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The Christmas Truce Murder – Part 01

When the Cranberries Bloom

When the cranberries bloom, I’ll go home, I’ll go home

Because you’re waiting for me

When the cranberries bloom, I’ll go home, I’ll go home

Because Mom misses me

When the cranberries bloom, I’ll go home, I’ll go home

Because Dad is lonely without me

When the cranberries bloom…

When the cranberries bloom…

Chapter 7: The Christmas Truce Murder

At the top floor of the Carousel was an attic-like space called the Pony Room.

Tropical trees with large, oddly-shaped leaves crowded the space, while flowers in red, yellow, and other bright colors bloomed in abundance. Little birds flitted about overhead.

Victorique’s silver hair flowed in the summer breeze streaming through the triangular window. She sat motionless on an old couch, staring at the unfamiliar visitor with vacant eyes and an enchanting blank expression. She looked like a broken, expensive doll abandoned along with the antique chair.

Her glossy, cherry lips parted, and a deep, raspy voice came out.

“A client right off the bat, huh?”

“I told you no detective work,” Kazuya quickly interjected.

William Trayton removed his hat and held it in front of his chest. He regarded Victorique suspiciously.

“I believe this is the office of the September Detective Agency. Who are you people? You don’t look like detectives, and you seem too young to be former top prosecutors.”

Victorique smirked and gestured to the numerous bullet holes in the wall with her golden pipe.

“I heard that the top-notch detectives were turned into Swiss cheese by the Mafia. Even now, clients still occasionally come, unaware of what happened.”

William grimaced at the wall. He put his hat back on and turned to leave. Kazuya let out a sigh of relief.

Victorique called after him, “You can search the whole neighborhood, but you won’t find what you’re looking for. William Trayton.”

William looked over his shoulder. “Oh? And what do you think I’m looking for?” His tone was mocking.

“A detective. The caretaker mentioned that detectives have been eliminated one after another by the Mafia and are now on the brink of extinction.”

William’s anger flared, and he nearly stepped on something. The fallen signboard. He picked it up and read it.

“Gray Wolf Detective Agency? So, was this detective also taken out by the Mafia?”

“They’re right before you, alive and kicking. I will not be killed by the likes of the Mafia.”

“What? You’re saying you’re detectives too? You look so young, though.”

He glanced around the empty room with distaste.

Kazuya tried to interject, “No, we’re not detectives.”

“We just opened today,” Victorique said proudly.

“I see. So you’re amateurs. Ridiculous. I’m leaving!”

“By the way, which of these two matters are you interested in?”

William turned back again irritably.

“You got involved in the Christmas Truce Murder while you were in service. Amid the chaos, the truth was lost, and you never saw anyone from your unit again. But… Hey, Kujou.”

Kazuya looked confused. Victorique irritably urged him to continue the account.

Hesitantly, Kazuya complied, “Uh, Mr. William, you’re scheduled to face Eddie Sawyer, who was in your unit, in tonight’s boxing match. And, um…”

He glanced at Victorique. She was ignoring him.

“This morning,” he continued, “you bribed the police to arrest Eddie on minor charges. Perhaps you didn’t want to see him again. You made them set an enormous amount of bail to keep him locked up until the match. Right?”

Victorique nodded. Stunned, William glanced back and forth between the two.

“How do you know about that?”

Victorique remained silent, so Kazuya answered the question instead.

“How we know doesn’t matter. Eddie was released after paying the bail, and he’ll be attending tonight’s match.”

“So, here’s my question, William Trayton,” Victorique cut in, idly playing with her pipe. “What did you want to ask from the top-notch detectives? Obstruct Eddie for you, since the police aren’t reliable, to ensure he can’t attend the match?” She paused, narrowing her eyes bewitchingly. “Or do you want to uncover the truth of the Christmas Truce Murder before meeting Eddie tonight? Do you want to hire a detective to solve it? And do you want to know the truth right away?”

Kazuya looked at Victorique with surprise, then at William. William’s expression was fierce.

Victorique continued, “Champion, if it’s the former, then it’s highly likely that you are the perpetrator of the Christmas Truce Murder. It’s very suspicious to not want to meet a past comrade so adamantly. But if it’s the latter…”

Kazuya glanced between their faces.

Victorique smiled faintly. “You’re probably not the culprit. After returning home, you’ve led a busy life in the New World, but the case has always haunted you. Now, facing an old comrade tonight, you’re desperate to uncover the truth.”

William removed his hat slowly, staring at Victorique. Despite his status as a champion, he seemed quite young, his sincere expression wavering between that of a child and a young man. Gripping the brim of his hat, he tapped his foot irritably. “I did not kill Luke Jackson!”

Victorique narrowed her eyes. “Luke?”

“He was the American soldier killed in the Christmas Truce Murder. Luke and I were close. It was me, Luke, Eddie, and Mitch who were especially tight.”

“Hmm. One dead man and three living. Luke is dead. William, Eddie, and Mitch are alive. Eddie claimed you killed Luke, and Mitch seemed to believe it too.”

Victorique stared at him in silence. Kazuya, worried, listened despite himself.

“No! The culprit is Eddie. He did it. I’m sure of it!”

Kazuya exchanged a glance with Victorique. William sank to the floor, his shoulders shaking.

Kazuya approached the man. “Mr. William.”

“Well, actually, I’m not entirely sure. It happened during combat, after all. There’s still a lot we don’t understand.”

“I understand. My unit also…” Kazuya’s face clouded over.

“I see. You’re a war veteran too.” William raised his face, feeling relieved. He pulled himself together. “In the chaos, Luke Jackson was shot dead at close range where only allies were present. Was one of our comrades the culprit? Eddie suddenly claimed I was the one who shot him. But I didn’t do it! I would never harm an ally. So I wondered: why would Eddie tell such a lie?” He shook his head. “He must be covering up for killing Luke himself. Eddie and Mitch hated us upper-class folks!”

“Start from the beginning,” prompted Victorique.

William nodded and sat on the floor, hugging his knees. “All right. First, let me introduce myself.”

He then let go of his knees, straightened his back, and began to speak grandly.

“As you well know, my name is William Trayton. I am a proud descendant of the Pilgrim Fathers. Hmm?”

Victorique groaned. Kazuya covered his mouth, trying to suppress his laughter.

William looked at them with a miserable frown. “What? What’s so funny?”

“No, it’s nothing. I’m sorry,” Kazuya apologized.

Mitch’s impression was really spot on, he thought. Being a detective is dangerous, but we can’t just turn away someone in need either. He shook his head.

Holding her pipe, Victorique sat still like a doll on the old couch. She narrowed her enigmatic green eyes, deep in thought.

The wind blew, stirring her white-blonde hair.

William collected himself and continued.

“When the war began, I was a student at NYU. Of course, I had no objections to enlisting. As a proud descendant of the Pilgrim Fathers, I believed it was my duty to fight for the freedom and peace of the United States. So, I put down my textbooks, notebooks, and pen, and picked up a rifle. I was assigned to the army and crossed the ocean.”

William spoke with pride, raising his chin. Victorique listened quietly. Kazuya stood by, a distant look in his eyes, nodding and lowering his gaze as he recalled his own experience. The large palm leaves rustled in the wind.

“Besides the captain, there were only a few professional soldiers. The rest were workers and students like me. Naturally, we started talking during our journey across the Atlantic.”

“I understand. I was also a student back then,” Kazuya said.

“I see.” William smiled wryly, before continuing with his head down. “Among the young soldiers, the one who stood out was Luke Jackson. The victim in the murder. He was a student at NYU, just like me, but he was top of his class and also a student boxing champion. He was nice and bright, like the sun, and had a natural charisma that attracted attention wherever he went. We shared similar backgrounds and ideals, so we got along particularly well.”

William lifted his face. “I wasn’t as brilliant as Luke, but I was also a student at the same university and did okay academically. Most importantly, I came from a prestigious family. Everyone in the unit knew my father, the former mayor of Brooklyn. So, in the unit, Luke Jackson and I—William Trayton—were the ones who stood out.”

He narrowed his eyes wistfully. “I respected my father. He dedicated his life to a difficult task, calling himself Pontifex, a bridge-builder.’”

“I see.” Victorique nodded. “Pontifex originally meant high priest in Latin. In ancient Rome, building bridges was considered a sacred task, connecting this world and the next, the past and the present. Thus, the construction plans were entrusted to the temples, and the term came to also mean bridge-builder.”

William looked at Victorique. “Is that so? I didn’t know that. Anyway, my father dreamed of building a large bridge from Manhattan to the New World, connecting one town to another.”

Kazuya listened intently.

William continued, “Eventually, my father grew old, and the next generation of young people cross the completed bridge into the future. My father joyfully said, ‘This is a great country, William. Unlike the Old World, bound by curses and traditions, the New World is a true home for the freedom of the common people—the United States!’ He had high expectations for me too. He wanted me to cross that bridge into the future and become one of the brave new people. He hoped I would someday build a bridge myself, passing on hope to the next generation.”

“And you felt the same way,” said Victorique.

“Of course! I became interested in the transport business while watching trucks pass over the bridge my father built. That’s what I was studying.”

“Oh.”

“I talked about that with Luke Jackson at the beginning of our enlistment, during the voyage across the Atlantic. Luke genuinely supported my dream. He said it was wonderful. He had dreams of starting a business too. He joked about having his products transported by my trucks once he entered the manufacturing industry. We were getting ahead of ourselves, I guess.”

William laughed, then turned serious. “On the other hand, Eddie and Mitch were workers from the South and grew up poor. Eddie was a good-natured and talkative guy.”

Glancing at Victorique, he added, “Oh, you’re nodding, young lady. You must have listened to him chatter.” William folded his arms. “Eddie was proud of his strength. He was raised by a single mother, and they both worked on a large cotton farm. He talked about how much of a help he provided during the harvest since he was a child. His mother was proud of her hardworking son. Eddie thought about his mother back in the South every day.”

He paused, then let out a sigh. “Well, that kind of personal talk only happened while we were on the ship. Once we reached the Old World, the enemy army was waiting. It was around the time when fall turned to winter. We disembarked heavily armed and started marching on the captain’s orders. We moved from the coast into the forest, day after day.”

Kazuya nodded. “Our march was also brutal.”