The Third Lady (1978) by Shizuko Natsuki

At the turn of this century, Shizuko Natsuki was alongside Edogawa Rampo, Akimitsu Takagi and Seicho Matsumoto among the few Japanese mystery writers with a footprint in the Western genre composed of a dozen translated novels, collections and a scattered number of uncollected short stories – printed in publications like Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine. Natsuki had twelve short stories published in EQMM, two in New Mystery and a series of six standalone mystery novels. However, developments since then have shown these pre-2000s translations to have only superficially scratched the surface of the Japanese detective story.

So the translations of Natsuki's novels have been overshadowed over the years and on their way to be practically forgotten. Yes, the dodgy translations has as much to do with it as the lack of reprints and a growing offering of better, more varied translations. Robert B. Rohmer, the translator, took some liberties with the original text to make alterations intended to make them more accessible to non-Japanese readers. For example, Natuski's most well-known novel, W no higeki (The Tragedy of W, 1982), was translated in 1984 under the title Murder at Mt. Fuji with one of the central characters changed into an American exchange student, Jane Prescott. Mt. Fuji is referenced only a handful of times, but it's a famous and recognizable landmark. So it was plastered across the cover as if they were printing a travel brochure. These were obvious marketing decisions, but decisions regarded as disrespectful to the author and insulting to the audience. Gave the whole story is strong sense of authenticity.

I, and others, had a spark of hope when a reprint of Murder at Mt. Fuji was announced as forthcoming, courtesy of Hutchinson Heinemann, but it turned out to be a reprint of the Rohmer translation – not a fresh translation. Without any good, new translations on the horizon, I decided to take another look at the translated novels. Flawed as they may be, I never fully lost interest in Natsuki's detective fiction.

Natsuki was billed as the "Agatha Christie of Japan," but the six novels translated between 1984 and 1991 were clearly picked as examples of the contemporary, character-driven crime novels of the day. So more P.D. James and Ruth Rendell than Agatha Christie. While it's true Natsuki doesn't appear to have been a mystery writer who tinkered with locked doors, railway timetable or dying messages a lot, she appears to have delighted in placing her characters in utterly bizarre, impossible situations. Kokubyaku no tabiji (Innocent Journey, 1975) has a suicide pact gone wrong when one of them survives to find the other dead with a knife in his back. Kaze no tobira (Portal of the Wind, 1980) has a murder interrupting a scheduled, revolutionary head transplant surgery. In Daisan no onna (The Third Lady, 1978), Natsuki blindfolded the inverted mystery, spun it around and then let it loose.

The Third Lady begins in the village of Barbizon, on the outskirts of Paris, where Kohei Daigo has attended a conference. Daigo is an assistant professor of hygiene at J university, in Fukuoka, happily married with two daughters, but, while killing time until he can catch his flight back home, he has a chance encounter – one that ends up completely uprooting his life. In the salon of Château Chantal, Daigo meets a woman during a power failure. During this intimate blackout, Daigo and the woman calling herself Fumiko Samejima become very frank and share a chilling secret. They both wish to see someone dead and buried.

Daigo's enemy is Akishige Yoshimi, professor of health at the J university, who squashed Daigo's damning report on the Popico cookies made by the Minami Food Company. A batch of cookies had been contaminated with a cancer causing mold, which had a caused a rise in cases of child cancer. Many died and practically every parent in the poor region were left with crippling debt from hospital bills. Yoshimi was trying to punish Daigo for his opposition by trying to get him dismissed or transferred to a rural university in Alaska. The woman Samejima wants dead is Midori Nagahara, eldest daughter of the owner of the Emerald View Hotel at Lake Hakone, whom she describes as arrogant with a heart as cold as ice. Two years ago, Nagahara killed someone and got away with it because the police was unable to proof it even was murder. That undetected, unresolved murder is the reason why Samejima is determined to get some off-the-books justice ("...my heart will know no peace until she is dead").

Before the lights come back on, the woman who called herself Fumiko Samejima is gone. Daigo is left behind with a lot of questions to muse over, but, when he returns home, life appears to have resumes to relative normalcy. That's until some time later when Akishige Yoshimi is found poisoned at his home. Daigo is, of course, among Inspector Furukawa's primary suspects, but Daigo possesses a cast-iron alibi that he knows was created for him by someone who knew where and when Yoshimi was going to die. So the police turn their attention to the elusive, unidentified woman who was seen with Yoshimi and near his home at the time of the murder. But is she the woman whom he met in France under those strange circumstances? And, before too long, Daigo receives a subtle hint regarding Midori Nagahara and the Emerald View Hotel. Just like the old saying goes, one good deed deserves another, which is when the wheels really begin to come off for Daigo – who's as amateurish as murderers come. That also makes me wish there were more interactions between Inspector Furukawa and Daigo or more scenes from Inspector Furukawa's perspective. I really liked Inspector Furukawa and how he pursued Daigo with a Columbo-like tenacity ("...with that same smiling face, pretending that he had just run into Daigo by accident, the way he always did").

The Third Lady is not that kind of procedural puzzle mystery in which alibis get demolished, identities broken down and hidden connections get uncovered. What's at the center is Daigo's obsession with a woman who he has only heard and touched in a pitch dark salon somewhere near Paris. A meeting resulting in two murders, but, as the sketchy premise and book title suggests, there's a snag somewhere in this strangers-on-a-train pact. John Norris, of Pretty Sinister Books, reviewed The Third Lady back in 2011 and praised the final twist "poignant, sorrowful and tragically inevitable," but above all it's an incredibly cruel twist. Cruel to the point where you can almost count Daigo among the victims, but beautifully and effective executed. More importantly, there's a graceful simplicity to the devastating truth that makes the already bleak ending as dark as night. So you can see why Shizuko Natsuki received some translations during the 1980s and '90s, because she appears to be of the modern school. However, if you take everything from the premise to the bleak conclusion, The Third Lady strongly reminded me of Paul Halter's work. Only thing missing was a locked room murder or other impossible crime.

That brings us to the elephant in the room named Robert B. Rohmer. The translation is an improvement when it comes to story-ruining alterations and character inserts. I'm a bit suspicious about the first chapter taking place in France and the references to the rural university in Alaska, but only real problem with the translation that's far from the same quality as the translations we're treated to today. Nevertheless, even this less than perfect translation can't take away Natsuki penned a fresh and original take on both the inverted mystery and the strangers-on-a-train/murder-by-proxy motif with The Third Lady. So recommended to fans of both with the caveat that a better translation would likely make it even better.

By the way, if anyone from Crippen & Landru is reading this review, this probably the best time to put together a Shizuko Natsuki collection with those fourteen short stories from Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine and New Mystery (Divine Punishment and Other Stories of Crime & Retribution). A collection like that would be a welcome addition to the growing list of translated Japanese detective fiction. Note that most of the short stories were translated by Gavin Frew, not Rohmer.