Ellery Queen's Japanese Golden Dozen. Ellery Queen

      Kenzo Yokomizo was wide awake. "I didn't lie. That's certain. It's just that I didn't volunteer information on some things. Still. . ." He tossed, turned. "Why'd I shoot my mouth off about a secret to Usami? I knew what he said wouldn't do any good. He had no talent. He wasn't forceful. All he did was work hard. But, whenever I was alone with him, I always wanted to talk. Must've been because I knew he'd never tell what I said. That day, on the way home from work, I met him—invited him to a restaurant, and after a few drinks, started talking."

      "Promise not to tell anybody, but. . ."

      A month before, representatives of the large electrical firm K had held a secret discussion with Yokomizo. It was a sounding out on the subject of merger. The K company was weak in the heating and air-conditioning department and had its eye on Sanei's outstanding technical staff.

      K Company, knowing that Kiyose, the president of Sanei, hated the idea of big firms, put feelers out to Yokomizo. Terms were good. For bait they offered him a director's chair. Obviously, he took the bait. He was already at a deadlock with Kiyose anyway.

      Their strategy demanded secrecy. Using an affiliate's name, the K company would buy up miscellaneous Sanei shares. Then, at a general stockholders' meeting, they would demand the resignation of President Kiyose, work out something to conciliate the executive staff, etc. This project was already deeply, silently underway.

      Yokomizo bit his lip. Why had he let Usami in on such an important secret? Of course, he couldn't tell anyone about the letter he'd received from Usami on the eighth, about what he'd done to comply with that letter. If he let that out, he would become an important suspect in the Usami murder.

      A sleepless night visited Yozo Misumi: "Usami was probably murdered, but I didn't kill him. But why—why did I tell him about that?"

      The whole affair had ended in four months. It was only a game for her, a way to work out her frustrations because her diabetic husband couldn't satisfy her. It wasn't the first time Misumi had been to bed with another man's wife. But all the other affairs had ended with nobody the wiser. If this one should be known, it would be fatal for Misumi. He had picked the wrong woman.

      That day, driving down a busy street, he glanced out the window and saw a woman wave to him.

      "Give you a lift?" he asked. She was carrying a shopping bag.

      "That's great."

      "Get in, then."

      She did, then said, "Why, it's not even three o'clock." She smiled. "On a day like this, I bet the country air's fresh and clean." When he thought back, Misumi knew what a clever invitation it had been.

      "Why not drive out to the Cape?" he said.

      "What about your work?"

      "Conference just ended. It's O.K.," he said, turning the wheel.

      "I hear you're real cool with the girls."

      He said nothing.

      "My husband told me."

      Then, the conversation took a softer turn.

      Many of the men said she was too good for her old man. As the rumors suggested, she had a youthful, fresh body.

      Misumi thought he would never tell. The only person who had known she was Shigeko Kiyose, the wife of the company president, was Taro Usami. He knew because Misumi told him.

      He no longer had anything to do with her. When they passed on the street they pretended not to know each other. Still, though it was all over, if it were ever discovered. . . After all, she was the president's wife. This meant the issue wouldn't be settled on the basis of individual privacy alone. He certainly couldn't tell anyone about the letter—dated the eighth—that he'd received from Usami. If that got out, he would be a suspect in a murder case.

      Saburo Matsushita, of the business staff, had an introspective personality. His reflective thinking tended to be gloomy. He, too, suffered because he'd told Usami something he should never have mentioned.

      "It's tragic. . . ." That was how he started; then he told Usami everything.

      Matsushita had homosexual tendencies. It wasn't that he was completely uninterested in women. He swung both ways. But, if his ideal type man appeared, that was a strong magnet, and he was iron filings.

      "My trouble's I'm not attracted to gay men. They turn me off. For me, a man has to be normal. What does this mean? No sex. Because normal men find gays repulsive.

      "But my ideal has turned up. Promise not to tell this to anyone, but it's the head of the business department, Akira Atsuta. He's a sportsman, efficient and good at his work. He's my ideal. But how's this for irony? He wants me to marry his niece. Of course, I'll marry her. That way I'll have him with me always, as a relative."

      Matsushita berated himself. Why had he made such a personal confession to a department head—the head of the personnel department, at that. And the wedding was scheduled for the following spring! Then, there was that confidential letter from Usami, dated the eighth.

      Sometimes Matsushita had wanted to kill Usami. Then Usami died. The thought that he had for a moment wished his death tormented Matsushita. "I didn't kill him. But. . ."

      Shiro Shibaura, of the personnel department, was deeply happy that Usami died. If he'd gone on living and had sent more of those letters, Shibaura might have killed himself.

      He had vowed never to tell anybody about that, not at the cost of his own life. Then, why had he told Usami? It must have been because Usami reminded him of a priest. A priest is forbidden to tell what he hears in a confessional. At the time, he felt as if he were confessing to a priest.

      "Please—listen. . ." he had sobbed. Then he virtually clung to Usami, telling him about the hit-and-run killing.

      He hadn't been to blame, that much was clear. He was on his way home from a bar. Near an apartment building, a fat man suddenly jumped in front of him. It happened quickly. Though he'd had only one beer, he had been drinking. Almost without thinking, he started the engine again. He did not look back.

      The following morning, he looked at the paper. He remembered reading the item timidly. To his surprise, the victim had been a managing director of the S Commercial Company, one of Sanei's important customers. Not only that, he'd been coming to the apartment building where his secret girlfriend lived. For a time rumors ran rampant. But the scandal about the director grew to such proportions that almost everybody lost interest in it as an incident of hit-and-run.

      If he'd kept the matter to himself, it would have ended there. The other guy was clearly wrong. Shibaura had little feeling of guilt except for having driven away from the scene. He had been the only one who knew about it. Why, then, did he feel like confessing to Usami? Psychologically, he felt confession would bring absolution. That was it. Usami had only said, "Yes," and "I see," like a priest. Shibaura had been grateful to Usami.

      The confidential letter dated the eighth shocked him, frightened him, and made him want to kill Usami. He had died. Someone had killed him. But wild horses could never drag the story out of Shibaura.

      The typist, Yumiko Murase, may have handled the matter in a cooler way than anybody else. She read the letter, dated the eighth, at seven on the evening of the ninth. Because she lived in a small satellite town of the city F, it took a day for the letter to reach her. It arrived in the morning while she was at work. She read it that evening:

      "A need for money has come up. Please transfer one hundred thousand yen to general account 821-5613 at the S bank, no later than December eleventh."

      It was signed Taro Usami. There were two days left before the deadline for the transfer.

      On the morning of the eleventh, Yumiko phoned the office saying she'd be late. At nine ten, she pushed open the door of the local branch where she did her banking. The Sanei company made transfers of salaries and bonuses to its employees' banks. Yumiko's end-of-year bonus should have been transferred to her account December 7.

      Filling out a form with her own account number and