Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

At the inaugural meeting of the Japan Crime Research Society, Aoyama Kyōsuke and I—who had recently become acquainted with Mr. Naiki, Judicial Officer at M Police Station—received an urgent telegram about a bizarre murder case that shattered our sleep in a frigid inn past midnight. Bundled in Cravenette raincoats, we kept walking briskly along the railway tracks toward W Station, the murder scene, facing the fierce wind head-on. It was a night of bitter cold with a blizzard that wailed like a crying beast. The snow had stopped, but a cutting wind still whipped across the vast, desolate expanse of darkness. Through this abyss, the sea three miles south appeared to rage violently—the relentless crash of waves against the abandoned port’s breakwater mingled with the wind’s shrieks, drowning out even the faintest crunch of our footsteps on the snow-dusted tracks as we hurried forward.

Before long, the green light of a distant signal appeared on the road ahead, followed by countless unnaturally pallid lights that began glaringly reflecting off the blanched tracks. And before long—we arrived at W Station. Surrounded by an arrangement of red, green, orange and other signal lights, the switching yard's clock tower stood illuminated by station lighting, its hands pointing precisely at 4:10. On the bright, deserted main platform where we were met by Judicial Officer Naiki and the police doctor who had arrived ahead of us, we were immediately led through the freight loading platform straight to the murder scene.

The location lay near W Station's western edge—a dimly lit area where a large reddish-black iron water tank stood squeezed between the railway tracks of the down main line and down Track 1. The victim's corpse remained in its discovered state within the narrow four-foot-wide space between this water tank and Track 1, watched over by several police officers and station staff. The victim—a large man in a cabbage-patterned work uniform with a chestnut-burr hairstyle—lay face down on the thinly snow-covered ground parallel to the tracks, his legs slightly bent at the knees and splayed in a spread-eagle position, his right palm tightly clenched and his left clawing at the earth. Near the head—its dark blood seeping into the pure white snow—lay an employee’s formal cap with its chin strap torn off, carelessly discarded.

The police doctor promptly crouched beside the corpse and beckoned us with an upward glance. “Due to the temperature, rigor mortis set in relatively early, but this indicates only thirty to forty minutes have passed since death. Of course, it’s murder. The cause of death is cerebral concussion due to a contusion on the back of the head. As you can see, the wound forms a narrow, horizontally opened laceration running perpendicular to the spinal cord, with slight bleeding present. Judging from this wound and the fracture at the base of the occipital bone, the assailant used a blunt instrument with a free end approximately 0.8 centimeters wide and 5 centimeters long—something like a splayed-end ash rake—to strike forcefully from behind.”

“Are there any other injuries?” Kyōsuke asked. “No, there aren’t any.” “However, there are extremely minor abrasions or subcutaneous hemorrhages on the face, palms, and other areas—though unrelated to the cause of death.” Kyōsuke drew closer to the corpse across from the police doctor, directing his flashlight’s beam to peer at the fatal wound on the back of the head. Soon pointing to the hairline surrounding the injury, he said to the doctor: “There’s a small amount of something like white powder clinging here.” “What could it be?” “Sand?”

“That’s correct.” “It’s just ordinary ground sand.” “Probably something that adhered to the murder weapon.”

“I see. But I’d still like to check it just to be sure.” He then turned to the station staff and said, “Do you have a microscope? If you have one with five hundred times magnification or higher, that would be even better—” Then W Station’s Assistant Stationmaster—a chubby man with a trimmed mustache standing beside me—ordered the station worker beside him to bring the microscope from the infirmary. Kyōsuke then examined the victim’s right palm—still tightly clenched—and legs, slightly bent at the knees and splayed in a spread-eagle position, tilting his head occasionally as he did so. Before long, he stood up and called out to Judicial Officer Naiki, who had just finished discussing something with his subordinate, a police inspector.

“I would like to hear your opinion.”

In response to Kyōsuke’s words, Judicial Officer Naiki laughed. “Not at all. I am the one who wishes to have your assistance. But let me inform you of a crucial point before we proceed with the investigation. To put it plainly—there isn’t a single trace of the perpetrator at the scene. As you know, snow had already fallen by the estimated time of the crime. Though our officials rushed here and conducted what I might call... an adequate investigation”—he glanced at his subordinates—“we found no footprints suggesting the perpetrator on this snow-covered ground. Not even the victim’s own footprints.” Naiki’s voice sharpened as he continued: “Therefore, we can most simply—and rationally—discern the true scene of the crime.” He gestured toward the tracks. “The corpse was undoubtedly killed with an ash rake and thrown from a locomotive that passed along this down Track 1 at the estimated time. Now observe this concrete clue that corroborates my theory.”

Judicial Officer Naiki said this and bathed the midpoint between the rails and the corpse in flashlight light. Indeed, on the thinly accumulated snow covering the ground, about two feet from the rails and parallel to them, several drops of blood 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, where several droplets appeared to have fallen from the floor of the stopped locomotive onto the snow’s surface, forming a stain roughly the size of a clenched fist. As we moved westward along the trail by two or three feet, the intervals between droplets grew by an inch or two until they disappeared from our sight into the darkness. Judicial Officer Naiki pointed to these drops' peculiar landing points and added that the crime must have been committed when the locomotive stopped here for water refueling. Kyōsuke listened while nodding to each point but eventually turned back toward the station staff and requested an explanation regarding both the corpse's discovery and details about the victim.

At this, a man who appeared to be a power room technician—wearing rubberized work clothes—stepped forward and detailed how he himself had discovered the corpse lying exactly as seen here around twenty minutes before 4:20 AM. He explained that during shift change, while returning from the power room along down Track 1 toward the main station’s duty room, he had found the body at this spot and immediately taken steps to report it. However, he added that he had no recollection whatsoever of the victim. This time, the gaunt Stationmaster with protruding cheekbones—who until now had been standing next to the Assistant Stationmaster, hands thrust deep into his overcoat pockets while listening intently to others’ accounts—stated that while it was clear the victim was a newly hired assistant engineer at H Depot approximately thirty miles east of W Station, details such as his full name remained unknown, and that they had already telegraphed H Depot to request identification of the corpse.

At that precise moment, the station worker returned with the microscope. Kyōsuke accepted it, let slip a satisfied smile at the well-arranged lighting setup, then handed the instrument to the police doctor while requesting an analytical assessment of the sand fragments adhering to the corpse’s wound. And then, turning around again, he faced the Stationmaster, “Now then—next I would like to inquire about another matter. Regarding the train that passed through this down Track 1 at the estimated time of the crime approximately one hour ago—”

Then this time, the Assistant Stationmaster with the trimmed mustache leaned forward.

“When I say ‘train’—this might sound odd to those outside the field—but precisely at that time, a long-distance single locomotive temporarily operated from H Depot to N Station’s marshaling yard for work purposes was passing through these tracks.” “It was a switching tank locomotive, and the number was—I believe it was Class 2400 No.73.” “As you know, temporary single locomotives naturally have no scheduled speed, so unless there’s a stop order via the block system—in other words, as long as safety along the operating section is guaranteed in advance—they are permitted some leeway in timing.” “Therefore, while I cannot state precisely here the exact time when No.73 tank locomotive passed through the main station platform, I believe it did not deviate by more than five minutes from 3:30 AM.” “Furthermore, the reason the locomotive passed through down Track 1 was because a freight train had stopped on the down main line at that very moment.—”

“So, of course that tank locomotive stopped once at the scene after passing through the main station platform, correct?”

Kyōsuke interjected. “Correct—though you’re likely already aware, unlike tender locomotives, tank locomotives don’t haul separate tenders. They simply have a compact coal-water compartment built into their main frame.” “This means for long solo runs like the sixty-mile H-N route, they absolutely require resupply at this station.” “Naturally, No.73 would’ve stopped here without fail.” “It would’ve taken on water from this tank and loaded coal from that storage pile there.”

The Assistant Stationmaster with the trimmed mustache said this and, stretching his portly frame, pointed at a large coal storage platform that loomed darkly along the tracks just east of the water tank—a structure approximately 13 or 14 feet in height and 60 feet in length.

Thereupon, Kyōsuke gave a slight nod to the Assistant Stationmaster, then turned toward the police doctor—who was hunched over the microscope facing Judicial Officer Naiki—approached him, and lightly placed a hand on his shoulder. “How is it? Have you figured it out?” The police doctor remained silent for a moment, then slowly stood up, let out a big yawn, and began wiping the lenses of his Lloyd glasses. “There were some. No—quite a lot, actually.—First, fragments of alkali feldspar, biotite hornblende, pyroxene, and others—all encased in substantial vitreous material—along with an extremely small quantity of quartz and foids in peridotite—”

“What did you say?” “Peridotite with foids?... Hmm.” “And what about quartz?” “It’s a very small amount.” “No—I see clearly now. Even so... this is quite unusual...” Kyōsuke sank into silent contemplation for a while, but soon abruptly 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?” In response to that question, the power room technician spoke up instead of the Assistant Stationmaster.

“About three miles east from here, near the power plant, there’s a cutting. Unusually, trachyte emerges from the mountain’s exposed face there, so for that section of track alone—though only a small portion—we’ve used crushed trachyte in the roadbed.”

“Ah.” “Then those tracks would naturally fall under this station’s maintenance jurisdiction?” “Correct,” answered the Assistant Stationmaster this time. “And you recently conducted tamping work on that section’s roadbed?” “We did.” “Over the past two days—yesterday and the day before—we had about five workers from our track maintenance crew out there.”

The Assistant Stationmaster answered.

Then Kyōsuke, his eyes shining brightly, “I’ve got it—The murder weapon is a pickaxe with a splayed blade!” Then, with a faint smile sweeping across his face as he surveyed the astonished group, he added, “Moreover, it belongs to this station’s engineering tool storage!”

II

While I remained dumbfounded by Kyōsuke’s deduction even now, I conjured in my mind’s eye—vividly—the ferocious pickaxe with one blade splayed open to about five centimeters in length: that robust pickaxe with a splayed blade I had often seen from train windows, brandished by track workers. Judicial Officer Naiki also appeared just as surprised as I was, his eyes wide like saucers as he timidly turned his face toward the police doctor. Then the gaunt Stationmaster—who until now had remained silent with his hands in his pockets—thrust out his angular cheekbones and confronted Kyōsuke in an earnest tone.

“However, even if those mineral fragments were found on the wound, isn’t it somewhat hasty to presume *solely* from that fact that the weapon was the pickaxe with a splayed blade used at that cutting?—As you know, while crushed stone roadbeds are theoretically ideal due to the angularity of the stones, they’re prohibitively expensive in our country and thus rarely used. Instead, we primarily employ selected gravel.” “However, even this is quite costly, so to construct it economically, they typically place sand-mixed crushed gravel in the lower part of the roadbed and lay only selected gravel on the upper surface—a method called ‘cosmetic gravel.’” “Thus, roadbeds where crude crushed gravel mixed with quartz trachyte fragments lies beneath the cosmetic gravel—meaning surfaces of ordinary selected gravel over internal layers of quartz trachyte crushed stone—exist in several locations near H Station as well.”

The Stationmaster said this and stared intently at Kyōsuke’s face. But Kyōsuke did not flinch in the least. “Quartz trachyte—you say?” “No—” “That’s been extremely helpful.” “However, please do not forget that quartz trachyte and trachyte, though both belong to volcanic rocks within igneous formations, are entirely distinct types of rock.” “That is to say—unlike quartz trachyte, trachyte contains virtually no significant quartz. Rather, it frequently includes components like peridotite and foids, you see.” “Moreover, this type of rock is extremely scarce in mainland Japan—an exceedingly rare specimen.”

Thereupon, the Stationmaster nodded lightly two or three times, then abruptly fell silent. Kyōsuke turned toward the judicial officer and,

“In any case，since a pickaxe with a splayed blade isn’t some small item，please search around here first．If it exists，it will certainly be found．”

Thereupon, two police officers were ordered by Judicial Officer Naiki to search for the murder weapon. Meanwhile, Kyōsuke quietly beckoned me and began walking along the tracks toward the station’s western end, illuminating the trail of blood drops along the rails—which Judicial Officer Naiki had earlier informed us about—with his flashlight.

But after walking about twenty meters, he stopped and turned around. Pointing with his chin toward Judicial Officer Naiki, who appeared to be issuing instructions beneath the water tank, he said to me:

“You know, regarding that corpse, what Mr. Naiki’s saying seems mostly correct.” “In other words, the corpse was thrown from Tank Locomotive No.73, and at the same time, these drops of blood began falling from the edge of No.73’s cab floor while it was stopped for water refueling—that’s how it goes, you see.” “And the Doctor seems to harbor strong suspicions toward one or possibly two other crew members aboard No.73 besides those two victims.” “Well, that’s a fairly straightforward judgment.” “But before I comment on that deduction, I find myself most intrigued by the corpse’s strangely splayed legs and its right palm clenched so tightly around five fingers.” “And you see,” “Recall the wound on that corpse.” “That wound was a contusion and fracture caused by a blow—it should never have resulted in heavy bleeding. You see?” “Nevertheless—look here! You see how these drops of blood from the locomotive’s cab floor continue all the way to this point⁉ No—in fact, they appear to stretch even further west. Let’s follow this trail to its end, shall we?”

Thereupon, Kyōsuke started walking again. While I felt a slight shudder, I still followed behind Kyōsuke.

The storm had largely subsided, but with no buildings in this area to block it, a cold wind that refused to die down still waited for us over the expansive rail yard. Kyōsuke walked along the tracks, muttering something to himself, then turned toward me and—

“You.” “Look at this trail of blood drops.” “Though the size of each fallen drop remains unchanged, the intervals between them have already exceeded two meters.” “I’ve been tracking how these gaps progressively lengthen.” “They’re increasing too rapidly—meaning Locomotive No.73 was forced to depart abruptly at maximum speed from that water tank location.” “Generally speaking—even by conventional standards—a switching tank locomotive prioritizes tractive power over velocity compared to dedicated passenger engines. Moreover, in yards dense with switches and sharp curves, operational regulations strictly forbid such sudden accelerations. Therefore, No.73’s anomalous behavior must undeniably rank among this case’s pivotal mysteries.”

Thereupon, as we walked, I interjected.

“However, if the amount of blood pooled on the locomotive cab’s floor had decreased overall, wouldn’t the intervals between drops—even if their size remained the same—lengthen as though the locomotive’s speed had abruptly changed?” “Hmm.”

“You’ve grown rather sharp lately.” “But if what you say is true—that the blood in the locomotive diminished so quickly—then at this rate, the trail of blood drops will end very soon. Let’s go see for ourselves where it stops.” “Whether your theory proves correct, or my dreadful prediction prevails—” So, the two of us continued walking in a state of agitation.

By now, this area was nearing the western edge of W Station, where all tracks uniformly curved sharply to the left across approximately two hundred meters. We continued walking along the down main line through the broad curve, tracing the trail of blood drops with our flashlights. Yet soon, despite the cold, an ominous greasy sweat began oozing from my nose——I lost the battle against Kyōsuke. Alongside the tracks, no matter how far we walked in accordance with Kyōsuke’s reasoning, the trail of blood drops refused to disappear. Tank Locomotive No.73 had clearly accelerated to high speed——here in this area, the blood drops now lay at nearly fixed intervals of five or six meters. And near the end of that curve, west of the crossover switch from the down main line to the down through line, we finally encountered the bizarre second murder victim’s corpse.

III

The corpse, like the first one, clad in a cabbage-patterned work uniform and wearing an employee’s formal cap, was unmistakably No.73’s engineer and had been thrown sideways onto the snow-dusted gravel surface near the tracks.

――The surrounding area was a veritable sea of blood.

I immediately left Kyōsuke behind and hurriedly retraced my path back the way we had come. And when I returned there with Judicial Officer Naiki and the police doctor's team, Kyōsuke had already crouched down and begun a meticulous investigation of the corpse. It was soon determined through Kyōsuke and the police doctor’s examination that the second corpse had been killed nearly simultaneously with the first one. The fatal wound was identified as a deep stab wound inflicted from behind between the sixth and seventh thoracic vertebrae by a sharp dagger-like weapon, reaching the base of the left lung. Additionally, injuries believed to have formed when the corpse was thrown from the locomotive were revealed: a gaping contusion near the posterior portion of the occipital bone, and numerous abrasions spanning all exposed surfaces of the entire body.

We cooperated and searched the area for a while, but of course, the murder weapon used in the killing was not discovered. And the trail of blood drops alongside the railway tracks was no longer present west of that point. Judicial Officer Naiki—perhaps because the discovery of the second corpse had completely shattered the suspicions he had been harboring—appeared thoroughly deflated and remained silent, but then seemed to recall something. From the roadside beside him (though I had carelessly failed to notice it earlier), he picked up a large pickaxe with a splayed blade that he must have brought when we first came here, and while presenting it before Kyōsuke’s eyes,

“I found it.” “This must be the one?” “The murder weapon used on the first corpse—it had been thrown into the narrow strip of ground between that coal pile and the lamp room immediately east of it.” “Yes—naturally—the sand adhering to the splayed blade perfectly matched the sand from that corpse’s wound under microscope examination, exactly as you stated.” “We also examined the handle, but it appears the perpetrator wore gloves—there were no fingerprints.”

Kyōsuke nodded as he received the pickaxe with a splayed blade and began scrutinizing it himself in detail. But when he noticed a hole roughly the thickness of a little finger drilled near the handle's end, he examined the hole with voracious intensity for some time before turning to the assistant stationmaster beside him and—

“What kind of hole is this?” “Well—⁉” “Has there ever been a pickaxe with a splayed blade at this station that had a hole like this drilled near the end of its handle?” “There’s no reason for that—” “Hmm. I see.” “Exactly as I thought.” “First of all, this hole is clearly brand new…”

Kyōsuke sank into deep contemplation. Before long, a station worker came running from the direction of W Station’s main building and reported that the corpse identification team from H Depot had arrived.

Then Judicial Officer Naiki suddenly regained his vigor. After ordering one of the policemen to keep watch over the corpse at the scene, he started walking ahead. We followed after him.

By the time we returned to the initial crime scene beneath the water tank, three depot workers who had apparently arrived via a transport railcar had already finished examining the corpse and were taking a break. But when a man who appeared to be the chief among them—waddling his corpulent frame—saw the face of the Assistant Stationmaster who had arrived a step behind us, he promptly stood up, “This is extraordinary. The victim has been confirmed as Tsuchiya Ryōhei—No.73’s assistant engineer.”

"Oh—thank you." "By the way—what was the engineer's name?"

“The engineer—you mean?” “Yes.” “Inoue Junzō,” he said. “Hmm. “He’s been killed too!” At the Assistant Stationmaster’s words, both the Depot Chief and the Stationmaster visibly paled. And a single depot worker rushed off to examine the second corpse. Then Judicial Officer Naiki seized the H Depot Chief as if he had been lying in wait,

“What time did Tank Locomotive No.73 depart from H Depot?”

“2:40 AM.” “Ah. “And it passed this station at 3:30 AM—” “Then it didn’t make any stops en route, did it?”

“Yes, that’s correct. Apart from stopping at this station for coal and water replenishment, it’s a direct sixty-mile run to N Yard.”

“Hmm. By the way, how many crew members were there?”

“Two.” “Two—? Wasn’t it three?” “Th-that’s impossible! First of all, by principle, there’s only two—the engineer and the assistant—”

“No—there was an unauthorized third crew member outside regulations!” Judicial Officer Naiki wheeled toward the Stationmaster. “Send a telegraph to N Station for his arrest immediately. The locomotive must’ve reached N Yard by now—” Kyōsuke, silent until this moment, suddenly erupted.

“……This is no joke.” “This masterstroke doesn’t suit you either, Mr. Naiki—don’t you think? If I were the culprit in that scenario, I’d have abandoned the locomotive long before reaching N Station and made my escape long ago.” “No—your theory is riddled with errors.” “For instance—suppose the culprit had boarded Locomotive No.73 alongside both victims when it departed H Station. Even if they could discard the first murder weapon—that pickaxe with a splayed blade used until yesterday for trackbed tamping and stored in this station’s engineering toolroom—by throwing it from the locomotive onto the narrow ground between the lamp room and coal pile after committing the crime, how could they have obtained it in the first place?” “And even assuming that were possible—what necessity compelled the culprit to kill two people during a stop at this station?” “If the culprit was aboard the locomotive, they didn’t need to kill them here—during that blizzard-shrouded dash, countless more suitable locations existed!” “No—this case proves more intricate than you imagine.” “That fact is demonstrated by numerous mysteries.” “For example: the first corpse’s peculiar rigor mortis posture; the inexplicable hole in the pickaxe handle; Tank Locomotive No.73’s abrupt acceleration; and crucially—the use of entirely different weapons on each victim.” “Approaching this from the most immediate angle—the differing murder weapons—we face two possibilities: either separate killings at different times, or simultaneous murders via some method.” “However—the former theory collapses under three facts: the second victim’s blood trail begins at this exact location; the locomotive stopped here only briefly; and autopsy results confirm both deaths occurred simultaneously.” “Therefore—the killings happened concurrently.” “Thus—given two victims slain almost simultaneously with different weapons during a brief stop—we return to two paths: either two culprits or one employing a special method.—Here I connect another mystery.” “Namely—that strange hole in the pickaxe handle’s tip.” “Proceeding under the assumption of a single culprit—I had long pondered the mechanism behind this special weapon usage required for dual killings.” “Before presenting my conclusions—note this: just as the perpetrator boarded alone when the locomotive stopped here to commit murder—they likewise disembarked here afterward.” “In short—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 Kyōsuke’s explanation up to that point—suddenly burst out,

“Th-that’s preposterous! If that were true, the locomotive would’ve run off on its own—! Th-that’s absurd!”

The Assistant Stationmaster slightly thrust out his jaw, widened his eyes, and made a show of looking contemptuously at Kyōsuke. But his complexion was dreadfully pale.

IV The Stationmaster, much like the Assistant Stationmaster, appeared shocked by Kyōsuke’s words. With an intensely worried look on his pale face, he hunched his head and limbs into his large overcoat like a turtle. But before long, he walked off toward the bookstore. Kyōsuke, in an utterly unperturbed and extremely cold tone, turned again toward the Assistant Stationmaster.

“By the way, does this station have any locomotives of the same type as No.73?”

Then the Assistant Stationmaster, in a somewhat displeased manner, “Well, there are about two locomotives on the classification tracks.” “……What on earth is this about?” “It’s a practical demonstration.” “I would like to request that you lend us one locomotive.” “Please position it to Track 1 in the same direction as No.73 was at the time.”

With a sullen look, the Assistant Stationmaster went out.

Before long, a 2400-class tank locomotive came before us along westbound Track 1, releasing fierce steam from its steam dome while clanking its pump rods and cranks. Following Kyōsuke's instructions, when the locomotive stopped precisely where the edge of the cab's exit floor aligned with the starting point of the blood droplet trail on the road surface, Kyōsuke climbed halfway up the trackside ladder of the water tank. Pointing at an iron rod protruding approximately 0.6 meters long and 1 cm in diameter from the tank's flank, he turned downward and spoke to the Assistant Stationmaster.

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

“I see. By the way—while we’re at it—could you fetch that pickaxe with a splayed blade?”

Trembling, the Assistant Stationmaster did exactly as instructed. Kyōsuke received the pickaxe with a splayed blade and pressed its handle tip firmly against the pointed end of the iron rod until they aligned. With a snug fit, the pickaxe hung from the iron rod. Kyōsuke then gradually climbed the ladder while rotating the pickaxe around its tip hole until the blade stood nearly vertical. At that precise position, he briefly hooked the base of the handle onto the pointed end of another rusted iron support rod protruding nearby. Finally, he attached the thick, short, oddly bent wire—which had been tied at the position corresponding to the chain’s second iron rod connected to the valve-opening device—around the middle of the same rod.

After completing these preparations, Kyōsuke 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 boiler-side tank’s frame until reaching a point facing the water tank’s ladder. Then, bracing himself, he hooked one foot onto the water tank’s foothold and straddled wide between the locomotive and water tank.

“Now. Let’s begin.” “First, I will assume myself to be the unfortunate first victim in this case—Tsuchiya Ryōhei.” “Now, to refill Tank Locomotive No.73 with water—unaware of the terrifying device above him—Tsuchiya assumes this exact posture: aligning this canvas water spout hanging here with the filler port on the locomotive’s side tank. To activate the water tank’s valve, he grips this chain tightly in his right palm and yanks it down hard with all his might—like this—”

Kyōsuke truly pulled the chain. Then the pickaxe with a splayed blade scythed through the air in a terrifying semicircular arc pivoting from its handle tip, plummeting straight toward Kyōsuke’s occiput. With that, Kyōsuke swiftly twisted his upper body and thrust the shovel in his left hand precisely to where his head had been. Zing— The sharp metallic ring resonated as the shovel was knocked down before us. We all let out a collective sigh of relief.…… Eventually, as Kyōsuke—having splendidly completed the verification—sent the locomotive back and returned to our side while dusting off his hands, the Assistant Stationmaster with the trimmed mustache immediately asked in a trembling voice:

“Then according to your theory—where did the culprit come from?” “There’s no path here!”

“There most certainly is.”

“Wh-where is it?”

Then Kyōsuke, pointing upward,

“From the roof of this water tank.” “There.” “Look.” “If a man were even slightly nimble, couldn’t he walk endlessly along the connected rooftops—from the water tank to the coal pile, lamp room, and freight platform?!”

I was startled. It was only when Kyōsuke mentioned it that I realized—though each of the four buildings differed in height by three or four shaku, they stood tightly clustered in a straight line through the dim station grounds, sprawled like an enormous freight train halted mid-journey. Indeed, with this arrangement, even I could likely have walked across them. “By the way—it had been snowing before the crime, hadn’t it?”

With those words, Kyōsuke began climbing the water tank’s ladder. Judicial Officer Naiki and the Assistant Stationmaster took the main line’s ladder, while I took the same Track 1 side ladder as Kyōsuke, each of us following behind him as we climbed.

Immediately, we reached the summit, no more than twenty feet from the ground. And there, upon the lightly accumulated powdery snow covering the dull conical iron cover, we discovered countless large footprints pressed into the surface, palm prints, and even messy traces that appeared to be from the pickaxe with a splayed blade being placed and dragged about.

Kyōsuke immediately crawled up onto the iron cover. In a place like this, crawling was essential to avoid plummeting—and so he began examining the countless marks upon it. On the opposite ladder, alongside the Judicial Officer, the excited Assistant Stationmaster was biting his lip while watching Kyōsuke’s movements, finally seeming unable to endure any longer, “Then, th-the culprit must have boarded the locomotive from here along the ladder and fled directly on it after committing the crime!” “Right? They ran off, didn’t they?”

Then Kyōsuke, laughing, “Why must you persist in interpreting it that way⁉ Here, take a look at this.” “These footprints come up from the towering pile of coal on the stacking platform to the Track 1 side ladder entrance here, and at the same time, conversely, they’re heading back again, aren’t they?” The Assistant Stationmaster had been tracking the direction Kyōsuke pointed with bloodshot eyes, but soon began trembling violently and hurriedly glanced at his wristwatch. And in a trembling voice,

“Failed… This is catastrophic…” Having said that, he turned pale and hurriedly descended the ladder. And then—after apprehending the track maintenance crew and H Depot Chief—they realized Locomotive No.73 had already caused precisely the terrible accident one would expect at N Station’s block section terminus. This prompted immediate uproar over what liability issues might arise from this disaster—and so on.

Five

Meanwhile, Kyōsuke—who had been intently examining the footprints on the iron cover—turned toward me and Judicial Officer Naiki.

“Well then, let me try to outline the general course of the crime based on my deductions.” “First, the culprit—carrying the pickaxe with a splayed blade—came here from the freight platform’s roof via the lamp room and coal pile. After setting up the murder device with the pickaxe exactly as demonstrated earlier, he clung bat-like to the middle of that ladder while waiting for No.73 to arrive.” “When the locomotive arrived, he must have swiftly leaped from the ladder onto its frame, circled around the front of the boiler to avoid detection by the crew, and crouched on the opposite side.” “Meanwhile, Tsuchiya Ryōhei—the assistant engineer—began the water refueling work, completely unaware.” “And thus he became ensnared in that dreadful mechanism, collapsing face-first onto the roadbed.” “At this commotion, Inoue Junzō—who’d been in the cab—leaned halfway out the side window to investigate.” “Precisely.” “Seizing that moment, the culprit—who had been crouching on the opposite frame—sprang into the cab and drove a sharp dagger-like weapon into Inoue Junzō’s back with full force.—”

Then Judicial Officer Naiki, who had been listening in silence until now, suddenly knit his brows,

“So, in other words, you’re saying that the one who moved the locomotive was the culprit?”

“Of course that’s correct.” “In this scenario, no one but the culprit could have operated the locomotive. Therefore, the culprit must have been a man familiar with operating techniques—who, after committing the crime and before leaping back from the locomotive to this ladder, swiftly engaged the starting lever and fixed the accelerator at maximum speed.” “And while fleeing along the rooftops from the water tank to the freight platform—he discarded the pickaxe with a splayed blade between the coal pile and lamp room.” “Meanwhile, Inoue Junzō’s corpse—which had been lying 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 the culprit set the locomotive in motion after committing the crime?” “That is the crux.” “But before pressing this final question—” he continued in a tone vibrating with excitement “—I shall present one more discovery. Observe this iron cover.” “Just as we now do, the culprit too must have crawled across this surface.” “Moreover, he transported that heavy splayed-blade pickaxe by repeatedly tossing it slightly ahead as he crawled.” “Yet despite this—” Kyōsuke’s voice sharpened “—the palm prints show only right hands! Search anywhere—you’ll find not a single left palm trace!” “Meaning our culprit lacks his right arm!”

And with a scornful glance over his shoulder at us in our astonishment, Kyōsuke descended the water tank’s ladder. And seizing the Assistant Stationmaster who was making a commotion there,

“Among those affiliated with this station, there’s a one-armed man missing his left hand, isn’t there?” “What?! “—A one-armed man⁉” The Assistant Stationmaster suddenly turned pale, his eyes twitching as if terrified by something, and he trembled violently, unable to speak for some time. But eventually, “Ah, there is.” “Who?” Kyōsuke asked with a light laugh. “That would probably be…”

Then the Assistant Stationmaster suddenly lowered his voice, “Uh, uh—the Stationmaster.”

--I was shocked. And I felt an intense resentment toward Kyōsuke as he lit his cigarette with evident satisfaction. But true to his reputation, the Judicial Officer moved swiftly.

Immediately, he urged several subordinates and rushed off to the stationmaster’s office in the main building.

But—before long, Judicial Officer Naiki came rushing back in excitement and,

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

“Suicide⁉—He failed!” This time, even Kyōsuke was slightly startled.

The pitiful Assistant Stationmaster, together with the Depot Chief, stumbled as they rushed off toward Hon'ya. Though still shocked, I waited for Kyōsuke’s agitation to subside and ventured to ask about the motive behind these murders. Then Kyōsuke, gravely, “Probably—revenge.” And with that, he fell silent. At that very moment, the Assistant Stationmaster and the Depot Chief came rushing over, even more agitated. And the Assistant Stationmaster turned to Kyōsuke, “I’m going mad! —Just get on the handcar, please!” “According to a telegram just received from N Station, No.73—which should have arrived ‘ages ago,’ or rather, should have caused a terrible collision there—still hasn’t been sighted! …The accident must have occurred on the tracks en route!”

And promptly, we boarded the small, uncovered handcar that had been left on Track 2. Soon, a mass of excitement began racing along the railway tracks, slicing through the wind. But when we came near the end of the large curve at the station's western edge—to where the second corpse was being guarded by one of the policemen—Kyōsuke suddenly stood up and brought the vehicle to a halt. And turning to the Assistant Stationmaster, “Was No.73 supposed to transfer from the down first track to the down main line via the connecting line here?”

“Absolutely.” “And it must have done so, of course.”

Then Kyōsuke laughed: “However, No.73 didn’t transfer to the main line via this connecting line! Look at where this corpse lies.” “If No.73 had taken this connecting line, centrifugal force would’ve thrown the body to the curve’s outside—never west of this switch unless physics itself were defied.” “First examine Track 1’s extension here.” “See? Unlike the connecting line, there’s no snow accumulation!” “This was undeniably the Stationmaster’s work.” “Tampering with a switch’s interlocking device would be child’s play.” “Now—what does this forward track connect to?”

“It’s a spur track with a buffer stop. —Though depending on the railroad switch midway, it connects to the port line leading to the abandoned port three miles ahead.” “Hmm. Anyway, let’s head out and see.” When the railroad switch was thrown, the handcar carrying us began racing forward again. And chasing after rails free of snow, we threw another Daruma railroad switch and finally raced out onto the rust-red 65-pound rails of the port line.

In the dim light of approaching dawn, with the wind now calmed, our handcar continued racing at full speed as Kyōsuke said to the Assistant Stationmaster in a subdued tone.

“This should just about conclude the case.” “And one final question—when approximately did the Stationmaster lose his arm?”

“It was about half a year ago. —Apparently, he was caught by a locomotive while overseeing shunting operations.”

“Hmm.” “Do you remember the number of that locomotive?”

The Assistant Stationmaster tilted his head, seemingly trying to recall, when suddenly—his face contorting visibly—he let out a low, hoarse groan-like sound,

“Ah! —Class 2400, No.73!” A few minutes later—

At the tip of the abandoned pier with railway tracks in the desolate port—our eyes standing frozen with the faint dawn light at our backs—the dull black sea that had swallowed Locomotive No.73, target of the one-armed Stationmaster’s revenge, foamed with the locomotive’s death throes as it spread iridescent machine oil across its surface without restraint.

("Shin Seinen" January 1934 issue)