Shifting Blame

That night a strange meeting was held in the house of the doll maker, Yasukawa Kunimatsu. Every available seat was lined up on the wooden floor of the wide work area, and on them public prosecutor Tamura, the chief detective and members of the police were seated. Mixed in between them were the figures of the dejected Kobayashi Monzō and Yasukawa the doll maker, who was excited and looking around restlessly. Mrs. Yamano had become a semi-invalid due to strain and remained on the estate, and the gravely wounded dwarf had been carried into a neighborhood hospital and was hovering between life and death, so they were not participating in this meeting.

Completed dolls formed a strange group of sculptures on one side of the work area. Beside them, unfinished heads, arms, legs and so on were lying scattered about, almost like the den of a man-eating ogre. Akechi stood before them, indistinguishable from the dolls in his Chinese robes, and eagerly explaining something. At his side there was a small table. The articles of evidence which he had shown to Monzō were arranged on top of it.

He said that he would at last deliver the true criminal, and so he had called together public prosecutor Tamura, with whom he was on friendly terms, the chief detective and the rest. Because the meeting took place immediately after the capture of the deformed child, and for other important reasons as well, the doll maker's work area was chosen as the place for it. For Akechi, this was the most important programme of the day.

When he had made a brief explanation of his progress thus far, he at last entered into the real issue at hand.

"In other words, there were five people who ought to be suspected of being the criminal responsible for Michiko's murder. The first is the head priest of Yōgen Temple, namely that cripple. But although he is a most brutal and cold-blooded madman, considering that he exposed Michiko's arms and legs before the public and threatened Mrs. Yamano, it is clear that he is not the immediate criminal. The second is Mrs. Yamano. In addition to this person being Michiko's stepmother, the shawl here, along with these other personal effects of Michiko's, was concealed in the closet of her room, and she complied with the cripple's threats. The deepest suspicion rests on her, but in order to suspect the other persons I will tell of presently, one must not have leapt to conclusions impatiently like Kobayashi. And because the lady has now made a clean breast of certain matters, her innocence has become clear. The third is the maid Komatsu, who was Michiko's rival in love. This woman purported to be ill and secluded herself in her room from the day on which the incident occurred and ran away from home several days later. As her whereabouts have been unknown until now, even the police have come to deeply suspect her, but for certain reasons her whereabouts are known to me, as is the fact that she is certainly not the criminal. The fourth is the pitiful Kitajima Haruo, who has now been thrown into a detention centre. But I knew from the start that this man was not the criminal. That is because, quite apart from the complete absence of any signs of ingress on the day in question, if he were the criminal, he would never have employed a plaster statue as the murder weapon, and because he would also have no reason for going to the trouble of concealing the body by such methods as the piano and the garbage bin. The fifth is Fukiya the driver. He has been partially suspected because he returned to his hometown the day after the incident, but as he was Michiko's lover, and as there is no sign of him having hated her, there is not much of a motive for murder on his part. Besides, I have located this man as well, and been able to confirm that he is not the criminal. In other words, it has become clear that none of the five suspects is the real murderer."

Akechi spoke in an insinuating manner, as was his habit. In his life as a detective, this was, so to speak, his one and only pleasure. But that manner did much to stimulate the curiosity of his audience. They even forgot to smoke tobacco and stared only at Akechi's smoothly moving lips like schoolchildren.

"But at this point a sixth suspect appeared. Just now, my subordinate followed Kobayashi and Mrs. Yamano, heard the lady's confession and was able to confirm that." Akechi summed up the scene on the embankment of the Sumida from start to finish. "Mrs. Yamano's mysterious movements had led me to suspect the same thing earlier. It is truly unfortunate for the virtuous lady, but her many hidden cares were completely useless. Mr. Yamano is certainly not guilty of filicide."

Astonishingly, Akechi had systematically rejected each and every suspect.

"But it was certainly natural for the lady to believe that Mr. Yamano had killed his own child in error. That Mr. Yamano's character was more than usually strict, that his relationship with his wife was a rather special one, almost like that between an old-fashioned lord and retainer, and that Mr. Yamano's mysterious position in relation the present case produced a queer alienation between the two all doubtless contributed to this misunderstanding. All of the circumstances coincidentally appeared to point to Mr. Yamano. On the very night of the first incident, Mr. Yamano sat up late in the Western-style house. He went chasing after Fukiya the driver and presented him with a large sum of money. Upon returning home, he was struck by a nervous fever, and as the case progressed his illness continued to grow more severe. Day after day he kept his family at a distance and refused even to speak to them. And then, Mr. Yamano's name was written in the threatening letter that the dwarf sent to the lady."

He took the fire-scarred letter from the table and explained its contents, as well as the route by which it had come into his hands.

The listeners all wore expressions of surprise. Only one, Yasukawa Kunimatsu not listening to Akechi's story, and he was trembling.

At first, Monzō was surprised as well. If even Mr. Yamano, of whose guilt he had at last felt certain, was not the criminal, then there were no longer any suspects remaining. What on earth was Akechi thinking? He had declared that he would deliver the true criminal that night. Then, could that villain be in this house of Yasukawa's? The doll maker couldn't possibly be the criminal, could he? But while he was mulling things over like that, a certain astonishing thought suddenly flitted through his mind. His face became bright red for surprise and joy.

"It was that photograph. Akechi made pointless chitchat, looking at that photograph. That's it. I should have paid more attention to it."

It was the photograph of the whole Yamano household, which had been on Akechi's desk before and was now lying on the table. He now understood why Akechi had treated that photograph so meaningfully. Even so, how astonishing a truth it was!

"So there isn't a single suspect left. But since there was a murder, there has to be a criminal," Akechi continued. "There was certainly a criminal. Only, because the criminal is so exceedingly unexpected, nobody, not even Mrs. Yamano, realized who it was. As I promised, I will deliver that criminal to you tonight. But before that, I would like to give a summary of the process by which I arrived at the discovery of the true criminal. I think it may be a useful reference for the gentlemen of the police."

Akechi's insinuating manner again. Public prosecutor Tamura noisily re-crossed his legs in frustration.

"Akechi, aren't you raising our expectations terribly high? Start by revealing the criminal."

"Well now," Akechi smiled delightedly, "it seems even you are still completely in the dark. But please, let me tell it in the proper order."

"Honestly, you go on like a novel. Tell it as simply as possible."

The open-hearted Mr. Tamura laughed, repaying his friend's teasing in kind.

"It was from this bottle of cosmetic cream that I first detect-

ed an incongruity in the case." Akechi took up the white jar of Pompeian Cream on the table. "Just as a musician must be sensitive to a discordant note, it is probably necessary for a detective to be sensitive to an incongruous fact. Often the discovery of even a slight incongruity becomes the basis for a chain of reasoning. This was taken from Michiko's dressing table. As you can see there are fingerprints on all the other bottles, but on this bottle alone no traces can be seen, as if they have been wiped off. No fingerprints on the bottle of the cream which most easily becomes greasy. The outside has been carefully wiped, but even a careful person makes the occasional slip. A clear fingerprint actually remains on the surface of the cream inside. And that fingerprint is completely different from those on the other bottles and those of the severed arm.

"This is the print of a right index finger. When one compares it to the print of the same finger on this bottle of liquid face-whitener here, although they are strangely similar, so similar that they cannot be differentiated with the naked eye, upon examining them with a lens it becomes apparent that they belong to entirely separate people. Michiko is extremely fashion-conscious, so there are many more cosmetics other than these on her dressing table, but oddly enough there is no trace of a fingerprint upon any of them. It is a little difficult to conceive of there being no fingerprints on a bottle of cosmetics which has been used even once, and she can hardly have wiped the bottles every time she used them. This was done for some purpose, and I wondered if it may not have been specifically to wipe away the fingerprints. Then, I wondered why only this group here had not been wiped clean. It was because it was necessary that they not be wiped. In other words, only these are not Michiko's. They are cleverly prepared false evidence."

Monzō felt somewhat gratified. It was gradually becoming clear that his guess had been correct.

"As proof of that, these cosmetics on which fingerprints remain are rather plain to belong to Michiko, who lived an extravagant lifestyle. Things such as these hydrogen peroxide cucumbers, hydrogen peroxide cream, and so on are, if I had to say one way or the other, best suited to an oily person, but Michiko's skin was, on the contrary, pale and wasted. So although I cannot assert positively that she never used them, they do feel a bit out of place. And then there is this white face powder. Even though it would be normal for a pale person to use a rose-colored one, this liquid face-whitener here has a green tint, more suitable for a red face. Again, a thing such as this camellia flower perfumed oil is not much used for Western hairdressing. In other words, whichever way we look at them, these cosmetics are not things that Michiko would have habitually used. There can be no doubt that they were brought in from somewhere else and planted in Michiko's room."

Akechi's explanation was gradually entering upon smaller and smaller points.

"That the cosmetics were prepared as false evidence can also be understood from this blotting paper. This, of course, is a piece of false evidence as well." He indicated the peach-colored blotting paper. An ink thumbprint was clearly visible on its surface. "This was set in the exact center of Michiko's writing desk. I realized at a glance that it had been placed in a conspicuous spot deliberately. And then, the faint marks of blotted letters still remain on it. At first glance, they are broken up in places and cannot be read, but when one follows the lines with a pencil, clearly legible characters appear. But there is nothing in the phrases which is worthy of notice. It is nothing more than a sample of ordinary feminine writing. By the way, here is a separate sample of Michiko's handwriting. When we try comparing this to the specimen of handwriting on the blotting paper, both are quite similar and in a young lady's hand, but we won't learn the truth just by looking at them like this. You see, the writing on the blotting paper is left-handed."

After taking out a pocket mirror, which he had prepared for the purpose, Akechi held it out above the blotting paper so as to make to make it visible to the listeners. Tamura and the rest brought their faces up right beside the mirror and compared the two specimens of writing visually, as if admiring them.

"When we correct the left-handed writing to be right-handed like this, the two specimens are completely different. In other words, this blotting paper did not belong to Michiko."

"And what does that mean?" Tamura was surprised. "Let me see. If we take it that those fingerprints are false, it means that the arm that the dwarf was carrying about and the other body parts are not Michiko's."

"That's right. They were not Michiko's at all."

"But what you say overturns the very foundation of this case."

"It does. The case has been mistaken in its point of departure," Akechi answered with composure. Mr. Tamura's countenance finally to took on a hint of seriousness. The chief detective leaned forward on one knee.

"Then, are you saying that Michiko isn't dead, Akechi?"

"That's right. Michiko isn't dead."

"Well then, you . . ."

Tamura's face paled, owing to a mixture of emotions, and he scowled at Akechi.

"That's right." Akechi tried to read the public prosecutor's expression. "Precisely. Your idea is correct. Michiko isn't the victim."

"If she isn't the victim . . ."

"She is the perpetrator. Michiko is the criminal."

"Then, where is the victim? Just who did Michiko kill?"

"Wait. You have a rough idea of most of it," Akechi forestalled the public prosecutor, while beckoning to the doll maker, who was shrinking into a corner. "Mr. Yasukawa, it might seem an abrupt question, but these dolls arranged here are all made to order, aren't they?"

"Yes, that's right," the doll maker answered, licking his lips.

"They are all 'living dolls' for Hanayashiki."14

"This Kewpie doll at the back is surprisingly large, but I suppose it is going to decorate Hanayashiki as well?"

"Yes, that's right." The doll maker was already trembling visibly.

"But it seems that this Kewpie doll adorned the shop room until yesterday, so why has it been mixed in with the other dolls?"

The doll maker said nothing. His behavior was telling all.

Akechi immediately pulled down the living dolls, which had become obstacles, and approached the Kewpie doll at the back.

Then, grasping a hammer which had fallen nearby, he aimed at the doll's clownish face and struck it a violent blow. The doll's face crumbled, and wood shavings and soil scattered.

"Here is a truly unfortunate victim."

Akechi continued to push through the soil with his fingers, and the indigo blue face of a dead person, their black hair in disarray, appeared from within the dirt as an intensely offensive smell assaulted the noses of the listeners.

"Needless to say, this is Komatsu the maid. Both her hands and both her feet have been half cut off, and she looks just . . . yes, just like a dwarf. She has been blotted out within the smiling body of this god of good fortune. It is the curse of a terrifying cripple. But . . ."

Akechi suddenly held his tongue. It was just then that the dead person's throat appeared, and on its skin a strange black bruise was visible. It was clearly the mark of being gripped by fingers.

"This must mean that she did not die entirely from the wound to her head, so she was strangled to death."

A bizarre silence fell. Even the experienced people of the police could not bear to look directly at this unprecedented brutality. They had all had their breath taken away and the whole room was a tableau vivant of sadness and gloom. The reddish-brown light of the discolored electric lamp half-illuminated the people's faces and cast spectral shadows on the walls and floor. The living humans were still as death, and in contrast the lifeless dolls appeared to be looking around at each other and giggling.

"Then, this means that Michiko did this to Komatsu, her rival in love." With a sigh, Tamura spoke at last.

"That's right." Even Akechi had paled somewhat, as was to be expected. "Behind crime, there is love. Michiko and Komatsu's love for Fukiya, the dwarf's love for Mrs. Yamano—this case sprang entirely out of love."

"But who sealed her up inside this doll?"

"That wasn't Michiko. Of course, it was the dwarf. And this man Yasukawa is also an accomplice. I saw the dwarf enter this place last night with my own eyes. But another reason I watched the doll maker with suspicion is that when the dwarf appeared in disguise as an ordinary human, his stilts weren't normal artificial legs, they were wooden dolls' legs. Expertise has gone into this special invention, and the parts that bend back and forth are truly well-made. It was on account of those legs that the dwarf never removed his shoes. The maker of a thing like that could hardly be other than a doll maker. In other words, this Yasukawa and the dwarf have doubtless been in an undesirable but inseparable relationship for some decades."

"But, Akechi, it's quite odd." Tamura came to a sudden realization and interrupted Akechi's explanation. "I suppose there must be something wrong with my head, but what you say seems impossible. If we take Komatsu to be the victim, then whose was the arm that the dwarf carried about with him? It was only three days ago that Komatsu ran away from home, and wasn't she still in the Yamano house at the time of the department store incident? It strikes me that there is a temporal inconsistency there."

"But Komatsu fell ill the day after the incident occurred. And she seemed to have a fear of her face being seen. Even when I went to visit her sickbed, she buried her face in a pillow and would not look directly at me. That's not all. Her fingers, which she had carelessly left out in the open, were manicured. Just like the fingers of a wealthy young lady."

"Then perhaps, ah, could such an absurd thing really happen?" Tamura's voice trailed off in silence.

"I also thought it impossible at first. But look at this. My opinion was settled from the time I noticed this photograph."

So saying, Akechi took the group photograph of the Yamano household from the table and held it out to Tamura, the chief detective and the rest. In that photograph, a queer mischief had been done to Michiko's face. Her eyebrows had been completely painted out with white artist's chalk, and the frames of glasses had been drawn in beneath them.

When they saw that, Mr. Tamura and the chief detective looked at each other in wonder and murmured, "They look alike."

"I thought you'd say so. Take away Michiko's eyebrows, put glasses on her, quiet the artful expression on her face, and she cannot be distinguished from Komatsu. That's no wonder. The girl called Komatsu is actually Mr. Yamano's illegitimate child, so she and Michiko are sisters. Only, because one was demure and expressionless, while the other was an artful tomboy and on account of differences in hair style, glasses and eyebrows, their similarities are not much noticed. Do you understand? In short, that evening, Michiko, after quarrelling with her love-rival half-sister, unintentionally committed the crime in an excess of violent emotion. She threw a plaster statue and ended up killing her rival. Then, in an instant, she hit upon the ingenious idea of disguising herself as Komatsu."

"And what do you mean by that? It's not as if disguising herself as Komatsu would make the crime disappear."

"There was that daredevil, Kitajima Haruo, whom I spoke of just now. He had got out of prison just the day before and was sending Michiko ominous postcard warnings. He's a madman lost in unrequited love. She might have been killed. That day, Michiko's head was also filled with the matter of this daredevil. Because the accident occurred just then, her convenient disguise was a bright idea no matter which way one considers it. It allowed her to escape Kitajima's revenge for one thing, to avoid suspicion of Komatsu's murder for another, and even to pin the suspicion on Mrs. Yamano. When we also take into account that Michiko was an avid reader of detective stories, her feelings and methods are quite understandable. After all, as I've already told you, Michiko's bookshelves were almost buried in detective novels both domestic and foreign. Hiding the dead body in the piano, the trick of the garbage bin, and planting the false evidence in the lady's room were all products of her intelligence. The sanitation worker who hauled that garbage cart was her lover, Fukiya, in disguise."

"Isn't it peculiar that the whole household didn't know about it?"

"No, there was one person who knew. That was Michiko's father, Mr. Yamano. You see, he was in the Western-style house when the incident occurred. Precisely because Mr. Yamano is a severe man who prizes his family name, he consented all the more readily to Michiko's plan. He joined with Michiko and tried to bury the whole affair away in secrecy. It was also Mr. Yamano who gave Michiko, disguised as Komatsu, the money she needed to run away from home, and who bribed Fukiya and the head priest of Yōgen Temple. Mr. Yamano's way of doing things invited his wife's suspicion, and ended up making the case more troublesome."

"Then, that means the cripple undertook to bury Komatsu's corpse and used his position to squeeze money from Mr. Hirata, while threatening the lady at the same time."

"That's right. Mr. Yamano could not possibly have known that the monk was such a villain. For some reason they were on extremely friendly terms. It seems that damned cripple had skillfully taken him in. Besides, until this it had always been Mr. Yamano who gave aid to the priest, so he never imagined that he there would be anything like betrayal when he revealed the circumstances and made his request."

"It truly is a complicated case. But, after your explanation, I understand the gist of it. Well then, I suppose you'll hand the criminal over to us as you promised. Where on earth is Michiko hiding?"

The chief detective's tone was severe, as if he had become aware of his important role for the first time.

"Oh, I'll hand her over," Akechi replied, sounding depressed. "Michiko is also unfortunate. She is certainly at fault for her looseness, but considering that she is also an only daughter raised in a complicated home, she is not solely responsible for it having come to this. Besides, she is now deeply regrets her past folly. Although she killed a person, it was no more than an accident. Tamura, I hope that you will bear these circumstances in mind for me."

"I understand. I will try to meet your hopes as much as possible. Be that as it may, hurry up and let us know where the criminal is hiding."

"What? Michiko is right here in the house."

At Akechi's signal, the sliding paper doors on one side of the room opened, and from them one of Akechi's underlings emerged. Standing with him were Michiko, in the guise of a maid, and, unexpectedly, Fukiya, the driver. Michiko's face was pitifully tearstained, and she did not even have the strength to raise her eyes.

"Fukiya, too, has been in this house from the first," Akechi explained, seeing the others' suspicious looks. "Of course, this is another result of Mr. Yamano placing too much trust in the head priest of Yōgen Temple. Fukiya, who transported the dead body, was undoubtedly complicit, so Mr. Yamano entrusted the head priest with his concealment, just as the head priest advised him to. Knowing the dwarf, he must have had some fresh wickedness in mind. He made the shed at the rear of this house into an improvised hiding place, and even had three meals a day carried out to it. Then, Fukiya waited there for Michiko-Komatsu to come running away from home. You see, once it was clearly known that it was Michiko who had been killed, Michiko's Komatsu disguise had served its purpose. Mr. Yamano chose an opportunity at his own discretion, and let Michiko-Komatsu run away from home to make her rendezvous with Fukiya here. If Michiko were not Mr. Yamano's daughter, but had become a maid, then there would be no impropriety in her getting together with the driver. Mr. Yamano had probably considered the business from one end to the other, even taking things like that into account."

When Akechi's explanation reached its conclusion, Michiko, Fukiya, and Yasukawa Kunimatsu, came in any case to be conducted to the neighboring Haraniwa Station. Between the gently sobbing Michiko, the pale Fukiya, and the trembling Yasukawa, the atmosphere of the room seemed to dampen momentarily. Three police detectives made to walk the suspects to the station, following behind them. Just as they were about to go out the entrance of the work area, Akechi, who was gazing fixedly at the Kewpie doll, called Michiko to a halt in the tone of one who has had a sudden realization.

"Michiko, one moment. Do you recall the finger marks on this dead body's neck? Did you strangle Komatsu?"

Michiko hesitated for a moment, but at last she replied with an air of suspicion.

"No. I did no such thing."

"Really?"

"Yes."

Hearing that, Akechi became suddenly cheerful. Smiling, he enthusiastically stirred his fingers through his long hair in that way of his.

"Tamura, wait a minute. There's a chance that the true culprit may not be Michiko."

"What's that?" The public prosecutor stared at Akechi in astonishment. "Didn't you just declare Michiko to be the criminal?"

"No, I may have been somewhat mistaken."

"'Mistaken,' you say?"

"These finger marks on the victim's neck. I have a feeling that these black bruises are too large for Michiko's fingers. I arrived at that realization just now. Moreover, Michiko says that she has no memory of strangling Komatsu."

"In that case? . . ."

"It might be that . . ."

At precisely that moment, Akechi's subordinate Saitō came running in from the front in a great hurry.

"Mr. Akechi, one moment."

Akechi took him into a corner, and the two exchanged whispers.

"My guess has not been mistaken." Akechi joyously turned to face the room. "As I thought, the true criminal was elsewhere. Michiko never killed Komatsu at all."

"Then who on earth did?" Tamura and the chief detective shouted almost simultaneously.

"The dwarf. I will now report the new facts that Saitō here has brought me. The dwarf has regained consciousness in a hospital bed. It seems that now, on the verge of death, he will confess all of his sins. I'm sure that one day we will have an opportunity to determine just how brutal those numerous sins were, but for now I will relate only the portion that is relevant to this case. He received Komatsu's dead body, mixed in with garbage, from Fukiya on the morning of the crime. That day's night fell and he prepared to conceal the corpse in a place where human eyes would never reach it, but when he lifted her up from within the garbage, Komatsu unexpectedly regained consciousness. It seems that she wasn't quite dead. The cripple was shocked for a moment, but in the next instant the brutality of his nature reared its head. He cursed all contented, healthy people. And if Komatsu were to revive, he would have nothing with which to threaten the lady and wouldn't even be able to extort money from Mr. Yamano. He strangled to a second death the girl who had gone to such great pains to return to life. Then he made her arms and feet into objects of public humiliation and frightened Mr. and Mrs. Yamano for his own reasons. For one thing, it satisfied the deformed child's horrifying desire for exposure of his crimes. But the head alone could not be made a demonstration. If he were to do that, the lady would learn the truth of the situation. So he searched for a place to hide the head and torso, and hit upon the clever idea of a Kewpie doll. This is a confession made on the brink of death, so it cannot possibly be a lie."

Monzō could not forget that strange scene for a long while. Akechi paced to and fro, grasping his own hair and stamping his feet on the wooden floor of the work area. Michiko and Fukiya, who had been crying until now, showed embarrassed smiles. People ran to the Yamano estate. Hearing good news and the excess of joy, the gravely ill Mr. Yamano accompanied his wife and came running.

"What? It's not murder, after all. Besides, she's a young lady, so she might still be declared innocent."

Tamura smilingly consoled Mr. Yamano, as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his mind.

After that, Michiko, Fukiya and Yasukawa Kunimatsu, were taken to Haraniwa Station for the time being. But because of what Tamura had said, no one felt anxious for their welfare. Only Yasukawa the doll maker was in low spirits, taking no notice of the rejoicing around him and looking pitiful.

Kobayashi Monzō left the doll maker's house with Akechi. Due to the satisfaction of the case being perfectly settled, they had naturally become talkative. While they walked to the taxi stand, they discussed various details of the case with each other.

"It's wonderful, don't you think? Even among the cases you have been involved with until now, I believe there are very few that worked themselves out so conveniently."

Monzō was plying Akechi with flattery.

"Conveniently?" Akechi's tone was pregnant with meaning. "Because a remorseful person was not accused of the crime, I suppose. The dead are poor, because they experience nothing. Besides, that dwarf was an uncommon villain."

Monzō gave Akechi an odd look and said, "I wonder what you mean by that."

"Let me give an example: Even without breaking the Kewpie doll, I may have known beforehand that Komatsu had been strangled to death. And, in order to save the remorseful Michiko, I may have persuaded the dying dwarf to make a false confession. . . . a cleverly constructed one-scene drama. I wonder if something like that is entirely unimaginable. Understand? Shifting blame. Depending on the circumstances, it's not such a bad thing. Especially if it's done to avoid removing a beautiful creature like Michiko from this world. She is, you see, entirely remorseful."

Amateur detective Akechi Kogorō sounded refreshed as he took long strides through the spring twilight.