‘So I’m wrong.’
‘Of course you are.’
‘Hmm.’
Shimada stood up from the rattan chair and moved to a seat next to Kawaminami. Kōjirō, still angry, crossed his arms. Shimada’s eyes stayed fixed on him, as he continued:
‘I know it’s an insulting question. You’re angry, of course. But Kō, I need to know. Chiori was your and Kazue’s daughter, wasn’t she?’
‘That’s enough of your nonsense. Where’s your evidence?’
‘I don’t have any evidence. But all sort of facts are whispering it to me.’
‘Stop it.’
‘I went to Ajimu with Conan here two days ago. To meet with the wife of the missing Yoshikawa Sei’ichi.’
‘Yoshikawa’s wife? What for?’
‘Those threatening letters urged us to find out more about the incident that happened on Tsunojima last year. And the conclusion we finally arrived at, is that Nakamura Seiji is still alive and the one behind it all.’
‘Impossible. My brother is dead. I saw the body.’
‘A completely burnt body, I think?’
‘Yes.’
‘That was Yoshikawa Sei’ichi’s body. Seiji was the real murderer and, after he had killed Kazue and the Kitamura couple, he burnt Yoshikawa’s body to serve as his own body double. Seiji’s still alive.’
‘You’re as imaginative as always. And I guess it was this imagination of yours that linked me with my sister-in-law?’
‘Yes.’ Shimada continued without reservation:
‘Supposing Seiji was the murderer, what could it have been that drove him into committing those murders? You once told me, Kō, that your brother loved Kazue passionately, but his fixation on her was not normal. You said that the real reason he had withdrawn to the island at such a young age was that he wanted to keep Kazue all for himself, that he wanted to keep her on the island. For him to kill the wife he loved so much, there’s only one motive I can think of: jealousy.’
‘But why jump to the conclusion that my sister-in-law and I had an affair?’
‘Yoshikawa’s wife told us that Seiji didn’t love his daughter all that much. But it’s a fact he loved Kazue very passionately. So why didn’t he love Chiori, his and Kazue’s fruit? It’s a contradiction. Isn’t that evidence that Seiji at least suspected he wasn’t Chiori’s father?’
‘My brother could be a bit strange.’
‘Even if he was strange, he was still a person who loved his wife. There had to be a reason for him not to love the daughter his wife bore him,’ said Shimada decisively and continued:
‘And so, if we assume this hypothesis to be true, then who is Chiori’s real father? Several facts point to you, Kō. A young man who could come in contact with Kazue even though she was confined to the island. And there’s the fact you and your brother had a falling out around the time of Chiori’s birth….’
‘You’re completely wrong. I’ve had enough of you, Shimada. I deny everything. Nothing like that ever happened,’ said Kōjirō angrily, as he removed his horn-rimmed glasses. ‘And I’ll say this again: my brother isn’t alive. He’s dead. And I have nothing to do with that case.’
Kōjirō said this resolutely, but his eyes avoided Shimada’s gaze and the hand on his knee was trembling lightly.
‘Then I have one more thing to ask you, Kō,’ said Shimada.
‘On September 19th of last year, the day before the Blue Mansion went up in flames—do you remember? You called me to have a drink, even though you hardly ever touch alcohol. We went from one bar to another and you became dead drunk. To me, you appeared to be a man trying to drink away his pain.’
‘So? What are you trying to say?’
‘You were completely drunk and finally, you started to cry. You probably don’t remember anymore. I got you back home, and we both fell asleep on these sofas here. Kō, you were muttering as you cried: “Kazue, forgive me, forgive me,” over and over.’
‘No….’
The colour in Kōjirō’s face changed visibly. Shimada didn’t stop.
‘I didn’t think too much of it at the time. I’d had quite a few drinks myself. And even after I learned about what happened on Tsunojima, I didn’t immediately think back to that night because I was involved with something troublesome of my own at the time. But now that I do look back….’
Shimada sighed heavily once again.
‘Kō, on the night of September 19th, you already knew that something had happened on Tsunojima.’
‘But how.…’
Kōjirō turned away from Shimada’s gaze.
‘How could I have known something like that?’
‘The murderer himself, Seiji, told you.’
Shimada’s intense gaze remained fixed on Kōjirō.
‘Kazue’s body was missing the left hand. Seiji had cut it off. I think he sent the cut off hand to you, Kō. You probably received her hand on the 19th. You couldn’t call the police because you were afraid of scandal, so you tried to drink everything away.’
‘I, I….’
‘I don’t know the details about how you and Kazue found each other. I don’t need to know. Even if you two were the reason Seiji went mad, I don’t think anyone has the right to blame you. But Kō, if you had called the police on the 19th, the lives of the Kitamura couple and Yoshikawa might have been saved. Your silence that day was a crime.’
‘A crime?’ muttered Kōjirō and he suddenly stood up.
‘Kō.’
‘It’s okay, Shimada, I’ve had enough.’
Kōjirō turned away from Shimada’s gaze and walked to the veranda with dull, lifeless steps.
‘That over there,’ he said and he pointed at the wisteria pavilion in the garden, ‘I planted that the year Chiori was born.’