As Shiroshi said, the puddle of “blood” on the ground was a red wine stain. Fragments of broken glass glinted in the light of the chandelier.
A little ways away, the wine rack had been dragged off its small table and dashed to the floor.
That earlier scream seemed to have been Ms. Nomura’s. Her trembling lips parted. “M-Miss Unoki said she wanted to lie down for a while, so I helped her to her room; I was on my way back to the lounge car when I saw Mr. Ishizuka trying to steal a bottle from the wine rack.”
Ah. An alcoholic like Ishizuka must have felt this situation called for a drink. That said, he couldn’t simply order wine or whiskey from Takamura, so out of desperation, he’d gone for the wine rack in the dining car.
…But why had he destroyed it?
“I—I don’t know,” said Ms. Nomura. “I really don’t know. All of a sudden, he grabbed a bottle from the wine rack and started hitting the record player with it.”
“…The record player?”
When they looked closer, the bottle was coming down on the player’s acrylic case. Inside the case, the record kept spinning indifferently.
“I-it’s really sturdy,” said Seiji.
“…Is that relevant right now?” asked Tosu.
“Actually, yes, it is. If it can take a beating like that without moving in the slightest, it must have been secured to the table in such a way that the record can’t be stopped, no matter what. And—” Shiroshi narrowed his eyes in a feline way. “I believe that record is the cause of Ishizuka’s state.”
“Wh-what do you mean?”
“He berated Takamura in an attempt to make him stop the record player during dinner as well. The same song was playing then.”
“Huh?”
When Seiji strained his ears, he heard a whisper-soft piano melody. He’d never had much to do with classical music, but there was a curious nostalgia about this piece that seemed to stir distant memories, even in him.
“Is that Schubert’s ‘Wiegenlied’?” Ms. Nomura suggested. “I remember learning it in music class. ‘Sleep, sleep, on thy mother’s breast…’”
She began awkwardly singing the opening stanza but abruptly broke off. Ishizuka had wheeled around to face them.
There wasn’t a trace of sanity in his expression. The yellowed whites of his eyes were bloodshot, and there was foam at the corners of his snarling lips.
O-oh crud!
A chill ran through Seiji. On reflex, he stepped forward to shield Ms. Nomura, but…
“Mr. Ishizuka.”
He heard a voice—and then Ishizuka was lying on the floor. Tosu had slipped behind him and twisted his dominant hand up, pinning him.
“Y-you’re pretty tough, huh?”
“…Not important; would you take his weapon? Soon would be good.”
Wh-whoops. Tosu was glaring at him. Kneeling quickly, Seiji managed to pry the bottle out of Ishizuka’s hand as the man thrashed around.
“Dammit, damn you, you useless lunks!” Ishizuka’s lips were twisted in pain, and his howl sounded like a curse. “What are you doing?! If you’re going to shut someone up, make it her. It’s all her fault! Argh, dammit, shut up! Can’t you hear that, you fools?! Hurry and shut that woman up! You good-for-nothings! If you’re going to mock me, die! Die, and do it right!”
Ms. Nomura gave a little shriek. She probably thought “that woman” meant her. After all, she was the only woman present.
Does it really, though?
Seiji had seen Ishizuka’s eyes, and now he wasn’t sure. The man wasn’t looking at Ms. Nomura. His gaze was focused on empty space, on someone who wasn’t there.
“Is ‘that woman’…your wife?” Tosu asked casually.
An ear-piercing scream went up. Thrashing far harder than anyone had thought he could, Ishizuka finally broke free of Tosu’s grip, then snatched up a shard of glass from the carpet.
Look out! Seiji thought—but no.
The man took off, sprinting to the door at the back of the car, and disappeared.
A little while later…
“It looks as if he intends to barricade himself inside his compartment,” Shiroshi said. He and Tosu had given up their pursuit of Ishizuka and returned to the lounge car.
Frankly, Seiji felt a little weak with relief, but… “Um… Are you sure we don’t need to bring him back? In a situation like this, holing up in his room seems like a pretty clear death flag.”
“Well, not necessarily. Besides, dragging him back would put us in danger. Actually—” Tosu broke off, coughing painfully. “Sorry; I may be coming down with a cold. Anyway, I think we should take a cue from him and go back to our rooms. They’ve all got toilets and showers, so it won’t be inconvenient.”
“N-no, we couldn’t do that. Wouldn’t that be playing into the killer’s hands?”
After all, the killer was one of the passengers. If they started going around separately, they wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on one another, leaving the killer free to do whatever they wanted. Or so Seiji thought, but…
“The thing is, when I first went into the lounge car, that smoke machine was already there. If the executioner boarded before the rest of us and set it up—then there may be other tricks all over the train.”
Something Takamura had said surfaced in Seiji’s mind.
“Nothing was done to any of your rooms. You may relax and make yourselves at home there.”
Had he meant that things had been done to the areas outside their rooms?
“Each of you should lock up tight,” said Tosu. “Even if you hear a scream or a shout, don’t leave your compartment. If anything happens, call me immediately on your room telephone; I’ll do the same.” Then he looked at Ms. Nomura, who was stealing uneasy glances toward the door at the back of the car. “I’m concerned about what Ishizuka may do as well, though, so I’ll patrol the corridor every thirty minutes.”
“…Huh? What, by yourself?”
“Yeah. But even if you hear me scream outside your door, I don’t want you opening it up, no matter what.”
No, come on, that’s ridiculous!
“I-if we’re going to patrol, then I should be the one who does it! I confessed, so I should be harder to kill!”
“I really doubt you’re strong enough to take on even a drunk in a fight.”
“Me and Shiroshi together, then!”
“…Fine. You two and me. For now, let’s trade off every hour.”
Once they’d covered Kaganuma’s body with a tablecloth, they walked Ms. Nomura back to Room 301, then dispersed. Tosu said he’d call Mao, who was resting in Room 601, and fill her in later.
Will this be okay?
The sight of Kaganuma’s dead body rose in the back of Seiji’s mind, and he tried not to see it. When he touched the envelope in his jacket pocket, it was as cold as a corpse.
Just as they were closing their compartment door, Seiji heard the faint sound of the grandfather clock chiming the hour.
Midnight. Six hours remained until dawn.
Imagining an ominous countdown, Seiji shuddered. Behind him, the door shut with a decisive click.
Six people left.