2
“...Regarding the keys requested by Mr. Kozushima, none of them have ever been duplicated. There are, without question, only one key to each room and one master key.”
The voice from the smartphone on speaker mode reverberated through the tense air. About twenty minutes after leaving the First room, Yuma and the others had gathered in the dining room.
The six guests, including Yuma, were sitting grimly around a long table with a plain white tablecloth. Sakaizumi and Madoka were restlessly moving around, pouring coffee into each of their cups.
Perhaps to help create a good atmosphere for mealtime, the dining room had both an air conditioner built into the ceiling and several kerosene heaters spread throughout the room, softly diffusing heat. There were several potted poplars by the windows, fluff covering their branches. Kozushima had said once that he liked keeping poplars on display because when they had fluff, it looked like their branches were covered with snow.
“Okay. Thank you for your help.”
Kagami reached for his smartphone, hung up, and looked around at everyone in the room.
“Looks like you were telling the truth. Just like the old butler said, the only keys that can lock that First room are the one that was on the floor, and the master key I have on me right now.”
As soon as he arrived in the dining room, Kagami had called the key company and confirmed the nonexistence of any duplicate keys.
“So it is a locked room...”
Sakaizumi said that, but quickly shut his mouth when Kagami glared at him.
“How many times do I have to tell you? This isn't one of your schlocky murder mysteries. There's no way a locked room murder would actually happen in real life.”
Yuma took a sideways glance at the great detective sitting next to him, wondering if Tsukiyo would argue again. But she was staring at the screen of her smartphone and didn't appear to even hear him.
Everyone sat quietly. No one spoke. A heavy, leaden silence fell over the dining room, such a change from the peaceful dinner they'd had so recently.
“Um, everyone, would you like another cup of coffee?”
Unable to bear the silence, Madoka spoke.
“I think I'll have one,” said Kuruma, raising his hand.
“That's a wonderful view. The snow has such a beautiful shine to it.”
As if to dispel the heavy atmosphere, Kuruma spoke cheerily to Madoka as she poured his coffee.
“Yes, up here, the snow remains until spring, so you can see this view for a long time. Although we do have to run snowplows regularly to keep the road to town from being blocked by snow.”
After hearing Madoka's explanation, Yuma looked up out the glass window. Indeed, the sight of the pure white field of snow sparkling in the tower's lights was beautiful.
Sakyo immediately chimed in.
“It really is beautiful. I feel like the outside looks especially good from this room.”
“I think that's because of the window.”
Madoka, who had finished pouring the coffee, replied. Sakyo's head tilted to the side as he asked
“Window?”
“Yes, the glass in this room has been slightly modified to give diners a better view.”
“Well, how thoughtful. As expect from a building designed with such care by Mr. Kozushima.”
“But there is a slight problem with that.”
When Sakyo asked “A problem?”, Madoka's delicate shoulders shrugged.
“This room faces east. It's dangerous when the morning sun shines directly into the room, so we have to close blackout curtains during breakfast. It's a design flaw.”
“Oh, so you can't eat breakfast while observing the world blanketed in silver, sparkling in the morning sun. How unfortunate. Come to think of it, last time Mr. Kozushima had me over, I had breakfast in my room.”
Sakyo was speaking quickly, desperate to maintain the slightly brighter atmosphere.
Yuma had stayed at the Tower a few times, and he recalled that the curtains had been closed every time he ate breakfast in the dining room.
“But what was Kozushima doing, living in a secluded place like this? He was such a famous scientist, many people believed it was a waste for him to retire like that.”
Kuruma quickly spoke up as if trying to banish silence from the room.
“The master used to do experiments here, as well. I used to help with them. But he stopped about a year ago.”
“Oh, you helped with his experiments. Was that difficult? You aren't an expert, after all.”
“It was hard. The hardest part was taking care of the test subject animals. They would yell so loudly, they were hard to feed, and they would get violent during the experiments.”
As they talked, Tsukiyo, who had been staring at her smartphone all the while, suddenly stood up and walked briskly over to the window.
“Oh, Ms. Aoi, are you also going to see the snow? How nice.”
Sakyo called out to Tsukiyo as she approached the gently curving glass window five meters off the ground.
“No, I'm looking for footprints.”
“Footprints?”
“Yes, that's right. It hasn't snowed since our arrivals this evening. That means, if someone killed Mr. Kozushima and then fled the tower, they should have left their tracks in the snow. But I can't see any from here. I can't say for sure until I check the game room window as well, but if there aren't any footprints, it would mean that no one has left the tower since Mr. Kozushima's death.”
“...So if Mr. Kozushima was murdered, would that mean the culprit is still inside the tower?”
Tsukiyo answered Kuruma with a grave nod. The room began buzzing as everyone looked at one another. The air which had been lightening was suddenly even heavier than before. Yuma gripped his knees until his fingernails dug into his skin in a vain attempt to stop his legs from shaking.
The chilling feeling that he was slowly being cornered filled his body. He couldn't think of anything other than how badly he wanted to run away from this place.
In the end, had he been reckless to commit a crime in the presence of a police detective and a great detective? But tonight was his only chance to save his sister...
Deciding to have some coffee to calm himself down, Yuma reached for the glass sugar bowl on the center of the table and picked it up. When he did, his brows furrowed. There was a brown stain about the size of a U.S. dollar coin on the tablecloth where the sugar bowl had been.
Had that been there at dinner? Yuma asked himself that as he took a large sugar cube from the bowl.
Kagami suddenly stood up.
“I thought I told you to quit playing detective! The police will be here soon. Until then, just sit down, and shut up!”
His angry voice hadn't stopped echoing when the door opened and Oita, who had been out in the hall calling the police, returned.
“Um, Mr. Kagami, may I speak with you for a moment?”
Oita's face was pale. Kagami asked “What is it?” as he approached.
“The police have asked me to hand the call over to you, Mr. Kagami...”
Oita answered hesitantly as he handed over his cell phone.
“Kagami here. What's the matter? Hurry up and send the mobile investigation unit and the forensics team over...”
Kagami started talking as soon as the phone was in his hand, but suddenly, he shouted “What!?” and his eyes went wide.
“What are you talking about? Why... Well then when will...”
Kagami yelled things like that for several seconds, then ended the call with a loud click of his tongue.
“What happened?”
When Kuruma asked, Kagami scratched his greasy hair.
“The police aren't coming.”
“What? What do you mean they aren't coming?”
Yumeyomi leapt out of her chair.
“Calm down. Apparently, the road from this tower to town was closed due to an avalanche. They're working on clearing it now, but it will be a while until they can pass.”
“How long will that be!?”
“According to what I heard, it will be the evening of three days from now.”
“Three days from now!?” Yumeyomi shrieked. “What are you saying!? I have a television program to record the day after tomorrow! Besides, you can't ask a woman like me to spend three days in a building with a dead body!”
“Oh, alright then, just hop in your car and go down yourself. I hear the avalanche was pretty bad, but you can try crossing it on foot. Hope you don't freeze to death,” Kagami said mockingly.
“You're just a fraud psychic who goes on TV and lies about how you're going to 'guess who the culprit is', anyway. Someone like you shouldn't be recording TV programs in the first place.”
“Who are you calling a fraud!?”
The redness of Yumeyomi's face was visible even through her pancake makeup.
“I use my psychic powers to sense the thought energies of the victim and the perpetrator left at the scene, which gives me clues as to how to solve the case...”
“Don't fuck with me!”
Kagami slammed his fist on the table. Yumeyomi violently started.
“Clues to the case? Do you have ANY idea how much trouble people like you and your random nonsense cause the police? Investigating a case is all about wearing down your shoes gathering information. If you really have psychic powers, then tell me why Kozushima's dead. You were at the scene before the body was even cold, you should have been able to read his thoughts.”
“That's... I was trying to read them, but you got in my way...”
Yumeyomi sounded like a schoolgirl making an excuse for being late.
“See? You are a fraud.”
“I'm not a fraud! I can feel it. A horribly dark, tainted aura permeates this tower. Mr. Kozushima's death must be related to its source.”
“Dark? Tainted? Typical con woman. You say nothing but vague nothings, and let the person you're scamming do the legwork of making sense of it for you.”
Yumeyomi bit her pink lip and sat back down in her seat, glaring hatefully at Kagami. Suddenly, a sharp clap echoed throughout the room.
“Well then, shall we begin?”
Tsukiyo asked in a clear voice, standing by the window with her hands clasped.
“Begin? What are you talking about?”
Kagami frowned, and Tsukiyo raised her pointer finger.
“The deduction, of course. I'm going to deduce what happened to Mr. Kozushima.”
“I'm getting sick of repeating myself. Amateurs-”
“Should just stay quiet and wait for the police,” Tsukiyo cut him off.
“That's what I was planning to do. I was going to wait to show off the results of my deductions until a policeman more flexible than you arrived. But now the avalanche has prevented the police from coming, so there's no point in waiting.”
Tsukiyo waved her finger and said
“Besides, I'm not an amateur. I'm a great detective.”
“...It's not like the police won't be coming. They've just been delayed a bit.”
“A bit? It will be three days. If we wait that long, something terrible could happen.”
“What do you mean, something terrible?”
“The only road leading from here was blocked by an avalanche, so the Tower is now isolated. In other words, we're in a closed circle, typical of mansion in the snow stories.”
“Mansion in the snow? Closed circle?”
Kagami frowned.
“In a situation like this, the criminal won't rest after a single murder, but claim more lives. As time passes, the characters fall victim one by one, sometimes until there's nobody left-”
“Well you stop spewing bullshit!?”
Kagami roared at Tsukiyo, who had said something very ominous. Tsukiyo looked taken aback and cleared her throat.
“Excuse me. At any rate, the police can't come anytime soon. Considering that, I think we should at least confirm what we know so far and discuss our next move.”
“What we know? What could an amateur like you know?”
“Well... Mr. Kozushima's cause of death, for one.”
The air in the room froze.
“You mean to say you know why Kozushima died!?”
Tsukiyo casually nodded at Kuruma.
“Yes, of course. I saw it as soon as I arrived at the crime scene earlier. But that detective didn't seem willing to listen to anything I said, so I thought it would be better to wait until the police arrived.”
“You mean it wasn't a heart attack... He didn't die of natural causes...?”
How much did this great detective know? Just how close to the truth was she? Feeling short of breath, Yuma forced out a trembling voice.
“Of course. Mr. Kozushima didn't die of any medical disorder. He was likely murdered.”
Silence reigned for a moment, then there was such a commotion as there would have been if someone had kicked a hornet's nest.
“The master was murdered? How can you say that...?”
“Don't just decide that on your own!”
“What do you mean he was murdered!?”
“Mr. Kozushima was actually murdered!?”
Oita, Kagami, Yumeyomi, and Sakaizumi's voices all overlapped. Everyone else was also asking Tsukiyo questions. The great detective raised her right hand, a graceful smile on her handsome face. Everyone stopped talking. The great detective had assumed control of the parlor scene.
“I was able to determine the cause of Mr. Kozushima's death by deciphering his dying message.”
“By 'dying message', do you mean what he wrote on that broken model of the Glass Tower?”
Madoka asked with a pale face. Tsukiyo cheerily answered
“Yes.”
“What did it say? What sort of message did Mr. Kozushima leave us?”
When Sakyo asked, Tsukiyo scratched her temple.
“Well, it's easier to understand by showing you than explaining in words. Mr. Oita, do you have anything that can project an image from a smartphone?”
“The theater's projector has that function, but...”
Oita hesitated.
“The theater will be fine. If we project it on the big screen, it will be even more impressive. I'll give the explanation there.”
Tsukiyo daintily walked to the door, pulled it open, and left.
“Ah, Ms. Aoi! Wait!”
Oita followed her. The remaining people spent a few seconds exchanging looks, then made their way after the two.
Had she really deciphered the dying message? Did it identify Yuma as the culprit?
His feet were as unsteady as if he'd been trying to walk on clouds. Yuma staggered after the group, and just before he left the room, he noticed a pair of metal fittings on the wall next to the door. They were two metal rods designed to rotate around rivets driven into the wall. Yuma turned his gaze to the door he already had his hand on the knob of. At the same height at the metal fittings were a pair of protrusions like nails.
“Ah... There are latches on this door.”
Yuma muttered to himself in a low voice. It appeared possible to hook the rotating metal onto the protrusions, preventing the door from being opened from the hall side. Compared to the locks on the guest rooms, which even incorporated IC chips, they looked like toys. They were probably just meant to keep guests out while the dining room was cleaned.
“Dr. Ichijou, are you not coming?”
Madoka called out to Yuma. He said “Ah, sorry,” and left the room. The heavy sound of the door closing echoed behind him.
Yuma and the others entered the theater from the first floor hall. The dark room, which contained about twenty seats and a near three hundred inch screen, looked more like a small town theater than a private viewing room. For some reason, an image of a deep blue Western-style mansion was projected on the screen.
“What is that mansion?”
Kagami pointed to the screen.
“How do I say it... It's like the master's desktop background. He often watched mystery movies in this theater.”
Oita spoke sadly as he stood before the projector in the back of the room.
“If you connect it to this device, you can project the screen of your smartphone.”
“I see. Alright then, let's begin.”
Tsukiyo fiddled with her smartphone for a moment, then reached for the projector. The fallen model of the Glass Tower was projected onto the screen before them, replacing the mansion.
“Take your seats, everyone.”
At Tsukiyo's urging, Yuma and the others nervously sat down. Yuma sat in the back row so nobody could see him and he could look sideways at the great detective standing by the projector.
“Now, as soon as I arrived at the scene, that broken model bothered me.”
Tsukiyo's voice echoed off the walls of the dark theater.
“Didn't Mr. Kozushima just knock it over when he was struggling and thrashing around?”
“No,” Tsukiyo answered Sakaizumi.
“Look closer. The paper base of the model has been torn from the center out. I don't see how that could have happened from it just falling over.”
“I guess you're right... But then, why is it like that?”
“It's simple. Kozushima tore it on purpose.”
“He did? So Mr. Kozushima tore the paper and smashed the model?”
“To be precise, he didn't tear it, he twisted it.”
“Huh? What's the difference?”
“Mr. Kozushima has lived in the Glass Tower for a long time now. In other words, the Tower was his home. That is what he twisted.”
“Um, so... I don't get it.”
Sakaizumi announced his confusion, but Tsukiyo brushed him off.
“You'll understand once you see it,” she said.
“The next thing I noticed was the letter written on the snow of the model. When it comes to dying messages, the standard approach is to leave some sort of code. But here was only one letter.”
The image changed, and the thick brown strokes of the letter Y were projected onto the screen. Kuruma looked at it, then spoke.
“One letter isn't enough for a code. All I can see is the letter Y. Maybe he was trying to write something that starts with Y but died partway through.”
“I don't think that's the case. If he'd died without finishing the writing, Kozushima's body would have been next to the collapsed model. But he was actually found lying a few meters away. It's reasonable to assume that he finished his dying message, then ran for the door, but collapsed halfway through and finally died.”
Before anyone knew it, they'd all been absorbed in Tsukiyo's clear explanations.
“And even though it's only one letter, this Y contains extremely important information.”
“What important information is that?” Kuruma asked, turning back to look as Tsukiyo.
“The color and thickness of the letter.”
Everyone stared intently at the letter projected on the screen as Tsukiyo continued.
“Look closely. It's dark brown and a few millimeters thick. How was Mr. Kozushima able to write this letter?”
“What? You mean he didn't just use a felt-tip pen or something like that?”
Yumeyomi spoke up, and the image was changed to the desk.
“In the pen holder on the desk were fountain pens and black felt-tip pens, but nothing that could make thick brown letters. I checked the floor, but there were no writing implements there, either.”
“So he couldn't have written it? What's going on here?”
“That isn't quite true, Mr. Kagami.”
When Tsukiyo spoke to him, Kagami replied with clear irritation.
“Then what is it?”
“May I please show the photo of Kozushima's body you took earlier on the screen?”
“What? Why would you need to do that? No. I can't show a photo of a dead body to an amateur just to satiate your curiosity.”
“I see, too bad. The image quality is a bit poor, but...”
Tsukiyo tapped her smartphone, and the screen changed again, showing a picture of Kozushima's fallen form taken from a bit away.
“Why, you! I told you not to photograph the body!”
Kagami stood up, but Kuruma, sitting next to him, placed a hand on his arm and said “It's okay.” He sat back down and crossed his arms.
“Look at Mr. Kozushima's right hand.”
The image zoomed in. Yuma gasped. Tsukiyo nodded.
“You've all noticed it, haven't you? The thumb and index finger of Kozushima's right hand are stained brown. That means he didn't write that Y with anything but his bare finger.”
“But Ms. Aoi,” Oita said, raising his hand. “The master didn't have any source of brown ink.”
“That isn't ink. Kozushima dipped his finger in something else that was on the desk and used it to write the Y.”
“Something else? Quit being so stingy and just get to the point.”
Unable to take it any longer, Kagami stood up.
“This,” Tsukiyo said, switching the image back to the desk and zooming in on the box sitting there.
“Chocolate...”
Sakyo mumbled as he took in the sight of the brown sphere covering the screen.
“Yes, chocolate. I'm sure everyone here has experienced this before. You pick up a chocolate truffle, and your fingers come back dirty. Look closely, one of those chocolates is smudged. Mr. Kozushima put that chocolate on his finger, then used it to write the Y on the snow field on the model.”
“Why would he do that...?”
Madoka asked that in a state of shock, and Tsukiyo snapped her fingers.
“That is an important clue to the answer of this dying message. There were writing utensils on the desk, so why did he go to the trouble of writing it in chocolate?”
Tsukiyo, who had switched the image back to the first picture of the fallen model, slowly made her way to the front of the theater and jumped up on stage. Oita grew flustered and said “Ah, the stage-”, but Tsukiyo pointed to the Y projected on the screen as though he wasn't there.
“The fact that chocolate was used to write this letter is a big clue. A message left by a mystery fan. A twisted house, the letter Y, and chocolate. Have you all realized?”
The moment Tsukiyo spread her arms wide and bathed in the light of the projector as though it were a spotlight, Yuma screamed.
“Oh, Dr. Ichijou,” Tsukiyo pointed at him. “It seems you've noticed. You are a fellow mystery fan, after all. Now, please give us your answer.”
Yuma felt intensely conflicted. He'd realized the meaning of the dying message, but if he spoke it aloud, it would prove that Kozushima hadn't died a natural death. The foundation of his perfect crime plan would crumble.
But... Yuma looked down, then looked up and met eyes with Tsukiyo, standing calmly up on stage. The great detective had already deciphered the dying message. There was no point in not answering now. Explaining it himself was the only thing he could do to avert even the tiniest bit of suspicion. Yuma raised himself up.
“...Poison.”
The moment the words escaped his trembling lips, the great detective broke into a wide smile.
“That's right! Yes, it's poison. He took poison. That is what Mr. Kozushima wanted to tell us.”
“Hold on a second. Where in all this is poison?” Kagami asked, confused.
“You don't understand? This is why I said you should read more mysteries, detective.”
Tsukiyo smacked the screen and twisted her thin lips in a sarcastic grin.
“The twisted home, the letter Y, and the chocolate are each symbolic of classic mysteries. Isn't that right, Dr. Ichijou?”
Yuma looked up a bit and named the three great works of mystery.
“...Agatha Christie's The Crooked House, Ellery Queen's The Tragedy of Y, and Anthony Berkeley's The Poisoned Chocolates Case.”
Kuruma and Sakyo both cried out “Ahh!”
“That's right,” Tsukiyo said, satisfied. “Those are all works that any mystery fan would know. That's why Kozushima created a dying message to represent those three works.”
“What the hell are you two talking about? Explain it so that people who aren't nerds can understand.”
When Kagami protested, Tsukiyo wrinkled her nose.
“Please don't call me a nerd. I prefer 'enthusiast'. These are high-class works of classical literature we're talking about here. They should be taught in schools. In the first place, mysteries are-”
“Just get to the point!”
“Alright, fine,” Tsukiyo pouted. “The Crooked House, The Tragedy of Y, and The Poisoned Chocolates Case – what these three works have in common is that they all feature murder by poisoning.”
“So then, the master...” Madoka said in a strained voice.
“Yes, he was poisoned. And to convey this, he twisted the model of his home and wrote a Y using chocolate as his final dying message.”
Tsukiyo kept going, speaking quickly.
“Another famous classic mystery novel featuring poison is Carr's The Burning Court. I'm sure Kozushima had thought of that, too. Some critics say that Carr published so many excellent works that no one could be called his masterpiece, but I believe that The Burning Court stands above the rest. After all-”
“That's not important right now!”
Having been yelled at by Kagami, Tsukiyo reluctantly shut her mouth.
“What matters here is whether or not Kozushima was really murdered. Are you sure about this?”
“You'll still need to have an autopsy performed, but it's highly likely. At the very least, this dying message is intended to be read 'I was poisoned'.”
After Tsukiyo answered, Oita, who was sitting in the seat in front of Yuma, whispered “Poison...” to himself. Kagami heard him and instantly spun around.
“Oi, butler. You know something you're not sharing?”
“It's just an idea... The truth is, last month, the master, how do I put it... bought poison.”
“Bought poison!? What are you saying!? What was he planning to use it for!?”
“No, no! He would never have used it,” Oita pleaded. “The master just wanted it for his collection. He said he wanted the same poison used in Mr. Kuruma's masterpiece Infinite Locked Rooms, powdered pufferfish liver.”
Kuruma's face warped when his work was mentioned.
Kagami glared at Oita and asked “Where is that poison now?”
“In the display room. The master's entire collection is there.”
“Show me. Now.”
Kagami jerked his chin. Oita hurriedly stood up and made for the door.
Seeing them leave, Kuruma mumbled “Should we follow them?” The others hesitantly got to their feet and started walking.
This was terrible. Everything was going wrong. Yuma felt a tap on his slumped shoulder. He turned around to see Tsukiyo standing there.
“Thank you for earlier.”
“Thank you? For what?”
“The three works. If no one else had noticed it, I would have been putting on a one woman show. But thanks to your answer, it turned into a performance worthy of a great detective.”
“Oh... Good for you...”
Yuma forced a smile to his face, but on the inside, he was groaning.
If it wasn't for that great detective, no one would have noticed the poison. It was entirely possible that the death would have been written off as natural causes. Even if there had been an autopsy, they wouldn't have screened for every poison in existence. And there was also the possibility that the tetrodotoxin would break down and become undetectable in the three days it would take for the police to arrive.
But it was too late now. The police would thoroughly search Kozushima's body for any sign of tetrodotoxin poisoning. They'd investigate the case from the premise that he was poisoned. As his doctor and a man with a motive, Yuma would instantly be the prime suspect. All that was left for him was to wait to be arrested.
“Well, let's go.”
Tsukiyo skipped her way out of the theater. Yuma followed her, dragging his feet like they were in shackles. Once again, they climbed the spiral staircase up from the first floor. After passing the landing of the First room and going up another quarter rotation, they reached a door at the top of the stairs.
“This door is designed to be opened by any room key.”
Oita unlocked the door and placed a hand on the knob. The door must have been rusty, because it let out an unpleasant sound like a human scream. Yumeyomi winced and covered both her ears. A painfully cold blast of air blew out through the door.
“This is amazing!”
As they stepped into the display room, Kuruma let out a noise of admiration.
The view through the glass surrounding the top of the towering glass spire was breathtaking. Snow-covered mountaintops stretched into the distance, illuminated by the moonlight.
Underneath the giant glass cone, numerous items connected to mystery fiction that Kozushima had spent a fortune collecting from both within Japan and around the world were crammed into the tight space.
Yuma exhaled. His breath froze white within the cold room.
“Why is it so cold?” Kagami complained.
“I'm sorry, sir,” Oita said, “but I'm afraid the heating in the display room has been out of order for a long time...”
“Is that a first edition copy of Tales, the Poe short story collection containing The Murders in the Rue Morgue!? And there's the issue of The Strand Magazine containing The Speckled Band!”
Sakyo ranted in total awe as he stood before a bookshelf. Oita's eyes narrowed in sadness.
“It isn't just The Speckled Band. We have every issue of The Strand containing any Sherlock Holmes story. We also have first editions of the greatest masterpieces of many famous mystery authors, including Doyle, Christie, and Queen. This collection was the master's greatest pride.”
“Is this Columbo's coat?”
Kuruma was looking at a tan coat is a glass case.
“Yes, that is one of the outfits used in the filming of the Columbo television series. We also have a cigar that was smoked by Peter Falk and the Lieutenant's police badge. We also have clothes worn by actors who portrayed Sherlock Holmes, Hercule Poirot, and Kindaichi Kosuke, as well as Columbo's car, the Peugeot 403 convertible. There are also more recent items, like the knife used in the movie Knives Out.”
“What is that dress? It's a lovely classic piece.”
Yumeyomi pointed to a glass case containing a mannequin dressed in a pure white wedding dress.
“That was used in the filming of The Abominable Bride, an episode of the BBC television series Sherlock.”
No matter how many times he saw it, it was still an amazing collection. Yuma looked over the countless items on display. When Kozushima had first shown him, he'd felt his body temperature rising. But now the sight gave him chills. Chills not related to the temperature of the room.
“Amazing! Incredible! This is the most wonderful thing I've ever seen in my life!”
Tsukiyo, her cheeks flushed, let out an ear-splitting shriek as she ran from case to case. She looked like an elementary school kid running around showing everyone a cool bug she'd found.
“We didn't come here to visit a museum! Where's the poison?”
Kagami was enraged with them all.
“Forgive me, sir. This way.”
Oita brought them to an antique cabinet, opened the glass doors, and retrieved a brown glass bottle labeled “Pufferfish Liver”.
“You put poison in an unlocked cabinet?”
“Yes. Ordinarily, the master is the only one to ever enter this display room.”
“But anyone could have unlocked the door and come inside. You're too careless. Please tell me you don't keep that old shotgun unlocked, too... Did Kozushima hunt as a hobby?”
Kagami pointed to the shotgun kept in a glass case.
“That was used in the classic film noir Laura. It's part of the master's collection. It's kept secure by an electronic lock. Only the master knew the combination. The door is made of reinforced glass, so it can't be broken,” Oita replied.
As he said, the glass door of the case had a keypad with an LCD display that looked like an electronic lock.
“So it can't be used, then.”
“No, I don't believe it can. The ammunition is kept within, as well.”
Kagami's face twitched.
“Guns and ammo are supposed to be stored separately. I'll have to tell the local police about this when the case is over. For now, give me that bottle.”
Kagami snatched the glass bottle out of Oita's hands and grabbed the lid.
“Oh, be careful. That is highly poisonous.”
Kagami told him “I know, shut up,” and removed the lid from the bottle.
“There's a white powder inside. It hasn't been used, has it?”
As Kagami asked with a bored expression, Yuma prayed. Please, don't notice. But his wish was in vain, as Oita said “Pardon me” and peered over Kagami's shoulder into the bottle.
“...There's less. There's about half as much powder as there was the last time I saw it.”
“You mean someone took it out?”
“Most likely.” Oita shrank back.
“I see. So this was the murder weapon after all. Kozushima was killed by poison.”
Kagami was getting excited, and Sakaizumi said “I guess so.” Kagami narrowed his eyes.
“What do you mean you 'guess so'? There's less poison. There's no doubt that Kozushima was poisoned.”
“That's probably true, yeah. But does that automatically make this a murder case?”
“...What are you saying?”
“Well, I mean, the door to the First room was locked, wasn't it? That means Mr. Kozushima must have been alone in the room when he died.”
“Not necessarily. There must have been some way...”
“You mean like a locked room murder?” Tsukiyo chimed in.
“Quiet, you.”
Kagami glared at Tsukiyo a moment before turning his eyes back to Sakaizumi.
“In the first place, since the murder weapon was poison, there's no reason the murderer had to be in the room at the time of death. All he had to do was put the poison on something Kozushima would have eaten.”
“If that's the case, there's no way we can tell where the poison was until the police arrive and search the room in three days. There's nothing else we can do now.”
“...That isn't true.” Kagami was getting visibly irritated with the young man. “We're looking for someone who knew the poison was here. Someone who could have snuck in and took it. If we narrow that down-”
“That probably isn't possible.”
Kagami scowled at the interruption, but Sakaizumi continued without the slightest concern.
“Mr. Kozushima was the sort of person who bragged about his collection to anyone who'd listen. Even though I don't care about mysteries at all, he talked my ear off about them all the time. Of course, that includes when he got the poison.”
Sakaizumi pointed at the glass bottle in Kagami's hand.
“So I wouldn't be surprised if everyone here heard about the poison directly from the source. And I'm pretty sure everyone had a chance to get the poison. If you have any room key, you can enter this display room, and everyone spent an hour or two alone in their rooms after arriving at the Tower, right? They could have snuck out and grabbed the poison.”
Kagami, unable to refute his logic, scowled deeper and went quiet.
“But in the first place, was Mr. Kozushima even murdered? Couldn't he have committed suicide?”
“Suicide?” Kagami frowned. “He didn't leave a note, he called us and asked for help, and he even used that model to leave a convoluted dying message. There's no way it could be suicide.”
“You only think that because you didn't know Mr. Kozushima all that well. I've been employed by him many times in the past, and I think that's exactly the sort of thing he would have done.”
“What are you saying?” Kagami asked, lowering his voice.
“After he had a heart attack and almost died five years ago, I think Mr. Kozushima lost the will to live. He was a successful researcher, extremely famous, and wealthy, but he'd never managed to do what he loved. He felt he'd wasted his life. I heard him say he wished he could make himself famous for something else so many times, frankly I got kind of sick of it.”
“And that's why you think he committed suicide?”
“He didn't just commit suicide. I think he wanted to die in a way that would make him famous.”
“Become famous for committing suicide?”
Kagami didn't even try to hide his suspicion.
“That's right. He built this strange tower, ordered a strange poison, and committed suicide with it. And then he left behind that code, the what was it? The dining message?”
“Dying message,” Tsukiyo corrected him. “It wouldn't have been a dining message unless he left it on the dining table,”
“Whatever. He wanted to die in a spectacularly memorable way. Am I wrong?”
Sakaizumi looked around at the rest of the group. Everyone stood in silence, unable to respond to a theory so far removed from common sense.
“I suppose...” Oita hesitantly broke the silence. “It wouldn't have been strange for the master to do something so outlandish. He was someone ordinary people like us couldn't understand. Perhaps having his guests decipher his dying message was the event he had prepared. By having them solve it, he could 'announce' that he had died by taking poison... That may have been the most fitting end for him.”
“Are you all serious? This isn't a suicide, it's a murder. A murder! There has to be a culprit among you all.”
Oita marched up to Kagami as he stood there ranting.
“And how can you say that for sure?”
“Because...”
Kagami had no response.
“At this time, there is no way we can say whether it was a suicide or a murder. Isn't that correct, sir?”
“It is, but...”
Kagami trailed off at the unexpected pushback.
“In that case, all we can do now is wait for the police to arrive. So, until it is positively determined that this is a murder case, I would ask that you refrain from treating us or our guests like criminals.”
The butler stood firmly before him. Kagami clicked his tongue and turned away.
Oita turned back to the guests and bowed deeply.
“I am truly sorry you all were involved. On the behalf of my master, I give you my most sincere apologies. I am sure you are all tired, so if you would like, please feel free to return to your rooms. There is plenty of food stored here in the Tower, so please do not worry. For the three days until the road is reopened, Tomoe, Sakaizumi, and myself will do our best to look after you all.”
Madoka hurriedly bowed. Sakaizumi gave a lazy nod of his head.
“Well... Alright then. Everyone, let's all go back to our rooms.”
Kuruma eventually suggested. Nobody disagreed.
Kagami stomped towards the stairs, seething with rage. The others nervously followed him, and Yuma let out a deep sigh.
It had looked inevitable that the case would be investigated as a murder, but thanks to Sakaizumi, the situation had changed. Even if it was revealed that Kozushima had been poisoned, there would be no problem if they closed the case as a suicide and not a murder. That was why Yuma had made the crime scene a locked room, and used a poison that Kozushima had purchased himself.
So stay calm. Don't panic. Don't give up. As Yuma repeated that to himself, he sensed a presence next to him. He reflexively turned to the side. Tsukiyo was standing right next to him, staring.
“Wha!? What do you want?”
The pressure of her gaze made Yuma recoil.
“I was just wondering if you were going back to your room. Look, Mr. Oita is waiting for you.”
Tsukiyo used her slender chin to indicate the door. He looked over and saw Oita standing there, looking at them. He was probably planning to lock the door after everyone had left.
“Oh, sorry. I was spacing out...”
“I totally get it!” Tsukiyo shouted. “Seeing such a wonderful collection placed out on display makes you feel like you're in a dream. It's only natural for a mystery fan to be lost in reverie as they picture the work each item was used in and immerse themselves in its world.”
Tsukiyo spoke passionately, then raised her index finger. “But,” she said.
“There is something in this tower that fascinates me more than any of these wonderful items.”
“Something that fascinates you, Ms. Aoi?”
“Yes, this difficult case!” Tsukiyo proclaimed. “A wealthy man and world-famous scientist dies in a room in his strange mansion. Not only that, but the crime scene was a locked room, and he left behind a dying message. It isn't often you see such a fascinating case.”
“Um... A real person died, you know.”
“I know I'm being insensitive, but when I'm faced with a case like this, my great detective's blood boils and I just lose all control...”
Tsukiyo scratched at her head, bashful as a young maiden.
Yuma didn't know how to respond and just gave a vague “I see.”
“So, even though it's a shame, let's put off the investigation of the display room until later. The Collection isn't going anywhere, and it wouldn't be polite to keep Oita waiting.”
“You're right.”
Yuma and Tsukiyo went to the stairs. Once they'd gone through, Oita closed the door behind them and locked up.
“Ms. Aoi, Dr. Ichijou, I am sorry to have rushed you. Due to a slight design flaw, the display room cannot be unlocked from the inside,” Oita apologized.
Tsukiyo blinked.
“Wait, you mean that if the door is locked while someone is in the display room, they'll be trapped inside?”
“That is correct. But don't worry. There is a phone in the display room that connects to the internal line, so we'll know right away if something like that happens. Well, I must be off. I'm sorry this had to happen, but please do attempt to get comfortable in your rooms.”
With a respectful bow, Oita descended the stairs with a quick gait that was hard to believe came from a sixty year old man. Yuma and Tsukiyo were left alone on the landing.
“It looks like everyone else has gone to their rooms already. Will you be joining them, Dr. Ichijou?”
“Yes, I'm exhausted. I want to get some rest as soon as possible.”
He wasn't lying. His body and mind had both been under constant strain and long since passed their limits. Yuma felt he would collapse the moment he let himself relax.
“I see. Then I'll go to the game room and see if there are any footprints visible outside. If there aren't, it would mean that no one has left the Tower in the past several hours.”
“Are you planning to investigate? Do you not believe that Mr. Kozushima committed suicide?”
Yuma phrased the question carefully. Judging from her skill at deciphering the dying message and realizing that Kozushima had been poisoned, there was no doubting that the great detective was the most dangerous person there.
“I can't make any definitive statements this early. I still need more information.”
Tsukiyo gave him a mischievous wink.
“But it's an interesting case, isn't it? The owner of a strange mansion is found in a locked room with a dying message. I feel like I've been sent to the world of a honkaku mystery novel. It would be disappointing if it turns out it was just a suicide. So I hope there is a shocking truth behind it all.”
Tsukiyo walked away with light steps. Yuma waited until he was sure she was out of earshot before slamming his fist on the glass wall.
An interesting case? A shocking truth? Yuma couldn't let himself go to jail for that woman's curiosity. He had carried out this plan to save his sister's life.
Yuma went downstairs. Partway down, he bit his lip until it bled.
For his sister's sake, he had to avoid getting caught. He had to end the case with the conclusion that Kozushima committed suicide. But how could he hide the truth from that great detective?
Yuma, walking with his head down, suddenly stopped and looked to the side. The door with “First” carved into its surface caught his eye.
Behind that door was a dead body. The body of Kozushima, the man he'd killed.
Feeling a sudden cold, Yuma wrapped his arms around his shoulders.
He had taken a life with his own two hands. The same hands that had saved the lives of so many patients... The realization that he was a murderer still weighed on his neck, even after all this time. Yuma hunched his back and got his legs moving again. He descended a half-circle of stairs and arrived at the landing before the Second room.
The person in that room was... Kagami. Yuma recalled the room assignments.
First Room........... Kozushima Tarou, owner of the tower
Second Room...... Kagami Tsuyoshi, police detective
Third Room.......... Sakaizumi Taiki, chef
Fourth Room........ Ichijou Yuma, doctor
Fifth Room........... Aoi Tsukiyo, great detective
Sixth Room.......... Tomoe Madoka, maid
Seventh Room..... Yumeyomi Suishou, psychic
Eighth Room........ Kuruma Koushin, novelist
Ninth Room.......... Sakyo Kousuke, editor
Tenth Room......... Oita Shinzo, butler
“What a strange assortment of people. It looks like the cast list from a mystery novel.”
The moment after he muttered the thought to himself, Yuma quickly turned around. He thought he heard footsteps coming faintly from above. Reflexively, he dashed back up the stairs. But when he got to the top, there was no sign of anyone.
“What am I doing...?”
A dry laugh escaped him. Whether it was the guilt of having killed someone or the fear of getting caught, he was having hallucinations.
Yuma put his head back down and trudged back to his room. He opened the door to the Fourth room, turned the thumbturn to lock it from the inside, and went to the bathroom. He passed through a dressing room to enter a European-style bathroom with a separate toilet area, which he entered. He took the pill case containing the poison he'd given Kozushima out of his pocket and went to throw it in the toilet. However, just before the case left his hand, his body stopped.
It was too early to throw it away. It was unlikely anyone would search his room when they hadn't even determined if a murder had taken place. In that case, he should keep the poison.
...Just in case it came to that.
The image of the great detective's cool smile appeared in his mind. Shuddering at his own thoughts, Yuma opened the lid of the toilet's water tank and hid the pill case inside. The plastic case floated gently on the surface of the water.
Putting the lid back on, Yuma left the bathroom and crossed the room, swaying from side to side. He didn't want to think about anything anymore. He just wanted to go to bed.
When he was only a few steps away from the bed, Yuma stiffened. Someone was watching him. He turned around, reflexively bracing himself, lips curling back in a snarl.
A man was staring at him. A man with the exact same face as himself.
Yuma turned up the corner of his lip and approached the oval mirror hanging on the wall. Just like in the First room, the mirror hung above a waist-high bookshelf filled with Japanese mystery novels.
“You look terrible.”
The man in the mirror was pale, his facial muscles relaxed to the point of limpness.
This was the face of a murderer? Yuma reached out a hand to the mirror. It was smooth and cold against his fingertips.
“...I had no choice. I had no choice but to kill him.”
Yuma muttered, his voice ragged.
The man in the mirror looked at him coldly.