by I. J. Parker
“No.”
“Well, you haven’t been much help. Never mind, our crude methods will get results. Miyoshi came apart quite easily.”
“Remarkably easily.”
“You think he lied?”
“Not about the ferret, I think.” Akitada got up. “Since I’m of little use to you, I shall go home. I really wish I knew Miyoshi’s version of the game, though. Let me know if you find out about that.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” Kobe said.
• • •
Two days later, Kobe sent him a message: “Student found. Please attend questioning in my office.”
Akitada noted the ‘please.’ Kobe must be desperate.
The ferret’s name was Daisai Masahira. He was in his twenties and Kobe’s epithet fit him perfectly. He looked both sleek and sly. His sharp nose twitched and his small black eyes flitted around the room as if he were looking for a hidden nest egg. He had quickly weighed Akitada’s rank and now ignored him.
Kobe was in low spirits. He was surprisingly courteous with Daisai because, as he explained to Akitada, the student had come in of his own free will. Daisai’s family lived in the Otokuni district west of the capital, and he had gone home for a brief visit and thus missed the news of the murder.
Daisai shook his head and murmured, “Terrible. I wish I’d known about the poison. I could’ve warned the master.”
“Never mind, son,” Kobe said consolingly. “You did the right thing.”
“Do I understand,” Akitada asked, “that you were one of Master Nakamura’s students the morning he died?”
“Yes. I was the first one. In fact, I was waiting for the master, when he arrived.”
Kobe cleared his throat pointedly.
“Sorry,” mouthed Akitada, meeting Kobe’s eyes.
Kobe asked, “And you say you drank some of Nakamura’s tea?”
“Hah!” Akitada bit his lip, as soon as he had spoken.
Daisai shot him a glance. “Yes. I took just a sip to be polite. I don’t like tea.” Daisai lowered his eyes modestly.
“And?” Kobe urged.
“On my way back to the university, I was quite sick and vomited.”
Kobe turned to Akitada. “You see the problem?”
“I think so.” Akitada was fascinated by Daisai’s manner and asked the student, “Had you been taking lessons long?”
Daisai’s eyes went around the room again. “Not really,” he said vaguely. “A man in my position must make his way in the world. I decided to become proficient at go. In polite company one must be able to perform well at a number of skills. I also practice poetry and dancing.”
Akitada murmured, “How commendable!”
“Well,” said Kobe to Daisai. “I expect that’s all. Thank you for coming in right away. You have been very helpful.”
“Any time, Captain.” Daisai got up, bowed to both of them, and slipped out the door.
Kobe sighed.
“What’s the matter?” asked Akitada innocently.
“How can you ask such a foolish question? I have to start all over again, because the poison was already in the tea when Daisai got there. That eliminates both Daisai and Miyoshi. I swear I’ll end up arresting that miserable maid after all.”
“The maid?”
“Have you forgotten that she prepared the tea things? And I was right about her. She had a motive. The innkeeper’s been trying to fire her. He says she’s getting old and forgetful and he wants more attractive maids. She is a widow with five children to support and was scared of Nakamura’s complaints. I really hate a case like this.”
“Hmm,” Akitada said. “Daisai seems to be an ambitious young man who takes his future career most seriously.”
Kobe growled, “Who cares? I have more important things on my mind.”
“Have you found out who Nakamura’s heir is?”
“Yes. He had a nephew. Fellow called Yukihito. Why?”
“I wondered if you planned to talk to the nephew.”
Kobe hooted derisively. “Go all the way to Nagaoka? You must be out of your mind. What for? Nakamura was as poor as a temple sparrow. I’ve been to his hovel. A couple of old blankets, some tattered books, and empty cupboards in the kitchen. He had nothing of value that anyone would kill for.”
“Isn’t Nagaoka in the district Daisai comes from?”
“Forget Daisai. The poor kid almost got killed himself.”
“Well, it was just a thought,” Akitada said, getting up. “Let me know, if there are any more developments.”
“Developments?” Kobe asked. “What developments? There’s only that cursed fool of a maid.”
“Oh,” said Akitada vaguely, “you never know.”
• • •
The following day, Kobe arrested the maid for Nakamura’s murder, and Akitada decided it was time to make his move. He traveled to Nagaoka on horseback, accompanied by the cry of the geese flying south to their winter homes and the rustling of wind in the dry reeds along the highway.
Nagaoka had once served briefly as an imperial city, but its palaces had long since burned to the ground or been dismantled. Only two large temples, barely maintained by the imperial family, still watched over the paddies, fields, and small farms like two mother hens over their chicks.
Akitada visited both temples, left an offering in each, and burnt some incense in memory of Master Nakamura. The monk who sold him the incense informed him proudly that Nagaoka would soon be a place even holier than Nara, because the Buddha had appeared to the crown prince in a dream and told him so.
Shaking his head, Akitada went to the inn for his mid-day meal. It was no more than a dusty barn of a place. At an open hearth, two women were stirring food or pouring wine for the handful of local farmers or travelers who had stopped in.
Akitada ordered and seated himself next to an old man who was carrying on a teasing conversation with the two women.
“From the capital?” the old man asked, glancing at Akitada’s green hunting cloak and black hat.
“Yes, honorable grandfather,” Akitada said politely. “Perhaps you can tell me how to find Nakamura’s farm?”
“Nakamura?” Bright eyes studied him from under grizzled brows. “He’s dead, I hear.”
“Yes. I was a friend and came to visit his relatives.”
“Only that good-for-nothing Yukihito’s left.”
“Master Nakamura’s nephew?”
The old man nodded and fell into a prolonged thoughtful silence, ignoring all further attempts of Akitada to involve him in conversation. Akitada’s food, served by a young maid, was an excellent stew and very decent wine. On an impulse, Akitada ordered another small pitcher of wine for the old man.
His companion poured, drank deeply, and said, “That Yuki. Never did a day’s work in his life. Drove his mother to an early grave. A bum.”
“How does he support himself then?” Akitada asked, extending his empty bowl to the young maid for a refill.
The old man turned his pitcher upside down to show it was empty. After a sidelong glance at Akitada, he said, “Rents out his fields. Borrows. Gambles. Starves. Until now.” He flicked the cup with a gnarled finger.
Akitada sighed and bought him another pitcher of wine. “What do you mean ‘until now’?”
The old man drank and scowled. “He sold the land and went away a rich man. This morning.”
“So fast? Do you know a Daisai Masahira?”
“It’s a small town,” nodded the man, emptying the last of his second pitcher into his cup.
Watching this maneuver, Akitada decided to speed up the conversation. “What sort of person is he? Perhaps he knows the Nakamura family?”
“Everybody knows everybody here. He’s a black-bellied squirrel, that Daisai.” The old man spat with accuracy into the fire. “Him and Yuki used to come here to drink whenever Yuki had some money.” He paused with his cup halfway to his lips. “Something wrong about the master’s death?” he asked susp
iciously.
They locked eyes, then Akitada placed some money on the floor and said, “Forgive me for taking up your time with my idle chatter,” and left.
• • •
Before returning to the capital, Akitada had a look at Master Nakamura’s farm. He found it easily. A few tattered buildings huddled in a grove amidst poor and stony fields, but they were surrounded by many ancient trees and the view was magnificent. The site overlooked a lake and the temples. Only five miles to the northeast lay the capital and the towering mountains beyond.
A crew of laborers was already clearing the site. When Akitada rode up to the main house, a short, fat man emerged, making squawking noises and waving his arms about like an angry goose.
Akitada stopped his horse and waited for the man, who wore the robe and hat of a minor official.
“No one is allowed here,” scolded the man. “Orders of His Imperial Highness, the crown prince.”
Akitada raised his brows. “Really? I didn’t know. You should post warnings, you know. I came to speak to the owner.”
The man had taken in Akitada’s clothes and his speech and made a belated bow. “Please forgive my rudeness, sir. We have not had time for signs. Nakamura Yukihito sold the property. In fact, he just left for the capital.”
Akitada thanked the official and turned his horse homeward.
• • •
As soon as he reached the capital, and without bothering to change his travel-stained clothing, he went to look for Daisai at the university. The student was not in any of his classes, but one of his professors told him that a farmer from Daisai’s village had come for him. “Daisai looked very upset when he saw the man,” he volunteered. “I do hope there is no trouble.”
“When was this?” asked Akitada, his heart beating faster.
The professor peered dubiously at the sun. “It cannot have been very long. I just finished my class.”
“Do you have any idea where I might find them?”
The professor scratched his thinning grey hair. “You might try the Pear Tree Inn outside the university gate. Most of the young people like to go there.”
The Pear Tree Inn was a small restaurant selling cheap wine and food. It was well attended by students and locals. Akitada found Daisai seated in a corner with a stocky middle-aged man in coarse, countrified clothing. Daisai’s back was toward the entrance, and Akitada walked up to them without being noticed. With a smile and a slap on Daisai’s back, he seated himself between them.
Daisai turned chalk white and attempted to rise.
Akitada pulled him back down, putting his arm around his shoulder. “Well met, young man,” he said jovially. “What are you drinking?”
Daisai gulped. “Ah, nothing. Thank you. We were just leaving, sir.”
“Come, keep me company,” Akitada urged. “I’ve just returned from a trip, and my throat is parched with the dust of the road. Your friend, too. I did not catch his name.”
Daisai’s companion returned Akitada’s smile, revealing several gaps in his teeth. He said proudly, “Nakamura Yukihito, at your service, sir.”
Daisai squirmed, and Akitada put a restraining hand on his arm. “What enormous luck,” he said to the grinning Yukihito. “I’ve just returned from a trip to Nagaoka to see you. If I’d known I’d find you here, I could have saved myself a long, dusty ride. You’re a popular man, now that you’ve come into your inheritance.”
The small eyes in Yukihito’s broad face gleamed. He clapped his hands in childlike joy. “I know and I bet you’ve come from Lord Miyoshi.”
Daisai hissed, “No, Yuki! Don’t waste the gentleman’s time with your problems.”
But the master’s nephew was too intent on Akitada’s purpose. “Did you bring the gold?” he asked eagerly. “We were just about to pay a visit to the crown prince. It’s been taking too long, and I don’t mind telling you, the little bit on account that Lord Miyoshi sent is long gone.”
Akitada shook his head with a smile. “I regret. Gold is too heavy and dangerous to carry about, but I can take you where you will get what you deserve. Perhaps you’ll both be so kind as to accompany me there?”
Daisai made another desperate effort to warn Yukihito. “You’re making a mistake,” he cried. “This person is with the Ministry of Justice. He knows nothing about your money.”
The young farmer looked uncertainly at Akitada. “Ministry of Justice?” he asked.
“There is no mistake,” Akitada said, suddenly stern. “Let’s go! Daisai, we’re going to see Kobe. It’s in your best interest to cooperate.”
Daisai flinched. Then he bowed. “Of course. I meant to speak to the captain sooner or later. I did not learn until today that Yuki has been in contact with Lord Miyoshi. That was very clever of you, sir, the way you got him to admit it.”
“What’re you talking about?” Yuki asked, looking from Daisai to Akitada. “What’s going on?”
“Let’s go, Yuki,” said Daisai, pulling his friend up. “The gentleman is quite right. We’d better make a clean breast of it.”
The way to police headquarters took them past the popular park called the Divine Spring Garden. It looked no less divine in autumn with its trees a brocade pattern of reds, oranges, and golden yellows, but the street was deserted. Akitada walked between the two men to keep them from talking to each other.
Daisai was so cooperative that Akitada was beginning to wonder if he might seriously expect to weasel out of the situation when they passed into the shadow of a grove of crimson maples. Suddenly he felt a hard and painful blow to the back of one of his knees. It buckled and pitched him forward to the ground. Before he could gather his wits, Daisai’s foot shot out to deliver a killing kick to his temple. Akitada managed to twist his head aside at the last moment and deflected the impact to his jaw and shoulder. His ears were still ringing and his eyes watering with the pain of the attack when the impact of a body crushed him into the gravel. Daisai had flung himself on his back, and his wiry fingers were reaching for his throat. Akitada responded by tucking in his jaw.
“Find a rock and hit him on the head,” Daisai grunted, struggling.
There was no point in waiting for the reinforcements. Akitada was bigger and stronger than his attacker and in good physical condition. With a mighty heave upward, he unseated the scrawny student and struck him with his fist. Daisai went limp.
Akitada stood up, testing his bruised leg gingerly and cursing himself for a fool. Since Daisai had always cultivated a civilized behavior before, he had kept his eye on the sullen Yukihito. But Daisai’s self-improvement program evidently included some very low street-fighting tricks.
Feeling his tender jaw, Akitada looked around for Yukihito. The fellow still stood in the middle of the street, a puzzled look on his broad face. Whether Nakamura’s nephew was simply slow or had a little of his uncle’s goodness in his veins after all, he had not joined in Daisai’s attack.
Akitada brushed dirt and leaves off his gown. “Pick Daisai up and put him over your shoulder,” he said to Yukihito. “You look strong enough.”
The other man looked up and down the street, then approached slowly. “What are you going to do?”
“Take him to police headquarters. He has some explaining to do, and so do you. Pick him up and follow me.”
“He kicked you, but I’ve done nothing.”
“Then you have nothing to fear.”
After a moment, Yukihito bent, lifted the limp body of his friend, flung him over his shoulder like a bag of rice, and trotted after Akitada.
In this manner they passed through the streets and into courtyard of the police station, stared at by constables and gathering a small retinue of red-coated guardians of the peace who followed them to Kobe’s office.
Akitada knocked and walked in. Kobe was seated behind his desk, reading some document. He got up and stared at Akitada’s companions. “What happened to Daisai?” he asked.
“He tried to kill me because I was about to turn h
im and his partner in for Nakamura’s murder.” Yukihito made some confused protest, but fell quiet when the constables drew nearer. Akitada told him to put down his burden and sit, then sat down himself. “This is Nakamura Yukihito, the master’s nephew,” he said to Kobe.
Kobe’s eyes lit up. “You don’t say. How very convenient! When I was checking into that inheritance, I turned up a very interesting surprise.” Kobe looked at Yukihito with great satisfaction. “We sent for you, but you weren’t on your uncle’s farm.”