Pathway to Japanese Literature

I

This, too, was an account of Inspector Kirihara's "Special Interrogation."

The report that Denzou Ohara, a jewelry merchant operating in Ginza 4-chome, had been killed by an unknown assailant in the living room of his home in Kojimachi Ward’s Hirakawacho the previous night reached the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department on a frigid February morning when the lingering chill of late winter still gripped the air. Inspector Kirihara, accompanied by his subordinates Detectives Asai and Mizuno and a police physician, immediately set out by automobile to conduct an on-site investigation. Ohara's mansion had been constructed in barrack-style immediately after the Great Earthquake fires. Passing through the stone gate pillars, one encountered a circular planting approximately ten ken (about 18 meters) in diameter. Beyond this, to the right stood a Western-style single-story house and to the left a Japanese-style one, connected at the center by a corridor with the entrance attached to the Japanese building.

When Inspector Kirihara’s party arrived, the policeman on guard duty and the houseboy of this household came out to greet them. Inspector Kirihara removed his shoes and stepped up, then and there hearing the particulars of how the body had been discovered. Ohara had lost his wife some years prior and, though not yet fifty years old, had remained single ever since. Since he had no children, his household consisted of three members: a middle-aged maid, a twenty-year-old houseboy this year, and himself. Perhaps because Mr. Ohara had spent his younger years living in the United States for an extended period, he preferred a simple lifestyle and always slept in the Western-style house. The Western-style house consisted of a study-living room, a bedroom, and a storage room. However, Mr. Ohara would often come and go through the back door of the storage room, ringing a bell when he needed something. There were even days when the maid and houseboy did not catch a glimpse of their master.

As Mr. Ohara had told them upon leaving for the store yesterday that he would return late today, the houseboy and maid went to bed at ten o'clock. The houseboy was supposed to bring coffee to Ohara’s bedroom every morning at seven o’clock, so he went there at the same time today as well, but found no signs of anyone having stayed in the bed. Since this was not particularly unusual, he was about to leave as usual when his casual glance toward the study revealed Ohara lying before the fireplace still clad in Western clothes. When he rushed over in alarm and discovered the body had already turned cold, he lost no time in notifying the police by telephone.

After finishing listening to the houseboy’s account, Inspector Kirihara inquired, “Did only the master have the key to the back door of the storage room?” “We don’t know for certain, but we didn’t have it,” the houseboy answered.

“I’m not certain, but we don’t have it,” answered the houseboy. Then the group proceeded through the corridor to the crime scene. Inspector Kirihara first took position at the entrance and surveyed the room. By Japanese standards, the approximately ten-tatami-mat room had an extremely sparse arrangement containing a safe, desk, fireplace, small table, and tripod chair. There were no signs of any violent struggle having occurred. The corpse clad in black serge Western clothes lay face-up on the linoleum-covered floor—head positioned before the fireplace, legs stretched toward the desk. On a nail driven into the door leading to the storage room hung a hat, a coat, and a cane.

Inspector Kirihara began carefully searching the floor. Near the corpse’s feet by the desk lay a small bottle with its stopper removed. The inspector took out tweezers from his pocket, picked it up, and examined it. The label bore the characters for "Chloroform." Inspector Kirihara meaningfully signaled to Detective Asai and carefully stored it in the container he had brought. The bottle’s stopper was not found in the vicinity.

There were no footprints or similar traces on the linoleum, but when Inspector Kirihara carefully searched the area, he discovered two strands of hair—each less than a foot long—near the corpse’s waist. Upon closer examination, both strands were from the same person’s hair; based on the state of their roots, they had clearly been pulled out, but their free ends distinctly showed signs of having been cut with scissors.

Then Inspector Kirihara began examining the corpse. The victim Ohara was a stocky, ruddy-faced gentleman of medium height, his forehead showing significant balding at the hairline. The face showed no particular expression of agony, but the sight of a slightly protruding tongue from purplish lips suggested death by suffocation. Inspector Kirihara placed his hand on the jaw and attempted to examine the front of the neck when—"This is...!" he exclaimed. For on the throat, between the collar whose front part had been folded back, the bite marks of some creature were clearly imprinted.

Blood had oozed out only slightly around the bite marks and had not splattered on either the floor or the Western clothes. However, on the inner surface of the collar, a red substance had adhered from contact with the wound. The hands lay stretched straight out to either side, but in the right hand was clutched a silk handkerchief crumpled into a messy ball. Inspector Kirihara picked it up and sniffed—a faint odor of chloroform lingered. The handkerchief was a white women’s one, with "Tanimura" embroidered in red silk thread in one corner.

Inspector Kirihara then had the police physician examine the corpse. According to the physician’s analysis, the wound on the front of the neck had indeed been caused by human teeth. Given that the laryngeal cartilage was crushed, it appeared suffocation had occurred when the teeth were pressed forcefully into the throat during the bite. There was no doubt this constituted homicide. As approximately nine hours had passed since death, they concluded the crime had likely been committed around eleven o'clock or midnight the previous night.

“Was the biter a woman or a man?” inquired Inspector Kirihara. “I believe it appears to be a woman, but I can’t say for certain,” said the police physician.

“Shall we proceed with the autopsy?” “That would be advisable.” Inspector Kirihara ordered Detective Mizuno via telephone to carry out procedures with the prosecutor’s office and arrange for the body’s transportation, then together with the physician examined the contents of the corpse’s pockets, undid buttons to inspect the body’s surface, but found nothing particularly noteworthy. Before long, Inspector Kirihara removed the keychain from the corpse’s trouser pocket and, handing it to Detective Asai, said:

“With this, check the desk and safe.” “Are we verifying whether theft occurred?”

“I don’t believe this was theft, but report anything unusual you find.”

II

At that moment, Detective Mizuno entered, accompanied by a man in Western clothes around forty. The detective introduced him as Suzuki, the manager of the Ginza store. “Well, when I received the call from the houseboy, I was so startled I thought I might be dreaming,” the manager said. “Around what time did Mr. Ohara leave the store last night?” “I think it was around ten o’clock.” “Does he always leave that late?” “No, there was an especially large amount of work yesterday.”

“Did Mr. Ohara leave the store by himself?” “He was with the female shop clerk.” “What is her name?” “Her name is Ms. Nakajima Seiko.” Inspector Kirihara made an entry in his notebook. “Ms. Nakajima has short hair, doesn’t she?” inquired the inspector. Suzuki was startled. “How would you know that?” The inspector did not answer and continued his questioning. “Are there any other short-haired women at the store besides her?” “Only Ms. Nakajima.”

“How long has Ms. Nakajima been employed here?” “It hasn’t been ten days yet, but the owner was very pleased with her.” “Where is the boarding house?”

“It’s in Nihonbashi, but I don’t know the exact address. If you go to the store, you’ll find out. She should have already left for work by now.” Inspector Kirihara gazed at his notebook, thought for a moment, and said: “Do you know anyone connected to the store by the name of Tanimura?” “Mr. Tanimura? He’s the craftsman who makes items for our store.”

“Does he do the crafting at the store?” “No, he employs craftsmen at his home to do it.” “Where does he live?” “Kyōbashi, but I’ve forgotten the address.” “Does Mr. Tanimura have a wife?” “He did have one, but she passed away from a sudden illness about two weeks ago.” “After that, Mr. Tanimura completely stopped coming to the store.” “Wasn’t the wife connected to the store?” “She was previously a store clerk as well, but through circumstance married Mr. Tanimura, who frequented the store.”

“When did that happen?”

"I believe it was last October." "Thank you very much. Please take a rest over there." As Suzuki was about to leave, Inspector Kirihara called out "Ah wait," stopped him, and pointed to the woman's photograph in the wall-mounted frame to inquire. "Who is this photograph of?" "That is the late Mrs. Ohara from last year."

When the manager left, Detective Asai—who had been inspecting the contents of the safe—took out a gold-lacquered box and opened its lid before Inspector Kirihara. Looking inside, there were one bundle of hair—about eight sun long (roughly 24 centimeters), tied to the thickness of a little finger—alongside a single soiled woman’s leather glove and one celluloid comb.

“Strange things, aren’t they?” Inspector Kirihara said, staring intently. “This is certainly worth studying—I’ll take it with me.” “Was there anything else unusual besides this?” “Neither the desk nor safe contained anything noteworthy.” “Then collect fingerprints from the corpse before the transport crew arrives.” Inspector Kirihara then ordered Detective Mizuno to bring Nakajima Seiko and craftsman Tanimura to the Metropolitan Police Department. He personally conducted a meticulous examination of the bed, storage room interior, and rear entrance door but found nothing significant.

III

Upon completing a routine inspection and entrusting the police doctor with handling the corpse, Inspector Kirihara returned to the Metropolitan Police Department with Detective Asai. They promptly sent the chloroform bottle found at the scene to the forensics division to have the fingerprints on it collected and checked against the victim’s, then after taking about thirty minutes to handle various tasks, the two sat facing each other across the table in the inspector’s waiting room.

Inspector Kirihara laid out the box, two strands of hair, and a woman’s silk handkerchief embroidered with “Tanimura” on the table, looked at the detective’s face, and said: “Now then, Detective Asai—what do you make of these three items in the box?”

“It must be Mrs. Ohara’s keepsake,” the detective answered offhandedly.

“For a keepsake, a single soiled glove seems strange. There must be a more fitting interpretation.” “Then was Ohara a sexual deviant?”

“That would be the soundest approach. People who compulsively collect belongings or hair from the opposite sex are termed fetishistic collectors—Ohara must have harbored such deviant sexual desires.” He paused sharply. “But wait.”

With this, Inspector Kirihara took out the bundle of hair. "When fetishistic collectors cut women’s hair, they typically make a single clean snip." "Yet this bundle consists of strands cut two or three at a time and gathered together." "As proof—here you’ll find hairs where the cut ends face toward the free tips, bound in reverse." "To create a bundle this thick by cutting mere strands at a time would require extraordinary patience."

“Couldn’t it have been gathered by cutting from many women?” “No, they’re all the same person’s hair.”

Detective Asai curiously took the bundle of hair in hand and compared it to the two strands found at the scene.

“This hair and this bundle of hair are different, aren’t they?” “They’re completely different.” “Somehow, it seems this crime is centered around sexual deviance.” “Couldn’t that bite wound also have been inflicted by a sadistic sexual deviant?”

“That might be the case.” “Then was Ohara bitten by the short-haired clerk?” “We won’t know unless we meet and interrogate that woman.” “But you—how do you account for that chloroform bottle!” “Since Ohara was clutching this handkerchief, he must have tried to use it to chloroform the woman.” “It’s absurd for him to drug a woman only to get himself fatally bitten by her.” “Then was it the woman who administered the chloroform?”

“But the handkerchief was in Ohara’s grasp.” “They probably chloroformed him, bit him to death, and placed the handkerchief in Ohara’s hand to throw off the police.” At that moment, the door opened and a member of the forensics division entered, reporting that the fingerprints on the chloroform bottle were not Ohara’s.

Detective Asai said triumphantly. “So the woman did use chloroform on Ohara after all!”

Inspector Kirihara stared fixedly in thought and said, "But you—isn’t it hard to imagine a man as robust as Ohara being chloroformed by some frail woman?" "Then should we consider a third party?" "That does seem to be the most plausible approach."

"So, is the third party an accomplice with the woman?" "Well, generally speaking, crimes centered around deviant sexual desires rarely have accomplices." "Moreover, if two people were working together, there would be no need to go through the trouble of biting him to death."

Detective Asai made a perplexed face and crossed his arms. “How do you explain the handkerchief Ohara had? Even if we assume the short-haired woman chloroformed Ohara, that handkerchief must belong to a different woman, don’t you think?”

“The handkerchief must still have been Ohara’s possession.” “Since Ohara was a fetishistic collector, he probably took it when that woman was working as a clerk before.” “But since it’s embroidered with ‘Tanimura,’ that means he took it after her marriage… Or rather—this case proves unexpectedly complex.”

At this moment, Detective Mizuno returned and reported that he had brought the female clerk Seiko Nakajima and the craftsman Sanzou Tanimura. Detective Mizuno explained that the two had been brought separately and were being kept in different rooms. Seiko Nakajima had reportedly stated that she intended to take the day off from the shop today due to feeling unwell, while Tanimura had also reluctantly appeared despite enduring a headache. Inspector Kirihara first had Seiko Nakajima brought in.

4

The woman who had been brought in was a twenty-one or twenty-two-year-old with fair skin and what could be described as an "enchanting" short-haired appearance. Inspector Kirihara and Detective Asai involuntarily exchanged glances. It was probably because she differed from the woman they had imagined. She answered Inspector Kirihara's questions clearly, but there was something somewhat hesitant and unsettled about her. “Last night, you left the store with Mr. Ohara, I hear?” “Yes...”

“Then you went together to Mr. Ohara’s house, didn’t you?”

“No, we parted ways midway.” “Where did you part ways?” “Mr. Ohara stopped by Honmura Pharmacy in Ginza, so I parted ways with him there. After that, I went to see a moving picture at F Theater and then went home.” Inspector Kirihara stared fixedly at her face and said. “Why are you hiding it?” “I’m not hiding anything.”

“But there is evidence that you went to Mr. Ohara’s place.”

“What?”

“This,” he said, taking out two strands of hair from the table drawer. “Your hairs were found beside the body.” “My goodness, how could that be?” she exclaimed in surprise. “But I did not go to Mr. Ohara’s house.”

Inspector Kirihara’s eyes gleamed sharply in that instant.

“Where were you before coming to Mr. Ohara’s shop?” “I was in Osaka.” “Your parents?” “My mother was alive until her passing, but I moved to Tokyo immediately after she died.”

“Who introduced you to Mr. Ohara’s shop?” “I saw a newspaper advertisement, went to meet him directly, and was hired.” “Last night was the first time you went to Mr. Ohara’s residence, correct?” “Well, no—I’ve never been there at all.” “Very well. There are a few more things I would like to ask you later, so please wait over there.”

Seiko seemed relieved and left while wiping her face with a handkerchief.

Inspector Kirihara immediately called Detective Mizuno and ordered him to go to Honmura Pharmacy in Ginza to investigate what medicine Ohara had gone to buy last night.

Before long, the craftsman Tanimura was brought in. He was a slender man of about thirty dressed in Western clothes, but his face was terribly pale.

“It must be the cold, but your complexion doesn’t look well,” Inspector Kirihara said gently. Tanimura glanced briefly at the inspector’s face, fixed his eyes on the table, and said. “Yes, since the start of this year, I’ve had some trouble with my respiratory system.” “I see. I’ve heard that those who work with gold and silver are often afflicted.” "And I understand your wife recently passed away." “All the more exhausting for you, I imagine?” “That’s correct.” “What day did your wife pass away?”

“Yesterday was the fourteenth-day memorial.” Inspector Kirihara fell silent and thought for a while. “The fact is, Mr. Ohara was killed last night, so there were matters I would have preferred to ask your wife about, but since that’s no longer possible, I’ve asked you to come in her stead.” “I understand your wife previously worked at Mr. Ohara’s shop, is that correct?” “She did.” “I hear Mr. Ohara didn’t have a very good reputation when it came to women, did he?”

Tanimura suddenly made a bitter face. “He did seem that way.” “I hear there were even all sorts of rumors about him and the store employees—forgive me for asking something so improper—but did Mr. Ohara ever make… inappropriate remarks to your wife?” Tanimura flared up and bit his lip. “I would prefer not to answer such questions out of respect for my deceased wife.” “That is quite reasonable. “No, I merely asked because I needed to thoroughly understand the character of this man Ohara.”

Having said this，Inspector Kirihara took out from the drawer a celluloid comb that had been inside the handbox， “Does this comb look familiar to you?” he said, handing it to Mr. Tanimura. Tanimura took it in his hand and examined it for some time, but

“I don’t recognize it,” he answered and placed it on the table. “I apologize for troubling you while you’re unwell. However, since you’re already here, there are a few more things I’d like to ask later, so please wait.” When Tanimura left, Inspector Kirihara turned to Detective Asai and requested that he take the comb they had deliberately had Tanimura handle to the forensics department to collect his fingerprints and compare them with those on the chloroform bottle.

Detective Asai went to the forensics department and, upon returning, immediately turned to Inspector Kirihara and asked. “Why didn’t you collect Ms. Nakajima’s fingerprints in the same manner?” “I don’t think Ms. Nakajima used chloroform.” “But if the fingerprints on the chloroform bottle aren’t Ohara’s, they might be Nakajima’s.” “That’s precisely the issue here—we must wait for the forensics department’s analysis.” “Why didn’t you show Tanimura the handkerchief Ohara was clutching?”

“Because there’s no need—the handkerchief is undoubtedly Mrs. Tanimura’s. But when the time comes, I intend to show it.” About thirty minutes passed, and a forensics department staff member entered and reported that the fingerprints on the chloroform bottle matched those of Tanimura’s left hand.

Inspector Kirihara and Detective Asai exchanged silent glances at this unexpected report. The excited Detective Asai was first to break the silence. “Then Tanimura was also at Ohara’s last night…” “Correct—this confirms a third party’s involvement. But that very fact makes the case more complicated than ever.”

“However,” Detective Asai objected. “If Tanimura was there, wouldn’t that actually make the explanation simpler?” “Tanimura used his wife’s handkerchief to make Ohara unconscious, and Nakajima went for his throat…”

Inspector Kirihara let out a soft snort. “Forgive my laughter—it’s rude, I know—but even if one were to propose such a theory, could it realistically be executed? If your hypothesis holds, Tanimura and Nakajima would need to be accomplices, yet there exists no connection between them.” “Unless Seiko had encountered him here at the Metropolitan Police Headquarters today, she likely wouldn’t even recognize Tanimura’s face.” “Therefore, I maintain that handkerchief was indeed in Ohara’s possession all along.” “No—this case defies such simplistic explanations.” Having said this, the inspector fell silent in contemplation. “Still,” he murmured to himself, “the motive behind this crime remains elusive.”

At that moment, Detective Mizuno, who had been sent to Honmura Pharmacy, returned. Detective Asai suddenly turned toward Detective Mizuno, “Ohara definitely bought the chloroform, didn’t he?” asked Detective Asai. “No, that’s not it,” Detective Mizuno said. “What Ohara went to purchase was a drug called insulin. But unfortunately, it was out of stock, so he apparently left without purchasing it.” Inspector Kirihara’s face suddenly lit up the moment he heard this conversation. “Detective Mizuno, do you know what kind of medicine insulin is?”

“I inquired at the pharmacy.” “It’s said to be a new injectable drug for diabetes.” “Ohara had apparently been suffering from diabetes for two or three years, and when this new drug was discovered in America, he immediately had it imported and occasionally administered injections himself.” “They say this drug is quite difficult to use, but since Ohara studied chemistry during his time in America, he read the instructions and performed the self-administered treatment.”

Inspector Kirihara suddenly stood up.

“Detective Asai, I must now attend the autopsy and meet with Professor Murayama while I’m there. Since this case’s secret may lie in diabetes, I want you to go to Tanimura’s house immediately and question whoever is keeping watch about the circumstances before and after his wife’s death.”

5 When Detective Asai returned, Inspector Kirihara also came back shortly after.

“Detective Asai, what about Tanimura?” asked the inspector.

According to Detective Asai’s investigation, Tanimura had previously employed two assistants for his gold and silver metalwork, but after his wife’s death, he dismissed both assistants and now lived with just an elderly hired woman. Tanimura, having lost his wife, was deeply disheartened and drifted through his days in a daze until the first seven-day mourning period concluded. After that, for some reason, he shut himself in the workshop every day and worked diligently on his metalwork. Even though the old woman urged him to go out for a walk to clear his mind, saying she worried it might harm his health, he merely smirked faintly and never stepped outside. However, after yesterday’s 14th-day memorial service concluded, he reportedly went out in the evening saying he would go see a moving picture and returned home around twelve o’clock.

It was said that Mrs. Tanimura had returned home late one evening about four days before her death and been scolded by Tanimura; from that night onward, she developed a high fever that gradually worsened until she passed away. Detective Asai conducted a preliminary investigation of the workshop but found nothing particularly noteworthy, so he decided to wrap things up for the time being and returned. After listening to this account, Inspector Kirihara remained silent in thought for a moment, then said, "Well, thank you for that. The picture is gradually coming into focus."

“By the way, how did things go at the university?” asked Detective Asai. “Modern forensic medicine remains as vexing as ever. We may ascertain cause of death, yet the corpse’s living secrets stay buried.” “The police doctor’s findings confirm it—the bite wound was inflicted by a woman’s teeth.” “But I’ve largely reconstructed Ohara’s private history.” “At any rate, this should compel Ms. Nakajima to speak.”

“What do you mean?” “You’ll find out soon enough.” “Bring Nakajima here.”

Before long, Seiko found herself facing Inspector Kirihara once more.

“Ms. Nakajima, I’ve kept you waiting quite a while. The time has come for you to make a full confession.” “What do you mean?” “You certainly went to Mr. Ohara’s house together with him last night.”

"That's not true." "If you refuse to speak up, we will have no choice but to detain you as a suspect." “Oh!” Her face paled, but then, appearing resolute, she snapped. “Then I’m prepared for that.” “And what precisely do you mean by that?”

"I will maintain my ignorance to the end."

“Then are you aware?” “Of what?” “The manner in which Mr. Ohara was killed!” “How would I know such a thing?” “You were chloroformed by Mr. Ohara last night, weren’t you?” Her face—which had uttered “Huh?”—now bore unmistakable anxiety. “You believe he then assaulted you, don’t you?” “It’s... It’s a lie!” “Then let me clarify. Mr. Ohara had been physically incapable of such acts for years due to illness. The one who chloroformed you intended to cut your hair.”

“Is that true?” she said, looking up at Inspector Kirihara, her face suddenly brightening. “Is that truly so?” “It’s absolutely true. This has been medically proven!” “Then you shall disclose everything.” “Will you hear my account?”

“Ohara is my father!”

VI Even Inspector Kirihara appeared momentarily discomposed by this unforeseen declaration.

“It’s only natural to be shocked,” she said. “When I was in her womb, my mother was cast aside by Ohara.” “Ohara cast aside my mother and took in his regular geisha.” “That geisha became Mrs. Ohara, who lived until recent years.” “After giving birth to me, my mother endured a life of great hardship, but no matter what she endured, she raised me properly and vowed she would not rest until she had taken revenge on the Ohara couple.” “Mother continued cursing Ohara in her heart.” “Then, as if her wish had been granted, Mrs. Ohara passed away in recent years.” “But since Ohara was still alive, Mother continued cursing him with relentless determination.” “However, she never had the strength to take concrete measures from the beginning.” “When she died suddenly from illness just the other day, even in her final moments, she said, ‘How regrettable! Take revenge for me,’ and passed away.” “So I inherited my mother’s resolve and resolved to take revenge on Ohara.” “The reason I cut my hair short was to place the locks I’d severed for that vow into my mother’s coffin.” After settling affairs, I came to Tokyo, and fortunately when a newspaper advertisement for a female clerk at Ohara’s store caught my eye, I applied immediately and was promptly hired. Ohara went out of his way to be kind to me in various ways, and since he asked me last night if I would come to his home, I thought it would be a good opportunity to get close to him and followed along. Ohara stopped at a pharmacy along the way, then we went by car to Hirakawa-cho 5-chome and walked about a block. When we entered from the back of the Western-style house, Ohara—unaware I was his own child—began making vulgar jokes. I had been fully on guard, but when I happened to look up at the photograph in the frame and thought, “Was it this woman who tormented my mother?” various things suddenly welled up in my heart, making me sorrowful, and for a while I stared blankly at the photograph. At that moment, Ohara abruptly stood up and made me smell something with an unpleasant odor.

I don’t know what happened after that, but when I suddenly felt cold and came to my senses, Ohara was lying beside me. But sensing something was amiss, upon looking closer, he lay there mercilessly dead. I was so shocked that I hurriedly made my escape. I was violated by my father! When I thought this, I became so frustrated I felt I might lose my mind. No matter what happened, I resolved never to speak of this. Even if I were seen as the culprit, I thought it would be nothing compared to this frustration.

“However, your words just now have put me at ease.” “Truly, a weight has lifted from my heart.” “That is all I have to say.” “What I’ve told you isn’t a lie in the slightest.” “Ohara is my father after all—to think he was killed makes him pitiable.”

After saying this, she pressed the handkerchief to her eyes.

“You have spoken well,” said Inspector Kirihara. “I believe your words. Now, I have just one question—when you entered or left the Western-style house, did you happen to see any suspicious figures?” “I didn’t see anyone,” she answered after a moment’s thought. “Thank you very much,” he replied. “You may leave now, but if you wish to know who killed your father, please stay until evening.”

“I will stay.”

As soon as Seiko left, Inspector Kirihara said: “With this, I’ve ascertained the motive for the crime—but at the same time, I’ve uncovered the existence of a fourth party.”

“Huh? A fourth party?” Detective Asai exclaimed in surprise.

“That’s right—consider the bite wound.” “The bite wound was made by a woman’s teeth.” “By the way, Detective Asai—does Tanimura’s house have a Buddhist altar?”

“There was a small Buddhist altar.” “I take it the altar implements were spotless, given your expertise?” “They were very clean.” “Since it’s a new Buddha statue, incense was being burned vigorously.”

“Well then, I’ll briefly pay a visit to that Buddhist altar to encounter the fourth party and, if possible, bring back the fourth party—the culprit.”

Detective Asai stood dumbfounded, watching the inspector’s retreating figure.

Seven

When Inspector Kirihara returned, the short winter day was beginning to fade.

“Unfortunately, apprehending the promised fourth party proved impossible—even after paying respects at the Buddhist altar, their location remained unknown,” he said. “But have them bring out that wine.” Detective Asai stiffened. Drinking French wine signaled an elite interrogation was imminent. How many suspects would face questioning? What damning phrases would be uttered? Yet if the culprit was female, why hadn’t they brought anyone besides Seiko Nakajima?

As soon as he finished drinking the wine, the inspector said.

“Bring Tanimura here.” Detective Asai left the room like an automaton. He was too agitated to speak.

When Tanimura was brought in, Inspector Kirihara abruptly questioned him.

“Mr. Tanimura, you visited Mr. Ohara last night, didn’t you?” “This isn’t a joke.” “I went to see a motion picture.”

“You were there to witness Mr. Ohara’s death, weren’t you?” “How could such a thing be possible?” “Do you truly claim not to know?” “But I have no reason to visit Mr. Ohara.” “You may not have had a reason—but your wife did.” “Huh?” “There is evidence.” “What evidence?” “This is it,” said the inspector as he took the handkerchief that had been in the corpse’s hand from the drawer. “This is your wife’s handkerchief.”

Tanimura’s face paled the moment he saw it. “Mr. Ohara had died clutching this.”

Tanimura looked down and bit his lip. “You needn’t worry. Your wife is innocent.” “Ah,” Tanimura let out a deep sigh.

“You saw the young woman with cropped hair being chloroformed by Mr. Ohara last night, didn’t you?” “I don’t know, I don’t know,” Tanimura’s voice quivered faintly. “You committed a grave error last night. You mistakenly took the chloroform bottle Mr. Ohara had used instead of your own and brought it back.” Tanimura attempted to speak, but his words appeared trapped in his throat.

“Calm yourself.” “There’s one more thing I would like you to hear.”

Tanimura's entire body began to tremble. He tried to shut his eyes, but finding himself unable even to do that, could only stare fixedly at the inspector’s mouth. “Did you make your wife’s teeth bite into Ohara’s throat?” “What?!” Tanimura grabbed his head with both hands. “You knew all that? I’ll confess everything!” “I want to bite through Ohara’s throat and kill him!”

This was Mrs. Tanimura’s dying wish. Denzou Ohara had met Mrs. Tanimura on the road the night before and told her, “I’d like your husband to handle some delicate metalwork—please accompany me to my home briefly.” Unaware this would become the terrifying root of her undoing, Mrs. Tanimura followed him unsuspectingly. Ohara entered the Western-style house through the rear entrance and, capitalizing on her unguarded moment, applied anesthetic. When Mrs. Tanimura came to her senses and looked about, Ohara had vanished. With a gasp, she touched her head to find her hair violently disordered; Mrs. Tanimura believed Ohara had defiled her virtue through some unspeakable means.

In her frenzied state, Mrs. Tanimura ran back home, where she was reproached by her husband and ended up confessing everything. Whether from lying too long in the cold room, the effects of the anesthetic, or the severe shock to her nerves, she developed a high fever that very night, contracted pneumonia, and died three days later. Until her dying breath, she continued pleading with her husband: “Please take revenge for me. Oh... I want to bite through Ohara’s throat and kill him!”

Tanimura, ever the devoted husband, swore at his wife’s deathbed that he would surely avenge her. And he resolved to carry out his wife’s dying words exactly as she had spoken them. He had his wife cremated, extracted twelve teeth—incisors and canines from both upper and lower jaws—from the dental bones collected during the bone-picking ceremony, arranged them on metal fittings matching the size of human jaws, then fixed them to pincer-like pliers used in metal casting, devising a plan to clamp through Ohara’s throat and kill him.

“They say teeth burned by fire become brittle, but these—imbued with single-minded resolve—were as strong as steel.” Tanimura said.

Intending to commit the violent act on the night of the second weekly memorial service, he immediately began manufacturing those special dental pliers as soon as the first weekly rites concluded. Since he thought his own life would end sooner or later anyway, after dismissing his two assistants following his wife’s death, he was able to complete the manufacturing as planned without arousing anyone’s suspicion. The previous night, Mrs. Tanimura had clutched the key left in the back door of Ohara’s Western-style house during her frantic escape. Using that key, he sneaked in around nine o’clock last night and hid in the storage room. Then at approximately eleven, Ohara returned with a woman. He had cracked the door open and was watching when Ohara soon soaked a handkerchief with anesthetic and covered the woman’s mouth. In truth, he had intended to kill Ohara after the woman left; however, upon imagining his own wife had been violated in that same manner, he flared up in rage, rushed out, soaked the prepared handkerchief with chloroform, and covered Ohara’s mouth from behind. At that moment, the woman with cropped hair collapsed heavily onto the floor, and immediately after, Ohara fell onto his back. There he took out the prepared pliers and clamped them onto the throat, but the collar interfered, preventing him from biting through as intended. No sooner had he finally managed to bite down than the woman beside him began to groan; he pressed the pliers with all his strength, suffocating him. Fearing discovery by the woman, he fled in great haste and inadvertently took the wrong chloroform bottle back with him.

8

After having Tanimura removed to another room and summoning Seiko Nakajima to inform her of the culprit's identity before dismissing her, Inspector Kirihara took a seat facing Detective Asai.

“If Ms. Nakajima were to see matters as they have turned out, she must surely be heartbroken.” “But with this, perhaps the late Mrs. Ohara’s grudge has been laid to rest,” the Inspector mused gravely. “How did you determine Ohara was impotent?” Detective Asai asked. “Because diabetes often accompanies impotence. “Moreover, when impotence occurs, fetishistic perversions frequently manifest—or so I’ve heard. That’s why I visited Professor Murayama, hoping to confirm Ohara’s impotence through his corpse.” “However, current forensic medicine regrettably cannot provide definitive proof of such matters—or so I was informed.” “But based on all we had investigated by that point, I deemed it permissible—no, necessary—to reach that conclusion.” “Ohara administered chloroform to women because he sought to cut their hair undetected.” “Cutting large amounts at once would have drawn notice—hence he snipped two or three strands each time.” “This absolutely required anesthetic use.” “Ohara remained a novice as an object fetishist.” “His perverse sexual desires likely emerged concurrently with the diabetes.” “Mrs. Tanimura believed herself violated due to her disheveled hair, but Ohara lacked the skill to retie loosened tresses properly.” “The hair in the box most likely belonged to Mrs. Tanimura.” “He probably took the handkerchief during that incident as well.” “Though Ohara must have realized women would assume assault from mere chloroform use—making sudden hair-cutting more efficient—this irrationality precisely illustrates the unfathomable psyche of sexual deviants.”

"How about telling Tanimura about Ohara’s impotence to put his mind at ease?" “Let’s refrain from that since there’s no conclusive evidence.” “Mrs. Tanimura is no longer alive, and I don’t want to disturb the peace of mind Tanimura has now that he’s achieved his revenge.” “The reason I told Seiko-san it was conclusive evidence was because I thought she’d want it to be conclusive for herself.” “I surmised that Seiko-san remained silent out of shame over having been violated, but I never dreamed that Ohara was her father.”

“You went to visit the Buddhist altar to search for the dental bones, of course?” “Exactly—that’s what I meant by ‘the fourth party.’ Given that it’s supposedly a woman’s bite wound, isn’t it most appropriate to consider Mrs. Tanimura’s teeth? When we examined the bone pouch kept in the Buddhist altar and found nothing but molars, our conjecture was proven correct beyond doubt. Even Tanimura must have found himself unable to return the dental bones—now stained with human blood—to their rightful place. That’s why we couldn’t recover the teeth—the ones that made the bite wound—from the fourth party.”

“When you uttered those final words, I must admit I was rather taken aback at first.” “But it must have struck home for Tanimura.” “It was an important secret, you see.” “Ah, a woman’s resolve is fearsome indeed, but a consumptive man’s resolve is quite terrifying too…”