Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 150, Nos. 5 & 6. Whole Nos. 914 & 915, November/December 2017
- Автор: Фузилли Джим, Харрис Шарлин
- Год: 2017
- Язык: английский
- Год: Dell Magazines
- ISBN: 0013-6328
- Жанр: Другие детективы
Электронная книга - «Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 150, Nos. 5 & 6. Whole Nos. 914 & 915, November/December 2017». Краткое содержание книги:
The ball of paper rolled out of the circle once again and fell on the floor. Namura quickly picked it up and returned it to Asami. “You’ll roll it onto the floor again if you don’t concentrate completely,” he said.
It was at that moment that Kubo, one of the jazz fans, said: “Uurgh, I think I drank too much. I’m feeling sick.” He stood up and went to the toilet.
“I think we’ve done it enough,” said Namura. “You’ve all noticed which direction it rolled in most often, right?”
“Wait, I didn’t notice anything!” said Asami.
“Seven. Number seven.”
“Really?” She suddenly looked very serious.
“Yes, now let me guess. You wrote down number seven. You don’t really like pearls, but you think a necklace would look nice on you.”
Asami froze to the spot.
“How did you...?”
“So my guess is right?”
“Yes.”
“And now let me guess what your worry is. Hmm, wait a second...”
The salesman closed his eyes and put his index finger between his eyebrows.
“I have it. You’re in love with someone!”
Asami was absolutely flabber-ghasted by his guess.
“And his name is...”
“No, don’t tell them!” She turned as red as a beetroot and tried to cover the salesman’s mouth.
“Did you write his name on the paper?”
“No!”
“Then I can’t know it. My mental eye only allows me to read what you wrote on that paper. I can’t read your mind.”
“Really? That’s a relief!”
Kubo came back into the room. Namura looked surprised to see him.
“What’s wrong? Feeling better now?”
“Yeah,” Kubo answered, with a strange look on his pale face.
“You were amazing!” said Asami to Namura. I too was impressed.
2
Puff and I were standing on the south side of the balcony watching a raging storm.
“How old are you?” said a voice from behind me. I turned around to see Kubo standing there, wearing a brown woollen hat, framed by the light from the living room behind him.
“I’m thirty-one,” I answered. Kubo pointed his chin at Puff. “And you?”
Puff didn’t answer. I’m sure he’s twenty-five and will turn twenty-six later this year.
“How old are you?” Kubo asked once again.
“Why should I tell you?” Puff said. He often got into fights.
Kubo smiled unpleasantly.
“I was just wondering whether you’re having an easy life. Can you really make a living out of making a lot of noise with instruments?”
“None of your business,” said Puff.
Kubo looked sideways at him, still smiling. “It must be easy, living off your parents, eh?”
Kubo came closer and I could smell alcohol.
“I thought you were a fan of jazz? Do you actually listen? Or do you just like criticizing it?” asked Puff. He shouldn’t have said that.
“Hey, I can’t let that slide!” said a voice from inside the darkness. It was the critic Önuki.
“Easy, easy,” said Aka, a trumpet player.
Puff was on his own now. “Bah, I’ve had enough,” he groused.
I understood how he felt.
The double glass doors between the balcony and the living room were wide open. The wind was blowing from the east, so the rain didn’t fall inside the apartment.
Puff went back into the living room and sat down behind his drum set. The word TOILET had been written on the bass drum. He took up the drum sticks and started to play a soft rhythm.
Itoi went over to him and said: “It’s okay, you can play whatever you want.”
“At this hour?” asked Puff in surprise.
“It’s okay. There’s a big storm going on anyway.”
I could see a broad smile on Puff’s face.
“Well then, I’d love to play facing the river, so I can see the storm.”
“Great idea.” Itoi nodded.
“Let’s do it,” said Puff, turning the base the drum set was standing on to face south. He started with a spectacular roll and played a beat on the bass drum. Then he played an incredibly fast eight beat. He always did that when he was angry. He’s by far the most talented member of The Seven Rings band.
“Wow,” said Aka, shouting to be heard above the storm. “He’s amazing!”
Suddenly Mitarai appeared from the back of the room. He walked over to Puff and said something. He picked up a Les Paul guitar and together they started to play Chick Corea’s “Beyond the Seventh Galaxy.” Puff was good, but Mitarai was truly amazing.
By the time the song was over I’d been completely overwhelmed by their playing. I wasn’t the only one. Ishioka, a writer and Mitarai’s friend, walked over to him and wanted to shake hands. Everyone had gathered on the south side of the balcony. Nobody had gone out to the east side because of the rain.
“Let’s get back in. It’s starting to get late.”
It was Namura who spoke. We all stepped back inside. The guitar and drums were turned back to face into the room and the two glass balcony doors were closed. Itoi and Aka joined the other two to begin another session. I joined them on the alto sax.
But this time the performance was not so good, and by the end only Ishioka, Mrs. Itoi, and the critic Önuki remained, Namura and Kubo having stepped out onto the balcony again, carefully closing the doors behind them.
While I was playing, my eye fell on the table. I saw that all seven ringlike objects were still lying there, on top of the sheet of white paper. Life’s strange, I thought.
3
What happened next was a total surprise. The lights suddenly went out. A power failure?
“Blackout!” somebody cried out, but we kept on playing. I assumed that Mrs. Itoi would bring out candles or something.
I could barely make out the noise of the wall clock striking. At that very moment, I heard Namura shout: “Hey, Mr. Kubo!” It came from behind us. I could hear the glass doors of the balcony open, and somebody suddenly jumped inside the room. Our eyes hadn’t adjusted to the darkness yet and we couldn’t quite make out who it was.
Somebody, probably Mrs. Itoi, then turned on a flashlight. The light moved around following the figure of a man running away.
The man rushed across the room and opened the apartment door. In the dim light I could see the man’s back and a woollen hat. It was Kubo. The door shut behind him.
What had happened? While everyone was trying to work it out we resumed playing.
“It’s gone!”
Mrs. Itoi let out a scream which we could just about hear and we stopped playing. The flashlight was illuminating the table. It was indeed Mrs. Itoi who was holding it.
Six ringlike objects were caught in the beam of light: five wrist watches and one ring. The pearl necklace had disappeared. Kubo must have taken it with him.
“What happened?” asked Namura as he came into the room from the balcony. It was dark, but I recognized his voice.
“My necklace has been stolen,” said Mrs. Itoi.
“That’s horrible,” said the salesman. “Let’s chase after him!” He rushed to the door of the apartment. Aka and Puff started to follow him.
“You’d better pick up your watches first!” cried Namura as he went out of the room on his own.
Aka and Puff hesitated for a moment. Someone went past them and ran out of the door. I put my sax down and followed the figure.