Pathway to Japanese Literature

The Macabre Corpse

The villa—though 'villa' might be too grand a term for this antiquated house built two eras prior and now long uninhabited—saw a peasant woman come bursting out like a ball.

“Oh gods—it’s terrible! The Master—he’s dead!”

Had this been summer, there would have been people coming and going along the streets, and such a cry would have brought crowds rushing from nearby villas in an instant. But it was December—out of season—and particularly in this villa district of Chigasaki, one of the earliest developed areas, where aged houses with spacious gardens stood sparsely dotted about, every last one of them vacant. Not a single soul responded.
The peasant woman’s scream merely echoed through the still morning air.

“Oh gods—it’s terrible! Master Kohama—he’s dead!”

As the peasant woman ran out shouting this for the second time, a peasant man suddenly appeared at the edge of the opposite hedge.

“O-Toku? Is that you?
“What’s happened here?”

“Hachi!” The peasant woman let out a relieved breath. “Oh, Master Kohama’s dead!”

“Well now…”

The peasant man called Hachi stared in bewilderment,

“But Master Kohama died a good while back, ain’t he?”

“That ain’t right!”
O-Toku waved her hand impatiently,

“It’s the heir to the dead Master, ain’t it!”

“Hmm, he’s the nephew, ain’t he? Heard someone like that took over the inheritance, but since becomin’ the heir, he ain’t once come to this villa. What kinda person he is, ain’t nobody knows.”

“That person, you know, came yesterday mornin’.”

“Outta nowhere, huh?”

“Well, y’see, there was an advance notice—he told me to clean up, so I did it proper.”

“He come alone?”

“Yeah, a pale-faced young man, y’see. He’s probably just around thirty, I’d say. Seemed like a decent sort of person, y’see.”

“So you’re sayin’ you’ve fallen for him, huh?”

“You…! Don’t talk such nonsense! At my age? What’s this about fallin’ in love or any such nonsense!”

“Hahaha, don’t get so riled up.”
“So what happened next?”

“All day he kept pacing ’round the house an’ garden, fidgetin’ without doin’ a lick o’ work. Then come evenin’, when I fixed up supper like he asked an’ brought it over—he was gone.”

“Wasn’t there—what’d you do?”

“I dunno.
“Looked everywhere I could think—not a trace.
“Just up an’ vanished!”

“But ain’t that queer?
“Makes you fix supper then leaves it sittin’.”

“I thought it was strange too, but there ain’t no one there. What kind of person just up and leaves without a word? It got me a bit riled up, I tell ya. But y’see, I thought it wasn’t safe, so I made sure to lock up proper and left. But Hachi, I tell ya—when I passed by the villa just now, y’see, the back door was open, wasn’t it? I found it suspicious and went into the garden to look—one of the storm shutters had been pried open. I called out in a loud voice. There wasn’t any answer. When I timidly entered and looked inside, there was the master sitting in the study’s rattan chair, sleeping, wasn’t he? Oh my, sleepin’ in a place like this—he’ll catch a cold, won’t he? When I went closer, I nearly lost my footing, I tell ya. The master’s dead—lookin’ like he’s sleepin’, I tell ya!”

“This is bad business!”
“We gotta get a doctor here quick!”
“I’ll make a dash to town!”

“Hachi, I’m beggin’ you—please do that.”
“I’ll wait around here, I tell ya.”
“I tell ya, goin’ back to that house alone’s too scary—I just can’t do it.”

O-Toku said with a belated shudder.

I’m alive.

“There’s nothing we can do about this.”
“It’s completely final.”

Dr. Teramoto from town, who had rushed over due to Hachitaro’s urgent report, took one look at the body.

Then he rolled back the eyelids to examine them, placed a stethoscope, and after conducting a thorough examination,

“It’s angina pectoris.”
“What a pity for someone so young—it seems his heart had been weak for quite some time.”

“I only met him for the first time yesterday, but…”
O-Toku said.

“He had a pale face, I tell ya.”
“But I never even dreamed things would turn out like this, I tell ya.”

“Anyway, we must notify the family—where’s their residence?”

“I received a letter a few days ago—it should be written there.”

After briefly returning home, O-Toku came back with the letter; Dr. Teramoto took it and,

“Tokyo City, Yodobashi Ward, Kashiwagi Ryokusō Apartments, Shinzo Kohama.”
Hah—living in an apartment like this means he’s still unmarried.
“Even if it were his own property, breaking through the lock to enter and dying there alone—we’d better notify the police box regardless.”

Under Dr. Teramoto’s instructions, O-Toku ran to the police box and called Constable Nagai over.

“Hmm.”

After hearing the details from O-Toku, Constable Nagai remarked with deep astonishment, “So two or three days prior, he sent a letter saying he’d arrive yesterday—and you cleaned up and waited properly, so he came as promised. Then during the day, he was idling around, and come evening when you brought the meal like he asked, he was nowhere to be found.”
“And then, breaking through the locked door at some point to get back in, he died of angina pectoris while leaning against the rattan chair—hmm.” He marveled once more. “Right, I’ll head over immediately.”

Constable Nagai, who had rushed over urgently, bowed politely upon seeing Dr. Teramoto.

"Doctor, this must be a natural death from illness, right?"

"It's unquestionably angina pectoris."

"When would you say he died?"

“Exactly.”
“Given the current condition suggests ten to fourteen or fifteen hours after death, he likely died yesterday evening between eight and twelve o’clock.”

“Eight to twelve o’clock,” the constable noted in his notebook. “So that means he came back here during that time, eh?”

“If he died immediately after returning, then that’s correct.”

“I see,” he said, correcting his notebook. “He might’ve come back even earlier than that.”
“However, there’s no possibility he returned after twelve o’clock?”

“Essentially.”

“Since it’s neither homicide nor an unnatural death—just an illness—there shouldn’t be complications. But to be thorough, I’ll file a report with the station.”

Constable Nagai closed his notebook, slipped it into his pocket, and walked off briskly.

Dr. Teramoto began preparing to leave while speaking to O-Toku,

"This person came here for the first time yesterday after being bequeathed the villa by his uncle."

“That’s right, I tell ya.”
“When the previous master passed away, a letter came right away sayin’, ‘I’m the nephew of the deceased and have come to inherit the villa, so keep managing it like before,’ I tell ya.”
“Well then, it’s been nearly two years now, but he only came for the first time yesterday, I tell ya.”

“To come to the villa for the first time and die right away… What a pitiful man.”

“That’s the truth, I tell ya.”

As O-Toku said this and nodded in agreement, her husband Gisaku Taketani came shaking his head, holding something like a scrap of paper. He had a look that said he couldn’t make sense of it at all. When he saw O-Toku, he shouted.

“Hey, O-Toku! I tell ya, I’ve been foxed good an’ proper!”

Having said that, he presented the scrap of paper he held—it was a telegram.
“What’s the matter, I tell ya?”

O-Toku tentatively accepted the telegram as if handling something terrifying but immediately let out a loud cry.

“Gah! Wh-what is this? Such a terrible thing!”

When Dr. Teramoto peered into the telegram,

WHAT’S THIS MISTAKE? SHINZO KOHAMA IS ALIVE. INVESTIGATE THOROUGHLY.

“Hmm.”
Dr. Teramoto groaned.
“So this dead man isn’t Shinzo Kohama.”
“This has finally become police work, I tell you.”

Kite-colored suit

From the jurisdictional police station to Shinzo Kohama,

COME IMMEDIATELY

A telegram was sent.

After two in the afternoon, Shinzo Kohama arrived.
He was a pale-complexioned, slender youth of about thirty.

Once Shinzo had appeared at the police station, he was led by the judicial officer and others to the villa at the scene, but when O-Toku saw Shinzo, she cried out in such surprise she nearly fainted.

“Good heavens, Master!”

“Ah, O-Toku-san.”
Shinzo said familiarly.

“I must apologize for yesterday.”
“Because there was something I suddenly remembered in the evening, I quietly returned to Tokyo and—”

Inspector Enokido, the judicial officer, turned to Shinzo with an air of surprise,

“So, you came here yesterday, then?”

“Yes,” Shinzo now said suspiciously. “Didn’t you hear about it from O-Toku-san?”

“I heard.”
“However, I thought that person was the same as the dead man—”

“You’re joking. I’m not going to die. Here I am, alive like this.”

“Hmm.” Even the seasoned inspector wore a look of someone who’d been outfoxed as he said, “In any case, please take a look at the corpse.”

Shinzo glanced at the corpse and shouted.

“Ah, it’s Takuichi!”

“Oh? You know this person?”
The judicial officer retorted.

“Yes, I know him—he’s my cousin. I had a feeling that might be the case, but— Ah, Takuichi-kun, how pitiful… To die in th-this state…”

“Hmm, a cousin?” Inspector Enokido looked back and forth between Shinzo and the deceased. “The resemblance is remarkable. Even though they’re cousins, they look remarkably alike, I must say. But why would this person come to such a place?”

“I have an idea about that. The truth is, I had arranged to meet Takuichi-kun here yesterday. However, it wasn’t me who proposed it—Takuichi-kun was the one who approached me saying he urgently wanted to meet in secret, so I suggested that if it was a secret matter, this place would be suitable. In response, Takuichi-kun sent a letter saying he would come to the villa on Friday afternoon—that is, yesterday afternoon,” said Shinzo, rummaging through his pocket and producing a crumpled letter. “This is it. As you can see, it says he would come on Friday afternoon. So I wrote a letter to the caretaker, Mr. Taketani, asking him to clean the villa, and came here from yesterday morning. But even when afternoon arrived, Takuichi-kun still didn’t show up. I’m impatient by nature—being made to wait is more agonizing than anything—but I desperately held out until evening. However, by evening I couldn’t stand it anymore. Even though he was the one who said he wanted to meet, not keeping the promise was taking things too far—it made me so angry and utterly irritated that I finally rushed out without even informing O-Toku-san and returned to Tokyo.”

“I see. So Takuichi-kun came after that, then?”
The inspector nodded. “And what was this secret matter about? If you don’t mind—”

“I think it was probably about money. Takuichi-kun occasionally brought up financial consultations—probably something about there being a good business venture and wanting me to invest, I suppose.”

“I see. So you mean that up until now, you occasionally made investments at Takuichi-kun’s suggestion?”

“No.”
Shinzo shook his head as if to say this was beyond absurd. “When it comes to Takuichi-kun’s business ventures, they’re all utterly preposterous—inventions like collapsible umbrellas built into hats that snap open with the press of a button when it rains, or attaching wheels to shoes powered by small motors connected to a battery pack carried on the back. Then there’s extracting gold from seawater or cornering the market on all the cats in Japan—”

“What’s the point of buying up all the cats?”

“Then he argued that shamisen would become impossible to make, leading to Western music flourishing. Takuichi-kun liked Western music, you see.”

“Ha ha—he really is quite eccentric, isn’t he?”

“Yes, he’s certainly eccentric. Then he’d demand loans to import a women’s circus from America for a quick profit, or insist on funding some struggling theater troupe—lately he’s been obsessively into *renju*, you see.”

“Renju?”
“Ah—you mean five-in-a-row?”

“If you called it five-in-a-row, Takuichi-kun would flare up in anger.”
“Calling it ‘five-in-a-row’ is an outdated notion—these days, there’s a new *renju* board designed by Takagi Meijin with fifteen vertical and horizontal lines. Dan ranks and handicap differentials have been formally established, and he insisted it’s the perfect competitive sport to introduce abroad as a national tradition—something we should vigorously promote for international goodwill. That’s why he demanded funding for the leagues and such.”
“I thought yesterday’s business must have been that as well.”

“Why didn’t he come as promised?”

“Takuichi-kun—when some whim struck him midway through things—would abandon all prior arrangements and dash off without warning.”
“Then again, once seized by sudden inspiration—even at midnight—he’d come pounding at your door unannounced.”
“That was his way.”

“Remarkably eccentric indeed.”
“A sort of genius.”
“Though they say genius borders madness—but tell me—”
“Was his heart truly weak?”

“These days, they say having a strong heart just means being pushy.”
Shinzo grinned darkly. “In that sense, Takuichi-kun’s ‘strong heart’ was top-notch—but his real one was pitifully weak.”
“I’d always tell him he might drop dead any moment if his heart gave out.”

“Is that so?”
The inspector paused briefly before continuing: “So you’re suggesting Takuichi-kun became distracted by something else entirely—forgot your arrangement—then suddenly remembered late at night and rushed here?”

“Yes, given how he is, once he could no longer bear it and came here, he must’ve broken through the locked storm shutters without hesitation.”
“At that very moment, he must’ve suffered an angina attack.”
“How pitiful.”

Having said that, Shinzo gazed at Takuichi’s corpse with a pained expression.

“But they look remarkably alike, I must say.”
The inspector remarked with measured admiration.

“Yes.”

Shinzo nodded. “We were often mistaken for each other. Our mothers were sisters. Therefore, Takuichi-kun’s name is Kitada, not Kohama. While Takuichi-kun and I are cousins, my late Kohama uncle—the one who passed away—had no blood relation to him whatsoever. Thus I inherited my uncle’s entire estate. However, being completely alone with no dependents at all, Takuichi-kun currently stands as my legal heir—were I to die, all my assets would transfer entirely to him. But now he’s gone and died first—”

“But I—” O-Toku cut in.
“I’d just figured the dead ’un here was the one who came yesterday noon.”

“If you set ’em side by side and look close-like, there’s differences though.”

Shinzo said to O-Toku.
"For someone seeing this for the first time, it's only natural to think that way."
"But, O-Toku-san, the clothes are different, aren't they?"
"What do you think? Don't you recognize my suit?"

O-Toku stared fixedly at Shinzo’s suit.

“Ah, right! I remember now!”
“There’s no mistakin’ it’s Master.”
“The one who was here yesterday at noon was you.”
“Certainly, it’s the kite-colored suit you’re wearin’ now.”
“Now that you mention it, the clothes on the person lying dead there are blue.”
“I ain’t paid no mind to them clothes at all.”

“Well, no matter who you are—if you find a dead body in a place like this—you wouldn’t notice something like that.”
“It’s only natural.”

“Honestly, I sure thought Master Kohama was dead.”

“No need for concern.”
The inspector bowed slightly. “This is no longer a police matter.”
“You may proceed.”
“Please handle the remains.”

Before long, the police party withdrew and left.

Whereabouts of Two

When they returned to the police station, Inspector Enokido summoned Detective Mochizuki, who had been among the party.

“For the most part, there don’t appear to be any suspicious elements regarding today’s incident,” he said. “According to that young man Shinzo Kohama’s account, the deceased Takuichi Kitada was apparently of an eccentric disposition—the sort who would unhesitatingly storm into a friend’s house at midnight, break through locked shutters, and force his way inside. Since the cause of death is clearly natural illness, I see no need to investigate further. Still, Mochizuki—as a precaution—thoroughly verify Shinzo and Takuichi’s movements yesterday and today. Having assured Shinzo himself that nothing is amiss, you should encounter no difficulties in your inquiries.”

Detective Mochizuki, having received his orders, first set out for Chigasaki Station.
If it had been summer, things might have been different, but in December—a month with few passengers coming and going—he thought the station staff might remember something.

Sure enough, the station employee remembered.

At yesterday’s 10:33 a.m. downbound train, a young man resembling Shinzo wearing a kite-colored suit had alighted.
Then just before departure of that same day’s 6:03 p.m. upbound train, another young man resembling Shinzo—also clad in a kite-colored suit—rushed over and scrambled aboard.
He had been in an awful temper and exchanged brief words with an employee at the ticket counter.
Then today at 2:09 p.m., a youth wearing identical clothing disembarked.
With these details alone, Shinzo Kohama’s movements since yesterday fell definitively into place.

However, they had no idea at all about Takuichi Kitada in blue clothes.
Since he had definitely not come to the villa by 6 p.m., he must have arrived after six o'clock but before the last train.
From the 6:06 p.m. arrival to the 12:34 a.m. arrival, there were a total of nine trains, but from none of them did a young man resembling Takuichi alight.
Possibly, he might have overshot the station or gone as far as Atami and returned, so they also checked the upbound trains, but there were still no leads whatsoever.
As for Shinzo in his kite-colored suit, the station employee remembered him well; it was unthinkable that they would overlook a similarly blue-clad young man.
If that was the case, then Takuichi had not come by train.
If not by train, then by automobile.

Detective Mochizuki further investigated the chartered cars operating between Fujisawa and Hiratsuka.
During winter, with fewer runs and vehicles of limited capacity—and passengers not even filling those seats—the conductors had practically memorized all the passengers.
However, a young man resembling Takuichi had not ridden [the chartered cars].

The only vehicle by which Takuichi came to the Chigasaki villa was a private automobile.

Detective Mochizuki arrived in Tokyo that evening, tilting his head in thought.
The first place he visited was the Midori-so Apartment where Shinzo Kohama resided.
Midori-so was a grand reinforced-concrete apartment building.
It was perfectly clear that Shinzo was away in Chigasaki, but he inquired with the apartment manager, claiming to be a friend of Shinzo’s.

“Is Mr. Kohama here?”

The manager shook his head and,

“He’s out.”
“He went to the villa in Chigasaki.”

“Huh?”
Detective Mochizuki feigned surprise and said, “Does Mr. Kohama own a villa, I wonder?”

“Mr. Kohama is quite a wealthy man, you know.”
“He received his uncle’s inheritance two years ago—they say it was something like hundreds of thousands of yen.”

“Hundreds of thousands?!”
“That’s the first I’ve heard of that.”
“Despite being such a wealthy person, he lives alone in an apartment?”

“He’s eccentric, you see.”
“They say it’s called misanthropy.”
“He dislikes social interaction, you see.”
“Even when he’s here, there are hardly any visitors, you see.”
“And who might you be?”

“My name is Mochizuki.”
“I’ve only recently become acquainted with him.”
“What business did he have in Chigasaki?”

“Well, that’s the strange part.”
“This morning, a telegram came addressed to me from the villa’s caretaker in Chigasaki—saying Shinzo Kohama has died and asking to notify his family, you see.”

“Huh? What does that mean?”
“That is—”

“Just then, Mr. Kohama was here, so when I showed him the telegram, he flew into a rage—said it was someone’s prank—and sent a reply right away. But then immediately after, another telegram came from the police asking him to come at once, so he left while grumbling under his breath.”

“What on earth could be going on?”

“It must be some kind of mistake.”
“The man himself is in perfect health, after all.”

“Strange, isn’t it?”
“It’s utterly bizarre. He said he was kept waiting all day yesterday at the villa in Chigasaki.”

“Did he go to Chigasaki again yesterday?”

“Yes, you see—someone said they wanted to meet at the villa in Chigasaki, so he left first thing in the morning.”
“However, when they still hadn’t come by evening, Mr. Kohama returned home fuming.”

“What time did he return?”

“Well… around nine-thirty or ten, I suppose.”

Shinzo had taken the 6:03 PM train from Chigasaki to Tokyo yesterday, so if he had returned directly, he should have arrived at the apartment past eight o’clock. He must have stopped somewhere for a meal or something along the way. Detective Mochizuki, while thinking this,
“May I ask who this person he was supposed to meet is?”
“I don’t know.”
The manager glared at the detective and said, “I imagine it’s probably the person he mentioned as his cousin, but I don’t know for sure.”
“He returned around ten last night and stayed until this morning, correct?”

“Yes, he stayed the entire time.”

The manager said this and shot another sharp glance at the detective’s face.
The detective, thinking it better for future investigations that his identity remain unknown, brought the conversation to a close at an opportune moment.

“Thank you for your time.”
“No, I don’t have any particular business here.”
“I’ll come again.”

The man called Takuichi

Takuichi Kitada’s residence stood in a damp, sunken area of Kamata Ward.
Being unmarried himself, Takuichi had taken up lodging with a man called Eikichi Nagatsuji and his household.
Inquiries around the neighborhood suggested Nagatsuji worked as a driver for a chartered car service.

Detective Mochizuki visited Takuichi’s residence when the sun had already completely set. Eikichi was out working and had not yet returned, and a wife who appeared to be around thirty with a sly-looking face was keeping watch.

Here, Detective Mochizuki did not conceal his identity and presented a business card bearing his official title. The wife, apparently accustomed to her husband Eikichi being summoned by the police over frequent traffic incidents or similar matters, showed no particular surprise upon learning he was a detective—but when she realized he came from Chigasaki Police Station, her expression suddenly changed and she cried out.

“They say Mr. Takuichi died—wh-what happened? We just received a notice from Mr. Shinzo earlier, but with my husband out, there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“Angina pectoris,” the detective said quietly. “He was found dead at Mr. Shinzo’s villa—but tell me, had Mr. Takuichi always had a weak heart?”

“Well—it’s just like a lie. His complexion was pale and he did have a sickly air about him—but he was quite energetic and assertive, so I suppose his heart was strong. But they say you never know when a real heart might give out. I thought it couldn’t be true—but it really did stop, didn’t it?”

“Was he at home all day yesterday?”

“No way Mr. Takuichi would stay put at home of all places.”
“He’s dashing off somewhere every morning.”
“Honestly, I can’t fathom what business keeps him so busy.”
“Doesn’t tend to his own affairs at all—always meddling in others’. That wallet of his stays flat as a board, yet he talks big and just leeches off Mr. Shinzo’s purse.”
“‘When Shinzo kicks off, that fortune’s mine—I’ll pay out whatever’s needed,’ he keeps spouting—always with that line.”

“So your household didn’t know he went to Chigasaki yesterday?”

“But here’s the thing—Mr. Takuichi came barging in around seven last evening, shouting ‘I’m starving! Food! Get me food now!’”
“I scrambled to prepare something.”
“Then halfway through the meal, he suddenly slams his chopsticks down and yells ‘Damn it all!’”
“When I asked what was wrong, he said he’d completely forgotten about meeting Shinzo at the villa in Chigasaki.”
“I told him ‘You always forget promises—no need to fuss this time,’ but he snapped back ‘This is different! It’s Shinzo! I need to squeeze money out of him this time—can’t afford to make him angry!’”
“He insisted on leaving right then.”
“I said ‘He’s surely given up waiting by now,’ but he countered ‘Shinzo’s the type who’ll wait all night!’”
“‘Even if he’s gone back,’ he kept arguing, ‘I have to prove I kept my promise by going to the villa! Otherwise I’m screwed later!’”
“That would’ve been fine, but then he demanded we lend him our car.”
“When I suggested taking the train instead, he complained they’re too slow.”
“Turns out—when I pressed him—the fool didn’t even have train fare.”
“We’re already stretched thin from his constant borrowing, so I refused both money and using our work vehicle.”
“‘This time’ll work!’ he pleaded. ‘I’ll get Shinzo’s money sorted! I’ll repay you properly then!’”
“‘Miss this chance and don’t come crying to me later!’ He alternated between begging and threats until we grudgingly gave in.”

(So—Takuichi did come by car after all. This clarifies his movements.) Detective Mochizuki thought as he asked, “About what time did he leave by car?”

“Let me see… Probably around nine o’clock, I suppose. He said something about arriving there a little past eleven, I believe.”

“So your husband turned back immediately, right?”

“Well, you see—when we got there, Mr. Takuichi threw another tantrum.”
The wife grimaced as if at her wit’s end. “When we neared Chigasaki Station, Mr. Takuichi said, ‘This is fine—I’ll walk the rest.’
We told him, ‘We’ve come this far—let us take you home,’ but he refused: ‘If Shinzo’s waiting, he’ll hear the engine. He mustn’t know I came by car—I’ll pretend I took the train.’
So my husband stopped the car long before the villa, let Mr. Takuichi out, and turned around straightaway.
But we never heard he showed any chest pain then.”

With this, everything became clear.
Since he thought there was nothing more to ask, the detective stood up.
“Thank you for your time.”
“Once my husband returns, I’ll come to help, so please tell Mr. Shinzo that.”

Perhaps worn out from talking, the wife spoke with a sigh of relief.

Night Stall Renju

“I see. Then it’s not an issue, huh?”

After listening to Detective Mochizuki’s report, Inspector Enokido brushed the ash from his cigarette and spoke.

“Well, there appears to be no crime here.”
“Assuming Takuichi’s cause of death was natural illness...”

“We performed another inquest as a precaution—it was definitively confirmed as angina pectoris.”
“Therefore, this absolutely cannot be a murder case.”
“Moreover, had Shinzo died instead, Takuichi would’ve inherited the estate—which might’ve raised suspicions—but since it’s Takuichi who’s dead...”
“I suppose... Takuichi likely left no inheritance worth mentioning?”

“Inheritance? He left nothing but debts, I assure you.”
“Setting aside personal grudges, no one would murder Takuichi for money.”

“First off, death by illness isn’t an issue. But why on earth did Takuichi break into the locked villa when no one was there?”

“That part does seem a bit suspicious, but given that Takuichi was the sort of man who didn’t distinguish between what belonged to others and himself—a person who acted on impulse, doing whatever his mood dictated—even if it was someone else’s property like Shinzo’s villa, I imagine he wouldn’t hesitate to break through the locks and enter.”
“Moreover, if you think about it—since he didn’t have the train fare for the return trip—he’d have had to stay there overnight regardless of whether Shinzo was present or not.”
“He probably intended to send telegrams the next day to either Shinzo or Nagatsuji to have them send the money.”

“So he was jostled over a long distance by car, then walked some more, broke through the locks, and overexerted himself—which made his chronic heart condition give out. Is that the reasoning?”

“That’s probably right.”
“In any case, Shinzo’s statements align perfectly with those from the apartment manager and Nagatsuji’s wife.”

“Now then—Shinzo left his apartment on Friday morning saying he was going to Chigasaki.”
“Though his exact purpose remains unclear, the manager indicated it was likely to meet his cousin Takuichi at the villa.”
“Then between nine and ten that night, Shinzo returned to his apartment fuming about being stood up.”
Meanwhile, Takuichi had gone out early that morning and returned in the evening when he suddenly remembered his arrangement with Shinzo—strong-arming Nagatsuji into driving him to Chigasaki by car.
It was established that a youth matching Shinzo’s description had boarded and alighted at Chigasaki Station three times, while no one resembling Takuichi had used the station at all.
“Not a single suspicious element remains.”

“There’s just one point that remains unclear—what Shinzo was doing from around eight o’clock when he arrived in Tokyo until he returned to his apartment.”

“That’s probably not a major issue anyway. If we ask Shinzo, he’ll probably tell us—not that there’s any need to ask anyway.”

And so, for this reason, the case was closed as it stood.

About four months later, on an unseasonably warm spring evening, Detective Mochizuki came up to Tokyo for another case and was walking along Dogenzaka in Shibuya.

As he glanced around, a large crowd of onlookers had gathered around the familiar renju stall with its sizable board.
Detective Mochizuki was about to casually pass by when he spotted a man in the crowd and abruptly stopped.
The man in the loose-fitting kimono—hands tucked into his obi, smirking as he stared intently at the board—was undoubtedly Shinzo Kohama.
The detective briefly thought to call out but, worried it might trouble the other party, stopped himself. Instead, he observed the situation while comparing Shinzo and the board.

On the large go board, as usual, twenty to thirty wooden substitutes for black and white stones were arranged.
Wherever Black played, it seemed they could immediately form a four-three or four-four and win.
However, White had a clever move that allowed them to form five in a row first and end the game.
If Black didn’t win by the second move, you had to pay thirty or fifty sen and buy a flimsy pamphlet that wasn’t even worth five or six sen.

The renju stallkeeper chattered loudly while persistently soliciting customers.
Each time they looked, two or three people reached out—all those who had been certain of victory found their expectations dashed—and with surprised faces, they paid the money.

As Detective Mochizuki thought—*The world was vast; there was no end to such reckless people*—he lost interest and was about to leave when Shinzo spoke up.

“Let me give it a try.”

“Oh, go right ahead!”

The renju stallkeeper, as though an easy mark had walked right in, passed the wooden black stone he held to Shinzo.

Click.

The spot Shinzo struck seemed to be a vital point.

The renju stallkeeper grunted “Hmm,” stared fixedly at the board, then placed a white stone with a click.

Click. With the second black stone, he had masterfully formed a four-four.

“Master, you’ve got quite the skill there.”

The renju stallkeeper praised Shinzo while making a sour face.

Shinzo smirked triumphantly, stepped away from the crowd, and started to briskly walk away.

At that moment, something flashed through Detective Mochizuki’s mind.

Startled by his own realization, the detective quickened his pace to chase after Shinzo from behind and called out, “Mr. Kitada! Takuichi-san!”

Shinzo jolted and turned around, but after glaring at the detective’s face, he tried to continue walking away.

“Wait—Mr. Kitada!” the detective pressed as he pursued him.

“You’ve got the wrong person.”

Shinzo said this and attempted to stomp off.

“Please wait.”
“I told you to wait—are you ignoring me?”

At the detective’s firm voice—directed at Shinzo, who had involuntarily stopped—Detective Mochizuki spoke in a low tone:

“It’s no use pretending to be Shinzo.”
“You are Takuichi Kitada.”
“Come with me.”
“I’ll take your fingerprints and check them.”

Sweat poured down Shinzo’s forehead in an instant, and he unsteadily leaned against the detective’s shoulder.

Three Reasons

“The one who died was Shinzo after all.”

Detective Mochizuki was speaking to Inspector Enokido, the head of judicial affairs, with a somewhat triumphant look.

Inspector Enokido said admiringly,

“We’d been completely fooled, huh? But you made quite a discovery.”

“It was a coincidence, a complete coincidence. In Shibuya’s Dogenzaka, I happened to spot Shinzo, but when that guy effortlessly solved a difficult renju problem, it suddenly hit me. After all, Shinzo was a reclusive eccentric who supposedly never engaged in competitive games of any sort. In contrast, Takuichi was a man who dabbled in everything, and it’s said he was engrossed in renju even at the time of the incident.”

Shinzo playing renju!

“The moment I thought something was off, what suddenly came to mind was Shinzo’s earlier demeanor. Even though he was supposed to be a reclusive eccentric who hated socializing, he actually chattered away quite fluently. At the time, I didn’t notice and overlooked it, but suddenly that realization flashed through my mind—”

“However, that alone wasn’t sufficient—”

“Right. So when I tried calling him ‘Takuichi’ experimentally, he seemed startled. I immediately threatened to take his fingerprints, and since he had something to hide, his face instantly paled and he staggered unsteadily.”
“After that, he confessed smoothly without any resistance.”

“Impressive work.”

“I’m honored by your praise.”
“According to his confession—here’s how it happened.”
“The plan to meet at the Chigasaki villa went exactly as arranged—Shinzo went there, was kept waiting, grew irritated, and stormed out in the evening. Everything unfolded precisely as intended.”
“The one who boarded the 6:03 upbound train was unquestionably Shinzo himself.”
“But from that point onward, things diverged—the enraged Shinzo went straight to Nagatsuji’s house in Kamata and confronted Takuichi who was there.”
“However, after just a few exchanged words, Shinzo’s complexion changed and he collapsed dead on the spot.”
“Shinzo had always had a weak heart—he’d been living with the constant risk of an angina attack.”
“Rushing to Nagatsuji’s house on an empty stomach right after disembarking, all that needless anger—it must have been too much for him.”

Due to Shinzo’s unexpected death, Takuichi and the Nagatsuji couple were shocked, but here the three of them held a discussion and decided to fake Takuichi’s death, with Takuichi becoming Shinzo.
“Since Takuichi and Shinzo originally looked very much alike, deceiving those at the villa was no trouble at all.”
“The tricky part was the apartment, but since that only required briefly showing their face to the caretaker, they thought they could manage it.”
“If the quiet, antisocial Shinzo were to replace the talkative, sociable Takuichi, it would have been utterly impossible. But conversely, impersonating Shinzo—who had almost no social interactions—was relatively easy.”

From there onward, it was a simple matter: Nagatsuji loaded Shinzo’s corpse dressed in Takuichi’s clothes and headed to the Chigasaki villa, while Takuichi changed into different clothes, fully assuming Shinzo’s identity, and returned to the apartment.
“Since the villa was locked, Nagatsuji had no choice but to break in—but given Takuichi’s habitual methods, it ended up being perceived as characteristic of Takuichi.”

“I see, I understand now,”
The inspector frowned slightly. “What on earth was the need for Takuichi to become Shinzo?
Even without doing that, wouldn’t Shinzo’s assets entirely become Takuichi’s anyway?”

“That’s exactly it.
Chief,” he began, “about inheritance tax—how much does it usually amount to?”

“How much were Shinzo’s assets?”

“About five or six hundred thousand yen.”

“Since it’s an inheritance by non-direct relatives, the tax would be around twenty percent, I suppose.”
“I see. So that’s what made it worth regretting?”

“There is still another reason.”
“Takuichi had promised various people that if he inherited Shinzo’s assets, he would give them as much money as they wanted—”

“I see.”
Inspector Enokido laughed. “When it was someone else’s money, he could make grand promises left and right. But once it became his own, he grew stingy.”
“Ha ha ha, that’s just how human nature works.”

“Takuichi didn’t think Shinzo’s inheritance would fall into his hands so easily—because if Shinzo were to get married, that would be the end of it. So he made promises left and right when it was convenient, but when the inheritance unexpectedly came into his possession, he’d be in trouble if those people came demanding their share. That’s why he bribed Nagatsuji and fully became Shinzo. Nagatsuji, being a distant relative of Takuichi’s with both greed and a sense of obligation, took on the role. And another thing—Takuichi claims he’d grown tired of his former self, so he decided to use this opportunity to become Shinzo and reinvent himself as a quiet, serious man—that’s his story.”

“In any case, it’s a crime without parallel in criminal history—ultimately not murder after all,” mused the inspector. “Inheritance tax evasion and identity fraud, I suppose… and abandonment of a corpse—though can we even call it abandonment? After all, they left it inside the villa.”

“Isn’t there also the crime of transporting a corpse without permission?”

“That’s about it. Then trespassing—hmm, I wonder if this charge will hold.”

“But a crime is still a crime, isn’t it?”

“Of course it’s a crime.”
The inspector declared in a booming voice.
“A crime steeped in modernity,” he mused, “and... one tinged with humor.”

(Published in 『Gendai』, January 1939 Issue)