21st year of the Showa (1947). At twilight, the wounded soldier chanced to spend the night at a traditional inn called Hakatsuki. Hobbling on a crutch under the weight of his backpack, he was led by the kimono-clad hostess through the darkened corridor, making small talk until they arrived before the infamous guest room. "Here it is," she smiled.

"This is it," the veteran breathed.

"The room in which the legend says all those who stay alone overnight are certain to die," the hostess pronounced. "Knowing that, will you stay here?"

"That stuff is all superstition," the veteran was sure, hobbling through the corridor toward the cold, sparsely furnished alcove. "I'll see if I can't prove it, all right."

"Very well," said the hostess. "To be safe, there will be one of us standing guard at the entrance. Will it be quite alright?"

The veteran laughed heartily, making his way into the chamber.

"In the same way, four guests had entered that room," said the hostess' disembodied voice, reflecting on the memory of that night. The hostess herself had stood just outside the door of the guest room, nodding and smiling an eerie smile when the soldier's gurgling scream rose to a crescendo and then fell silent. His body lay sprawled out on the tatami with eyes rolled back into his head, and thick blood pouring from his twisted mouth. "And thusly were the four victims discovered."

Today. In Keizoku's subterranean office, Taniguchi drew a book of old data from a cardboard box, beating the top few layers of dust from the book's cover and coughing in the cloud before he was able to read the tome's heading. "This case is from the 30th year of the Showa--we ought to throw it away by now, no?"

"Would it be okay?" asked Kondoh somewhat eagerly, as he held a stack of flimsy binders over the other stacks mounting on his desk for inventory. "There are three batches from that time under the statute of limitations."

Nonomura stood at the desk cluster, where Mayama sat tweezing his nose hairs in front of a hand-held mirror. "It is a shame we were unable to accomplish that," Nonomura the assistant section chief intoned, raising one hand to his forehead in half an apologetic gassho, bowing slightly, as Mayama tugged a particularly stubborn hair from his nostril. Aya turned in her chair and tossed another fat binder into a cardboard box for garbage. Shibata, seated on the sofa, had presently raised an open book of particularly ancient case data to her chest, and now announced, "I think I know who the culprit is in this three-million yen incident."

Nonomura wordlessly chomped his party mix. Mayama squinted at the rookie while the tweezers remained up his nose, moving the mirror away from his face. Shibata was gesticulating at the text before her with subdued enthusiasm. "Here, the motorcycle police witnessed the acetylene--"

Mayama stormed over to her and grabbed the old file from her hands. "Quit foolin' around, willya," he grumbled as he tossed it into the trash box. She wasn't given much time for a reaction before the police woman at the office doorway announced herself.

Shibata turned happily to see the exuberant officer beside a middle-aged woman in a kimono. "Directed here on Mr Saotome's administrative authority," the officer bellowed as the guest excused herself with a bow. "This woman is an employee at the Inn Hakatsuki at which the poisoning incident took place in the 21st year of the Showa," the officer continued, concluding with a much too enthusiastic "Come on over!" reminiscent of a stereotypical game show host.

"Come in, come in," Nonomura invited, indicating the seats around the coffee table as he seated himself. "Well, ah, what is it you'd like to discuss?"

"Yes, you see, I'm a hostess at an inn in Mejiro," the woman said quietly, placing her business card on the coffee table in front of Nonomura. He squinted at the characters imprinted vertically on its face: Inn Hakatsuki, Hostess, Nariai Sayoko. The woman continued, "The beginning of the inn was in the early days of the Showa, but the building itself is a relic from the Edo period..."

Kondoh slipped toward the sofa to seat himself beside Nonomura. "Oh, that's quite a history," Nonomura said, passing the business card to Kondoh.

"Well, there's a legend that's been handed down for generations regarding this inn..." said Ms Nariai.

"Oh, what's that?" asked Nonomura.

The woman spoke reluctantly. "That a person who spends the night alone at one separate area on the east side is certain to die, so it is said."

Shibata listened with sparkling eyes, resting her chin on arms folded on the back of the sofa behind Nonomura and Kondoh.

"Such as the ones who died in the 21st year of the Showa, having come alone..."

"Freaky," Aya mumbled from her seat.

"That room has henceforth been sealed off, but during reconstruction scheduled next month, that room can be expected to be torn down soon--"

"How wasteful!" Shibata exclaimed, so suddenly that she made Sayoko jump.

Mayama intoned Shibata's name in a cooly reprimanding way as he continued to pluck his nose hairs.

Nariai Sayoko paused for a moment before resuming. "The truth of the matter is, while deciding on the tearing down of that room, I'm ashamed to say that the inn's establishment has decided to have someone stay the night in that room in order to put a test to that legend. I suppose the chances of anything happening are a million to one, although..."

"You're afraid, basically, that someone will die," said Nonomura slowly.

"They don't believe such a thing could happen," Sayoko said, "But I have some vague apprehension..." Shibata had seated herself next to her and was staring into her countenance as she spoke. "Please, can we not request one of you stay tomorrow night with us in our establishment?"

Mayama snorted in pain and pulled out the tweezers, shoving his hand over an injured nostril. Taniguchi pretended to eat noodles from a tiny empty bowl. Kondoh silently blinked at Sayoko's business card. Nonomura popped a morsel of party mix into his mouth. Aya slapped a "non-flammable garbage" sticker on her forehead.

"I will go," said Shibata.

"No, no," her chief protested, "I really don't think--"

Shibata rose. "The room of certain death," she intoned, with eyes glassy and determined, looking into the ghoulish images conjured by her own imagination: the angled journey through dark corridors, the black cadaver lying prone on the tatami mats, and a throng of men with heads like jack-o-lanterns clamouring outside the window.

"Excellent!" she breathed in ecstasy, her hands pressed to her temples, just before her legs went limp and she fell senseless to the floor.

"You're wierd, you're wierd!" said Mayama.

Shibata stood in the hallway outside Mayama's apartment and pounded relentlessly on the door with a racket that reverberated throughout the sunlit corridor. "Good morning!" she declared with a chipper bow when he finally opened the door.

He glared at her irritably. "What the hell are ya doing here so damn early in the morning," he grumbled.

"What early in the morning, it's nearly noon! Come on, let's go to the investigation!"

"It's my day off. I ain't going."

"But, didn't we discuss it with the chief yesterday?"

"It's a paid holiday. Okay? G'night." Mayama shut her out before she could complete a word of protest, and promptly proceeded to slam her fingers in the door. She screamed and dropped to the floor as though mortally wounded, writhing in the hallway, clutching her injured hand and choking on her own blood-curdling screams.

Mayama opened the door again and rolled her out of the way with it. "Shut the fuck up, your fingers are fine, c'mon, shut up! You're wakin' up the whole goddamn neighborhood, for chrissakes."

An old man with a knife in one hand and a dead mackerel in the other scooted into the hall to ask what was going on, while Shibata continued to twist and scream.

Mayama took a quick look at his neighbor and awkwardly attempted a pretense of nursing Shibata. "You okay, Yoriko? Get up, get up!"

By early afternoon, the two detectives were on their way to the inn. Mayama grumbled an "Oh, Christ," as they rounded a corner at an adjacent side street, straggling behind Shibata's chipper pace, but otherwise didn't speak. At last they arrived at the great stone wall that bordered the property. "This is it," Shibata breathed in soft eagerness, stopping to gaze on it from the yard's edge. Mayama stepped up beside her. "Listen, you don't really wanna stay in that room where people die, do you?"

"Yes," Shibata said firmly, backing away from the stone wall and heading into the property.

"I'm not stayin' there, it's freaky." Mayama walked behind her as they crossed the garden, and changed the subject. "You never bathe, do you," he said accusingly.

"Yes I do!" she said in defense.

"Did you take a bath yesterday?"

"Well, I was too busy in the evening, and..."

"The day before that?" Mayama demanded.

"Uhmm..."

"Uhmm," he breathed mockingly. "I wanna go home. You know everybody died that stayed in that room, and you wanna stay there with your goddamn death wish. I don't wanna know you, you freak."

"Are you scared?" Shibata asked.

The inn was a fairly wide, spread-out, single-level structure built in the traditional style, and had a certain foreboding quality about it, an aura that might have made it look cold even in summer. The property close to the building was lined with bamboo, and wooden balconies looked over into a small meadow graced with tall trees. The questionable wing of the structure was clearly marked with cryptic characters on labels adhered to the rain doors. In the hallway, under a high, upturned ceiling, Sayoko stood between Mayama and Shibata.

"So this is the area?" Shibata asked, staring down the corridor. The pale illumination from the flourescent ceiling lights and the sparse sunlight flowing in through open windows did little to brighten the musty interior.

"It's been sealed for such a long time, no one has been inside yet," said Sayoko.

Looking down the dim hallway, the door to the forbidden room was likewise covered with those cryptic labels. "This is the only entrance, isn't it?" Shibata asked.

"Yes," said Sayoko.

"Four people really died here, huh?" asked Mayama.

"Well, yes, so I've heard," said Sayoko.

"That was the incident in the 21st year of the Showa?" asked Shibata.

"For generations, the hostess responsible for these rooms had been here, but she passed away about twenty years ago, and from that time onward I've been..."

"It's been your responsibility," Mayama finished for her. Shibata was lapsing into her characteristic trance again, taking footsteps muted by house slippers and tatami toward the sealed door, caressing it with her fingertips. "The room of certain death..." She closed her eyes with ecstasy as if sensually aroused as she pressed cheek to the wood.

"Cut it out," Mayama mumbled.

"Sayoko," said a woman's voice from behind, causing the hostess and her visitors to turn around. "Who might these people be?"

"Tomomi," said Sayoko unsteadily. "This young woman is Tomomi." Mayama smiled and lowered his head. Tomomi bowed back as Sayoko introduced them. "This is Mr Mayama and Miss Shibata, from the investigation department of the Metropolitan Police."

"Metropolitan Police?" Tomomi hissed incredulously.

The shadows were beginning to lengthen as Mayama and Shibata waited on the sofa in the reception room. The sunlight from the great window behind them was slowly declining. Mayama began to sniff at the air in the room. He did so once in Shibata's direction, and then watched her self-consciously move a lock of her own hair in front of her nose, then pull a handful of it over her face. He grabbed her head and took a deep whiff, then laughed and smacked the back of her head as she brushed her hair out of her face. "It's you," he laughed, pointing at her while she continued to smell her mildewed hair. "It's you all the way!"

Tomomi puffed her cigarette in an adjacent corridor. "Don't overstep your bounds," she warned Sayoko coldly. "Remember that you're just a hostess."

Sayoko apologized and bowed while Tomomi brightened the end of her cigarette.

Mayama and Shibata had their ears pressed to the door to hear Tomomi saying, "If my sick father should die, I certainly won't tolerate this kind of behaviour."

"Scary," said Mayama. "Sounds just like Hanato Koroko."

"Who's that?" Shibata asked. Then her cell phone chimed, and Mayama moved away from her and back to the sofa. She dug in her tote bag for the phone.

Aya was standing at the cash register in a downtown bakery. "Ah, hey, Shibata? I set us up on this group date, and you ain't here. You gonna come, or what?"

"Uh, I'm doing a covert investigation, off the clock, in Mejiro," Shibata explained.

"Heh? What's up?"

The rice paper screen slid open and Aya stepped into the genkan dressed in a bright red coat. She cleared her throat, cupped her hand to her cheek, and called out Shibata's name once, twice, three times. Shibata's unkempt head emerged from the reception room doorway and found the unexpected presence of her colleague at the entrance. The two of them excitedly greeted each other as Shibata rushed into the genkan, and they took each other's outstretched hands like two giddy schoolgirls. "Oh, Aya! I'm so glad you came!"

"Well, hell, I heard about a sneak investigation, and I'm getting paid for today, so I might as well work."

"But weren't you saying that whole 'Why the hell should I have to help' thing?" Shibata chided.

"Get that outta your head. This here is how I'm gonna try to get back my reputation," Aya declared.

"Of course," said Shibata. "That's the old police spirit, huh?"

"Well, I guess so."

Just then Sayoko stepped into the hall to announce that dinner was being served. Mayama, who had fallen asleep on the reception room sofa, woke suddenly in bewilderment and spun his head about, calling out for Shibata.

Tomomi sat at the seat of honour, gnawing off a wad of tough bread. A middle-aged couple and a young man sat alongside her at the long dining table, likewise chomping their bread in glum silence. The boy, dressed in a tuxedo, dished portions of rice onto each plate he passed. The door opened, and Sayoko led in Shibata, Aya, and Mayama. "This way, please."

"Oh, here come the police," announced Tomomi.

"What's this you say?" asked the middle-aged man, looking up at the strangers.

"Sayoko has requested their presence as today's little entertainment," said Tomomi. "This is my uncle, Iwai Nobuhiro. And his wife--"

"Haruya," the woman rasped through a mouthful of bread. "This is our son Shinichiroh."

"There's no resemblance," Mayama laughed, drawing similar jocularity from Aya.

"He's an actor," Haruya declared.

"Why do you have to introduce me that way," the young man protested, but Aya gestured excitedly at him, knitting her brow in concentration. "I've seen you, I've seen you, oh, what was it, you were in that, um--"

Shinichiroh could barely get a word in edgewise. "He played a detective in Ototoshi no Getsudora," said his mother.

Mayama and Aya burst into excitement on either side of a clueless Shibata as they tried to remember the young man's face and arrived at a sudden simultaneous agreement. Shinichiroh and his mother looked very pleased for an instant, but Tomomi shattered the revelry with a flat and humourless declaration: "He was just an extra."

The smiles faded rapidly. "Now then, I believe you've already met our hostess Sayoko," Tomomi continued. Sayoko bowed, as Tomomi finished, with reserved contempt, "My father's mistress."

Shibata asked, "What's a mistress?" with innocent curiousity, just before gasping faintly at the shock of a sharp rebuking smack to the head from Mayama.

"Then there's her son Takashi, our boy," said Tomomi. "I took him in when he was begging on the streets."

Aya attempted to overcompensate for the saturnine atmosphere by shoving Shibata aside and introducing herself with an exaggerated display of exuberance. "I'm Kido Aya, Kido Aya!" She looked back at the morose company, at a loss for how to act. "Uh, this is--"

"I'm Mayama," said Mayama as he bowed. Shibata introduced herself and bowed formally in turn.

"Miss Shibata, you're with the police as well?" Tomomi asked.

"Yes," Shibata said, raising her right hand. "I'm a detective with the First Investigation Department of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police."

"Ah, a detective, hm," mused Nobuhiro.

"Why don't you use her as a reference for the next time you play a detective," said his wife to their son.

"Cut it out, I don't know if I'll even get the part yet," Shinichiroh said with obvious annoyance.

"Do you really carry one of those police notebooks?" Haruya asked Shibata.

Shibata said yes, and opened her bag to rummage for it. She tossed onto the table her new package of sanitary pads, her thermos, hand towel, something that looked like a remote control, and other sundry objects--but no police notebook. Everyone laughed, with the exceptions of Tomomi, Sayoko, and the boy.

Takashi served the meal as Sayoko explained, "This is Hakatsuki Inn's specialty, tongue stew."

"The founder's chef went to Paris to study in the Taisho period, and came up with all sorts of flavour schemes," said Haruya.

Mayama commented approvingly of Western-style cuisine and dipped a banana into his bowl of formless brown goo. Shibata burned her mouth on the stuff while Takashi made his rounds of serving. "Hold it," said Tomomi, stopping him in his tracks and holding out her bowl to display one of the boy's shirt buttons floating in the broth.

"I'm sorry," said Takashi awkwardly.

Tomomi set her bowl down. "Sorry isn't good enough." She reached for the flower vase and violently threw the contents at the boy's face, dousing his head and shirt. The three detectives watched in shock, and the three family members cast their eyes away. Sayoko glared at Tomomi, but said nothing. "Take it back," Tomomi ordered. Shibata watched the spectacle with wide eyes as the boy obediently gathered the bowl.

At nearly midnight, the paper seals to the forbidden room were broken, and the party stood in the hallway, gazing into the sepulchral blackness. Tomomi carried a candle to lead the way and stood at at the edge of the sliding doorway. Shibata stepped forward and stared into the long-undisturbed corridor laden with dust and cobwebs and decorated with cryptic stickers. Tomomi moved forward slowly, with everyone following. "What splendid company we've got for our little experiment," she commented with a smile. "Even the police are here."

"So, who will be the one to stay here?" asked Mayama.

"I will, of course," said Tomomi.

"Tomomi--" said Sayoko.

"Hey, hold up, I came to stay here, too," objected Shinichiroh.

"Wait, Shinichiroh--" protested Haruya.

"It's my duty," the young man said.

"But--what if--"

"I'd like to take part as well," said Nobuhiro.

"Dear--" his wife objected again.

"Is it your duty?" asked Mayama.

"It's all a made-up story, anyway," Nobuhiro insisted.

"But--I'd like to try staying as well," Shibata interjected.

"Damn, you're shameless," said Mayama. "Sorry about her. The girl has no common sense."

"Quite alright," said Tomomi, bathed in the light from her candle flame. "You police are perfectly welcome to participate."

"Really?" Shibata beamed.

"Tomomi, perhaps you had better stop this," suggested Sayoko, "Just on the chance that something could happen."

"In that case, it would be better if it were you," said Tomomi.

"That's terrible," Sayoko complained softly.

"Well, how should we decide?" asked Nobuhiro.

"How indeed," wondered Tomomi.

"Well, what would be the most unbiased way?" said Shinichiroh.

From the back of the line, Takashi spoke unexpectedly, causing everyone else in the party to turn around and face him as he made the most reasonable suggestion, "How 'bout playing cards?"

In an adjacent room, the cards 2 through Ace were lined up on a table. "The weakest card is Two, then Three, Four, Five, Six, so on up to the King," Shinichiroh was explaining. "And the strongest is the Ace. So, in the event that two people get the same number, the order of strength goes Heart, Diamond, Club, Spade."

"It will be a game of one round, then," said Tomomi, and the others nodded.

Takashi shuffled the cards, and was about to deal before Tomomi thwarted him. "Let's let the police shuffle," she said, "Just to show that there aren't any tricks."

"It's okay? 'S okay?" said Mayama, putting his elbows on the table and taking the cards to shuffle. "One, two, three, four, none for you, right?" he confirmed with Haruya. He delivered the cards in a counterclockwise direction to Tomomi, Shibata, Shinichiroh and Nobuhiro, then placed the remainder of the deck on the center of the table. He sat back, tucking his hands under his armpits.

"Uh," said Nobuhiro, disappointedly revealing his 5 of Hearts.

Shinichiroh's face lit up when he turned over the King of Spades.

Shibata excused herself in anxiousness, and slowly placed her fingertips on the card, lifting it apprehensively with both hands. She squealed with delight at the overturned Ace of Hearts on the table before her. "I did it!" She and Aya grinned at each other and Shinichiroh looked very disappointed.

Tomomi promptly crushed Shibata's proud moment. "Too bad," she said, flipping around the Ace of Spades.

In the dead of night, Tomomi stood alone in the doorway of the forbidden room, beside a half-closed, sticker-covered door. "I'm following in my father's footsteps," she said with a quietly morbid smile. "I wonder if I'll be the first to die?"

"Tomomi," said Sayoko, standing with all the others in the corridor under a blazing flourescent ceiling light. Mayama pointed to the next room. "Uhh, just in case, we're all gonna stay up in that room there. We'll call out to you every thirty minutes, so please respond when we do."

"But I may fall asleep," Tomomi remarked demurely.

"Then this one'll go to the room an' look in on you," said Mayama, indicating Shibata with his chin.

"I will look in," Shibata confirmed.

"Fine, fine," said Tomomi complacently, sliding the door shut.

The party stood blinking at the door for a moment. "Well, should we all just stand here watching?" said Mayama at length.

"Uh, no, she'll call out if anything happens, so everyone please take a rest," suggested Takashi. Mayama mumbled an agreement, and Sayoko bowed.

Shibata turned around to suggest that everyone play a card game. "How about Pig's Tail?" Haruya raised her hand excitedly and clucked, "Let's, let's!"

Takashi lowered his head, mumbling, "Uh, cards--" and Mayama dismissed the idea altogether. "This ain't no stinkin' field trip. Let's play mah-jongg, huh?"

"Oh, that's a good idea!" said Nobuhiro.

"Yeah, good idea, I haven't played that in a long time," said Shinichiroh. "Hey, go get the tiles from my room," he told Takashi, and the boy hurried off. "Count me out," said Aya, following Takashi. "I wanna go take a bath."

"OK, Shibata?" said Mayama, turning toward her in invitation.

"Huh--me? But I've never played before."

"Naah, it's easy, don't sweat it. I'll teach you, OK?" he said. The men lapsed into the esoteric language of the game as they filed into the room. Shibata was left standing clueless in the hallway, thinking that they were discussing food.

The night deepened. A full moon blazed in a starless sky. In the adjacent room, the men put down their mah-jongg tiles and concentrated on their respective strategies. Shibata sat with them at the table, absorbing the mah-jongg primer she'd procured from somewhere in the inn. She read one of the rules aloud to herself, finding the word reach in English and wondering why it was thus written. Mayama told her to never mind, to hurry up and stack her tile. Shibata looked up from her book and pressed the open pages to her breast while she moved her pieces, murmuring to herself. "Er, south is... that's a reach."

"Reach?" said Mayama dubiously.

"Yes," Shibata said.

Mayama nodded and placed his pieces in an instructive fashion, explaining each of his two moves to her as he went. He piled his tile next to hers, and smiled as he returned to his own row. "S'really cold, never gets this cold in Tokyo," he mumbled.

Shibata leaned her torso forward over her book to examine all the tiles on the table as Nobuhiro spoke. "Sorry about that," he said, "This house is very old."

"Shall I attend to the stove?" Sayoko offered.

"Oh yeah, good idea," said Mayama. "We'll make it a snack party, huh."

Shibata finally made her move, turning over all her tiles and annoncing a ron.

"Hah?" said Mayama in shock.

Shibata pointed at her upturned tiles, naming them. "Kiyoisshoku, sanankoku, dora, dora, dora."

Nobuhiro was flabbergasted at his unexpected defeat. Shinichiroh likewise cried out at Shibata's sanankou in total disbelief. Shibata smiled proudly. Shinichiroh picked up a dora tile to confirm what he thought to be impossible. Shibata looked happily into the pages of her primer again, and basked in glory. Mayama paled and dumped his score dish onto the table, then slumped back into his cushion. "Hell with that."

Aya then sauntered into the room in fresh clothing and a towel on her head. "That is the best, best, best bath I ever took. You all should go check it out." She raised her can of beer. "Uh, anybody check on what's-her-face?"

"Oh, no!" Shibata cried, pulling herself to her feet and scooting into the corridor. "Tomomi!! Is everything alright??" she screeched.

Tomomi slid open the door of the forbidden room, looking quite sullen at having been awakened. "Be quiet, for the love of God, you chatter, chatter, chatter!" she said. "Well, I'm perfectly fine." She slid the door closed.

"Should we be doing this?" Shibata wondered aloud in the doorway. "Is it a bad idea?"

"Don't worry about it," said Nobuhiro from the mah-jongg table, lifting his beer can. "Let's keep on with it."

Mayama stretched with his hands clasped together. "Christ, I'm tired. Enough of this already," he said, looking at the watch on his raised hand. "It's two AM and even the ghosts are asleep."

"Hmm," Nobuhiro agreed. "What shall we do?"

"Uh, I'll dish out. Let's not do this like amateurs," Mayama said, tossing a wad of cash onto the table. "Uh, double two thousands."

"What's the meaning of that money?" Shibata asked sharply.

"Shut up, whatta you got? Beginner's luck."

"You can't do that," Shibata said, walking firmly over to him as she spoke. "Refer to article 185 of penal law on gambling. The act of gambling is punishable by a minor fine not exceeding 500,000. The more common penalty falls under article 186, applying a sentence of imprisonment with hard labour not exceeding three years. Here." She held the money out to a very sullen-looking Mayama.

"Damn you," he muttered, taking his money back.

"Well, if Mr Mayama's going to pass, how about you, Miss Kido?" Shinichiroh invited.

"What, with no betting?" Aya said incredulously. "I'm gonna go dry my hair." She left the room with her towel turban.

"Well, nothing to win, Takashi. Come on over," said Shinichiroh. The boy did as he was told, seating himself at the mah-jongg table where Mayama had rolled aside. Mayama lay in repose as though trying to sleep. "This is awfully like The Red Widow's Murder," Shibata mused at that moment.

"What the hell's that," grumbled Mayama.

"It's a book by a man named Carter Dickson."

"Don't know it," Mayama said irritably.

"It's about ancestor's legend that anyone left alone in the room would die."

"And, in the novel," Shinichiroh asked, "How do the characters who stay in the room end up?"

"Of course, they are certainly killed," Shibata said in a tone that seemed to give Shinichiroh the creeps. "It's a mystery novel. Readers would be upset if there's no murder." Shibata returned to her Tokyo University mah-jongg primer, and the others in the room simply stared at her.

Mayama's eyes followed Sayoko suspiciously as she got up to exit.

Sayoko turned on the burner under the teapot, and then caught the spectre of Mayama rolling his head in the corridor. "What is it?"

"Oh, uh, just from our standpoint it might be better not to take our eyes off anybody," the detective said with a groggy grin. "It'd be a bad scene if Tomomi ended up murdered."

"You think I'd kill her?" said Sayoko.

"I think you at least have a motive."

Sayoko cast her eyes down.

"If Tomomi died, the inheritance would all go to your son, uh, Tadashi."

"Takashi," Sayoko corrected.

"Uh, ha, yeah," Mayama mumbled, nodding. "You're were the mistress, but, Takashi is it? He's your own. Blood will out, right?"

"Please stop it!"

"Just before the master dies, Tomomi happens to get murdered," Mayama smiled bitterly. "He'd be next in succession. That's just the way the law would work." He then took his hands out of his pockets and began doing push-ups against the kitchen table.

In the adjacent guest room, Shibata, Takashi, Shinichiroh and Nobuhiro encircled the mah-jongg table. Nobuhiro placed his tile. Shibata peered over her primer and onto the center of the table. She then proceeded turn over all her tiles, every one identical, and declare an end to the game once again. The three men leaned forward in astonishment. Nobuhiro was crushed. Shibata glowed with pride and triumph as a flabbergasted Nobuhiro emptied his score plate onto the table.

Shinichiroh was rotating his weary head when Sayoko entered behind him, carrying the teapot. "Has anyone checked on Tomomi?"

"Oh no!" Shibata cried, springing from her seat. Sayoko rushed out into the hallway. Shibata yanked Aya's feet, pulling her awake.

"Tomomi! Tomomi!" Sayoko called out. Everyone stood in the doorway, looking down the hall into the forbidden corridor. Mayama shuffled out from the kitchen. "What? Something happen?"

"She's not answering," cried Sayoko.

"Eh?" said Mayama. "Is she dead?"

Horror spread over their faces as they all began to scramble down the hall and into the shadowy corridor. Shibata stopped short at the sliding door, clearing her throat and politely demanding permission to enter. Aya shoved the door open, and she and Shibata stood arm-in-arm at the front of the crowd gathered in the doorway. They took off running toward the forbidden bedroom, and came to a halt once more at the wide entrance. There was no trace of Tomomi, and only a bloodstain on the tatami.

"What the hell is that?" gasped Shinichiroh.

"Tomomi, where are you?" called Sayoko. "Tomomi! Tomomi!"

Mayama ordered everyone to split up and hunt for her. Each member of the entourage filed out in a different direction, except Shibata, who stood staring at the bloodstains despite Mayama's forceful urging. She paced into the room, and pointed at the shutters. "The window has been locked from the inside." She pointed at the walls. "There's no trace of any tearing of the seals. There's only one entrance and exit!" She turned away from the entrance and toward Mayama. "Mr Mayama, this is a secret room, a secret room!"

"Quit fuckin' around!" he snapped at her, dragging her quickly with him out of the room and into the depth of the night.

Shinichiroh bounded over the grass in the darkness outside, calling Tomomi's name; he met his mother, carrying a flashlight, in the garden. "How strange!" she exclaimed.

"No luck, she wasn't in the genkan, either." Choosing different directions, they split again.

Mayama rushed through the long hallways, opening the door to every bedroom; around the corner he met Sayoko, who was likewise having no luck.

Aya and Shibata met Nobuhiro in the dim corridors; none had found any trace of Tomomi. The three of them, running out of options, caught their breath in the kitchen. Then they heard Haruya scream.

Haruya gazed in terror down into the bamboo garden, shining the flashlight from her limp hand onto Tomomi, lying dead at the bottom of the gulch.

"Everyone, please wait here," Mayama commanded, and brought Shibata and Aya down into the bamboo. Shibata rushed immediately to the body, checking for a pulse in a bloody hand. "Tomomi?

"She's already gone. Cause of death..." She noted what appeared to be a fracture underneath Tomomi's blood- matted hair. "Bludgeoning?" Looking at the dry mouth, she obseved, "No evidence that she was made to drink poison."

"What's that about?" said Mayama.

"In the novel, she died from poisoning."

"That again."

Shibata sniffed repeatedly at and around Tomomi's body.

"Whassup?"

"It's a pleasant scent. I can't figure out what it is," Shibata said, continuing to sniff.

Mayama was bent over her shoulder. "Don't you know what perfume smells like?"

"I do," she said, but persisted in sniffing.

"You oughtta use some yourself," he told her.

In the day's first rays of sunlight, Saotome stood with arms akimbo in the corridor, in front of Hayashida, Nagao, and their fellows from the First Investigation Department, glaring at the slumped and dejected Shibata and Mayama. "Once again, you had someone murdered right under your noses," said Saotome.

Shibata apologized.

"Well. At least you're safe," he told her, directing his compulsory criticism toward Mayama. "But protected by an incompetent such as him, even you lose all your competence."

"Yes, sir," said Shibata.

Hayashida clapped his hands once, moving forward. "Okay, we'll take over from here. You two can wait for your orders in the next room," he directed, pointing an arrogant thumb toward the reception office.

"Yes, sir," said Shibata. She and Mayama stood.

"Please stand guard so that the offender doesn't escape," Saotome ordered, as they moved past his shoulder. "The murderer has got to be among those here."

Sayoko, Takashi, Nobuhiro, Shinichiroh and Haruya waited at the dining room table in various conditions of fatigue and apprehension. Aya thought herself invisible, crawling along the floor under her coat, but Saotome caught her before she could get far. "Whatta you think you're doing, Kido?"

Aya crawled up behind Shinichiroh's chair. "Good morning," she crowed.

"If you like Second Chapter so much, maybe I oughtta just transfer you."

The young woman made a last-ditch effort to pretend at stupidity, which came off sounding more than a bit satirical: "What a coincidence that I just happened to be staying here!"

Saotome was as dour as ever. "You're a suspect, too. Sit down and wait."

"Sorry," said Aya.

Before long, Saotome and his men were standing in their socks on the tatami at the crime scene. Hayashida made his observations. "The windows are all sealed. Except for through the entrance, there's no way anyone could've slipped out of this room." He was firm in his logic. "The culprit had to have somehow committed the murder here, then carried the body out into the woods for disposal."

"But," wondered Saotome, "By what means did they enter and leave?"

Hayashida was stumped.

Nobuhiro was the first to be interviewed in the reception office. "I think the killer would've had to be Sayoko or Takashi," he said. "My brother's mistress or her illegitamate son, Tomomi's half brother. They both had a fair amount of hatred for Tomomi."

"Tomomi did indeed treat Sayoko badly!" Haruya admitted when her turn came.

"Listen, just between us," said Shinichiroh when he was alone with the detectives, leaning toward them and waving his cigarette, "I did once hear Takashi say he'd like to kill Tomomi."

When Takashi's turn came, Hayashida, Saotome and Nagao arched forward to ogle their prime suspect.

"The killer? It wasn't me," the boy said. "Why not Nobuhiro or Haruya? Just between us, for publicizing their son Shinichiroh as an actor, they had a pretty big debt they owed to Tomomi."

Sayoko, when it was time for her turn, was obviously shaken by the event. She couldn't say much, except to express vague offense at any accusation directed at a woman as meek as herself. The detectives groaned at the obvious difficulty they faced.

Assistant Section Chief Nonomura stepped out of the patrol car and saluted the two uniformed policemen in the genkan. Excusing himself, he stood beside Shibata and Mayama, and bowed deeply to Saotome.

"We've narrowed it down to two suspects," Saotome told him. "It isn't necessary for you to remain until this case is resolved. With due respect, your departure would do well enough."

Mayama and Nonomura walked together out toward the patrol car, with Shibata lagging behind. "Chief, you really didn't have to come," Mayama said.

Nonomura waved his hand dismissively. "Naah, it's not a problem at all."

Mayama turned his head to see Aya stumbling out past Shibata. "Oh, you're emancipated, too?"

"I'm gettin' outta here," Aya said. "Those fucks just make me sick--"

"Well, this is the junction where we must part ways," Nonomura said, waving them off. "We'll leave it at that."

"Yeah, we're leaving, too," said Mayama.

"Right," drawled Aya. They all moved away from the inn to make their exit; all except Shibata, who was walking off determinedly toward the bamboo gulch.

"Shibata," Mayama groaned, following unwillingly. Aya groaned, "Not again," and jogged after them.

Shibata moved along the stone wall that formed the gulch above which the separated wing of the house rested. "Could that room have been the actual scene of the crime?" she wondered, pointing to the outer walls of the forbidden room above, where one detective stood photographing the outside area.

"Hah?" said Aya, cocking her head to the side.

Shibata arched her shoulders and pointed to the soil. "The place where Tomomi died, couldn't it have been in this vicinity?" She let her pointing finger lead the way over the big stones that made a rough-hewn path along the tall bamboo shoots.

"I'll tell you what, that bastard Hayashida really makes me sick," Aya complained. "The way he fuckin' hangs on Saotome like a goddamn purse."

"Yeah, that motherfucker ain't solved a single damn case by himself yet," agreed Mayama.

"No shit?" Aya giggled, covering her face.

Shibata stopped, and her expert finger pointed to two half-smoked cigarettes sitting on the dry leaves on the ground. She squatted down, picking up a cigarette and holding it in front of her cross-eyed face. She stared at the object she held in one hand, while the other hand dug through her tote bag, tossing out onto the ground her handtowel, half-gone package of pads, and the deck of playing cards that scattered carelessly all over the earth before she found whatever it was she was she had sought.

Aya leaped onto the ground and gathered some cards, holding them out to Shibata. "Hey, hold it, kid! Weren't these cards at the crime scene?"

"Oh, that's right!" Shibata cried fearfully. "I forgot to return them!" On all fours, she hurried to pick up the cards.

"What the hell's up with you! We gotta go sneak these back."

"Right."

"Make sure it's the right count!"

Then Shibata's eyes became hesitant. She had noticed something.

The two women clipped across the garden, attempting to make an invisible entrance. "Hurry up, hurry up!" Aya breathed. Mayama dragged sluggishly behind, and didn't bother to follow them inside. They tiptoed in through the hall, carrying their shoes, trying to sneak past the other detectives. But Hayashida was standing just around the corner with folded arms and a surly expression. "So I hang on like a purse, huh?"

Aya leaped up in surprise. "Hey what, you stand around and spy on us! Spying bastard." She waved her shoe in front of his face admonishingly.

"Like hell. I don't even have to try. Anybody in here can hear every insult you babble out!"

"From here?" Aya pouted.

"I thought I told you to get outta here!"

Shibata stepped forward. "But, excuse me, Mr Hayashida, where were you up until now?"

Hayashida thrust his pointer finger violently at the silent policemen standing at attention, and the others investigating the forbidden room. "In the room of the crime scene the whole time! Trying to solve this case!"

"Ah! Oh!" Shibata gaped, making a sudden realization. She bolted down the hallway and back outside.

"Wait, wait up--where do ya think you're goin'?" Aya called, chasing after her.

"Shibata," Aya groaned, following her back across the garden. Between the stone wall and the bamboo shoots, a chalk outline of Tomomi's body had been drawn on the earth. "The place where you and Mr Mayama were talking just then was right around here, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, but so what," said Aya.

Shibata stood in concentration. "Uh, ah..." She cleared her throat, and began, in a voice quite unused to insulting anyone, "Ah, Hayashida, stupid... ugly... hip purse... pile of shit... impotence..."

"Where the hell are you?" growled Hayashida's muffled voice, accompanied by pounding fists, through the shrine statue of the bodhisattva Ksitigarbha built into the wall. "Just as I thought!" Shibata exclaimed.

She and Aya stumbled over to the wooden shrine and struggled to move it. With a fair amount of exertion, they were able to shove it half way aside and reveal a grotto behind the enclosure. "It's here!" Shibata exclaimed. "This goes under the floor of that room!"

"Then our voices go through this tunnel!" Aya cried.

"She knew death was certain if she stayed there, but she deliberately stayed there-- and to die--" Suddenly all the images came together in Shibata's mind: the deep, dark mouth of the grotto before her leading through the separated wing of the inn, the bloodstained tatami, the playing cards lined up on the table, the tongue stew, the cigarette butt, and finally Tomomi's corpse. Shibata opened her eyes.

Shibata stood on the tatami and confronted Saotome, Hayashida and Nagao with deference.

"What, you're here again?" Hayashida growled.

"Yes, sir," said Shibata. "May I ask you to raise the tatami?"

"What the hell kind of stupid idea is that?" Hayashida said.

But Saotome knitted his brow and considered, stamping his foot at various places on the mat. With his foot near the bloodstain, he observed, "This is the only place the sound is different."

"Huh?"

"Lift up the tatami," Saotome ordered.

"Yessir." Hayashida and Nagao knelt down to pry the mat away from the floorboards. Shibata tried to warn them, but Hayashida had already stuck his finger on something sharp and drawn blood through his white glove.

"Ah, the tunnel must be under that board," said Nagao, pointing out one piece of wood with a hole just large enough for one's finger.

"Ahh, it's all nailed down," said Hayashida. "Hey, somebody, go get nail pullers!"

"Er, there's something I forgot to mention..." Shibata said slowly, looking around the room. "Most probably, there was a secret legend that some sort of treasure was concealed in this room. In the bygone days, those individuals who got wind of that and stayed in this room in order to procure the treasure fell in succession into a trap."

Nagao listened carefully to Shibata as she stood and circled the tatami. "When they attempted to open the entrance to the subterranean tunnel, lifting up the tatami like so, a thornlike thing would have stuck their fingers. That thing was painted with a lethal poison, causing instant death. That would be the trick to this 'room of certain death'."

"Of course," said Saotome with quiet satisfaction.

"So, therefore please be very careful," Shibata said.

"Okay, we got it, go home," said Hayashida. "Go home!"

"Yes, sir," said Shibata, rising. She picked up her tote bag, excused herself, and headed out the corridor.

The three men sat pondering the floor underneath the tatami for a moment. "Huh?" Hayashida remembered his finger. "Wait."

He ran screaming down the hallway, flailing his arms like a madman. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAGH! That means I'm gonna die?! I'm gonna be poisoned!?"

Nagao stepped into the corridor and faced Saotome in earnest. "That poison would be too old now to have any effect." Hayashida stopped screaming and stood motionless at the end of the hall, holding up his gloved hands.

"Hayashida," intoned Saotome calmly.

In the dining hall, Takashi, Shinichiroh, Haruya, Nobuhiro and Sayoko still waited, lined up at the table. The door opened, and Shibata entered with a very cheerful "Good afternoon" and a polite bow. Mayama and Aya reluctantly tried to keep her from going in, but she traipsed into the dining hall and made her announcement. "I have found a method for determining who was the culprit. Er, would it be alright?" She sifted through her tote bag and produced the playing cards, saying, "Here it is" to herself, and continuing, "These are the cards we employed in our raffle yesterday, but this time I'd like to try a game of Sevens with all present." She began shuffling the cards.

Sayoko met her eyes dubiously. "You think you can find something out this way?"

"Yes," said Shibata. "The culprit in Tomomi's murder." She began to deal the cards to each of those seated, beginning with Nobuhiro.

"Wait a second," he said. "You all are joining in, too, right?"

"Of course," replied Shibata.

"You can't be serious," grumbled Mayama.

Shibata began by lining up the Sevens, in order of Spade, Club, Heart and Diamond. "Everyone, please play in earnest," she said, holding the hand she had dealt herself. "The person who loses the game is the culprit."

Haruya put down a Six of Diamonds, Shinichiroh an Eight of Hearts. Nobuhiro put down his Eight of Diamonds, and Takashi his Eight of Spades. Sayoko put down the Six of Hearts, and Shibata followed with the Six of Clubs. Mayama arched an eyebrow and put down the Five of Diamonds.

Takashi spoke up. "How can you even know that the one who killed Tomomi is even here? We were all of us in this room when Tomomi died."

"That's right, it'd be impossible for us," agreed Haruya emphatically, turning toward Shibata. "Isn't that the first thing you should realize?"

Shibata was unperturbed. "Tomomi disappeared by herself," she said.

Everyone looked up at her. "Heh?" said Haruya.

"There was a secret legend regarding a treasure concealed in that room. Knowing of it, Tomomi stayed in that room in order to seek after that treasure." The others continued to play the game while Shibata spoke. "She knew there was a loophole under the tatami. Tomomi lifted up the tatami and went into an underground passageway."

"But the floorboards under the tatami musta been nailed down, right?" said Mayama.

Haruya pouted, incredulous. "I say, this idea hasn't got any significance at all. Why don't we put an end to this nonesense?"

"That's what's interesting about this affair," Shibata continued. "We got no response for quite some time, and so we plunged into the room. Then we split up to search for Tomomi. The underground passage led through the guardian shrine. Tomomi went outside by that manner." Shibata unwrapped the two cigarette buts in a napkin. "I collected this from the place where Tomomi fell," she said. "Tomomi was smoking this cigarette at that place in the woods. Two in addition to this. Do you understand what is significant about that?"

Everyone met her question with blank stares.

"Tomomi was waiting for someone," Shibata pronounced.

"Someone? Really, who?" asked a puzzled Shinichiroh.

"Who, we don't know," said Shibata. "But, it was the person with whom Tomomi was very much in love."

"Very much in love?" echoed Nobuhiro.

"Tomomi's body had the scent of perfume when we found her," said Shibata as the card game neared its completion. "However, Tomomi wasn't wearing any perfume at dinnertime. Basically, it stands to reason that she wore the perfume for the sake of the companion for whom she was waiting. In the freezing cold night in the woods, Tomomi wanted to meet the one she loved at once, without a doubt that he could warm her heart."

Shibata had a very clear image of Tomomi waiting among the bamboo, being hit from behind and falling.

Shibata put down the Five of Hearts. Mayama put down his last card, a King. Haruya's final was the Ace of Hearts. Someone else put down the Two, and Takashi the Three, with one card still in his hand.

"Tomomi's most beloved one," Shibata said, completing the game by placing the only missing card, the Four of Hearts, slowly and deliberately. "And the ruthless person who used and turned traitor to her." She turned toward the young man beside her.

"You are the killer, Mr Nariai Takashi."

Takashi was silent.

"The cards are lined up in their entirety, aren't they?" said Shibata. "However, you have one card remaining in your hand. Why is that?"

Takashi held the card with hands clasped tacitly together.

"It's you," Mayama said, then turning to Shibata to ask why.

"Shall we see if my guess is correct?" asked Shibata, staring at Takashi. "That is the Four of Hearts, isn't it?"

The boy would not lay down the card, so Aya took it from him. She turned it over for everyone to see that it was indeed the Four of Hearts.

The Iwai family gaped collectively, and Sayoko gasped in disbelief. Mayama smiled at the resolution of the case while Aya held the overturned card under her pouting lips.

Takashi snorted. "That's ridiculous! How can you say you know anything from some card trick!"

"It's not a card trick," Shibata replied, staring icily at him. "Where this card came from, you know better than anyone, don't you?"

Takashi stared straight ahead with mounting anxiety.

"Last night, we made the decision as to who would stay in the room by a lottery with playing cards. You and Tomomi had conspired and removed the Ace of Spades from the deck beforehand, so that she would hold and conceal it. After drawing her card, she secretly exchanged it for the Ace of Spades. The card she had actually drawn was the Four of Hearts, the one you are holding. And you murdered her, as you had planned, and then collected that card."

"You set that deck up," Takashi protested.

"If that card had been discovered on Tomomi, we would have known that the lottery was a fraud, and you would have been the suspect for proposing it. If you had returned that card to the original deck afterwards, any evidence of your deception would have been erased. Therefore here is where the question arose. I had accidentally brought with me the deck from which we had drawn for the lottery. You had lost your opportunity, and couldn't return the card. Therefore, the deck I brought back had only fifty-one cards, one less than the usual number. When I accidentally scattered those cards and went to make sure the count was correct, I realized something: the Four of Hearts was absent. Therefore you were impatient and objected to the game of Sevens. That is because you feared for the discovery that the deck was one card short. So while I was dealing you secretly slipped into your own hand the card that you had taken from Tomomi's dead body. But in fact, the deck we used for this game was not the one from yesterday. It's colour and appearance are the same, but it is a new deck containing fifty-two cards. Aya just bought it.

Mayama nodded, and Aya saluted Takashi sarcastically. "Very, very sorry."

Takashi closed his eyes.

Shibata spoke from just over the boy's shoulder. "Naturally, the Four of Hearts was the card left in your hand. You had in your possession the Four of Hearts taken from Tomomi's corpse..."

Sayoko broke into a surprising fit of cackling. "You're just so sure that Takashi is the killer," she scoffed. "That just completely contradicts what you said before. That Tomomi was killed by the person she was in love with."

"That's right," said Shibata.

"Tomomi absolutely detested Takashi! Everyone here knows that."

"Is that so?" asked Shibata, gazing pointedly at Takashi and causing him to recoil slightly. She walked around again, and behind Sayoko from her left to her right side. "Tomomi was, in truth, in love with Takashi. But in public, she put on a deliberate appearance of hating him. Please try to remember when Takashi was here serving the stew. Tomomi had the bowl of stew right in her hand, but she chose instead to reach far away for a flower vase and throw the water on him! Don't you understand why? It was because she wanted to avoid burning you! Tomomi had to think of that first." Shibata's tone had gone from incensed to melancholy as she questioned the unspeaking boy. "Why did you have to do a thing like betray her?"

"Takashi?" his mother pressed.

Takashi stared ahead of him for an instant before erupting into sardonic laughter. He fell backward and collapsed into a chair, convulsing with insane chortling. "I don't need a reason to betray her. I never fucking loved her at all." He trembled as he recalled a collage of images from his childhood, of his mother being made to sweep the floors, and prostrating herself before the guests as he looked sadly through the doorway. "If Tomomi dies and her father dies, I'd inherit this inn. If that happened, that'd make my mother the proprietress."

He remembered sitting wrapped in the sheets on the bed of the hotel room with Tomomi, embracing her naked body from behind, telling her he'd thought of everything. "How is it we're together like this?" Tomomi had wondered. "It's strange, isn't it? The late wife's daughter and the mistress's son..."

There was the night he came to Tomomi in the corridor of the building, pleading with her to run away with him. "Dad's gonna find out about what's going on between me and you. If he does, he's gonna kill me." Tomomi had been resolute. "There's that room they say is certain death for the people who stay in it, right? The treasure hidden in it must be worth millions of yen now. I'll pretend to stay in the room, and we can escape with the treasure." Takashi was reluctant, but Tomomi reassured him, "It'll be fine. They'll be thinking about the legend of the curse, and they'll never suspect anything of us."

"I led Tomomi into a trap," Takashi continued in his spastic confession. "The two of us, we acted like we hated each other to keep anyone from finding out. And right under everybody's nose, she shut herself in the room of certain death." Takashi had returned to the room when everyone went to search for Tomomi, and he nailed down the floorboards under the tatami. In the chill of the night, he proceeded to the gulch to clobber her with the stone. Her last dying word was "Why?"

Hayashida barged into the room, followed by Saotome and Nagao.

Shibata swallowed. "Please turn yourself in," she implored. "Please recompense for Tomomi's murder, the act of which was yours and yours alone!"

"What the hell are you still doing here!" Hayashida thundered.

"We got the killer," said Mayama.

"Mr Mayama--" Shibata began.

"It's me!" cried Sayoko, stepping to the fore. "I was horrible. Please arrest me." She began to babble. "If I hadn't said anything to Tomomi about the secret of the basement--"

"Give it up," said Mayama, cutting her off and going around behind her. "It's not your place to judge the law." He grabbed a handful of Takashi's hair and yanked the boy to his feet. "This punk's the culprit."

"What?" said Saotome in surprise.

"Really?" said Hayashida, dumbfounded.

Mayama nodded.

Takashi trembled and begged to his mother. "Mom... Mom...!" he repeated, shaking her when she flinched from his hand on her shoulder. "Mom, Mom..."

Mayama snapped and jerked the boy away by the hair. "Cut it out!" he snarled.

"Mom!" the boy screamed.

"May we have a word with you?" said Saotome.

"Hey, take him away!" Hayashida ordered, the other detectives rushing into the room. Hayashida held Nobuhiro and Shinichiroh in check. "Easy now, stand back please. Settle down, please. Easy, now."

Takashi was led out into the hall, and his family watched with complicated and pained faces. Nagao thanked Shibata et al for their efforts. Saotome pursed his lips affirmatively, and turned away.

Mayama leaned forward over Sayoko where she sat in shock. "What a shame, huh? But look, just like you planned, Tomomi died by the device of the legend." He stood up, and turned his back to her. "The story of the room of certain death wasn't a secret passed down through the hostesses for generations. Basically, if you didn't tell it, nobody woulda known about it. But you didn't even know what your son and Tomomi were up to."

A tear of hopelessness ran down Sayoko's cheek.

"And to have Tomomi knocked off besides," Mayama continued ruthlessly. "But in the end, there wasn't any indiscretion you committed. Your son committed the murder. That's all there is to it."

The faces of the others were hard and gloomy. Shibata was the only one to speak, uttering Mayama's name in a quietly reproachful tone.

That night, Mayama returned to his apartment to find a plastic shopping bag containing a single video tape hanging from the doorknob. He stared at the bag blankly, and took the tape in his hand. He swallowed.

When the images of the brutal gang rape of a schoolgirl flooded the screen, Mayama convulsed on the floor, drooling with nauseous rage. The struggling girl's screams and the laughs of the four schoolboys as they attacked her overwhelmed his senses. Mayama's young sister would soon be lying just like she had been found the next day in the Tamagawa, floating on her back in the shallow red water.

Outside in the hallway, Kee stood with his hands in his pockets, smiling a thin, pale smile.

The computer's browser displayed a detailed portrait of Shibata, with only her name and occupation listed; other pieces of her demographic information were missing. Asakura filed a request for information about this woman, typed in his email address, and smiled faintly, piquing Maiko's curiousity as to what he was doing.

He quickly closed out of the browser window, activating the screen saver. "Nothing really," he said.

Maiko smiled, holding two drinking cups in her hands. Asakura smiled back.

In the semi-darkness of Keizoku's basement office, Shibata had fallen asleep at her portion of the desk cluster with a pencil in her hand. The open page in her notebook was covered with unfinished doodles. Her little hand stirred, and she raised her face from the paper, opening her dry eyes. She slid up in her chair and looked around the room in a stupor. She suddenly looked at her wristwatch and found it to be ten past three in the morning. "Uh--bath--" she mumbled in defeated realization-- "Missed it again."

She drew her coat under her head, scratching her dirty scalp under her oily hair, and fell asleep.