Murder at the Tokyo Lawn & Tennis Club - Robert J. Collins

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foreigner.

      "We think so," answered Morimoto. "He was... shocked by discovering the, ah, sad problem."

      Shig Manabe's body, formerly housing one of the nicest guys in the world, had now sunk completely under water. Only the toes stuck up above the crimson fluid. The court manager, who had greeted Kawamura on the steps outside the club, had managed to remove his necktie and beat the entourage to the bath area. He was now demonstrating his commitment to things by vigorously flourishing a mop around the floor.

      "We think he slipped and cracked his head," explained Morimoto, as Kawamura studied the scene. "And that's why..."

      "Tell him to stop that," said Kawamura abruptly. The court manager, not comfortable with outsiders giving directions, paused in his mopping chores and looked at the club president.

      "Stop that," confirmed Morimoto.

      "Has anybody touched anything here?" asked Kawamura.

      The locker room denizens mumbled noncommittally.

      "I touched the mop," replied the court manager after a moment. He had been spreading pink puddles around the floor next to the bath.

      "Anything else?" asked Kawamura.

      "Well," considered the court manager thoughtfully, "maybe just the towel." The court manager indicated a pile of obviously clean towels stacked neatly on a cabinet. "Shig, er, Manabe-san hadn't used his yet, and we're supposed to reduce the expense for laundry..." The court manager's comments trailed off.

      Kawamura looked down at the body in the bath.

      "We called an ambulance," explained Morimoto, "even before we called you. For some reason..."

      "It's outside, still... stuck in traffic," said Kawamura interrupting. "Are you certain nothing else has been touched?"

      No one answered.

      "Sometimes the footing in the bath, getting in and out, can be dangerous. Particularly when..."

      President Morimoto's remarks were interrupted by the still-naked foreigner.

      "I think there was a tennis racket on the floor. Next to the bath. At least, that's what I remember."

      "A tennis racket?" Kawamura repeated, using the English pronunciation.

      "Oh, that," said the court manager. "I gave it to

      "Me," said a young man wearing a white shirt, polka-dot necktie, blue blazer, boxer shorts with red dots, calf-length socks, and no trousers. "And I gave it to..."

      "Me," said a very tan, middle-aged man wearing jockey shorts and a spectacular bandage on his elbow. "And I gave it to..."

      "Me," said a dapper man wearing a cravat under his paisley shirt. "And I gave it to..."

      "Me," said a gray-haired gentleman—the other half of the now defunct Silver Foxes. "And I put it back in the rack where tennis rackets belong. Water ruins the gut strings."

      Kawamura stared at the group surrounding him. A basic precept taught in all courses on detection dictated that private feelings and personal emotions had no place in the analytical process. Kawamura turned to his assistant, Suzuki-san.

      "Get the damn racket, be careful with it, and seal it."

      "What could be so important about the racket?" asked Morimoto. "Slipping in the bath..."

      "I have no idea what's important about the racket," answered Kawamura. "But simple observation, even without the ambulance people, indicates that your friend here suffered from a... different problem."

      "Different problem?"

      "Different problem. The rim of the bath is horizontal. Your friend died as the result of a vertical blow... which nearly split his head lengthwise."

      The locker room denizens and Kawamura were staring at what used to be one of the nicest guys in the world—now in water turning almost purple—as the white-coated ambulance personnel bounded into the room.

      CHAPTER 5

      The first couple of hours after the discovery of a tragic death can be both frustrating and rewarding. On the one hand, there are the complications brought about by confusion, shock, and perhaps hysteria. Even sealing off the scene of events can be difficult with random medical technicians and investigating officers shuffling about their tasks. More hard evidence is destroyed at this time than is generally appreciated.

      On the other hand, the questioning of potential witnesses during the first two hours after a tragedy often brings answers that have not been reworked, polished, or enhanced. Kawamura's practice had always been to begin taking statements immediately.

      Normally Kawamura would have established himself as close as possible to the scene of the event so that witnesses could demonstrate sightlines and distances with some degree of accuracy. In this case however, the chaos brought about by removing the body, draining the bath, scrubbing the floor, and more specifically, dealing with hot and sweating members demanding access to their lockers was something to be avoided. Instead, Kawamura borrowed the manager's office downstairs.

      An immediate problem facing Kawamura was the fact that he wasn't certain what he was investigating. Presumably the wound on the top of Shig Manabe's head could have been caused by the rim of the tub, but only if Manabe was whirling on his toes as he entered the bath. And Manabe didn't seem to be the type to execute the graceful pirouettes of a ballet dancer. To be certain of his suspicions, Kawamura would have to wait for the preliminary findings from the coroner.

      One thing was certain, however. People seemed to like the victim. Kawamura first interviewed Nat Forrest, the Discoverer of the Body. Fortunately, someone had persuaded Forrest to put on some clothes—he now wore a tennis shirt, shorts, and a sock on his left foot—but he was still obviously dazed by the experience.

      Forrest's English was rapid and a little out of control, but Kawamura managed to discern that (a) Forrest had stepped into the bath with his right foot before he noticed Manabe's condition, (b) Forrest, without his glasses, didn't see anyone enter or leave the bath area, and (c) Forrest, being a relatively new member of the club, didn't really know anyone very well anyway. He considered Manabe to be "one of the nicest people in the world" because he would occasionally play with him. But Nat Forrest also confirmed that he did not play with Shig Manabe that day.

      Out of respect for seniority, Kawamura next interviewed the club president, former Ambassador Morimoto. The former ambassador answered all questions precisely and in measured tones. Yes, there were about a dozen people in the locker room when Shig's body was discovered. Yes, the ambassador was one of those people. No, nothing seemed unusual or different. Yes, more people could have roamed in or out of the locker room during the time in question. No, from where he was standing—in front of his locker taking off his street clothes—he could not see into the bath area. No, he could not think of any reason on earth why anyone would want to harm Shig Manabe. Yes, Manabe had been a member of the club for over thirty years. No, he did not think strangers or nonmembers could have entered the locker room. Yes, Shig Manabe was one of the most decent human beings he'd ever met.

      "Are you ruling out an accident?" asked Morimoto at the conclusion of the interview.

      "Frankly, sir," replied Kawamura, "I'm not ruling out anything."

      The rediscoverer of the body, Mr. Lee Kim, told Captain Kawamura that he had gone into the bath area to get a bucket of water to splash on Nat Forrest. According to Kim, Forrest had been "acting crazy" and Kim thought hot water in the face might bring him to his senses.

      "I filled the bucket from the bath, turned around to leave," reported Kim, "then my brain realized what my eyes had just seen. Shig underwater."

      "Didn't you notice the water was slightly... dark?" asked Kawamura.

      "My eyes saw it, but my brain didn't..."

      "I understand. Then what did you do?"

      Kim

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