I don't guess you could have mistaken him for anyone else. Okay. Now, did you notice anything at all peculiar about him as he went out?"
"No, nothing in particular. I bowed to him as usual, but I didn't notice anything strange."
"Did you see what he did when he got outside?"
"No, I'm afraid not. But I did hear afterwards that the driver of the vehicle we use to pick people up and take them to the station had seen a gentleman walking west along the road in front of the hotel. He saw him from a distance, but he was reasonably sure it was Mr. Takeda."
"But not certain?"
"No. It was a dark cloudy night, and the driver only caught a glimpse of him from a distance while taking a break. He said he wasn't certain."
"But the time checks, is that correct?"
"Yes, just about."
"You say the man was walking west. Could you be more specific?"
"Well, as you know, our hotel is more or less at a dead end, and the main road going away from here heads southwest toward the Middle Shrine. But there's another little road, an unpaved forest road running due west from in front of the hotel. About three hundred meters from here, it crosses an old road called the Echigo Road, and another three hundred meters beyond that, it comes out on the new road, right at the entrance to the Inner Shrine, where there's a parking lot and a restaurant. But this forest road is covered with loose gravel and not many people use it even during the day, so the driver remembers thinking how strange it was someone should be using it at night."
"If it was Mr. Takeda he saw, do you have any idea where he could have been going?"
"Well, er..." The desk clerk looked at the manager in embarrassment. The manager blinked his eyes rapidly, signaling him to be careful how he answered.
Disgusted, Takemura hurried the young clerk for an answer. "Come on, now. It can't be that big a problem! Just tell me what comes to mind."
"Well, I guess he must have been going out for a stroll."
"Oh, sure. But when he didn't come back, didn't it occur to you that he was gone too long for a stroll?"
"Yes."
"And what did you think of then?"
"What did I think of? Well, I don't really..."
"Just tell me whatever occurred to you at the time. For instance, did you think he might have been going out to meet someone, or something like that?"
"Yes, that's what I thought."
"Then, had he done the same sort of thing when he was staying here before? Going out alone like that?"
"Yes, I believe he had."
"About how many times?"
"Maybe two or three, I think."
"Could it have been more than that?"
"I guess so."
"Had he ever stayed away all night before?"
"No, never. He always came back the same evening."
"You seem awfully sure of that, but I've been told that Mr. Takeda was in the habit of leaving his key in the room. If that was the case, how could the desk clerk be sure he had returned?"
"Because he had to pass the front desk on his way in, and we would most likely see him."
"Most likely? You mean you could have missed him?"
"Well, that's possible, if the clerk had to leave the desk for some reason. But in the morning, there are always two people on the desk to handle check-outs, so if he had come in from outside then, he could hardly have passed by without being seen."
"In other words, if he tried to come in the next morning, his evil deeds would come out, eh?" said Takemura with a conspiratorial grin.
"Yes, they would that," said the young clerk, finally relaxing.
"Thank you," said Takemura. "Well, I hope you'll forgive me for pressing you so hard with questions, but that's my job, I'm afraid."
"Oh, don't apologize! I happen to be a mystery fan. I love mystery novels and TV mysteries, and I've always wanted to see a real detective at work!"
"Oh really? How nice! My wife likes mysteries, too. When that TV program, 'The Mystery,' comes on, she doesn't even know I'm there."
'"The Mystery?' Why, I never miss one of those!"
"You don't? Then did you see last week's story, 'The Tragedy of the Red and Black?"'
"Oh yes, of course! That was a good one, wasn't it? It had quite a twist to it. My friend and I were trying to guess who the murderer was, but we never did figure it out. But I'll bet you did, didn't you, Inspector?"
"No, no, I didn't figure it out either," laughed Takemura, while Kinoshita stood by wondering what was so funny to everyone.
Having finished with the desk clerk, Takemura asked the manager, Takano, to show him Takeda's room. As he started to follow Takano up the stairs, however, Takemura suddenly stopped. "Doesn't the hotel have an elevator?" he asked.
"No, I'm terribly sorry, I'm afraid it doesn't," said Takano, a man too easily embarrassed. He came back down the two or three steps he had ascended, bobbing his head in apology. "This area is designated as a scenic zone, and regulations prohibit buildings that stand more than ten meters high. If we installed an elevator, we'd have to have a room for the mechanism above the third floor, and that would put us over the limit."
"I see. Well, it's better for the health, anyway."
Takemura went up the stairs carefully, step by step, looking down at his feet. The staircase was wooden, the plain woodwork exposed in keeping with the North European style of the place. As soon as they reached the third floor, he turned back and went down the stairs again, leaving Kinoshita and Takano standing at the top looking puzzled. When Takemura came back, Takano told him Kisuke Takeda had always stayed in the same third-floor suite. Apparently it was hardly ever given to ordinary guests.
"The hotel was completed the year the great alpine events were held at the ski slope here, and the very first guest in this suite was the Imperial Prince," boasted Takano, as he opened the door.
The suite consisted of two adjoining Western-style rooms, the outer a parlor and the inner a bedroom. For a big hotel in Tokyo, that would not be rare, but it was quite something for these parts. There was plush carpeting, thick cloth wall covering, a rather tawdry chandelier, and a parlor suite that was probably Danish. Takemura walked around the room making sighing sounds, putting his face close to everything, as if trying to taste and smell it.
There were two three-quarter-width double beds in the bedroom, which Takemura found considerably more tasteful than the living room. He opened the door just to the right of the entrance to the bedroom and found a spacious vanity with washbasin, and adjacent to it a toilet and a bathroom. Just add a kitchen and it would make a considerably finer place to live than his own.
"I wonder if I could see
