Rintarō stopped his words and a cloud came over Honami’s expression and she sighed heavily.

  “This is a really disheartening story.”

  “Precisely. But regarding this motive, you can consider it confirmed. The final problem is the problem of the locked study.”

  “Is what she told us the other day true?”

  “Yes. I have talked with every man on the emergency crew that was there when they discovered the body, and there was not a single lie in her story. The door to the hallway was locked completely. And she didn’t enter the room either.”

  “And the details of the police examination?”

  “The same. After the suicide was reported, they investigated the whole room, but they concluded there was no other exit except for the door to the hallway. The windows were really nailed shut and they actually tried to break open the green door with five men, but it didn’t budge at all. And there were no signs of the door having ever been forced open. And of course there was no secret passage.”

  Honami, still leaning on her cheek, shook her head.

  “As I see it, this seems rather hopeless.”

  “Too early to say that. Ah, before I forget, let’s talk about the autopsy report. The estimated time of death was the day before the body was found, around 9 p.m. Going by the evidence of a cable (the belt) having been used to hang him, it was concluded to be suicide by hanging and that was all in the report. The doctor in charge probably assumed from the start that it was suicide and overlooked any evidence pointing at murder. When I asked for confirmation with the doctor, he hesitantly admitted that his autopsy might have been insufficient. It happens often with these kinds of cases.”

  “Wait a minute. How could the wife have hanged the body of a man from the ceiling? That would be quite heavy.”

  “I haven’t said that she did it by herself. I’m sure her lover helped her. In fact, Fujimoto has no real alibi for the night Mr. Sugata died. He said he was drinking with young people from his transport company until morning, but that doesn’t count as an alibi. He’s the director, and everyone under him would say anything he would tell them to say.”

  Honami thought for a while. She then looked up and pushed up the frame of her glasses.

  “That really so?”

  “What?”

  Rintarō became a bit red.

  “But there is something else that bothers me. The widow has been planning to rebuild the house in Kichijōji. It was going to start during the long holiday in May. She said it was because the house had become decrepit and hard to live in, but it is to destroy the crime scene, to destroy every bit of evidence before anyone would look back at the crime and solve the mystery of the locked room. The fact that she is planning such a reconstruction is proof that she is guilty.”

  “But that is hardly convincing evidence. As long as you don’t solve the locked room, you can’t prove her to be a murderer.”

  Rintarō laughed.

  “That’s true. I came to visit you because of that actually. I have to ask your director something.”

  “The director?”

  “I need the cooperation of this library.”

  Two days after that conversation, in the afternoon, with police inspector Norizuki sitting beside him in the passenger’s seat, Rintarō headed for the Sugata house in Kichijōji. The wind felt cold on his skin, but it was a clear blue day. On the road in front of the house stood a transport-company truck, and men wearing orange work uniforms were carrying boxes of books into the truck. It was the truck Honami’s library had hired to get the books.

  “An amazing amount of books,” the police inspector said. Rintarō got hold of one of the workers and asked how the operation was going.

  “We have cleared about eighty percent. We are a bit behind schedule, but we’ll be finished in another thirty minutes.”

  Rintarō smiled. Everything was going as planned. As the two moved toward the building, they heard a shouting woman. At the entrance, Honami and the widow were having a row. Or rather, the widow was just yelling one-sidedly, while Honami wasn’t really making any effort to actually listen to her.

  “Don’t think that you can do this without any consequences! I’ll report you to the police for housebreaking!”

  “Please calm down a bit.”

  Police inspector Norizuki stepped in. The widow stopped talking, surprised and hesitating at this unknown person’s intrusion. Norizuki ignored her expression, and while showing his police notebook walked toward her.

  “I am Norizuki of the Metropolian Police Department.”

  The widow’s expression turned blue in an instant. When she saw Rintarō standing next to the police inspector, her eyes squinted to become as sharp as knives.

  “You are all in this together.”

  Rintarō didn’t even smile and said: “I’ve solved the mystery of Mr. Sugata’s prophecy. I’ve come here to confirm my thoughts, so could you lead us to the study again. No, it won’t take long. We’ll just take a look from the garden.”

  The widow stood still, staring at Rintarō’s face. Everybody was silent for a while. Finally the widow nodded, sighed, and dropped her shoulders. Her expression however was sharp. As if she was prepared for the worst, she walked steadily through the house, toward the eastern wing of the building. The other three followed her.

  At the mansion’s eastern wing was, as the widow had said before, a small porch. Without taking his shoes off, Rintarō stepped on the steps of the decrepit porch. The widow had stopped in front of the steps and didn’t say anything, looking down. Rintarō stood in front of the door. Because it had stood there in the outside air for many years, it had turned black. He placed his hand at the doorknob, and pulled softly. While it did feel like it was stuck a bit at the beginning, the green door opened unexpectedly easy.

  Rintarō turned around. Inspector Norizuki nodded and said to the widow: “We have questions regarding the death of your late husband. Would you please come with us?” The widow nodded without saying a word.

  The next day. The library’s reference corner.

  “Mrs. Sugata confessed,” Rintarō said.

  “Her motive and method were precisely like I thought. The arrest warrant for the accomplice Fujimoto will be out today.”

  Honami stopped her work and sat back in her chair.

  “So she was refusing to give us the books because she didn’t want someone to find out the trick behind the locked room, right?”

  “Yeah. The main point of this case doesn’t lie in the value of the books, but in the weight of the books. When you notice that, then the mystery of the green door is easy. Because of the build of the house and because it had gone decrepit, the weight of the books in the second-floor library was focused on the door facing the garden one floor below. The green door couldn’t be opened because of that pressure. You shouldn’t underestimate the weight of books. It’s not strange that five adult men couldn’t move the door even an inch.”

  Honami listened carefully to his words and reacted: “Now that you mention it, I once heard a story about a university teacher who used one room in his apartment as a library and the weight of the books cracked the concrete floor. It’s a miracle nothing happened when Mr. Sugata’s body was hanging from the ceiling. And Mr. Sugata already knew this?”

  “Of course. That’s why he left a prophecy saying ‘When I die, the green door will open again.’ If his collection was to be donated to the library, then the pressure on the door would disappear and it would be possible to open the green door again. Just like how I opened it yesterday. Mr. Sugata was someone with a very playful heart. It would have been interesting to talk with him.”

  Rintarō leaned back on his chair, and crossed his arms. That was his only regret.

  “It’s ironic that his playful heart is what gave his wife the idea for the locked-room murder. And how was the crime committed?” Honami asked.

  “She got help from her lover. Fujimoto runs a transport company. He had ordered his employees to move the books in and out of the library in the middle of the night. After killing Mr. Sugita and making it seem like suicide, they worked together to move the books from the second floor to the first. That way, he was able to open the green door, so he bolted the door to the hallway, and left through the green door. Then he closed the door, and they moved the books back to the second floor. The employees who were there are professionals at moving and did their work fast and efficiently. That day I investigated the library, I hadn’t seen any irregularities among the books, so they must have been working very carefully. Anyway, quite some people were involved with this crime. Just keeping everyone’s mouths shut alone must have been difficult. Which means that to Fujimoto, the fortune of the Sugitas must have been very tempting. According to the widow’s confession, they had promised to give them half of the fortune for their part in the crime.”

  Honami placed her elbows on the counter and thought for a while. Then she suddenly opened her mouth, confusing Rintarō.

  “That first day when we went to Kichijōji, you said something strange. What did you mean?”

  “Strange?”

  “You know, you were hinting at some kind of occult phenomena or something. Was that just a joke?”

  “No, it was then that I found out the truth behind the locked room. I wasn’t really thinking of something occult. But your comment is quite interesting. Don’t you remember what you said?”

  Honami tried to remember, but shook her head.

  “Not the details.”

  Rintarō laughed.

  “You mentioned a dimensional gap because of some gravitational force. And that’s when you happened to hit at the secret of the green door.”

  Honami wasn’t looking particularly happy. Maybe that’s to be expected from an intelligent woman.

  “And another question. You had already solved the case, but why did you need to use our library’s name and move the books out of the house? I had to suffer quite a bit, being yelled at by that woman.”

  Rintarō shrugged.

  “I’m sorry for that. But like you said, I hadn’t anything to prove my deductions. So I couldn’t get a search warrant either. So to get Mrs. Sugata to confess, we had to solve the mystery of the locked room in front of her, making her understand the game was over. So that’s why I resorted to that.”

  “Well, I’ll forgive you for that this time.”

  “I’m grateful.”

  Rintarō looked calmly at his wristwatch.

  “I’m sorry, but I have to go now. Anyway, I just came to tell you she confessed. Now I have to quickly start on the manuscript for Shōsetsu Nova.”

  “The unprecedented locked-room trick, it’s going to be that?”

  Rintarō nodded and stood up.

  “Yep. I have to thank you for that. Because I accompanied you with your work, I came up with the idea for my story. I’m still not satisfied with the contact lenses thing, but that’s something I’ll look forward to the next time.”

  “I see. The next time, we’ll just go out privately, without any work,” Honami said laughing. “Because I’ve had enough of murder.” ●

  EQMM, November 2014

  The Wolf of Fenrir

  by Paul Halter

  translated by John Pugmire

  For more than a decade the work of the great modem master of the locked-room mystery, Paid Halter, as translated by John Pugmire, has been appearing in our Passport to Crime department. Thanks to John Pugmire, who founded the publishing company Locked Room International, a number of Paid Halter’s novels are also now available in English. The ninth book brought out by Locked Room, The Picture from the Past, will be released around the same time this issue goes to subscribers.

  IN THAT COLD EVENING IN THE WINTER OF 1912, LONDON was shivering under a heavy snowfall. Installed by the fire in the company of my friend Owen Burns, I was enjoying the cosy comfort of his flat in St. James’s Square while rereading my notes on his most celebrated cases.

  While his attention was concentrated on the elegant alabaster statuettes which graced the mantelpiece, I said:

  “Do you know what strikes one the most about your cases, old friend?”

  A mischievous gleam appeared in his half-closed eyes. “As seen through the prism of your subjective and restrictive reports, I appear to be a mere thinking machine, nourished on mathematical inferences, and as cold and icy as this weather. Which is a bit rich, you have to agree, for an art critic of my stature.”

  “Really, Owen, you’re not doing me justice. I’ve never minimised your artistic sensitivity. Quite the opposite, in fact. But that’s beside the point. What I’ve always stressed is that you are well and truly the specialist of the ‘impossible.’ Every case seems incredible, and each seems more baffling than the one before.”

  “It’s possible,” he shrugged. “Also, the fact that I select them carefully might have something to do with it. Nevertheless, there’s one which, in my humble opinion, stands out above the others.”

  “Which one? ‘The Lord of Misrule?’ Or perhaps ‘The Chamber of Horus’?”

  “No. You don’t know anything about this particular hocus-pocus, because you were lazing on the Riviera at the time, in the company of a young person whom you were convinced was the love of your life. When you realised, on your return, that it was not to be, you were so crestfallen that I didn’t care to add further to your discomfort by relating this sinister story. What I can say is that it wasn’t just a simple case of a phantom murderer, such as we are used to handling.”

  “Simple phantom murderer?” I exclaimed. ‘You intrigue me, my friend. Is there a more formidable adversary than that?”

  ‘Yes, assuredly.”

  The crackling of the logs in the hearth was the only noise to be heard, as I reflected on his words. I sighed:

  “I’m afraid I don’t follow you.”

  ‘You see, Achilles, a ghost, no matter how vindictive, is basically only a manifestation of human origin. Now, the adversary in this case had nothing human about it. In fact, it has been the greatest predator of the human race since the dawn of our Helleno-Christian civilisation. Permit me to give you a hint: It has black pointed ears and long white teeth.”

  “A wolf?”

  ‘Yes, a wolf. But no ordinary wolf.”

  “I see: a werewolf!”

  Turning towards me, Owen rolled his eyes in exasperation:

  “No. Worse than that. I’m talking about the most terrifying wolf in the world, the one which haunted the frozen land of Niflheim and terrorised even the indomitable Viking warriors: the Wolf of Fenrir!”

  While I, disconcerted, saw visions of the monster of Nordic mythology flash before my eyes, Owen calmly lit a cigarette and went over to the window to contemplate the view of the city. He continued, in a soothing voice:

  “If you fancy it, I can describe the apparently inexplicable problem the way it was presented to me one frigid winter night—rather like this one, in fact. But come over here and look at our beautiful capital transformed into an ice palace, like that of the Snow Queen. That’ll put you in the mood. . . .”

  * * *

  “At the time, I also was on French soil—but not at the same latitude as you, I must point out. I was planning to pay a visit to a friend of mine who lived in the Ardennes, a region near the Belgian border famous for its rude winters. But on that particular evening, the roads were blocked by snow and I was obliged to stay at a hotel in a small town, where I was amazed to discover an old acquaintance nonchalantly ensconced at the bar. Perhaps you’ve heard me talk about Marcellus Blanchard before? No? He’s a rich eccentric, well known m racing circles, who owns a remarkable string of thoroughbreds which he regularly enters at Longchamp and Epsom—which is where I first met him. It was a great pleasure to see that bonvivant again: debonair, the right side of fifty, with carefully groomed greying hair and a perpetual gleam of amusement in his eye, as if he were unaffected by the travails of everyday life.

  “‘It’s a sign from above, my dear Owen. Your friend can well wait two or three days. You’ll be my guest for the weekend, in my own personal hunting lodge not far from here. It’s a little off the beaten track, but it doesn’t lack for creature comforts.’

  “‘That’s extremely kind of you, Marcellus, but I’ve just had a rather tiring journey and—’

  “‘That’s quite all right, you’ll have the whole night to recover. But tomorrow, before “teatime,” as you call it, I want to see you chez moi. I’ve also invited a few friends, who will be delighted to meet the greatest detective of His Majesty.’ He grinned mischievously. ‘No, I’ve a better idea: You shall be our surprise guest. I’ll challenge my other guests to guess your profession. That’ll spice up the evening. And you know I like nothing better than to surprise people.’

  “ Yes, I’m aware you have that reputation.’

  “‘Didn’t you once say that a friend who ceased to surprise you was no longer a friend?’

  “‘You leave me no way out.’

  “His grin widened:

  “‘No, since you put it that way. And, since I know you can resist everything but temptation, I may add that there’ll be a few fillies there as well.’

  “Nodding my head in agreement, I capitulated:

  “‘Coming from an expert like you, I’ve no doubt they’ll have been well broken in.’