Ronin in a Rusted World: III - The van der Molen Method

The detective looked to the conductor. “I'll solve the case before nightfall,” he said. “Just lock the room and make sure I'm the only one with the key.”

The conductor nodded. He pulled a key from his ring, slid the door closed, locked it, then handed it to the Dutch man. “Please try to keep this under wraps,” he said. “I don't want the other passengers panicking.”

“Of course,” said van der Molen.

The conductor took a breath, then went to the front of the car to check on the rest of the passengers, ordering by nobility.

When he was gone, the Dutch man looked to the others. “What did you notice?”

Dr. Lan spoke first. “His injuries were inconsistent with explosives,” she said.

Van der Molen looked at Kenichi. “And you?”

Kenichi thought back to the scene; it was practically imprinted on his brain. “The fish bowl seemed like it was smashed, not exploded. The water was close to the bowl. If it had exploded, then there would have been water everywhere.”

The detective smiled. “I knew my hunch about you was correct.” He looked from his colleague to the ronin. “Now, we know that Lord Taketori did not die from an explosion. Based on the sounds we heard from the dining car, I think it's safe to say that he suffered a mortal blow during a struggle, and not due to a malfunctioning wind-up fish. Doctor?”

She nodded, pulling a notebook from her satchel. Van der Molen unlocked the door before sliding it open. He stepped inside the room and studied the scene while Dr. Lan took a sketch.

“Between my memory and Dr. Lan's artistry, we capture the scene as it is in case we need to go back and examine anything after we've moved something. I heard that the French have developed a way to capture an actual image, but I doubt it would be that much better compared to our method,” the detective said, his hand on his chin.

Dr. Lan finished her sketch and showed it to him. His eyes floated over the page a few times before he nodded. “Very good work,” he said.

“What's to stop you from fabricating evidence?” Kenichi asked.

Both van der Molen and Dr. Lan looked at him as if he had asked a very personal and inappropriate question about their relationship with one another. Finally Dr. Lan spoke, “My colleague takes more pride in being correct than being paid.”

“Well said,” van der Molen said.

Dr. Lan stepped into the room, and Kenichi followed after. Now, with the initial shock worn off, he was able to take in more of the sight: the prone form of Taketori, the shattered remains of the fish and bowl, the pool of blood staining the thin carpet. It was hard for Kenichi to justify in his head that this was the same man that he had just been talking to.

Van der Molen pointed to one of the benches. “What do you notice?” he said.

Kenichi looked from Taketori to the bench. “That must have been where he was seated,” he murmured.

The detective laughed. “Close,” he said. He pointed to a different seat, where the cushions were still slightly depressed. “That's where he was sitting.” Then he pointed back to the original bench. “That, however, is an interesting bench.” He picked up a gear from the adjacent seat. “Notice this?” he said, setting it back down exactly in its place. Then he pointed to a screw that was in the crevice of the bench, near the back. “And this?” he said. He pointed to the cushion. “There is no debris on this particular bench, except in the corner, where the seat meets the back. This is probably why you thought that this was where Taketori was sitting.”

Kenichi nodded. While van der Molen stroked his own ego like a pet ermine, Dr. Lan had put on gloves and began to examine Taketori's body.

“However,” said van der Molen, “we know that nobody had been sitting here recently, as these cushions tend to keep their shape. So, why is there no debris?”

“Somebody cleaned it?” asked Kenichi.

The detective laughed. “Because it's a storage container,” he said. He lifted it from the front, and the seat rose up like a lid. Within was a cavity full of luggage and parcels. Nestled among them was a kabuki mask. “Dr. Lan?” van der Molen said.

Dr. Lan rose from her crouched position. She removed the gloves and pulled out the sketchbook once more. She leaned over the storage compartment and drew what she saw inside. Once again, van der Molen examined her sketch and approved it. That done, she returned to the body.

Van der Molen pulled the mask out and examined it. He held it up so that Kenichi could see it. It was definitely one of the kabuki masks that the clockwork dancers had been wearing. “I guess I was right about the count of automatons in their entirety,” he said, handing the mask to Kenichi. “One of the dancers was a human pretending to be a robot.”

Kenichi looked at the mask. It was the mask that the thirteenth dancer had worn, the other ones each wearing a mask to resemble one of the animals of the zodiac. The one he held in his hands, though, made him pause, unaware of van der Molen's further examination of the scene for clues or Dr. Lan's examination of the body for cause of death.

In his hands, he held a mask of a cat. The eyes were painted purple, and looked almost hypnotic as he stared into them.

“Blunt force trauma,” Dr. Lan said, breaking Kenichi out of his spell.

Van der Molen stepped over to the body. He looked down at the deceased Taketori and nodded. “I suppose the burns are there to make it look like an explosion?”

She nodded. “Just ash blown from a pipe.”

Van der Molen lowered the bench seat back down before sitting upon it himself. He stared off into space for a moment. “Whoever did this wasn't in his seat, so it's just a matter of ruling out all the passengers that were unaccounted for.” He counted on his fingers. “Everybody who was in the dining car is in the clear, and anybody past the dining car is safe to rule out as a suspect. That gives us about sixty-three people we need to rule out.”

He rose from his seat.

“Come along,” he said. “We're going to pay a visit to the cheap seats.”