weird. My father is over sixty, but still full of energy, so the only time I can recite a sūtra for the dead is when someone dies in a detective novel I’m reading,’ said Shimada and he solemnly put his hands together.
5
My daughter Chiori was murdered by all of you.
Morisu Kyōichi took up the letter from the low glass table once more and let out another sigh. He was leaning against the side of his bed and his two tired legs were stretched out on the thick grey carpet.
“My daughter Chiori was murdered by all of you.”
He read the neatly aligned letters written with a word processor. His thoughts were indescribable.
The after-after-party of the New Year’s party of the Mystery Club, January last year. Morisu and his classmate Kawaminami Taka’aki had left the party early. It had happened after their departure.
The name of the sender on the back of the envelope said “Nakamura Seiji.” The man who was murdered six months ago on Tsunojima. Someone Morisu had never even seen or spoken to.
Morisu’s room was on the fifth floor of Tatsumi Heights, a single- room apartment building just across the main street in front of O—City Station, near the harbour.
He put the letter back in the envelope and reached out for the Seven Stars on the table, as he shook his head lightly. Lately, he had not been enjoying his cigarettes as much as he used to. But the craving for nicotine had not stopped.
What could the gang on Tsunojima be doing at that very moment?
As the thought crossed his mind, Morisu looked across his neat room. Near the wall stood an easel with an oil painting in progress. Several stone Buddha statues staring into time, surrounded by trees with fading colours. He had discovered this view on the Kunisaki Peninsula, somewhere on a mountain that nobody visited. He had only just begun to add a little colour to the charcoal sketch.
The smoke irritated his throat. He almost choked and threw the cigarette he had only inhaled once or twice into the ashtray filled with water.
He had a bad feeling. As if something unexpected were about to happen.
At that moment, his phone rang.
He looked at the clock. It was almost midnight.
There’s only one person who would call me at this hour.…
After waiting several seconds, Morisu picked up the receiver.
‘Hey, are you there Morisu?’
It was the familiar voice of Kawaminami Taka’aki, as he had expected. Morisu felt relieved.
‘Hey, Doyle.’
‘I told you to stop calling me that. I tried to call you this afternoon.’
‘I went for a ride on my motorbike to Kunisaki.’
‘Kunisaki?’
‘Yes, I told you I was doing a painting there, didn’t I?’
‘Oh. By the way, Morisu, did you receive a strange letter today?’
‘Sent by Nakamura Seiji? Yes. I rang your place about twenty minutes ago to ask you the same question.’
‘So you got one, too.’
‘Yep. Where are you now? Can you come over?’
‘That’s why I called. I’m in the neighbourhood. We need to talk about this letter. I need to pick your brains.’
‘I don’t have enough brains to pick.’
‘Two heads are better than one, and three are even better. I mean, is it okay if I bring someone along?’
‘Sure. I’ll be waiting.’
*
‘I thought the letter was just a prank in very bad taste, though I didn’t really get the meaning of it,’ Morisu said as he compared the two letters placed next to each other on the table.
‘But it did say “all of you,” so I had a suspicion I wasn’t the only one who got one.’
‘Yours appears to be a copy. I think the one that came to my place is the original.’
Kawaminami took up his own letter.
‘A similar letter was delivered to Higashi’s house. I’ve already checked that on the phone. And while the message was worded slightly differently, another letter signed by Nakamura Seiji was delivered to Nakamura Kōjirō.’
‘Nakamura Kōjirō?’
Morisu frowned.
‘You mean Nakamura Seiji’s younger