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The Noh Mask Murder

E-BookEPUBePub WasserzeichenE-Book
224 Seiten
Englisch
Pushkin Vertigoerschienen am04.04.2024
A gruesome Japanese murder mystery from the author of The Tattoo Murder __________ *** Praise for The Tattoo Murder *** 'Like voyeurs, we follow Takagi down the charred streets of bombed-out Tokyo to scenes of fastidiously executed decadence' New York Times 'This lurid mystery provides a fascinating portrait of wartorn Tokyo' The Times Crime Club, Pick of the Week 'An engaging journey into a Tokyo ravaged by war and its criminal underworld... Crackles with the energy that made Takagi one of Japan's most popular crime authors' Financial Times __________ Strange things are happening in the Chizurui mansion... At night, a figure clad in a Hannya mask is spotted wandering around the house. The amateur crime fiction writer, Akimitsu Takagi, is sent to investigate, but then tragedy strikes. The head of the Chizurui family is found dead inside his study, locked from the inside, with only a Hannya mask and the scent of jasmine as clues to his mysterious death. As Takagi delves deeper into the case, can he discover the link between the family and the curse of the Hannya mask? Who was the person who called the undertaker and asked for three coffins? And how many buried secrets lie behind the inexplicable murder? The Noh Mask Murder is a gripping masterpiece of a locked-room mystery written by one of Japan's most celebrated crime writers.

AKIMITSU TAKAGI was born in Japan in 1920 and went on to work as an aeronautical engineer until the end of the Second World War. He later decided to become a mystery writer on the recommendation of a fortune teller. He went on to become one of the country's most popular crime authors. The Noh Mask Murder won the prestigious Mystery Writers Club Award and is considered one of the great classic Japanese whodunits. Takagi's debut, The Tattoo Murder, is also available from Pushkin Vertigo.mehr
Verfügbare Formate
TaschenbuchKartoniert, Paperback
EUR13,00
E-BookEPUBePub WasserzeichenE-Book
EUR8,39

Produkt

KlappentextA gruesome Japanese murder mystery from the author of The Tattoo Murder __________ *** Praise for The Tattoo Murder *** 'Like voyeurs, we follow Takagi down the charred streets of bombed-out Tokyo to scenes of fastidiously executed decadence' New York Times 'This lurid mystery provides a fascinating portrait of wartorn Tokyo' The Times Crime Club, Pick of the Week 'An engaging journey into a Tokyo ravaged by war and its criminal underworld... Crackles with the energy that made Takagi one of Japan's most popular crime authors' Financial Times __________ Strange things are happening in the Chizurui mansion... At night, a figure clad in a Hannya mask is spotted wandering around the house. The amateur crime fiction writer, Akimitsu Takagi, is sent to investigate, but then tragedy strikes. The head of the Chizurui family is found dead inside his study, locked from the inside, with only a Hannya mask and the scent of jasmine as clues to his mysterious death. As Takagi delves deeper into the case, can he discover the link between the family and the curse of the Hannya mask? Who was the person who called the undertaker and asked for three coffins? And how many buried secrets lie behind the inexplicable murder? The Noh Mask Murder is a gripping masterpiece of a locked-room mystery written by one of Japan's most celebrated crime writers.

AKIMITSU TAKAGI was born in Japan in 1920 and went on to work as an aeronautical engineer until the end of the Second World War. He later decided to become a mystery writer on the recommendation of a fortune teller. He went on to become one of the country's most popular crime authors. The Noh Mask Murder won the prestigious Mystery Writers Club Award and is considered one of the great classic Japanese whodunits. Takagi's debut, The Tattoo Murder, is also available from Pushkin Vertigo.
Details
Weitere ISBN/GTIN9781782279662
ProduktartE-Book
EinbandartE-Book
FormatEPUB
Format HinweisePub Wasserzeichen
FormatE101
Erscheinungsjahr2024
Erscheinungsdatum04.04.2024
Seiten224 Seiten
SpracheEnglisch
Dateigrösse1184 Kbytes
Artikel-Nr.14286972
Rubriken
Genre9201

Inhalt/Kritik

Leseprobe




1
An Uncanny Encounter on a Moonlit Night

(Hiroyuki Ishikari´s letter)


Mr Takagi, it is already three months since you left the Chizui murder case in our hands and departed for Tokyo. Shortly after you left, the incident reached its cruel denouement. And with it, the tragedy of the Chizui family finally came to an end.

I feel I have a duty, to you at least, to reveal the truth behind that tragedy. Your friend, Koichi Yanagi, put his very life on the line trying to uncover the machinations of that monstrous criminal, and I believe this journal of his will provide you with an unforgettable record of those events.

When you left us, you told me that Koichi´s journal could form the basis for a new type of detective novel, unprecedented anywhere in the world. Personally, I would rather you read it simply as the record of one man´s blood and tears.

For an engineer, you turned out to be a surprisingly compassionate individual. This might sound a little impertinent, but I must confess a degree of jealousy regarding your ability to depart so abruptly from the Chizui mansion. You see, in my thirty years as a public prosecutor, my world has been governed by two things: crime, and the law. My task has been to divide human behaviour into categories that are black and white, and I have never been permitted to venture into the grey between. Four divided by two has always equalled two; to me, no other solution has ever been possible.

Even my colleagues call me a walking statute book; some liken me to a block of ice. Most other prosecutors allow some degree of personal emotion to creep into their application of the law. On occasion they apply their own discretion, and while the result may not always be some terrible upheaval of the social order, experience has shown me it never ends well. If I allowed my conscience to sway my application of the law even just once, I would feel obliged to resign from my role.

Of course, there´s a reason I ended up this way. Thirty years ago, at this resort close to the town of H- on the Miura peninsula in Kanagawa prefecture, I fell in love with an exceedingly beautiful young woman. Her dewy skin, her glossy black hair, her tall, almost Grecian nose and her dark, dreamy eyes all seared themselves into the depths of my mind, where they have remained ever since. If our love had only reached a happier conclusion, I would never have spent the past three decades withering away like this-a single, ageing man so immersed in the law as to be barely even human.

But cruel fate wrenched us apart. After that one dreamlike and blissful summer, she slipped from my grasp forever. When I heard she was engaged to another man, I cried-cursing the world, cursing her. I endured many a sleepless night. At one point, I even contemplated killing both her and myself. But once my agitation and anguish had died down, I arrived at a sort of bitter resignation. The job of public prosecutor which awaited me came to seem like my one true calling. Still, the pain I´d experienced left a scar on my heart-one which I fear may never heal. Indeed, in the three decades since, I have never even experienced so much as another woman´s rejection.

Mr Takagi, I wonder if you can understand how I felt upon being told I was being transferred to the public prosecutors´ office in Yokohama, not far from the resort in question.

I am convinced that for every individual there is a place to which, no matter how much they might try to avoid it, they cannot help returning-a sort of spiritual home, if you like. Personally, this stretch of coast was the sacred site which I have never been able to forget. And, by a twist of fate, it was here that I became entangled in the bizarre case of the Chizui family murders, which marked the end of my thirty-year career as a prosecutor.

It was a humid evening in late August when, drawn to the beach by some mysterious force, I happened to stumble across Koichi Yanagi, the son of my departed friend, Genichiro.

That evening, grey thunderclouds towered on the horizon. No sooner had a damp gust of wind whistled past my cheeks than great drops of rain began thudding into the parched surface of the beach like a volley of pebbles, each leaving a black mark in its wake-then, moments later, they were violently pelting the roof of the small reed-walled hut where I had taken shelter. The horizon was soon shrouded in fog, and the four or five boats moored along the beach looked lonely and bereft in the downpour.

The storm kept up for around an hour. When the sky abruptly cleared and I finally left the hut, I was confronted by a breathtaking sight: an enormous double rainbow, arching in iridescent splendour across the heavens.

Most people will only see a handful of perfect double rainbows in their lifetime. As it happened, I had seen another one thirty years ago on this very beach, while I held that first love of mine in my arms. At the time, this rare phenomenon had seemed like some manifestation of a heavenly will, blessing our relationship and assuring our future happiness. With tears welling in our eyes, we had gazed wordlessly up at the sky.

I found myself walking along the rain-soaked shore in vague yet stubborn pursuit of the rainbow. Eventually, I cut across the sands and through a grove of red pines, until I found myself at the top of a sheer cliff overlooking the beach, where I stood gazing at the rainbows for what felt like an age. It was as though something inside me had finally given way; all the turbulent emotions I had spent the past three decades trying to repress came welling up in my chest. Before I knew it, warm tears were trickling down my cheeks.

But of course, rainbows are fleeting things. Before long, those glorious arcs had dissolved into the grey evening sky without a trace. It was only then that I came to my senses and, with a deep sigh, began to take in my surroundings.

Thirty years ago, there had been nothing here except pine trees, but at some point a patch had been cleared to make way for a stately Western-style mansion. Its grey walls had been darkened by years of exposure to the sea wind; and a pair of iron shutters, red with rust, guarded each of its windows, giving the entire building a vaguely brooding and secretive aspect. Houses have their own personalities. Or, at the very least, a house and its inhabitants cannot escape each other´s mutual influence over their many years in each other´s company. In which case, I thought to myself-who on earth might live in a mansion like this?

I approached the gate and peered at the plain wooden sign embedded in one of the crumbling red-brick gateposts. It bore the following name:


TAIJIRO CHIZUI


Chizui was not a common surname. In fact ...

Just then, I heard footsteps approaching and turned around to find two large dark eyes staring at me. They belonged to a young man, perhaps thirty years of age. How could I have forgotten that broad, intelligent brow-or those melancholic yet resolute lips?

Koichi, my boy!´

Mr Ishikari!´

We spoke at almost the same instant.

His father, Genichiro, and I had been inseparable during our schooldays. And when Koichi was younger he, too, had often come over to my house after his classes, still wearing his black school cap with its distinctive white stripes. But all that was more than a decade ago. As fate would have it, his father had perished on the North Manchurian plains in the war, having taken poison to avoid capture. The young man standing before me was his only descendant.

At such moments we are apt to become sentimental. Unable to quell the sensation that I had somehow been reunited with Genichiro, I smiled in a bid to disguise the tears in my eyes.

It´s been rather a while, hasn´t it?´ said Koichi. I was repatriated from Burma not long ago. I´m sorry not to have been in touch. Where are you living these days, may I ask?´

I was recently transferred to the Yokohama office. My house is on the outskirts of the city-not too far from here. What about you?´

When I returned to Japan I was jobless and had nowhere to go. The Chizui family have been kind enough to let me live here with them. In exchange, I´ve been producing saccharin and dulcin in their laboratory for them to use as sweeteners.´

Really? I´d never have imagined you´d be living here, of all places ...´

Perhaps these words of mine were not quite appropriate, or perhaps he was simply alarmed by the sudden excitement in my voice; whatever the reason, Koichi seemed rather taken aback.

Is it so surprising?´

Well, it´s just I was reading the sign here just now, and the name reminded me of the Professor Chizui who died ten years ago. After all, Chizui isn´t a very common surname, is it?´

Ah, you knew of the Professor? Yes, this was his country retreat. When I was in high school, he was kind enough to act as my guarantor. That was what gave me the idea of coming here when I got back from the war.´

I see...

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Autor

AKIMITSU TAKAGI was born in Japan in 1920 and went on to work as an aeronautical engineer until the end of the Second World War. He later decided to become a mystery writer on the recommendation of a fortune teller. He went on to become one of the country's most popular crime authors. The Noh Mask Murder won the prestigious Mystery Writers Club Award and is considered one of the great classic Japanese whodunits. Takagi's debut, The Tattoo Murder, is also available from Pushkin Vertigo.