Pathway to Japanese Literature

It wasn't midnight yet.

Yet, the profound silence of the night filling Woodward’s luxurious apartment honed Spider McCoy’s already taut nerves to a needle’s edge as he slipped inside like a thieving cat.
Each step in his rubber-soled shoes sank deeply into the plush carpet, and even in the dim light, his practiced eyes could discern the exquisite furnishings.
With only the sensation of his feet stealthily moving from room to room and the occasional beam of his flashlight, Spider tucked away a rough mental map of the house’s interior.

Everything was just as he had imagined.
No—or rather, it might be more accurate to say it was exactly as Sadie had informed him.
Sadie had worked as a maid for about a month before Mrs. Woodward departed for the Florida region.
And she had informed Spider of the detailed layout of each room.
Now that he realized how accurate it had been, he whistled in astonishment.

“Sadie’s a clever one,” he muttered. “On top of that, she’s considerate as hell. If only she weren’t hung up on Slug Dolgan…”

As this thought took hold, his hatred for Slug swelled beyond measure. That bastard must’ve interfered with his jobs God knows how many times these past few months. But how had he sensed the job beforehand? There was a rat—someone who knew all the details. Spider had never once doubted Sadie before—but now he thought he needed to be cautious of that woman too.

At that moment, a faint sound reached him, and he snapped back to his senses as if stung by a wasp.
He tensed every nerve in his body, standing motionless in the darkness without a moment’s lapse in vigilance.
But eventually, he concluded to himself that it might have just been a trick of his nerves.

Inside the house, aside from the two sleeping servants, there should have been no one else.
Mrs. Woodward was away in Florida, and her husband customarily stayed at his newspaper office until the Sunday edition went to press on Saturday nights.
Spider had meticulously prepared for this day without neglecting any detail.
He had kept watch on the house since dusk and waited for the servants to turn off the lights and withdraw to their rooms even after Woodward drove off to his office in his automobile.

The flashlight beam crept from the floor and crawled along the walls.

Since there was plenty of time, there was absolutely no need to rush.
He was able to begin his work with reassurance.
The windows had sunshades drawn, and to his advantage, even heavy drapes had been hung.
He twisted the light switch.
Then, a splendid room suddenly appeared before his eyes, and he involuntarily widened them in surprise.
But now was not the time to be distracted by such things.
Before long, the object of tonight’s endeavor came into view.
It was just as Sadie had said—there, at the edge of the room, stood a grotesque teakwood statue.

Simon Snudde, the fence who had long coveted the statue, had approached Spider with the proposition.

“Once you get it, I’ll give you five thousand dollars!” Simon Snudde promised.

That alone was enough for Spider.
But if things went smoothly, he might be able to squeeze out a bit more, and Snudde himself might even sweeten the deal once the statue was actually in hand.
But such matters could be dealt with later—what mattered now was securing the item, Spider thought.

When he saw that the statue was small enough to carry easily, he smiled in relief with a satisfied grin.
It was placed inside a niche set into the wall about five feet from the floor.
The pale indirect lighting gave the impression of a deep cavern.
However, directly in front of the niche was an oblong goldfish bowl, so Spider had to first remove this bowl before he could lay a hand on the statue.

Upon closer inspection, the goldfish in the bowl were artificial.

“Tch.”
He clicked his tongue in irritation. “But they’re cleverly made,” he muttered.
“I thought they were real all along.”
He examined the bowl.
“That’s some thick glass.”
“Wouldn’t break from a little rough handling.”
“But with this much water in it, moving it without spilling’s gonna be tricky.”
The problem now was moving the bowl.
Holding the rim would soak his gloves for sure.
Doing it bare-handed would leave fingerprints.
Finally he removed one glove and decided to use a handkerchief against prints.
With the cloth-wrapped hand gripping the rim and his other supporting the base, he shifted the bowl aside.
He wiped his damp fingertips and stuffed the wet handkerchief into his pocket.

The job was far too easy, making it truly regrettable that there had been no opportunity for him to put his dexterous hands to use, but from evening up to now, every preparation had proceeded most favorably.
He placed the relatively heavy statue into a canvas bag and securely tied it with the string.

“Five grand ain’t gonna cut it now.”
A satisfied smile drifted across his face.

He turned directly toward the door and tried to twist the light switch.
Just then came a faint creak that made him start involuntarily.
He tensed his whole body and strained his ears to identify the sound.
Again came the muffled noise of stealthy footsteps.
His hideous features stiffened unnaturally as if anticipating something dreadful.
Then he quietly placed the bag on the floor and abruptly killed the lights.
As darkness swallowed the room, Spider regained his vigor.
For if anyone entered through that doorway now, he held overwhelming positional advantage.

The footsteps were heard again.
His temples began to pound with his heartbeat.
He quickly set his muddled mind to work, carefully reviewing his actions since evening to pinpoint where he'd made a mistake.
Even so, Woodward shouldn't have returned yet.
But someone was approaching the door.

He had to do something.
But since the footsteps were coming along the path he had just taken, retreat was nearly impossible.
Moreover, there was no exit other than that door.
The only remaining option—he pulled out a club from his pocket.

And he waited intently.
The passage of time felt excruciatingly slow to him—so much so that it seemed hours had passed—when suddenly, the door was quietly opened.
Spider gripped the club tightly and pressed himself close to the door, holding his breath.
Before long, a short, stocky shadowy figure sneaked into the room.
He no longer hesitated.
The impulse surging through his entire body propelled him into action all at once.
And, mustering every ounce of his strength, he delivered a terrifying blow to the intruder’s head.
With a dull, bone-crunching sound, the intruder staggered and collapsed onto the floor.

Spider twisted the light switch.
His heart was pounding like a rapidly tolling bell, and his breath heaved violently.
Staring intently as he peered at the victim’s face, he let out an involuntary cry of shock and crouched over the corpse as if to smother it.

“Dolgan!”
“Slug Dolgan!”

But why had Dolgan come here?
If he’d been following Spider, who could have tipped him off?
Nobody except Sadie knew about tonight’s job.
Then… Sadie?

Spider stowed the stolen goods into the toolbox in the garage behind Sadie’s apartment.
By leaving them like this, they’d be safe enough until he handed them over to Simon Snudde.
Before long, Sadie had opened the door, so he went inside.

“What’s wrong, Spider?”

“What?” he said, turning his eyes toward her, and he thought he saw a shadow of unease and doubt lingering on her lovely face.
She had some worry weighing on her heart—was she concerned about Slug Dolgan’s well-being?
Indeed, she was concerned about Slug.
Had she really betrayed him?—He absolutely needed to verify this point, he thought.

“So, how did the job go?”

“Yeah, I called it off tonight. I got carried away playing cards at Charlie’s place—is that so bad?”

“But… because I heard from you that the job at Woodward’s was tonight.”

“That was the plan, yeah.
But I decided to postpone it until next week.”

She stared suspiciously at Spider’s face.
Women possess a mysterious power to see through even the hardest shells to what lies beneath the surface.
He began to feel strangely uneasy under her unrelenting stare.

“Well, that’s just fine.”
She said sarcastically.

“I don’t want to hear such lies.
So how did the job *really* go?
After all, I have a stake in this too, don’t I?”

“There’s no need to play dumb.”
He said in a displeased tone as he lit a cigarette.

“You all know already, don’t you—”

“You all’?—What’s wrong with you tonight?”

Her calm demeanor only irritated Spider further.
Yet regarding Dolgan, he absolutely had to extract the truth from her lips.
He knew he couldn't match her in verbal fencing.
But he'd also sensed she noticed his suspicion and was trying to dodge talk of Slug by changing the subject.

"You met Slug tonight, didn't you?"
He abruptly asked.

“What did you say?”

“I’m asking if you met Slug tonight.”
Spider repeated.

“If you don’t tell me the truth, I won’t tell you either—who I meet is my own business, isn’t it?”

Spider rose from the chair.

“Hey, I’m not joking around—I’ll get it out of you no matter what.”

“If you can do it, then go ahead and try,” she said mockingly.
“You’re being too timid.”
“That’s just borrowing trouble.”
“For someone of Spider’s stature to engage in such childish antics is downright disgraceful.”
“What on earth is wrong with you?”

“Yeah, forget it.”
He suddenly softened his voice in a placating manner.
“Let’s have a drink.”
“I’m really not myself tonight.”

She went to the next room to get the sake bottle.
Spider had been sitting deep into the chair, but upon seeing her return with an anxious expression, he suddenly stood up.

“Spider.”
“Come here.”

He nimbly jumped to the window like a cat.

“Look,” she whispered.
“There’s a suspicious person here.”

On the opposite sidewalk stood a short, sturdy man who nevertheless maintained neat attire.
He stood bathed in the dim light of a streetlamp, occasionally glancing up nonchalantly toward this window while puffing away at his pipe.

“That’s Matthews!”
A look of terror clearly appeared on Spider’s face.

However, Sadie had no idea what was going on.

“Matthews—you mean that Detective Matthews?”
“You need to calm down.”
“And then—tell me everything.”
“You did the job tonight, didn’t you?”

But Spider paid no heed to Sadie's words.
He gulped down strong liquor in quick succession.
However, the liquor did nothing but intensify his anger.
He thrust out his jaw and tried to feign composure with a look of disgust in his eyes, but he couldn't suppress the trembling throughout his body.

“What’s that bastard doing over there?” He nearly dropped the bottle while trying to place it on the shelf.

“Matthews doesn’t know a damn thing. No way I’m letting that bastard catch me! Hey, Sadie. You’re not thinking of selling me out, are you?”

“I won’t have you spouting such nonsense. Who would do such a thing? I don’t know why, but you’re lying tonight. But if Matthews comes, we’ll be in trouble—let’s at least get our stories straight. What should I say? Come on, pull yourself together—he’ll be here any minute now.”

“Alright, fine.”
“I’ve got a plan—” he said. “I’ll deal with Matthews.”
“Just pour me another drink already.”
“Even if that bastard tries to butt in, I’ll—”

At that moment, a knock sounded at the door, cutting Spider off mid-sentence.
He straightened his posture and tried to steady his frayed nerves.

And when he had finally regained his composure, Detective Matthews entered through the door Sadie had opened.

“Well, Spider.”
“I just happened to be passing by and thought I’d drop in for a little chat.”
Detective Matthews pulled up a chair himself, leisurely packed tobacco into his pipe, crinkled the corners of his eyes, and flashed a sharp smile.

Spider stared at the detective through the thick haze of tobacco smoke, nervously puffing on his cigarette.
And with a face as if he had bitten into a bitter bug, he fell silent.

“Do you have a match?
This pipe really eats through matches.”
While saying this, Matthews was casting sharp eyes around at the surrounding items.
And when he took the matches Spider reluctantly offered,

“You’re in a damn foul mood tonight, aren’t you?
Huh, Spider?”
The detective paid no heed to Spider’s silence and smirked. “Did you have a fight with Sadie or something?
You’d better make up quickly about that sort of thing.
You don’t want to let things fester—they’ll be a real pain to sort out then.”

He chuckled quietly.

“By the way, I’ve been seeing Sadie and Dolgan out together quite a lot lately.”

Spider tried not to listen to the detective’s teasing. And with effort, he feigned composure,

“Did something unusual happen, Detective Matthews?”

“Nothing much, really.” Having said that, Detective Matthews blew tobacco smoke from his nose and turned a questioning look toward Sadie.

“Was Spider with you all night tonight?”

Sadie’s face, drained of blood, stiffened. She was torn over how to respond. Spider didn’t know how he would answer, but her reply had to match his words. The detective had questioned her first—perhaps because he had already discerned this. The moment she realized that, she was utterly at a loss.

“I’ll tell you about that myself.”

Spider interjected from the side.
Matthews smiled calmly,

“That’s neither here nor there.”
“I just wanted to ask Sadie.”
“All I need is for Sadie to confirm you were here all night tonight.”
“That’d be a big help for me.”

“What exactly are you investigating? Detective Matthews, even if you ask such mysterious things, I don’t understand the reason.”

“Of course you wouldn’t. Well then, let me tell you one thing about tonight. But before that—could you show me those gloves sticking out of your coat pocket?”

Spider let slip a smile. So this was it after all? Matthews was trying to determine whether he had touched the goldfish bowl at the Woodward residence by checking if his gloves were wet or not. Thinking about it, that time when he had taken a moment to puzzle it out and left the gloves without getting them wet had indeed been lucky. Detective Matthews might be smart, but he himself was far better at this—Spider grew smug.

“Here, please take a look,” he said as he handed the gloves to the detective.

“Still—what exactly are you investigating?”

“Well...”
The detective gave a sluggish reply.

“I wanted to examine the work methods, you see.
The reason I asked Sadie earlier was actually about that very thing.”

“What’s the use asking someone like Sadie?
What does she even know?”

“That may be so—but getting back to the matter at hand, there was an incident at the Woodward residence involving both murder and theft.”
“A valuable statue was stolen tonight—Mr. Woodward returned home quite late after sending the Sunday edition to print.”
“Mrs. Woodward was out.”
“So when he returned and saw the light on in the second floor, he immediately went to check.”
“To his surprise, the valuable statue he had just mentioned was gone.”
“Of course, insurance had been taken out.”
“But the culprit also committed murder.”
“The corpse was on the floor, so Mr. Woodward nearly tripped over it.”
“A call was immediately made to Police Headquarters, and so under the chief’s orders, I rushed to the Woodward residence to investigate the case.”
“And to add to that—‘We’re currently searching for the culprit, but once caught, it’ll likely be the death penalty.’”

When he heard “death penalty,” Spider’s complexion changed.

“Another feather in your cap, I suppose.”

“I certainly hope so,”
“But this time seems promising.”
“This case involved special circumstances.”
“You see, Mr. Woodward had been dabbling in chemistry as a hobby.”
“He’d set up a laboratory in his basement and constantly researched new chemical phenomena.”
“Through this, he discovered a liquid that appeared identical to water yet possessed non-corrosive properties toward metal.”
“He experimentally poured this liquid into a goldfish bowl containing a metallic goldfish.”
“Over a year has passed since then, yet that fish shows no trace of rust.”

“What does that have to do with the crime?”
Spider grew slightly concerned but feigned nonchalance.

“Now, wait a moment—the goldfish bowl had been placed in front of the statue. Therefore—if you tried to steal the statue—you’d inevitably have to move that obstructive bowl elsewhere. Now, this bowl was quite heavy and slippery, making it a real pain to handle. The only place to get a grip is on the rim. Moreover, if you grip the rim, your fingertips are bound to get wet—that’s precisely why I asked you to show me the gloves.”

“I see.”
Spider said sarcastically.

“Well, take a good look.”
“But mine aren’t wet, right?”

“Yeah, they’re dry.”
“I’m relieved about that too.”
“But as I said earlier—it’s about time you adjusted your mood.”
“But Slug Dolgan—”

“Please stop talking about him.”
Spider said, his face turning bright red.
“Why do you keep bringing up Slug Dolgan?”

“But you see, the man killed tonight was actually Dolgan.”
“By the way, this might be my misunderstanding, but you seem to detest Dolgan—like poison.”

“What does that matter? Detective Matthews. You people have a habit of digging up trivial nonsense just to annoy others, don’t you? Yes, I couldn’t stand Dolgan. We just didn’t get along. To make matters worse, he was always chasing after Sadie—it drove me up the wall. But you’ve got no business poking into that.”

“Exactly as you say.”
Matthews stood up to leave.
“Well then, I’ll return your gloves.”
“It’s fortunate they weren’t actually wet.”
“But there’s still something interesting about that goldfish bowl liquid I mentioned.”
“According to Mr. Woodward, if that liquid were to mix with water at all, it would turn red immediately.”
“Just like litmus paper.”
“So if the thief happened to wet his hands while moving the bowl, he’d no doubt be shocked when washing them later and seeing they’d turned red.”
“And once it turns red, they say even a good washing won’t easily remove it.”
“Rather ingenious, don’t you think?”
“Which means we simply need to find the man with the Red Hand.”
He grabbed his hat with a booming laugh.

“Well then, I’ll be back soon.”
“Good night.”
“Sadie.”

“After all, Matthews is a sharp one.”
Spider muttered to himself.
“But there’s no way he’d think I did it.”

Sadie suddenly grabbed his arm.

“So you did go to Woodward’s place after all.” She said confidently, “And the reason you couldn’t tell me about it—it’s because you killed Slug, isn’t it?”

When Spider met her gaze, he felt accused and froze. He poured another drink from the bottle. Being called a coward by Sadie pained him. She seemed to know the truth—or at least suspect it. Maybe I should just confess to her—

“It’s true—I struck Dolgan.”
“Seems I put too much force into it.”
“But he’s the one who shouldn’t have stuck his nose in!”
“What I can’t figure out is who he heard about my job from.”

“So it was true?”
Sadie’s eyes gleamed unnaturally.
“Who do you think told Dolgan—you think it was me?”
“But you’ve no right to ask me that.”
“Coward!”
“Murderer!”
“How laughable.”
“Now I see why you kept hounding me about Dolgan tonight.”
“Yes, I met Dolgan tonight.”
“But if you had half a brain, you’d guess what I did to him. Your jealousy’s made you blind.”

Spider's face twitched.

"Dolgan also had something to look for there."
Sadie continued speaking, "I wanted to know what that was.
So I tried all sorts of ways to set traps for him.
You didn't even notice something that obvious? You're such a fool.
But soon the detectives will have their eyes on you.
Do you know what'll happen then?"

"Shut up!"
Spider closed his eyes, trying to banish the terrifying scene from his vision.

“I thought I handled it perfectly.”
He continued speaking while pacing the floor. “Who could possibly catch me?
“How are they planning to pin suspicion on me?
“I even fooled Matthews’ eyes, didn’t I?”

“Matthews hasn’t given up just because of that.”
“Once he sets his sights on something, they say he’ll pursue it like a hound with relentless tenacity until he catches it.”
“On top of that, that story about the liquid somehow seems to be true.”
“You got your hands wet from the bowl, didn’t you?”

“That’s all nonsense!”
Spider mocked and dismissed her concern.
“Matthews is just messing with us.
To tell the truth, I did wet my fingers and handkerchief, but...”

“It does seem to be true.”
Sadie remained stubbornly defiant. “Why weren’t you more careful?”

“What do you mean ‘be careful’?!
A heavy bowl full of water, and so slippery at that—you try moving something like that!
In such a situation, who would notice that the contents weren’t water?
I don’t trust Matthews’ words.
He was just saying it as a joke.”

“No, that’s not it.
Matthews leaves no stone unturned.
He’s just biding his time.
Haven’t you heard the rumor? Once he fixes on something, he won’t let even a single straw slip through.
And if that liquid business is true, spotting the culprit would be child’s play—”

“But that’s a lie.”
“There’s no way something that ridiculous could be true!”
“Anyway, since there’s a wet handkerchief right here, let’s just give it a try.”

Spider went to the kitchen and held the handkerchief under the faucet.

“If what he said holds true, the results should’ve shown up right away.”
“But look—nothing’s happening at all, is there?”
“Hey, what the hell—”

He froze mid-sentence, stunned.
And his eyes flew wide open.
The handkerchief he held gradually shifted from pink to red, and the hand holding it began staining crimson in the same manner.

"Oh, it’s true."
Sadie involuntarily cried out.

“It’s just as Matthews said,” she said while turning around, then let out a breathless gasp at what she saw.
There was someone standing behind them in the doorway.
That was Matthews.
He still wore his smug grin, his eyes locked intently on the decisive evidence.

“Heh heh,” he chuckled merrily. “Curiosity killed the cat, as they say.”
“I knew you’d wash it with water.”
“That’s exactly why I came back.”
“It was a bold gamble, but it worked better than expected.”
“This seals it as a capital case,” he said, retrieving handcuffs from his coat.

“What?!”
Spider shouted, “How the hell is this supposed to be evidence?!”

“Ah, well.”
The detective, showing no sign of being perturbed by Spider’s words, said cheerfully, “You can save that speech for the judge.”

The handcuffs clicked shut around his wrist.
Spider, startled by this sound, tried to charge at Matthews with a menacing glare.
But it was futile.
The detective nimbly dodged and motioned to his subordinate, who stood at the doorway with his pistol at the ready.

“Now, calm yourself.
“Spider.
“Thanks to this Mr. Simpson here, we discovered the stolen goods and club in the garage.”
“The evidence is all there.”
“Well then, let’s be on our way.”

Spider’s face turned toward Sadie was sheer desperation itself.
His tongue seemed to tangle, rendering him speechless as he silently stared at her face.
Eventually he lowered his head and, dragging his heavy feet, followed behind the detective as he descended toward the waiting car outside.

Spider's mind was in chaos; he couldn't even recall the events that had transpired within just a few hours.
He sat vacantly beside the detective.

The car glided smoothly toward police headquarters.
Matthews, now in an excellent mood, began talking cheerfully.

“It was utterly trivial,” he began abruptly. “First, we considered who’d target a statue like that.”
“And since Snudde seemed quite certain about it, we listed everyone frequenting his place.”
“Through our investigation, we came across names like Slug Dolgan, you, and a few others—but after sifting through them all, only you and Slug remained.”
“But with Slug here dead as you see, that left only you in the end.”

The detective’s words continued further.

“But what puzzled me was why Slug would take on the same job as you on the very same night.”
“So I considered that Snudde might have made them do it.”
“Probably, he had a buyer for that item, so he absolutely needed to get his hands on it.”
“As a result, he figured it’d be more certain if he had both of you do it.”
“So Slug snuck in tonight to pull the same job as you.”
“But you were just a step quicker, you see—ah, we’ve arrived at the station.”