Chapter 87: Investigation

The kitchen was best described as limited. A tanuki, Haruka, zipped between sections. The centerpiece of the kitchen was the large, blackened stove fueled by coal. The hissing steam from the train’s engine mingled with the aromatic scents of simmering stews and freshly baked bread. Shelves stacked with jars of spices and neatly labelled ingredients line the walls. Haruka was organized to the point of obsession.

Matasaburō approached the tanuki, who was stirring a steaming hot pot of curry. In the pot beside it, there was boiled rice. Kazi suddenly felt hungry.

“We have a few questions. Would you mind?” Matasaburō asked.

“Mmmm. Sure.” Haruka promptly stopped. “Danzaburou said to cooperate, so I will.”

The detective took it slow. “So your name is Haruka? You’re the head chef?”

“And the porter and the carter carrier,” Haruka added. “I do a lot of things here. Always busy, busy, busy.”

“Because Danzaburou puts you up to it?” Kazi questioned.

The white tanuki nodded like a child wanting to please a teacher. “Yes! Of course! He is my commander! Our leader! My leader!”

“A leader,” Kazi stated. “So you’re from Sado Island?”

“Sado Island,” Matasaburō repeated. “Danzaburou…does this mean this is that Danzaburou? The swindler?”

’Danzaburou,’ Kazi thought, ’one of the three great tanukis of Japan. He’s known for, well, trickery. He’s an embezzler at Sado Island; an island that he is said to lead.’

“Danzaburou is no swindler! He is honest! Kind! He always lends me money no matter how bad it gets!” Haruka looked offended. “You and Kintaro—you’re both the same! I’m telling you, Danzaburo is innocent! Innocent, I say!”

“We understand. We don’t care about that,” the detective said. “Tell me, who came in here?”

“To the kitchen? Erm…”

“This isn’t just a place of food. There are board games, correct?” Matasaburō nudged at Kazi. “This man came in here quite a few times, no?”

“Y-yes, I believe so.”

“When was the last time he came?”

“I…” Haruka glanced at Kazi and cutely crossed his arms. “I don’t know. The last time I saw him was when I was pushing the cart. We talked for a long time…”

“Right, but the kitchen,” the detective pressed. “Try to remember everyone that came in here.”

Haruka opened his mouth, then closed it. “Ummm….let me think…there was this guy, his friend with the weird hair—”

“Hugo?” Kazi muttered.

“—the old man, the pretty lady with the weird nose piercing, the girl with the monkey in her arms, the hungry girl, and…I think it’s it.”

Matasaburō put his lips into a flat line. “Descriptives, that’s all you’re giving us. Aren’t there any names?”

“It’s not like everybody introduces themselves when they come in…”

“He’s right,” Kazi said. “Plus, we’re here because of a knife. Are you missing a knife, Haruka?”

“No,” the white tanuki replied bluntly. He went from standing to all fours and walked over to the wooden knife holder. “Nothing is missing, see?”

The detective double-checked. The tanuki was correct, nothing had gone missing. He checked the trash. While full, there was nothing of note. Just food, no metal or anything remotely resembling evidence.

Drawers and shelves were double-checked. Everything was in order, it seemed. The killer, if he was here, didn’t leave a trace of his existence. Not even a fingerprint.

“Well, if nothing is missing, then is there another place to potentially get a knife?” Kazi asked.

“The storage at the very back. We have multiple of the same knife,” Haruka explained. “Oh, but be warned: there’s a lot of stuff back there. It might take you a while to find. Even I don’t know where it might be.”

“That means the killer must have spent quite a lot of time in the back,” Matasaburō said. “It’s also possible we can limit our suspects to those in the middle class.”

“Except nobody sat in the middle class compartments.” Kazi crossed his arms and let his fingers drum on his bicep. “The closest were those in the dining area: Pauline Lannes de Montebello, Emma, Samuel, Leon, Marisol Isabel Carolina de la Rosa, Jules, Matty, Nash, Tony, Asher Trent, and Ari.”

“How could you possibly know that?”

Kazi tapped his temple. “When Asher came, I ran, and when I ran I kept track of every head I saw. But, to be frank, it’s pretty meaningless.”

“Why….” The light bulbs started to flicker. “Ah. The Seikan railway tunnel. There was total darkness for quite some time. Anybody could have moved anywhere. Timing wise…it might be likely that the killing happened then.”

“And even likelier that the killer was aware of the tunnel and its length. He knew it would be the perfect time to strike.”

“A guess based on circumstantial evidence, but I don’t believe you’re wrong. It lines up too well.” Matasaburō walked away. Kazi followed. “You’re better acclimated to Japan’s geography than me. Do you have a guess as to how long it would take for us to reach our destination?”

“We’re moving at a pretty slow pace,” Kazi stated. “I think we’re past Hakodate. So five hours is my guess.”

The detective increased his pace. “Five hours. Good enough.”

Going past the crowd of people in the middle-class compartment, Kazi asked, “Will we interrogate at the end?”

“Yes. Evidence first, testimonies later. This isn’t some formal trial or investigation. We have to look at it objectively before we hear the pleads,” Matasaburō replied.

“So cool.” Kazi grinned. “I always wanted to be a detective.”

“You’re not.”

“But for today—”

“No.”

Along the way, Kazi saw Sun-young and William. The teen didn’t know why but understood that Sun-young was gravely injured and that he needed to watch over her. No one could know, otherwise she’d immediately be labelled a suspect.

“It’s possible she attacked and Tony retaliated—”

He could already imagine the line of reasoning. That was why Kazi was so insistent on gaining the detective’s trust. He needed allies, not for himself, but for Sun-young too.

Nash was still inside the bathroom, with Noor carefully watching. Good. The body wasn’t disturbed. There were no cameras in the White Abyss that were of sufficient quality to capture the scene.

The doors between the storage compartments were hard to open. On top of that, when they did come in, there was total darkness. No light was supplied to the area.

Kazi lifted a finger and summoned a string of flames, illuminating everything. The walls were lined with wooden shelves housing an array of items essential for the train’s journey. Wooden crates, secured with ropes and straps, were stacked neatly to the ceiling, each labelled with its contents, ranging from spare parts for the train to provisions for the crew and passengers.

Barrels of water and fuel were secured in one corner. At the other corner were sacks of coal and wood, a continuous supply for the locomotive’s hungry fires.

Matasaburō started to search the shelves. He gestured for Kazi to come close with his flames.

“It’s a mess,” Kazi noted. The knives were just sprawled and dirty.

“A mess that we can use,” said the detective. He took one of the knives and nodded. “Bingo. Do you see it?”

“It’s…clean. No dust.” Kazi brought the flame over to the neighbouring knives. All dusty and all dull. “Huh. Those ones are dull too…”

“While this one is sharp. The killer must have used this knife for something.” Matasaburō went over to the door. “Let’s go. Onto the last compartment. Whoever this killer is, they left very little evidence. However, unless they’re also a fire user, it must have been difficult to navigate through the storage compartment.”

“Agreed.”

The second storage compartment, the final compartment of the train, was as dark as its predecessor. It was empty—empty save for the cleaning supplies. Sturdy mops to the side, buckets filled to the brim with water, and wet mops. Recently used wet mops.

Hm.

At the back, alone, sat a weathered wooden chest. Its brass latch glinted faintly in the subdued light filtering through the small window of the door directly behind it.

Etched upon the chest’s surface were faded initials—A.T.

Matasaburō knelt down, his fingers skimming the edges. “It’s safe,” he murmured. With no lock and a creek, the latch yielded to a weak tug.

“What the hell—!?” Matasaburō jerked back and nearly fell down. The nauseous scent overwhelmed him.

The chest was full of red water, dirt and clouded. Deep inside, as the light on his finger came closer, Kazi saw it.

Floating on the surface was a beating human heart.

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