too… I think it might have been snow from the top of the cover, which melted because of the room temperature. But even without those trifling details,’ Tabei continued, changing his tone and looking me straight in the eye, ‘the ingredients for a mystery have been gathering here from the start. It’s Christmas Eve… skis in the snow… going in and out of the window… and returning to the sky….’

  Tabei suddenly stopped talking and, gazing into my eyes, asked:

  ‘Who do you think it was…?’

  ‘Hmm,’ I groaned. ‘Do you mean… are you suggesting it was Santa Claus?’

  ‘Yes. To put it simply, Santa Claus appeared in this room.’

  I was very surprised. ‘It must have been a very violent Santa Claus.’

  ‘Precisely. A Santa Claus such as you’ve never seen before… maybe the devil himself turned into Santa Claus and paid a visit here.’ Tabei suddenly took a serious tone and stood up. ‘… But I’m starting to see through the masquerade… I’ve already solved more than half of the puzzle. Let’s track this Santa Claus down.’

  Tabei went to the door of the living room and told the policeman, who had eagerly been taking notes about the crime scene, that he was going outside. Giving me a meaningful look, he left through the front door. I didn’t really understand what was going on, but, impressed by his confident attitude, I stood up too, rather uncertainly. As I went out after Tabei, the image of the tracks I was about to follow again, and the image of the stout officer probably looking up into the night sky with his arms folded, appeared in my mind’s eye.

  But Tabei didn’t go to the window in the back. Instead, he went to the hedge at the front, looking at the road there. In the snow were the tracks of the people who had entered and left the house, and some of the people from the neighbourhood were standing there with pale faces. What was he doing?

  ‘Mr. Tabei, the tracks are at the window in the back.’

  ‘Oh, those tracks,’ he said as he turned around. ‘I don’t care about them any more. I’m looking for another set of tracks.’

  ‘Another set of tracks?’ I repeated.

  ‘Yes.’ Tabei laughed grimly, and continued: ‘There was just one set of tracks outside the window, if you recall? You can’t come and then go again leaving just one set of tracks. If someone entered back there, there should be tracks leaving here.’

  He looked at the roof of Sanshirō’s house and grinned. ‘Even if he was Santa Claus, he wouldn’t have been able to enter through that small chimney… because this murder case isn’t just a fairy-tale.’

  I saw it now: the
re had to be tracks entering the house, too. Realising my own carelessness, I felt ashamed. But suddenly, a thought entered my mind.

  ‘Mr. Tabei, I see what you mean. It was snowing before eight. Santa Claus came here before eight, and went out after the snow had stopped. That’s why the tracks of him arriving have been erased, and why only the tracks of him leaving remain.’

  But, to my surprise, Tabei silently shook his head.

  ‘You’re gravely mistaken there. True, that’s one way to look at the case. When I first took a look at the tracks outside the window, I myself thought so too for a while. But when I heard about the disappearing tracks from you, I understood I was wrong. The problem lies in the tracks that suddenly disappear.’

  ‘By which you mean…?’

  ‘So you think snow had fallen on top of the tracks?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then why had the snow fallen in such an uneven, irregular way?’

  Tabei placed his hand on my shoulder. ‘The starting point of your deduction is wrong, you see. Inside, people have been murdered and a child has been abducted. The window has been opened, and in the snow outside are ski tracks with just one ski pole; indeed as if someone had been carrying a child. But as you were observing this, you deduced that the fiend had abducted the child and gone out through the window. That was your mistake.’

  Tabei changed his tone and added hand movements.

  ‘So let’s think about this situation… Let’s suppose a man is walking in the middle of a heavy snow fall… but during his walk, the snow tapers off and the sky clears. How would the man’s footprints appear then? … You see, while the snow was falling, the footprints would be obliterated by the snow immediately, but if the snow started to taper off, his footprints would gradually appear deeper and deeper as they were less and less filled by the snow. But if you now think about ski tracks and follow them in reverse—unlike footprints, you can’t tell which direction ski tracks are pointing in—the tracks in the snow would become shallower and shallower until they were gone completely, just as if a man had disappeared… So the snow didn’t fall after someone had arrived here, nor did someone leave here after the snow had stopped: the snow tapered off just as someone was skiing … So now do you understand the mystery behind those disappearing tracks? The man who made them didn’t go out through the window, he came in. Tonight, the snow stopped falling at eight, so Santa Claus must have come from the town and entered the house shortly after eight.’