Chapter 89: The Trial on the Train

The hour of the trial was upon them. Evidence was collected and less than three hours remained before they arrived at the final stop: Sapporo Station. Less than three hours to catch the killer and solve the mystery.

The luxurious dining car of the train had been transformed into an impromptu courtroom. Tables were pushed aside, making room for makeshift seating. The players gathered around, some sitting and some standing, forming a semi-circle as the bar counter served as the jury’s bench.

A jury, mind you, consisting of tanukis. Danzaburou the conductor, Momoji the brakemen, Kintaro the bartender, and Haruka the chef, porter, and cart mover.

William sat between Sun-young and John. Tensions were high.

“They sure are taking their sweet time,” said Leon, his arms in a cross as he stretched. “Can’t we get started without them?”

“Nope! One of them is a trustworthy detective. We need them,” Danzaburou said. “Also, whose idea was this? It’s great, actually. Kudos to you, good sir!”

Booker lazily put his hand up. “It was me. Do I get a reward?”

“No, but you get my everlasting appreciation.”

“That’s raccoon-voluted,” Booker replied.

“Please, shut up.” The door from the left opened and the red raccoon grinned. “They’re here.”

“We are here.” Kazi acted as if he were some celebrity coming in. “Not all at once.”

William winced. Nobody seemed to be appreciating his crowd work. Plus, there was the matter of Paul. Where was he? He wasn’t with them and he wasn’t anywhere on the train. Ksenia had searched at least twenty times, he just wasn’t here.

The tension boiled until Booker threw out, “It’s a tough crowd.”

“Fair enough,” Kazi said, looking around. He seemed to be searching for something. Either he found it or didn’t deem it important because he smiled at the jury line-up. “Woah. This is a surprise.”

“Expect the unexpected,” came the deep voice of Kintaro. “Regardless, everyone has gathered. It is time.”

Danzaburo took the lead, standing up on his two legs. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming! As unfortunate as it may be, we find ourselves amidst a most perplexing situation—a murder has taken place aboard this train! The murder of Tony Romano, who died by a stab to the heart! A single stab, as confirmed by our resident detective, Matasaburō Watanabe.”

The detective confirmed with a nod. Arms crossed, Nash grimaced.

’At least it was a single stab,’ William thought, trying to find the positives, however few there were.

“So,” Danzaburo continued, “we have gathered to seek justice and uncover the truth. Our task is to examine the evidence, listen to testimony, and reach a fair verdict.” He gestured to the table in the very middle of the circle. Various items were laid out—a bloody knife, a torn piece of black fabric, a chess box, a bottle of alcohol and a bottle of hair dye.

“Whatever evidence you may have on hand, please place it in the neutral zone. Everyone can see, everyone can go up and analyze it—”

Haruku cut off the instant Danzaburo paused to breathe. “But be super duper careful. We don’t want to break something and lose a piece of evidence and lose the truth!”

“Yes, that.”

Kazi and Detective Matasaburō came over and placed three things: a treasure chest that oozed with a foul smell, another kitchen knife, and rope ripped at the end.

“Huh.” Kazi blinked, looking over the evidence. “That’s…a lot of stuff.”

William barely caught it but he swore Detective Matasaburō murmured, “Almost too much.”

Kintaro took over, his voice borderline terrifying, “Twenty-two individuals, each with their stories and alibis, are present. Among us lies the key to unraveling this mystery. Now, let us begin.”

William predicted silence. Nobody knew what to say or how to say. A murder? A trial? It was something straight out of fiction.

“Let’s start with a timeline of things,” Detective Matasaburō began. “Does anyone have a pen and paper?”

“I do.” Ari the idol confidently brought up her hand and nodded. “Do you want me to write the timeline as we discuss?”

“That would be wonderful,” the detective said. “Our murder likely occurred five hours ago. I just checked the body and the stiffness of muscle hasn’t spread to the limbs yet. Therefore, we can confidently say it hasn’t been dead for longer than six hours.”

“So?” The woman that questioned the detective had the longest name William had ever seen: Marisol Isabel Carolina de la Rosa. “What do muscles have to do with dead bodies?”

The detective opened his mouth. Kazi was faster though. “Hey, I know you! You’re Mica, the Spanish footballer! Wow! I would ask for an autograph, but, uh, congrats on the world cup win!”

Mico wore an awkward smile. Detective Matasaburō scowled and answered her question, “Rigor mortis is, to put simply, locks muscles in place because there is nothing to receive. I can’t give you a scientific answer if that’s what you’re looking for. I’m a detective, not a forensics man.”

“I can though!” Ari wore a bright smile. “The supply of oxygen to the cells stops, and the body’s energy production ceases. As a result, a chemical called adenosine triphosphate, which is necessary for muscle contraction, stops production. But rigor mortis disappears after twelve hours. I hope that makes sense.” The idol received her fair share of looks. William didn’t want to be mean but he gave her a look too. “Hey, I went to school too, you know!”

“Okay, that makes sense, I think.” Mico nodded at her appreciatively.

“On top of that, there’s liver mortis, which cannot be seen until two hours at least. The main point is that the murder likely occurred during the blackout. During the twenty or so minutes we were going through the Seikan Tunnel.” Detective Matasaburō started to look around. “Any objections?”

None.

“Okay, moving on. Kazi and I have already gotten a guess of where almost everyone was shortly before the body was found. Please, take a look.”

Detective Matasaburō took a long sheet of paper detailing a basic schematic of the train and its compartments, along with the list of people in each. There were two areas specifically that were loaded with names: the dining area with Pauline Lannes de Montebello, Emma, Samuel, Leon, Marisol Isabel Carolina de la Rosa, Dariush, Noor, and Lala. Then the fourth compartment with Kazi Hossain, William Martin, Yoon Sun-young, John Smith, Hugo Sánchez, Booker Davis Jr, Matasaburō Watanabe and Ksenia Stárová.

Seven names were missing from the illustration: Paul, Jules, Matty, Nash, Tony, Asher Trent, and Ari.

“Please confirm where you were shortly before the killing.”

“I was looking out the window at the first compartment,” Nash answered. He glanced over at Ari. “That chick was there, and there was definitely the girl with the cat and her boytoy.”

Jules was seated, a kitten on her lap. Her hair done in a stunning box braid updo and her lips set in a flat line, she was the epitome of undisturbed. Peaceful, as she pet the black cat.

The boytoy beside her, Matty, snarled. “Shut the hell up, you piece of shit. You were bothering us, so I just shut you up.”

“Simp,” Nash shot back, smirking.

“Enough.” Detective Matasaburō smacked the table. A scoff from Nash, followed by silence. “Asher?”

“Me? Uhhh…I think I was talking to Danzaburou,” Asher replied.

“No, you weren’t,” Danzaburou rebutted.

“Uh, I’m pretty sure I was.”

The tanuki tilted his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Puzzled gazes fell on him. Asher blinked and waved his hands to protest. “Woah, woah, woah! I was there! I was! I dunno if that raccoon has short-term memory loss but I was definitely there.”

“Yet the jury corroborates otherwise,” the detective said. William had to agree; that was suspicious.

Asher shook his head, laughing and chuckling. “Woah, woah, woah! Hold on, I’m a streamer! Why would I kill some dude?”

“Does this look like the streaming world?” Nash asked. “Maybe you’re a monster or maybe you were given a special objective to kill a player. Who the hell knows? Motive is irrelevant here.”

“His point stands,” said Danzaburou, smiling. “How do you respond, Asher?”

“I—”

“I have something else to add.” Dariush stood from his seat and walked to the jury. He gave them a bow and elaborated, “There was a message behind Tony’s arm. A message, I believe. It said, and Noor can confirm, ’Death is nice – AT’. Tell me, Asher, what is your last name? No, rather, why have you hidden it?”

[ Name: Asher

Level: ?

Class: Amateur Knifeman ]

“W-what? This is ridiculous! It’s not me!”

“Answer the question, defendant.” Danzaburou snapped his fingers. “What’s your last name? Come on, say it. You are innocent, right?”

“It’s…” Asher’s long neck bobbed. “…Asher Trent.”

Mutters spread like wildfire. Asher shut his eyes and mouth.

“Well, well, well.” Danzaburou put his hands on his sides. “Can we confirm that Mr. Asher Trent went to the kitchen? Haruka?”

“Oh, yes, he was definitely there. He asked a lot about the food,” Haruka said.

“Therefore, he could have gotten the kitchen knife,” the detective said. “For those of you that don’t know, the weapon lodged inside Tony’s heart was a kitchen knife. The same type that Haruka keeps in the kitchen. The same place where he keeps them.”

The tanukis talked amongst themselves. The players did the same. William leaned over to Sun-young. “Honestly? That’s pretty decisive.”

She didn’t look like she cared all that much. A deeper emotion clouded her eyes. “Maybe.”

“No confirmed time of place shortly before the murder, circumstantial evidence pointing to his identity, possible method to gain weapon.” Kintaro nodded. “I believe we have our first suspect.”

Begrudgingly, William agreed. There was something off about Asher. He could just feel it.

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