The Little Sparrow Murders by Seishi Yokomizo

Author:Seishi Yokomizo [Yokomizo, Seishi & Karetnyk, Bryan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-06-15T00:00:00+00:00

The Bastard Child

“Ah, Satoko!”

Even though Kosuke Kindaichi had seen Yukari Ozora any number of times in magazines, on the silver screen and on television, when she appeared in the flesh together with Fumiko and Satoko, right there on the veranda, he experienced an indescribable thrill in his heart. Rika, however, stood motionless beside him, holding a bottle of sake in her hands and looking dazed. She seemed to be overwhelmed by sadness.

Thinking back on it, each of these three young women had problems of her own. While Yukari’s scarcely needs to be stated, it was only natural, now that Yasuko was dead, that Fumiko should suddenly become the focus of people’s attention, perhaps even their suspicion. It wasn’t clear to what extent she was in love with Kanao, but he was the Don Juan of the village, and it was widely known that he reciprocated her feelings for him to some extent. Yasuko, who now lay dead, had been her rival for his affections.

Satoko, meanwhile, was the daughter of the victim of the incident that had taken place twenty-three years ago. Moreover, the villagers also held her to be an indirect victim of the tragedy, convinced as they were that her birthmark had been caused by the shock that her pregnant mother had received upon seeing her husband lying there, dead and disfigured. Satoko, who, ashamed of the birthmark, had taken to never showing her face in public, now appeared that evening, impassive, in full view of everybody.

It was little wonder that Rika, her mother, had cried out in a pained, plaintive voice when she saw her.

Meanwhile, as the crowd of mourners watched, the women were ushered in. Of the four of them, Harue Bessho was the first to offer incense at the altar, after which she turned to Toshio and his wife and, in a low voice, offered her condolences.

Harue, who had been just sixteen back in 1932, must have been approaching forty now, although she could easily have passed for thirty-five, perhaps because she now lived in a world surrounded by youth. She was short and plump, and, with her round cheeks, she wasn’t exactly pretty, but she had a certain charm about her.

Her daughter had inherited this charm. If beauty depends on the evenness of one’s features, then Yasuko, now asleep for eternity, would have won, but where charm was concerned, neither Yasuko nor Fumiko could hold a candle to Yukari.

Unlike her mother, Yukari was rather tall. Of medium build, she was dressed in a black full-length evening gown that she would wear onstage. There was something daring and direct about the way she carried herself, and that something had earned her a reputation as a femme fatale, even though deep down, she was just like her mother, a village girl—and all this, of course, Kosuke Kindaichi could see at first glance.

“Thank you so much for coming, Chieko,” said Rika, calling her by her childhood name.

When the famous singer, after burning some incense at the altar, arrived in front of Toshio to offer her condolences, the young man’s wife was noticeably moved.

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