Book Summary
In 2006, an intriguing crime novel by Tetsuya Honda was published, titled "The Strawberry night". A series of murders committed by a serial killer in Tokyo has turned into a mystery that a 29-year-old detective named Riko Himekawa, along with her team members, is trying to solve as quickly as possible. The discovery of a man's body wrapped in a tarp among the bushes of an abandoned park is the first case that the detective and her companions face, followed by ten more bodies, some of which are unidentifiable and have no apparent connection to one another.
The story is more complex than it seems, making it difficult to find clues that link the murders together. However, Riko does not lose hope until she comes across a website surrounded by rumors. The name of this website is "Strawberry Night" and it is not always accessible. More importantly, the killer is not idle and is seriously intent on making the clever Japanese detective his next victim, which means that at any moment, Riko Himekawa could join the ranks of the deceased.
In any case, Honda has crafted such a thrilling and captivating novel that readers will find it impossible to put it down for even a moment; they must read it continuously from beginning to end.
About the Author
Tetsuya Honda is a Japanese author born on August 18, 1969, in Tokyo. He writes novels in the mystery and thriller genres and has received numerous literary awards. Honda, who is a member of the Japan Mystery Writers Association, has also published other works, including "The Soul Cage", "Borderless" and "The Silent Dead".
Who Should Read the Book?
Fans of captivating crime and mystery novels are undoubtedly those who should read "The Strawberry Night".
Book Quotes
A piece of paper with the words "SWAT Headquarters, regarding the abandoned body in Mizumoto Park" was stuck to the door of the largest conference room at the Kameari police station. Riko thought to herself that the body had actually been found outside the park. Maybe she was overthinking it. She sat down on one of the chairs in the middle of the front row. Well, let's get started. Everyone, attention! Bow!
All thirty-some people involved in the case, including members of the investigation team, were present. The inspectors were also there. This meant they had enough time to complete their house-to-house inquiries and had finished their work.
The commander of Kameari Police Station, Wada, head of the criminal department, and Captain Imaizumi, head of Unit Ten, were seated facing the others. Supervisor Hashizume from the criminal department had also come to this meeting.
He said, "I will start with the autopsy report. The victim is male, approximately thirty-five years old, with a height of about 171 centimeters and a weight of seventy kilograms. Blood type: B. Cause of death: seizure due to severe bleeding from a wound in the neck area. Estimated time of death: between seven PM and ten PM; two days ago. The cut is a straight line that starts from the lower left jaw and continues up to the top of the trachea. The depth of the cut is between two and a half millimeters. The length of the wound is twenty centimeters. It was sufficient to sever the left carotid artery." Hashizume mimicked cutting a throat.
"I see everything in one color; not like a black-and-white photo, though. The image I see has neither delicate borders nor depth; it doesn't convey a sense of reality either. It's more like a terrible watercolor painting, a dark and meaningless landscape. An ink blot spilled on a white sheet of paper—here where I live, the world is gray."
A shadow appeared and stood in front of the door to the living room. It was dressed in honor of me. It wore a sleeveless sports shirt. It seemed gray or brown to me. Maybe it wasn't wearing any clothes at all. All the furnishings in that house were dirty. Filth and ugliness filled my world.
That pre-fab house was dilapidated and old, its walls darkened by rain. The entrance door was open. I pushed it silently and opened it. Immediately, I smelled a strong odor. That house was sick and decayed.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you? Is it so pleasurable to bully me? Because you're my father, you think you have the right to turn my life into hell. You got kicked out by your group with a kick and took refuge here with a lot of stuff you probably stole. It might be interesting to think about which one lasts longer—your decaying body or those substances you've filled yourself with. But this has nothing to do with me. Nothing".
As always, he grabbed my hair in his fist and pulled me toward the room. My mother, wounded and broken, lay stretched out on a tattered sofa with springs sticking out. Her eyes turned toward me. She recognized me but didn't move at all from her place. I didn’t ask her for help.
