by I. J. Parker
“I knew he had done some things,” said Kaneie, who was furiously angry. “But I had no idea of this. When I got your letter, I went immediately and demanded to see these documents. As you may imagine, I have protested and demanded the man be prosecuted.”
“I see,” said Akitada, very pleased with this outcome. “Do you think it will get Kobe his position back?”
“I have no idea. They’ve wanted to replace him for a long time. But that they should do it this way, and use my name!” Kaneie was turning purple with anger again.
“Well,” said Akitada. “I’m very glad anyway. And you got rid of Sakanoue. Any idea why he did it?”
“No, but I’ll have it out of him. I’m going back to the ministry to call him to account.” Kaneie waved the documents triumphantly as he left.
33
The Lady of the Crane Pavilion
When Lady Akiko next called on her brother, she looked glum.
“Nothing,” she said. “I’m at the end of my wits. I’ve talked and probed, gossiped and snooped, flattered and teased. I can get nothing more. Masako was a gosechi dancer, was chosen as an imperial handmaiden, and met Masakane. Once she lived in the imperial palace, the handsome rascal pursued her, gained access to her chamber, and the pair confronted her father with their clandestine marriage.”
Akitada nodded. “Yes, that sounds pretty much like what I’d expect from that crowd these days.”
Akiko raised her brows. “Don’t moralize, Akitada. These were young people, and the palace isn’t exactly a family home. Besides, if I recall, your marriage started with just such a clandestine visit.”
Akitada blushed, then laughed. Yes, he had been very much in love with Tamako and had dared everything that night. He had been lucky; she had wanted him as much as he wanted her. The memory brought tears to his eyes. He had not thought of Tamako as much lately.
His sister said, “I’m sorry, Akitada. That was thoughtless of me.”
“You remind me of how happy we were,” he said, smiling. “And you’re quite right. I must not judge Sadako and Masakane. I take it that his offense happened soon after?”
Akiko nodded. “Most of the women I spoke to think Masakane deserved his fate. They seemed to feel that His Majesty had some claim on Sadako, and that Masakane should have been apologetic instead of striking His Majesty.”
“Death is a rather cruel punishment for a man defending his wife’s honor.”
“If he really died.”
“You mean there is some doubt?”
“Strange things happen in those faraway places. They sent Masakane to Mutsu province. He’s supposed to have died from an injury. What if he’s still alive?”
Akitada considered this. “It would explain why Lady Sadako suddenly left the nunnery and hid herself away. She heard that Masakane was alive and she was waiting for him. It also explains her strange happiness. But how are we to prove this? And more importantly, what does this mean for her murder?”
They stared at each other. Akiko said, “This is becoming very interesting. Akitada, you must get better quickly. What a story!”
Akitada thought about it. “I wasn’t finished with her fellow lodgers and should have followed through when I realized that someone had moved the trunk under her body after her death. It was the trunk, standing right there in the middle of the room, that caused the police to declare the death a suicide. What a fool I’ve been! I hope it isn’t too late.”
“The murderer must have done that. He wanted everyone to think she hanged herself.”
“Yes, but he must have been very quick. When the children found her, there was no trunk there. The boy stood right below her and gave her feet a push to see if she could fly. They ran to get the caretaker and he sent for the constables. Hmm! Now I wonder.”
“What?”
“The caretaker didn’t say anything about the trunk.” Akitada frowned. What was his name again? Koshiro. A peculiar fellow. He looked more like a ruffian than a caretaker.”
“You think he killed her?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps. He was strong enough.” Akitada got to his feet, grimacing a little as his back protested. “I must go back. I haven’t asked the right questions. All of them are suspects, with the possible exception of the nun who is too small and frail to pull Lady Sadako’s body up by that rope.”
Lady Akiko got to her feet also. “Shall we go now?”
Akitada shook his head “I cannot walk that far.”
“We’ll go by palanquin,” said his sister with an airy wave. “You’ll do very well, sitting down, and I shall be with you.”
“No, Akiko. You cannot go. It’s not suitable and may be dangerous.” He thought of the disgusting habits of the professor and the odd figure of the artist.
“Nonsense. I’m a married woman. I can go anywhere I please.”
Akitada chuckled. “Not quite. I’ll take Tora and report to you. How’s that?”
“No!” Akiko practically wailed. “You can’t do this to me after all I’ve done. It isn’t fair.”
And since she was right, she got her way. Tora was summoned, the plan explained to him, and a short time later, all three were on their way to the Takashina mansion, Akitada and his sister in separate palanquins, and Tora, who had armed himself, striding along beside them.
As on his last visit, the gates stood open and the mansion lay silent and apparently empty under cloudy skies. The storm had made way for colder weather, and a sharp wind blew leaves across the gravel as Tora helped Akitada and Lady Akiko from their conveyances and told the bearers to wait in the courtyard.
They were again on their own. The main house lay in front of them, but Akitada turned toward the stables and the caretaker’s quarters just beyond. To his satisfaction, he saw smoke coming from the opening in Koshiro’s roof.
Akiko had been looking around with great curiosity. “You’d think,” she said, “the abbot would let a family of some substance live here. He could collect rent or favors that way and the property would be taken care of. It’s eerie, seeing it empty like this.”
“The abbot practices charity, not greed,” Akitada said without much conviction. “The caretaker appears to be home. I bet we’ll get better answers from him this time.”
Tora snorted. “There’s something sly about him. If he’s our killer, he won’t come clean.”
Koshiro had seen them coming and met them at the door. He was pale as he looked from Akitada to Tora and then to Akiko. He looked at her the longest.
“As you see,” said Akitada, “we are back. The lady is my sister who takes a great interest in Lady Ogata’s fate.”
Koshiro swallowed, stepping aside to let them enter. Inside, the painter sat in front of a go board. They had interrupted a game. The painter looked pleased to see them and bowed.
“I still don’t know anything,” Koshiro said. “I’ve told you and the police everything.”
“Not quite,” said Akitada with a nod to the painter. He led his sister to a cushion, then seated himself. Tora leaned against the door and glowered.
Koshiro hesitated, then sat down beside Yoshizane. “I don’t know what you mean, sir.”
“You misled us and the police,” Akitada said. “That was very foolish. It makes you look guilty.”
Koshiro yelped, “Guilty?”
Tora growled, “Is your name really Koshiro?”
“That’s the name I’m known by.”
“Maybe now, but I’ll bet you had a different one before you came here. The police will become very interested when we tell them about you.”
Koshiro’s eyes went to the door. Tora put his hand to his sword.
“But I haven’t done anything,” the caretaker protested.
Akitada said, “You rearranged Lady Ogata’s room so the police would think she had committed suicide. Did you kill her?”
The caretaker turned absolutely white and looked about him in desperation.
The painter had listened with great interes
t and asked, “Did you, Koshiro? Shame on you! Whatever had she done to you?”
“Nothing. It’s a lie, or a mistake. You know me, Yoshizane. I worshipped her.”
The painter giggled. “You and the student, and maybe all of us. But you and the student are crazy.”
Koshiro stared at Akitada with a hopeless expression. He said, “You’re right. I did push the trunk under her, but I didn’t kill her. I would never have hurt her. She was good, truly good. She made me feel decent.”
Akitada watched him. “Tell us about it.”
“I was afraid the police would find out about me. Years ago I did something I’m ashamed of and was sent to prison. I was building a road with other prisoners, and one day I ran away. I begged for food at temples and monasteries. One day, something happened to me at a temple. I saw a vision of the goddess Kannon. When the monks found me crying and praying, they asked what was the matter. They took me to their abbot and I confessed everything. When I was done, he said the goddess had forgiven me. He said he needed someone to look after this mansion and gave me this job. When he brought the lady to live here, I saw she was very kind and beautiful. She was an incarnation of Kannon to me. I would never have hurt her. That cursed day when the children came to fetch me, and I saw what had happened, I fell to my knees and prayed. That’s when I saw the trunk and knew what I had to do. And that’s what I did, and it’s all I did.”
Silence fell.
The painter broke it first. “But,” he said, “that means someone else killed her.”
Akitada nodded. “Yes, someone did kill her.”
Koshiro flung himself down before Akitada, knocking the go board aside and scattering the stones. “I swear I’m innocent. I don’t know what happened.”
Akitada sighed and got to his feet, extending a hand to Lady Akiko. “Come,” he said. “There’s nothing more for us here. We must find the killer elsewhere.”
Koshiro wailed, “What will happen to me?”
“If you’re innocent, nothing. But if you have lied or kept anything hidden again, I’ll see to it that the law falls upon you with special heaviness.”
Outside again, he turned to his sister. “Be warned by his story. These people have led rough lives. If we confront the murderer, he may become violent.”
She laughed. “I look forward to it. Life gets pretty dull when you see nobody but people of your own kind. And I’m not at all the refined creature you take me for.”
She was probably right about that.
They walked back to the main house and entered the wing occupied by Genshin’s guests.
Hearing their steps, the professor opened his door and looked out into the corridor. He was bleary-eyed and stank of wine. His eyes moved from Akitada and Tora to Lady Akiko and widened. “Dear me,” he said. “Do my eyes deceive me or is this a celestial being?”
“You may remember me,” Akitada said coldly. “The lady is my sister. She takes an interest in Lady Ogata’s story. Akiko, this is Professor Suketada.”
The professor blinked. “I hardly dare offer my hospitality,” he said, bowing, “but I’m a poor man and perhaps, in her kindness, her ladyship may overlook the shortcomings of my current abode.”
He stepped aside. Akiko looked at the cluttered room, wrinkled her nose, and decided to stand near the doors to the veranda.
“We needn’t trouble you long,” Akitada said. “What do you know about the caretaker?”
“He’s as lazy as they come. Caretaker? He only takes care of himself.”
“How long has he been here?”
“Let me see. About as long as I. I think he showed up right after I moved in and introduced himself. I’m afraid I don’t waste my time talking to caretakers. You’ll have to ask Yoshizane. They’re fast friends.”
Akiko interjected, “Do you ever take on private pupils, Professor?”
Akitada stared at her. Surely she was not thinking of hiring this wine-sodden individual for his children.
The professor made her another bow. “Very rarely, my dear lady. My research takes up all of my time. I’m engaged in writing a history of the Imperial University, you see.”
“It will be a most learned work, I’m sure,” Akiko said. “But you have had private students in the past?”
The professor waved a hand. “A few. Not worth the effort. The young are irritating dolts. I offered to help our young Akushiro recently and found him very unstable. Apart from the fact that he can’t keep his mind on anything but women, he’s dangerously violent.”
Akitada asked, “Violent? He seemed more the frightened rabbit type. What happened?”
The professor rubbed his chin and grimaced. “He was supposed to be writing an essay on Kung Fu Tse and scribbled some silly poem instead. I made a scathing comment on his poetic skills and he hit me. That ended our lessons.”
Akitada raised his brows. “It seems I was wrong about that young man. I intend to have a word with him. Where is his room?”
The professor took them along the corridor and pointed to a door. “He may not be in,” he cautioned. “Now and then he actually attends a lecture at the university.”
As soon as the tall figure of the professor had bowed and disappeared into his own room again, Akitada tapped on the student’s door. Getting no response, he opened it and walked in, followed by Akiko and Tora.
The student’s room was not very tidy, but since he had not accumulated as many books and papers as Professor Suketada, it appeared cleaner and more spacious. The shutters to the outside were closed, but strips of light filtered in and revealed a clothing trunk, a small desk, a stand with books, a roll of bedding, a few utensils, and an old wooden box of the type that held money or important papers.
Akitada made straight for this box and found it locked.
Tora joined him. “It looks pretty flimsy. Shall I have a try at breaking it open, sir?”
Akitada hesitated.
“Go ahead!” urged Lady Akiko.
Tora picked up the box with both hands and shook it. It made a rustling sound. “Not money anyway,” he said. “Sounds like papers.”
“Papers,” cried Lady Akiko. “That’s much better than money. Open it.”
The lock turned out to be loose, having lost a nail in the past and being held by a single remaining nail which Tora pried out with his knife. Opened, the box revealed loose sheets of paper covered with poetry and a thin notebook.”
Lady Akiko snatched the notebook, while Akitada leafed through the poems. They seemed to be passionate love poems or dealt with death. Clearly the student had been in love with Lady Ogata. Akitada sighed and put the poems back. “Anything there?” he asked his sister.
She was absorbed in the notebook. “It’s a diary,” she muttered. “I think … it’s a woman’s diary. It must be hers.”
“Let me see.”
“Just a moment. Yes, she talks about her husband’s death here. It’s very sad.”
Akitada took hold of the diary and tugged.
“Wait. I want to see the end. It may give us a clue about her killer.
At that moment, the door opened, and the student walked in. He stopped, flushed as red as the lacquered railings outside the Takashina mansion, and gasped, “What are you doing in my room?”
With his next glance he recognized the diary in Lady Akiko’s hands, howled like some mad thing, and flung himself at her. Akitada moved to intercept him, but the impact threw him to the floor, where he landed so awkwardly that he nearly passed out from the pain in his half-healed back and shoulder.
As everything turned black, he heard Akiko’s scream and a shout from Tora. More screams and shouts followed, and when Akitada finally managed to catch his breath and open his eyes, the student flailed on the floor with Tora kneeling on his back and twisting one of his arms across it. The screams came from the student. Akiko lay beyond them, curled up and moaning.
Tora asked Akitada, “Are you all right, sir?”
“Yes.” Akitada struggled to
sit up and fell back. “I’ll be all right in a moment,” he ground out.
Tora cursed and punched the side of the student’s head; the student screamed again. “Shut up, you disgusting coward,” snarled Tora and twisted his arm viciously.
Akitada remonstrated weakly.
Attracted by all the screaming, the professor walked in and stared at the scene. “What’s going on?”
This time, Akitada managed to sit up. “Stop twisting his arm, Tora,” he said. The screams turned to whimpers. Akitada crawled over to his sister. “Akiko? Are you hurt?”
She took a hand from her face and held it out to him. It was covered with blood. “He hit me,” she said in a tone of outrage.
Akitada helped her to sit up and took a look. “A nosebleed,” he said. “I don’t think it’s broken. He found a paper tissue in his sash and handed it to her.
She held this to her nose and peered at Tora and the student. “He’s the killer!” she said in a muffled voice and a tone of conviction.
“Oh, yes,” said Akitada, feeling his back to see if his wounds had opened up again. They had not, though they still hurt. “Yes, I think so. Everything points to it.”
“Yes,” agreed the professor. “I told you he was violent.”
The student sobbed.
“But why?” Akiko dabbed at her nose and studied the bloody tissue. “What possible reason could he have had?”
“Professor, would you give me hand? I’ve been wounded and this incident has taken the strength from my knees.” Akitada held out a hand to the professor who grasped it and pulled him to his feet. Akitada stood a moment, swaying.
“He attacked you, too?” the professor asked. “Where are you wounded?”
“They are old wounds. He rushed my sister and me because we were looking at Lady Ogata’s diary. He must have stolen it from her trunk after he killed her.”