Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

At the inaugural meeting of the Japan Crime Research Association, Aoyama Kyoji and I - whose midnight slumber in a frigid inn had been shattered by an urgent telegram about a bizarre murder case from Judicial Supervisor Naiki of M Police Station, with whom we'd fortuitously become acquainted days prior - continued striding briskly along the railway tracks toward the crime scene at W Station, our cleveret raincoats wrapped tight as we faced the gale head-on.

It was a night of bitter cold—a blizzard that shrieked like a wailing banshee.

The snow had stopped, but a blade-sharp gale still tore through the night. Through depths of desolate darkness stretching endlessly beneath us, the distant sea seemed to rage—the relentless pounding of waves against the derelict port’s breakwater three miles south intermingled with the wind’s howls, drowning out even the faintest crunch of our boots as we raced over snow-powdered tracks. Soon a green signal lamp emerged ahead on the path, followed by countless pallid lights that began glaring off the tracks’ bone-white rails. And then—we reached W Station.

Surrounded by red, green, orange, and other signal lamps arranged around it, the switching yard's clock tower showed exactly 4:10 in the glow of station lights. On the brightly lit yet deserted main platform where Judicial Supervisor Naiki and the police physician who had arrived before us greeted us, we were immediately led through the freight platform straight to the murder scene. The location lay near W Station's western edge—a dimly lit area hemmed between the tracks of the down main line and down track 1, where a large reddish-black iron water supply tank stood. The victim's corpse remained as discovered in the narrow four-foot-wide space between the tank and down track 1, kept under watch by several police officers and station staff.

The victim was a large man in a workman’s uniform with a chestnut-burr haircut, his legs slightly bent at the knees and spread in a "dai" shape, his right palm tightly clenched, his left palm clawing at the ground as he lay face down parallel to the tracks atop snow-dusted earth. Near his head staining the pure white snow with dark blood lay an employee’s formal cap, its chin strap torn off, discarded carelessly— The police physician immediately crouched beside the corpse and summoned us with an upward glance.

“Due to the temperature, rigor mortis has set in relatively early—but with this condition, only thirty to forty minutes have passed since death.” “Of course it’s homicide.” “The cause of death is cerebral concussion resulting from a contusion to the occipital region. As you can observe, the wound presents as a narrow laceration running horizontally perpendicular to the spinal cord, accompanied by minor hemorrhaging.” “Judging from this wound and the fracture at the base of the occipital bone, the perpetrator employed a blunt instrument with a free end measuring approximately 0.8 cm in width and 5 cm in length—something akin to an ash rake with a splayed tip—striking from behind with full force.”

“Are there any other injuries?” Kyoji asked.

“No，there aren’t．However，there are extremely minor abrasions or subcutaneous hemorrhages on the face，palms，and other areas，but they’re unrelated to the cause of death．”

Kyoji faced the police physician and drew even closer to the corpse, shining his flashlight's beam to examine the fatal wound on the occiput. Then, shortly after, he pointed at the hairline surrounding the wound and said to the physician.

“There’s a bit of something like white powder sticking here. What could this be? Is it sand?”

“Yes. It’s just ordinary, commonplace sand from the ground. It was probably adhering to the murder weapon.”

“I see. “But I’d like to examine it all the same.” Then, turning toward the station staff, he asked, “Do you have a microscope? “Especially one with 500x magnification or higher—that would be preferable—”

Then, the portly Assistant Stationmaster of W Station with a thin mustache standing beside me ordered a nearby station hand to fetch the microscope from the infirmary. Kyoji then examined the victim’s tightly clenched right palm and legs—slightly bent at the knees and spread in a "dai" shape—occasionally tilting his head in contemplation. Before long, he stood up and called out to Judicial Supervisor Naiki, who had just finished discussing something with his assistant inspector.

"I would very much like to hear your opinion."

Judicial Supervisor Naiki laughed at Kyoji's words. “Not at all. On the contrary, I should be seeking your assistance. But first—before proceeding with the investigation—let me outline a crucial point.” He straightened his posture, the station lights glinting off his badge. “To put it plainly, there’s not a single trace of the perpetrator at this scene. You’re aware snow had already fallen by the estimated time of the crime? Despite our officials conducting what I might call...” His mustache twitched as he glanced at the bloodstained snow, “...an adequate investigation upon rushing here, this snowfield shows no footprints—not even the victim’s own.” Naiki’s leather-gloved hand swept toward the tracks. “Therefore, we must logically conclude—” His voice sharpened like a prosecutor addressing court, “—the true crime scene lies elsewhere. Specifically—” The flashlight beam stabbed downward, illuminating parallel blood droplets leading west, “—this corpse was bludgeoned with an ash rake aboard the locomotive passing down track one at the estimated hour, then thrown from it! Examine this evidence yourself—these blood traces prove my theory conclusively.”

Judicial Supervisor Naiki directed his flashlight’s beam onto the road surface midway between the rails and the corpse. Indeed, on the snow thinly accumulated on the ground—about two feet from the rails and parallel to them—several blood droplets were aligned in a straight line. The tip of this trail—where the blood droplets first began falling—lay approximately five feet east of the corpse. There, several droplets concentrated in one spot had formed a stain roughly the size of a clenched fist on the snow’s surface, likely having dripped from the floor of the stationary locomotive. And as the trail extended westward by two or three feet at a time, the intervals between droplets gradually increased by an inch or two each until they vanished from our sight into the darkness. Judicial Supervisor Naiki pointed to those droplets’ peculiar landing points as he added that the crime must have been committed when the locomotive had stopped here to take on water. Kyoji had been listening while nodding to each point, but eventually turned back to the station staff and requested an account of the corpse’s discovery along with details about the victim.

In response, a technician-like man in rubber-coated work attire from the power distribution room stepped forward. He stated in meticulous detail that he had discovered the corpse lying exactly as seen here while returning from the power distribution room along down track 1 to the main building’s duty room during shift change around twenty minutes before 4:20 AM, and had promptly reported it. However, he added that he had absolutely no recollection of ever having seen the victim. This time, the gaunt Stationmaster with protruding cheekbones—who until now had stood beside the Assistant Stationmaster, hands thrust deep into his overcoat pockets while intently listening to the others—stated that while it was understood the victim was a newly hired assistant engineer at H Station Locomotive Depot approximately thirty miles east of W Station, details such as his full name remained unknown. He added that they had already telegraphed H Locomotive Depot to request formal identification of the corpse.

At that very moment, as the station hand from earlier arrived with the microscope, Kyoji accepted it and—leaking a satisfied smile at the well-arranged lighting setup—handed the device to the police physician while requesting an analytical examination of the sand fragments adhering to the corpse’s wound. And turning around once more, he faced the Stationmaster and,

“Next, there’s one more thing—I’d like to inquire about the train that passed through this down track 1 at the estimated time of the crime approximately one hour ago—”

This time, the thin-mustached Assistant Stationmaster leaned forward.

“When I say ‘train’—this may sound odd to those outside railway matters—precisely at that time, a long-distance solo locomotive operating temporarily from H Locomotive Depot to N Station’s marshaling yard for work purposes did pass through these tracks.” “It was a switching-use tank locomotive, numbered Class 2400 No.73 if I recall correctly—” “As you know, temporary solo locomotives naturally have no scheduled speed. Therefore, barring stop orders via the block signaling system—that is, provided safety on the operational track section was pre-confirmed—some timing flexibility is permitted.” “Thus while I cannot specify here the exact time No.73’s tank locomotive passed the main building platform, I believe it didn’t diverge from 3:30 AM by more than five minutes.” “Moreover, the locomotive used down track 1 because a freight train was halted on the down main line at that exact moment.—”

“So, of course that tank locomotive stopped once at the scene after passing through the main building’s platform, I suppose?” Kyoji interjected.

“Correct.—You’re likely already aware of this, but unlike tender locomotives, tank locomotives do not pull a separate tender. They only possess a small coal/water compartment built into their main body.” “Therefore, for long-distance solo operations like between H and N Stations—nearly sixty miles—they have no choice but to replenish coal and water at this station.” “Of course, No.73 must have stopped here as well.” “And it must have taken in water from this water supply tank and loaded coal from that storage pile there.”

The thin-mustached Assistant Stationmaster said this and pointed—straining his portly frame—toward a large coal storage platform lying jet-black along the tracks just east of the water supply tank, its height approximately 13–14 feet and length about 60 feet. There, Kyoji gave a slight nod to the Assistant Stationmaster and then proceeded toward the police physician—who was bent over the microscope facing Judicial Supervisor Naiki—and lightly placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Well?” “Did you figure it out?” The police physician remained silent for a moment, then slowly stood up, let out a big yawn, and began polishing the lenses of his Lloyd glasses,

“There was. Well,” “Quite a lot, indeed—first, fragments of alkali feldspar, biotite hornblende, pyroxene, and others—all encased in a substantial glassy matrix. Then, an extremely small quantity of quartz, along with feldspathoid associated with peridotite—” “What did you say?” “Feldspathoid in peridotite? …Hmm.” “And what about the quartz?” “It’s an extremely small amount.” “—No, I’ve got it clear now.” “Still… That’s unusual…” Kyoji sank into silent contemplation for a while, then suddenly raised his face and turned to the Assistant Stationmaster. “Are there any sections of track near this station where crushed trachyte has been laid in the roadbed?”

Then, in response to that question, instead of the Assistant Stationmaster, the technician from the power distribution room spoke up.

“Approximately three miles east of here, near the power plant, there’s a cutting. Unusually, trachyte emerges from the mountain’s exposed face there, so we’ve used crushed trachyte—albeit sparingly—in the roadbed for that section of track.” “Ah.” “Then, those tracks at that location would naturally belong to this station’s maintenance section, I suppose?”

"That is correct," the Assistant Stationmaster answered. "Then—have you not recently carried out tamping work on the roadbed at that location?"

“We did. Over the past two days—yesterday and the day before—approximately five workers from this station’s maintenance section were dispatched.” The Assistant Stationmaster answered.

Then Kyoji, his eyes sparkling vividly,

“I understand! The murder weapon is a flared-blade pickaxe!” Then, smiling faintly as he surveyed the astonished group, he added, “Moreover, it belongs to this station’s engineering tools storage!”

II

I remained dumbfounded by Kyoji’s deduction even now, yet vividly conjured in my mind’s eye the murder weapon—a pickaxe with one blade flared open to about five centimeters in length—that robust flared-blade pickaxe I’d often seen track workers swinging from train windows, its image materializing with crystal clarity. Judicial Supervisor Naiki also appeared as astonished as I was, his eyes wide like large marbles as he timidly turned his face toward the police physician.

Then, the gaunt Stationmaster—who until now had remained silent with his hands still thrust into his pockets—thrust out his sturdy cheekbones and confronted Kyoji in an earnest tone.

“However—even if those mineral fragments adhered to the wound—isn’t it somewhat hasty to conclude based solely on that evidence that the murder weapon was the flared-blade pickaxe used at that cutting? As you are well aware, while crushed stone ballast theoretically makes excellent trackbed material due to its angular fragments, its high cost means it’s not commonly used in our country. Instead, we primarily employ screened gravel for this purpose.” “However, since even this screened gravel comes at considerable cost, to implement construction economically, one typically places sand-mixed crushed gravel in the lower layers of the roadbed and spreads only screened gravel on the upper surface—a method known as ‘cosmetic gravel.’” “Moreover, roadbeds using crushed gravel mixed with quartz trachyte fragments beneath this ‘cosmetic gravel’—meaning roadbeds where the surface is ordinary screened gravel but the interior consists of quartz trachyte crushed gravel—can be found in several locations near H Station as well.”

The Stationmaster stared intently into Kyoji's face after saying that. But Kyoji didn't flinch at all.

“Quartz trachyte—you say?” “No.” “That’s been most instructive.” “However, please do not forget that quartz trachyte and trachyte, though both belonging to volcanic rocks within igneous rocks, are entirely distinct entities.” “That is to say, unlike quartz trachyte, trachyte contains absolutely no significant quantity of quartz. Instead, it often includes minerals such as peridotite and feldspathoids, you see.” “And moreover, this type of rock is extremely scarce in mainland Japan—an exceedingly rare specimen, you see.”

At this, the Stationmaster nodded lightly two or three times, then abruptly fell silent.

Kyoji turned toward Judicial Supervisor Naiki and,

“Anyway, since a flared-blade pickaxe isn’t exactly a small tool, have them search this area thoroughly for now.” “If it exists here, it will surely be found.”

Thereupon, two police officers were ordered by Judicial Supervisor Naiki to search for the murder weapon. Meanwhile, Kyoji quietly motioned for me to follow and began walking westward along the tracks, illuminating the trail of blood droplets along the rails—which Judicial Supervisor Naiki had earlier pointed out—with his flashlight.

However, after walking about twenty meters, he stopped and turned around. Pointing with his chin toward Judicial Supervisor Naiki, who appeared to be giving various instructions beneath the water supply tank, he said to me: “You know—regarding that corpse—what Mr. Naiki said seems mostly correct.” “In other words—the corpse was thrown from Tank Locomotive No.73, while these blood droplets began falling from the edge of No.73’s cab floor when it had stopped for water.” “And Doctor—it seems he harbors strong suspicions against one or two crew members of No.73 besides the victim who’d been riding with another victim.” “Well—that’s a generally straightforward conclusion.” “But before discussing that reasoning—I find myself most intrigued by that corpse’s strangely splayed legs and its right palm still tightly clenched around five fingers.” “And—you see—” “Recall the wound on that corpse.” “That wound was a contusion caused by blunt force trauma along with a fracture—it shouldn’t have caused significant bleeding. Right?” “Nevertheless—look—as you can see—the blood droplets from the locomotive cab’s floor continue all the way here—don’t they? No—more than that—they appear to stretch even further west. Let’s follow this blood trail to its end—shall we?”

And with that, Kyoji resumed walking. While I felt a slight shiver, I nevertheless followed behind Kyoji.

The blizzard had largely subsided, but with no buildings in this area to block it, a cold wind that refused to die down still awaited us across the sprawling switchyard. Kyoji was walking along the tracks, muttering something to himself, but soon turned toward me and,

“You.” “Observe this trail of blood droplets.” “Though the volume of fallen droplets shows no reduction, their intervals have already exceeded two meters.” “I’ve been tracking how these gaps progressively lengthen since earlier.” “They stretch too rapidly—in other words, Locomotive No.73 was forced into abrupt maximum acceleration from that water tank’s location.” “Fundamentally—by my calculations—switcher tank locomotives possess disproportionately low speed relative to their tractive power compared to passenger engines. Moreover, no operating protocol permits such violent starts within yards dense with switch points and sharp curves. This anomaly in No.73 must therefore stand as one of this case’s central enigmas.”

Then, as we walked, I interjected. “But if the total amount of blood pooled on the locomotive cab’s floor had been decreasing, wouldn’t the intervals between droplets—even if their size remained constant—lengthen as though the locomotive’s speed had abruptly changed?” “Hmm.” “You’ve become rather clever lately.” “But if what you say is true—that the blood in the locomotive diminished so quickly—then at this rate, the blood droplets will cease entirely before long. Let’s go see for ourselves there.” “Whether your theory proves correct, or whether victory is awarded to my dreadful prediction—”

And so, the two of us continued walking in an agitated state.

By now, this area was nearing the western edge of W Station, with all tracks uniformly curving sharply to the left across approximately two hundred meters. We continued walking along down track 1 through that wide curve, following the trail of blood droplets with our flashlights.

Yet soon, despite the cold, an ominous greasy sweat began oozing from the tip of my nose. I had lost the battle against Kyoji. Alongside the tracks, just as Kyoji had deduced, no matter how far we walked, the trail of blood droplets showed no sign of vanishing. Tank Locomotive No.73 had clearly accelerated to a high speed—here in this area, the blood droplets were now spaced nearly uniformly every five to six meters. And near the end of that curve, west of the switch points connecting down track 1 to the down main line via the crossover, we finally encountered the grotesque second murdered corpse.

III

The corpse, like the first one, was clad in a leaf-green uniform and wore an employee's formal cap—clearly Locomotive No.73's engineer—and had been flung sideways near the tracks onto gravel blanketed with powdery snow.

The surrounding area was a sea of blood.

I immediately left Kyoji behind and hurried back the way we had come. And when I returned there with Judicial Supervisor Naiki, the police physician, and the others, Kyoji was already crouched down, commencing a meticulous examination of the corpse. Through the examination conducted by Kyoji and the police physician, it was determined that the second corpse had been killed nearly simultaneously with the first one. The fatal wound was a deep stab injury inflicted from behind between the sixth and seventh thoracic vertebrae by a sharp dagger-like weapon, reaching the base of the left lung. Furthermore, it became clear that the corpse had sustained injuries—including a gaping contusion near the posterior region of the occipital bone and numerous abrasions across all exposed areas of the body—likely incurred when it was thrown from the locomotive.

We cooperated and searched the area for some time, but of course, the murder weapon was not discovered. And the trail of blood droplets alongside the tracks was no longer present west of that point. Judicial Supervisor Naiki—perhaps because the discovery of the second corpse had reduced his cherished suspicions to dust—remained completely wilted and silent; then, as if suddenly remembering something, he picked up a large flared-blade pickaxe from the ground beside him (which I had carelessly failed to notice earlier; he must have brought it here when we first arrived) and held it out before Kyoji’s eyes.

“Just as I thought—we found it.” “This is the one, isn’t it?” “The murder weapon used on the first corpse—it had been thrown into the narrow patch of ground between that coal pile and the lamp room immediately east of it.” “Yes, as you stated, the sand adhering to the flared blade’s tip perfectly matched that from the corpse’s wound through microscopic examination.” “We also examined the handle, but it appears the perpetrator had used gloves—there were no fingerprints.”

Kyoji nodded in acknowledgment, received the flared-blade pickaxe, and began examining it in detail himself. However, upon noticing a hole approximately the thickness of a pinky finger drilled near the end of its handle, he intently examined the hole for some time before turning to the assistant stationmaster beside him. “What kind of hole is this?” “Well—?!” “At this station, was there a flared-blade pickaxe with a hole like this drilled near the end of its handle?” “That shouldn’t be possible, but—” “Hmm. I see. “Exactly as you say.” “First of all, this hole is so new, you see...”

Kyoji sank into deep contemplation appropriate to the circumstances. Soon afterward, a station hand came running from W Station's main building and delivered a report that the party from H Locomotive Depot tasked with body identification had arrived.

Then Judicial Supervisor Naiki suddenly regained his vigor. He ordered one of the police officers to guard the corpse at this location and took the lead in walking ahead. We followed after them.

By the time we returned to the initial scene beneath the water supply tank, three depot workers who had apparently arrived via a transport railcar had already completed their examination of the corpse and were taking a break. However, when the man who appeared to be their chief—his portly frame waddling as he arrived a step behind us—caught sight of the assistant stationmaster’s face, he promptly stood up, “What an extraordinary occurrence. The victim is indeed Tsuchiya Ryohei, assistant engineer of No.73.”

“Well then. What’s the engineer’s name?” “The engineer—you mean? Yes. His name is Inoue Junzo.” “Hmm. That one’s been killed too!” At the Assistant Stationmaster’s words, both the Locomotive Depot Chief and the Stationmaster visibly turned pale. And one depot worker dashed off toward examining the second corpse.

Then Judicial Supervisor Naiki, as if poised for this very moment, apprehended the Locomotive Depot Chief. "What time did Tank Locomotive No.73 depart from H Locomotive Depot?"

“2:40 AM.” “Ah. “And it passed through this station at 3:30 AM—” “Then it didn’t make any stops en route?” “Yes, exactly. “Apart from stopping for water replenishment here, it’s a direct sixty-mile run to N Shunting Yard.” “Hmm. “How many crew members were aboard?” “Two.” “Two—? Wasn’t it three?”

“Th-that’s impossible. First of all, by principle, there are only two—the engineer and assistant—”

“No. There was an unauthorized third person—a crew member operating outside regulations!” Then urgently turning to the Stationmaster: “Send an arrest telegram to N Station for that man. The locomotive must have reached N Shunting Yard by now—”

Then Kyoji, who had remained silent until now, suddenly burst out.

“Don’t be absurd. That’s a theory even unbecoming of you, Mr. Naiki. Don’t you think?—If I were the culprit in that scenario, I would’ve abandoned the locomotive long before reaching N Station and made my escape ages ago. No—your entire hypothesis is riddled with flaws. For instance—if we assume the culprit boarded at H Station alongside both victims, even granting they could’ve discarded the murder weapon from the locomotive after committing the crime—that flared-blade pickaxe used for track bed tamping until yesterday and stored in this station’s tool shed—into the narrow space between the lamp room and coal pile, where could they possibly have obtained it in the first place? And even supposing they did—what necessity compelled them to kill two people during this station’s brief stop? If aboard the locomotive, they could’ve murdered them anywhere during that mad dash through the blizzard’s darkness—countless more suitable locations existed than here.—No—this case proves far more intriguing than your current suppositions. And that truth is demonstrated by numerous mysteries: the first corpse’s peculiar rigor mortis posture; the inexplicable hole in the flared-blade pickaxe’s handle; Tank Locomotive No.73’s violent acceleration; and crucially, the fact that entirely different weapons were used on each victim—among others. Let us begin with an immediate point—the divergent murder weapons suggest two possibilities: either separate killings at different times, or simultaneous murders through some method.—However—the former theory collapses under three facts: the second corpse’s blood trail originates from this exact location where the first was found; the locomotive’s stop here was brief; and both victims’ post-mortem intervals match conclusively.—Therefore—the killings occurred simultaneously.—This returns us to two options: either two perpetrators, or a single culprit employing extraordinary means.—Here I connect another mystery—the strange hole in that pickaxe’s handle.—Proceeding under the single-perpetrator assumption, I’ve been analyzing the necessary mechanism—the peculiar weapon deployment method required for dual murders.—Before presenting conclusions, note this: just as the culprit boarded alone when No.73 stopped here, they likewise disembarked here after committing the crimes.—Meaning—when Tank Locomotive No.73 departed westward at high speed, the culprit was no longer aboard.”

Then, the Assistant Stationmaster—who had been silently listening to Kyoji’s explanation until now—suddenly burst out laughing and—

“Th-that’s absurd! If that were the case, the locomotive would’ve had to charge off on its own—! Th-that’s preposterous!”

Then he jutted his chin out slightly, opened his eyes wide, and made a show of looking contemptuously at Kyoji. However, his complexion was dreadfully pallid.

IV

The Stationmaster, much like the Assistant Stationmaster, appeared startled by Kyoji’s words, his face deathly pale with evident concern as he drew his neck and limbs into his bulky overcoat like a turtle retreating into its shell. Before long, he began walking toward the station building. Kyoji, utterly unperturbed and in an ice-cold tone, turned once more toward the Assistant Stationmaster.

“By the way, does this station have any locomotives of the same type as No.73?” Then the Assistant Stationmaster, with a slightly displeased look,

"Well, there are about two of them on the classification tracks, though." "...What on earth is this about?"

“This is a field demonstration.” “I must request that you lend us one locomotive.” “Please position it on down Track 1 facing the same orientation as No.73 held at that time.” With that, the Assistant Stationmaster departed wearing an expression of deep suspicion.

Before long, a 2400-type tank locomotive came clanging toward us on down Track 1 heading west, venting fierce steam from its steam dome and rattling its pump rods and cranks. Following Kyoji’s instructions, the locomotive came to a halt precisely where the starting point of the blood droplet trail on the road surface aligned with the edge of the cab’s entrance platform. Kyoji then climbed halfway up the trackside ladder of the water supply tank and, pointing at an iron rod protruding from the tank’s flank—approximately one centimeter in diameter and sixty centimeters long—turned downward to address the Assistant Stationmaster.

“What is this?” “Ah, that—you see the long chain connected to the tank’s valve-opening mechanism currently hanging down before you. It was previously used as a support rod for that chain.” “I see.”

“By the way—while we’re at it—could you pass me that flared-blade pickaxe?”

And, trembling, the Assistant Stationmaster did exactly as instructed.

Kyoji received the flared-blade pickaxe, then pressed the hole at the end of its handle firmly onto the tip of that iron rod. The flared-blade pickaxe slotted in perfectly and hung from the iron rod. Then Kyoji, this time climbing the ladder rung by rung while rotating the flared-blade pickaxe’s handle around the hole at its tip, once he had positioned it nearly vertical with the blade facing upward, briefly hooked the handle’s base onto the pointed end of another separate rusted iron support rod protruding there. Finally, he hooked the thick, short, oddly bent wire—fastened precisely at the position corresponding to the second iron rod of the chain leading to the valve-opening mechanism—onto the middle portion of that same iron rod.

When he finished setting up these devices, Kyoji descended the ladder, boarded the locomotive’s cab—now parked in its designated position—retrieved a coal-shoveling scoop from inside, and without stepping down to the ground, walked along the side tank of the boiler on its frame until reaching a point facing the water supply tank’s ladder. Heaving with effort, he planted one foot on the water tank’s foothold and straddled wide-legged between the locomotive and water supply tank.

“Now then. Let’s begin. First, I will assume the role of the unfortunate first victim in this case—Tsuchiya Ryohei. And so, to supply water to Tank Locomotive No.73, Tsuchiya—unaware of the deadly mechanism above him—assumes this very posture: he aligns this dangling canvas hose here toward the intake port on the locomotive’s side tank and, gripping this chain tightly in his right palm to open the water tank’s valve, gives it a firm yank—”

Kyoji pulled the chain. With terrifying momentum, the flared-blade pickaxe plummeted toward Kyoji's occiput, carving a semicircle through the air around its handle tip. Twisting his torso with swift precision, Kyoji thrust the shovel in his left hand exactly where his head had been. Clang—the metallic shriek reverberated as the shovel clattered down before us. We collectively exhaled in relief…… Having flawlessly concluded the demonstration, Kyoji dispatched the locomotive back along the tracks and returned to our group while dusting his hands—whereupon the pencil-mustached Assistant Stationmaster instantly posed a question in tremulous tones:

“So according to your theory―where exactly did the culprit come from?” “There’s no path here―isn't there?”

“There certainly is.” “Wh-where is it?”

Then Kyoji, pointing upward—

“From the roof of this water supply tank.” “Look.” “Take a look.” “If a man were even slightly agile, he could walk across the connected roofs of the water supply tank, coal pile, lamp room, and freight platform—on and on without end—don’t you see⁉” ―I was astonished. It was only when Kyoji pointed it out that I noticed—the four structures, though each differed in height by three or four feet, stood tightly aligned in a single row through the dimly lit station grounds, stretched out lengthwise like some gargantuan freight train brought to a halt. Indeed, even I could probably walk across this.

“By the way, it was snowing before the crime, wasn’t it?”

Having said that, Kyoji began climbing the water supply tank’s ladder. And so Judicial Supervisor Naiki and the Assistant Stationmaster took the main line side ladder, while I followed Kyoji up the same Track 1 side ladder he used, each of us climbing in his wake.

We quickly reached the top, less than twenty feet from the ground. And there, upon the dull conical iron lid lightly dusted with powdery snow, we discovered countless large footprints pressed into the surface, palm prints, and even messy traces suggesting someone had placed and dragged a flared-blade pickaxe.

Kyoji immediately crawled up onto the iron lid. Indeed, in a place like this, one would fall if not crawling—and he began examining the countless marks upon it.

On the opposite ladder, alongside Judicial Police Supervisor Naiki, the agitated Assistant Stationmaster watched Kyoji’s movements while biting his lips—until at last, appearing unable to contain himself any longer— “Th-then, th-the culprit must have climbed over from here via the ladder to board the locomotive and fled directly with it after committing the crime.” “Right? He ran off with it, didn’t he?”

Then Kyoji laughed and, “Why do you insist on interpreting it that way⁉ Look here—take a look at this.” “These footprints not only ascend from the coal mountain piled high on the stacking platform to reach this Track 1 side ladder entrance but also retrace their path back—don’t you see?”

The Assistant Stationmaster had been following the direction Kyoji pointed with bloodshot eyes, but when he began trembling violently, he hurriedly peered at his wristwatch. And in a trembling voice,

“Failed… This has become catastrophic…”

Having said that, he turned pale and hurriedly descended the ladder.

And after rounding up the track maintenance crew and H Locomotive Depot Chief, Locomotive No.73—which had raced away without its crew—must have already caused a horrific accident at N Station, the endpoint of that block section. And then, they started panicking over what kind of responsibility issues would arise because of this—and all such matters.

V

Meanwhile, Kyoji—who had been intently examining the footprints on the iron lid—eventually turned toward me and Judicial Supervisor Naiki and, “Then, allow me to outline the general sequence of the crime based on my deductions. First, the culprit carrying the flared-blade pickaxe came here from the freight platform’s roof via the lamp room and coal pile. After installing the murder device using the pickaxe exactly as demonstrated earlier, he clung bat-like to the ladder’s midpoint while awaiting No.73’s arrival. When the locomotive arrived, he must have swiftly leapt from the ladder onto the locomotive’s running board and, to avoid detection by the crew, crawled around the front of the boiler to lie prone on the opposite running board. Meanwhile, assistant engineer Tsuchiya Ryohei, unaware of such matters, proceeded with the water supply operation. And, caught in that terrifying mechanism, he collapsed face down onto the road surface. Then Inoue Junzo, who was in the cab, startled by the commotion, leaned halfway out from the cab’s side window to peer down. Right then—exactly! Right at that precise moment, the culprit crouching on the opposite running board leapt swiftly into the cab and, with a sharp dagger-like weapon, stabbed Inoue Junzo with full force from behind.—”

Then, Judicial Supervisor Naiki—who had been listening silently until now—suddenly furrowed his brows and,

“So in other words, you’re asserting that the one who set the locomotive in motion was the culprit?”

“Of course that’s correct. In this case, no one other than the culprit could have moved the locomotive—therefore, he must have been a man who knew how to operate it, swiftly engaging the starting lever and setting the accelerator to maximum speed before leaping back from the locomotive to this ladder after committing the crime.” “And while fleeing from the water supply tank to the freight platform along the connected roofs, he discarded the flared-blade pickaxe between the coal pile and lamp room.” “Meanwhile, Inoue Junzo’s corpse that had collapsed on the cab floor was thrown out exactly as observed, in accordance with both the locomotive’s acceleration and centrifugal force laws on curves.” “But here arises the question—why did he set the locomotive in motion after committing the crime?” “That is precisely what we must examine.” “But before addressing this final question,” Kyoji continued in an unmistakably excited tone, “I’d like to present another discovery—look at this iron lid.” “Just as we’re doing now, he must have crawled across this very spot.” “Moreover, while advancing forward, he carried that heavy flared-blade pickaxe by repeatedly tossing it slightly ahead of himself.” “And yet observe—we find only right palm prints here! Not a single left palm mark exists anywhere!” “In other words—the culprit is a man with only his right arm!”

And with a sidelong glance at us frozen in astonishment, Kyoji descended the tank’s ladder. And grabbing the Assistant Stationmaster who was making a commotion there,

“Among this station’s personnel, is there a one-armed man missing his left hand?” “What?!” “—A one-armed man⁉” The Assistant Stationmaster abruptly paled, his eyes twitching as if terrified by something, and remained violently trembling, unable to speak for some time. But eventually,

“Ah—there is one.”

“Who is it?” said Kyoji with a light laugh. “—That would probably be...”

Then, the Assistant Stationmaster suddenly lowered his voice, “W-well... It’s... the Stationmaster.”

―I was startled.

And I felt intense hatred toward Kyoji, who was lighting a cigarette with a satisfied look. But true to his role as Judicial Supervisor, he immediately rounded up several subordinates and rushed to the stationmaster’s office in the main building.

But—before long, Judicial Supervisor Naiki returned in an excited rush and,

“It’s too late! The Stationmaster has committed suicide with a dagger!”

“Suicide⁉—I’ve failed!”

This time, even Kyoji was slightly taken aback.

The poor Assistant Stationmaster, along with the Locomotive Depot Chief, rushed toward the main building as if stumbling.

While still astonished, I waited for Kyoji’s agitation to subside before venturing to inquire about the motive behind this murder case. Then Kyoji solemnly,

“It’s probably—revenge.” With that, he fell silent.

Just at that moment, the Assistant Stationmaster and the Locomotive Depot Chief arrived in an even greater state of agitation. And the Assistant Stationmaster, to Kyoji,

“I’m going mad! — Anyway, please get on the transport car! According to a telegram just received from N Station, Locomotive No.73—which should have arrived ages ago or rather caused a terrible collision there—still hasn’t been sighted! ……The accident must have occurred on the tracks en route!” And we promptly boarded the small, open transport car that had been left on Track 2.

Soon, a surge of frantic energy began racing along the tracks, slicing through the wind. But when we came near the end of the large curve at the station's western edge—to where one of the policemen stood guard over the second corpse—Kyoji suddenly rose and halted the car. Then turning to the Assistant Stationmaster,

“Was Locomotive No.73 supposed to pass through this crossover track and switch from down track 1 to the down main line?” “Absolutely. And of course, it must have done so.”

Then Kyoji said with a laugh,

“However, Locomotive No.73 did not pass through this crossover track to enter the main line! — Look at where this corpse lies.” “If No.73 had indeed switched to this crossover track, then unless we’re overturning the laws of centrifugal force, this body would never have been thrown to the inside of the curve—meaning west of these switch points.” “First, examine the continuation of Track 1 here.” “See? Unlike the crossover track, there’s no snow accumulation here!” “This is undoubtedly the Stationmaster’s doing.” “Tampering with a switch point’s interlocking mechanism would be child’s play for him.” “Now—what becomes of this track further ahead?”

“It’s an escape siding with a buffer stop—though via a switch point midway, it connects to the port access line that continues three miles ahead to the derelict port.” “Hmm.” “Anyway, let’s go take a look.”

As soon as the switch points were thrown, the transport car carrying us began racing forward once more. And following the snowless rails, after switching another Daruma switch point, we finally raced out onto the port access line’s rusted sixty-five-pound tracks. In the dim light that had grown considerably paler with the now-calmed wind, continuing to race at full speed, Kyoji said to the Assistant Stationmaster in a subdued tone.

“With this, the case is more or less settled. “Now, one last question—when exactly did the Stationmaster lose his arm, if I may ask?” “It was about six months ago.—From what I understand, he was caught in a locomotive during shunting operations he was supervising.”

“Hmm.” “In that case, do you remember the number of that locomotive?” The Assistant Stationmaster tilted his head as if trying to summon the memory, but suddenly jolted—his face visibly contorting—and in a low, hoarse voice that seemed to groan, “Ah.—Class 2400, No.73!”

And then several minutes later—

At the tip of the abandoned pier with rusted tracks in the derelict port, where we stood frozen with dawn's faint glow at our backs, there before our eyes lay the inky black sea that had swallowed No.73—the locomotive subjected to the one-armed Stationmaster's vengeance—its surface churning with the engine's death throes as rainbow-hued machine oil spread endlessly across the expanse, shimmering aimlessly. (Shin Seinen January 1934 Issue)