A Song of Death
A festival in a small provincial town becomes the stage for murder when celebrated opera singer Kikuko Minobe is found dead in her dressing room moments after delivering a stunning performance. The death appears to be suicide at first—she was found with poison—but the circumstances are suspicious. Why would an acclaimed singer at the height of her career take her own life immediately after receiving a standing ovation?
The key to the mystery lies in a simple childhood song: "Little Sparrow" (Suzume no Ko). This innocent melody, taught to children throughout Japan, keeps appearing in unexpected ways—hummed by witnesses, played on music boxes, referenced in cryptic notes. The song seems to connect not only to the dead singer but to a group of former classmates who all attended the same rural school decades ago.
As Kindaichi Kosuke investigates, more deaths follow. Each victim has a connection to that childhood song and to a tragedy that occurred when they were all children together. Someone is systematically eliminating everyone who knows the truth about what happened so many years ago. The murders are carefully planned, each designed to look like accident or suicide, and the killer shows an intimate knowledge of each victim's habits and fears.
Kindaichi must untangle a web of old friendships, buried guilt, and long-festering resentments. The investigation takes him back to the rural village where these people grew up, to uncover what childhood trauma or crime could drive someone to such elaborate revenge. As he closes in on the truth, Kindaichi discovers that sometimes the most innocent songs carry the darkest memories, and that children's secrets can become adult nightmares. The "Little Sparrow" sang once in innocence—now it sings a song of death.
The aging detective must solve a case where the past and present intertwine. His investigation requires understanding not just the mechanics of murder, but the psychology of childhood trauma and how it can fester across decades.
The opera singer whose death at the festival begins the case. Beautiful and talented, she had escaped her rural origins to become famous—but her past caught up with her. Her connection to the "Little Sparrow" song is the first clue.
A successful businessman who was one of Kikuko's childhood classmates. He seems nervous and evasive during questioning, as if hiding something from his past. His connection to the other victims makes him both suspect and potential target.
Another former classmate, now a teacher in the city. She was particularly close to Kikuko in their childhood. Her testimony about their school days provides crucial information, but she seems to be holding something back about a traumatic incident.
A doctor who studied with the others as children. He was called to examine Kikuko's body and provided the initial assessment. His medical knowledge makes him capable of the sophisticated poisoning methods used in the murders.
The eldest of the childhood group, now a reclusive woman living alone. She was the one who originally taught them the "Little Sparrow" song. She seems to carry tremendous guilt about something from their shared past but refuses to speak of it directly.
Thematic Notes: The Little Sparrow Murders explores how childhood innocence can be corrupted and how traumatic events in youth can echo across a lifetime. The children's song "Suzume no Ko" (Little Sparrow) becomes a haunting refrain, symbolizing both the innocence that was lost and the guilt that cannot be escaped. Published in 1959, this novel represents Yokomizo's later work, showing a more psychological approach to mystery compared to his earlier locked-room puzzles. The rural school setting and focus on a tight-knit group of classmates reflects post-war Japan's rapid social changes, as people who grew up in traditional villages dispersed to cities, creating distance from their pasts—but never quite escaping them. The novel examines how small communities keep secrets, how childhood hierarchies and cruelties can have lasting effects, and how the adult desire to forget can conflict with the need for justice.