by I. J. Parker
“Never!” Akiko was emphatic. “His Majesty thought her too ugly to have near him. He demanded that she was to be seated in the background on all occasions they attended together.”
“How cruel! Did she know?” Tamako looked shocked.
“How could she not know?”
Akitada had followed this exchange with wrinkled brow. Was nothing secret these days? Apparently the most private palace matters were common gossip among women.
Akiko turned to him. “So, was it murder? Was she given poison?”
He said, “No. She was found at the bottom of a cliff. Please don’t ask for details. At least not yet. What does Lady Kishi have to say about the death?”
His sister pouted.
“Come, Akiko,” her brother pleaded. “All that is required is that you visit Lady Kishi and chat about her recent troubles. When I saw her, the room was full of women and children. They withdrew when we arrived, but no doubt they’ll stay for you. That household knows more than we do. Please try to find out something. Anything.”
“If you’re trying to pin the girl’s murder on Kishi, you can forget it,” she said, chin in the air. “She’s absolutely innocent and my friend. I’ll not help you make her life even more hellish.”
“Hellish? Come, that’s surely an exaggeration.”
“She’s desperately unhappy. Her husband doesn’t care for her, merely doing his duty now and then, and he has stopped that also. Meanwhile, he carries on affairs with totally unsuitable women, and makes no effort to look after the future of his children.”
Akitada was scandalized again by the intimate gossip that seemed to pass between women. He glanced at Tamako, saw her mouth twitch with amusement, and turned back to Akiko. “I thought she was the one who created most of their difficulties. For example, why does she have to keep agitating to make her husband a crown prince when he’s not interested?”
Akiko said, “Because she’s a mother, silly.”
“Nonsense. Her children are guaranteed the highest positions.”
“Not if he divorces her.”
Akitada was dumfounded. “Divorce her? Why would he do a thing like that? She’s the chancellor’s daughter and has given him sons.”
“Don’t ask me why. Who knows why men do stupid things?”
Tamako broke in, “Please don’t quarrel. There’s work to be done.”
They fell silent and looked away from each other. Akitada wondered if Akiko could be right. Would Atsuhira have divorced Kishi to make Lady Masako his senior consort? He had claimed to have loved her passionately, and there would have been a child. Since Atsuhira had no wish to ascend the throne someday, he might well have rid himself of a wife who had made his life difficult with her ambitions.
And that would give Kishi an excellent motive for murder.
Tora Investigates
Never one to hold a grudge for long, Tora walked into town in a very forgiving mood toward his master. He had sent him on an errand of the kind Tora particularly relished and had done so without the usual biting remark about Tora’s past weakness for pretty women. Perhaps he was trying to make amends for having dismissed Saburo and relegated Genba and Ohiro to the ranks of outcasts.
Saburo was still lost, but he was a resourceful character and would manage. Their paths were bound to cross sooner or later. Tora ached to learn some of Saburo’s more dubious skills. His sleuthing and spying talents, in his opinion, were wasted on secretarial duties. Breaking into houses to spy on suspects, on the other hand, was a skill worth cultivating if one was engaged in tracking murderers.
But Genba’s case was worrisome. Tora had no illusions about the miseries of being jailed. It had happened to him. The floggings could get very nasty. And the falling-out between his master and Superintendent Kobe meant that Genba could not expect any protection from that quarter. His master’s anger had been reasonable in that regard.
He reached the Willow Quarter feeling cheerfully optimistic. Tokuzo’s brothel was already open for business. Tora had decided that it would be a great deal easier to get the list of names replaced by Tokuzo’s mother than to search for the women on his own. Besides, he wanted to find out what she was like..
Since it was still well before the midday rice, the downstairs room of the Sasaya was nearly empty. A very young and pretty girl came to ask what she could bring him. He eyed her appreciatively and asked, “How old are you, little charmer?”
She blushed, not a common reaction among the women employed in the quarter. “Thirteen, sir.” She paused, then blushed even more furiously. “I’m not allowed to work yet.”
“Well, aren’t you a waitress?”
“Yes, but…” She cast a glance toward the ceiling. “The mistress says I need more training.”
Tora nodded. “Like going to school, right?”
She giggled.
“Well, tell your mistress I’d like to speak to her. It’s about Ohiro.”
She ran off, light-footed like a child, but already with that seductive little motion of her slender hips. Tora shook his head.
She reappeared quickly and took him to a backroom where a thin old woman was working over a ledger. Tora looked Tokuzo’s mother over and decided he did not like her. This did not prevent his greeting her with his friendliest smile and most affable manner.
“Ah. The lady of the house looks as charming as her girls.”
She eyed him with a frown. “The girl said you’ve come about Ohiro.”
Tora sat down across from her, giving her the full benefit if his brilliant smile. “I’m Tora, Lord Sugawara’s assistant. He sent me to tell you he’s working out an arrangement.”
The frown disappeared and she positively beamed. “Fifty pieces of silver, your master said. And cheap at that. Do we still have an agreement?”
“I expect so.” Tora glanced around the room and at the account books and writing utensils. “I bet you have a lot of trouble running this business. Didn’t Tokuzo have a brother?”
She sighed. “It’s a lot of work, and I’m an old woman,” she shot him a glance, “no matter what pretty lies you tell me, young Tora.”
“Never say that! There are men who appreciate a mature female. A good woman is above the price of pearls. But you shouldn’t have to slave away over dusty books and deal with rowdy drunks. I would have expected Tokuzo’s brother to look after the Sasaya. It must be a good business.”
“My other son is an official. He likes the money well enough, but he doesn’t want to dirty his hands.” She managed to sound both resentful and proud.
“Then I bet you’re better at the business than he is.”
She chuckled at that. “Maybe. So what’s on your mind, Tora?”
This was moving too fast in the wrong direction. Tora said, “Here’s the problem: before we can do the business with Ohiro, we’ll have to get her and Genba out of jail. My master’s passed the names you gave him to the police, but I thought we might speed up things if I went and asked those girls a few questions myself.”
She looked a little disappointed but nodded. “Be my guest. I’d like to know who my enemies are. I’ve been thinking, and the most likely are Ona and Hanishi.” Her smile was gone, and she looked almost witchlike. “Ona’s the one Tokuzo caught passing her earnings to a boyfriend. And Hanishi was always causing trouble with the customers. I wouldn’t put it past them to be behind my poor Tokuzo’s death.” She waved a finger at Tora. “Get whoever did it, Tora, and you’ll do a good deed.”
Having obtained detailed directions to the girls’ lodgings, Tora decided to see Shokichi first. He caught her just as she returned from washing clothes in a nearby canal. She had shared quarters with Ohiro and was her friend, so he expected to get help from her.
Shokichi was a tall girl and would have been handsome except for her pockmarked face and crooked teeth. Life in the brothel had hardened her, and she eyed Tora with suspicion. His big smile and flirtatious manner got no response. He decided to plunge right into the reason f
or his visit.
“You must be Shokichi, Ohiro’s friend,” he said. “And I’m Tora, Genba’s friend. Let’s see if we cannot put our heads together and help them.”
Shokichi relaxed, invited him into the poor lodging, and poured him some cheap wine. He drank, smacked his lips, and said, “We need to find the guy who did away with that Tokuzo scum. Any ideas?”
She shook her head. “That bastard. He had more people hating him than there are flies on a dead dog.”
Tora grinned. “Good. How about his girls?”
Her face closed. “No. They wouldn’t have dared.”
“Maybe not, but can you be sure? Did he beat you?”
“Of course, but I can take it.” She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “The scum didn’t make me cry and plead.”
“Good for you. But others weren’t that strong. What about Ona and Hanishi, for example?”
“No. They’re like me. Used to it.” She turned away. “But not all the girls are like that. The animal nearly killed a couple. And one he did kill.”
Tora asked quickly, “Which one?”
“What does it matter?” Then she turned back to him, her eyes wide. “I think Miyagi came back as a ghost.”
The spirit world held many terrors for Tora. He knew the souls of people who had died violently or been wronged in their lives could not find rest after death and sought out the living who were responsible. But Tokuzo’s wounds had not been left by a ghost. Still, the killer could have been sent by the dead woman’s ghost. “Really? What happened to Miyagi?”
“It was terrible. Miyagi was still very young. Only fifteen, and she got pregnant. Maybe she wasn’t careful. But Tokuzo had just bought her and paid a lot, and now she wasn’t going to make any money for him. So he made her drink medicine. But all that happened was that she got real sick. And soon the men could see she was pregnant and left her alone. One night Tokuzo took her back to his room. I don’t know what he did, but she started bleeding. Only she didn’t stop, and the next morning she was dead.”
Tora shuddered. It was surely enough to make Miyagi become an angry ghost. “She have any family?”
“Her grandparents came to bury her. Tokuzo paid for the funeral, and they thanked him.”
Well, most likely then they would not have hired a killer. They must be poor. And that would be true of the rest of the women. Tora was becoming discouraged. “Did anyone else die?”
“Only Ozuru. One of the customers threw her over the railing. She broke her back.”
That could not be laid directly at Tokuzo’s door. “Listen, Shokichi, could the women have pooled their savings and hired an assassin?”
Shokichi laughed bitterly. “No. Ohiro and I, we were always talking to the others about ways of getting out of our contracts. They liked the idea but we didn’t know anyone who would do it.”
“I expect some of the women have lovers or husbands. Or brothers. Could one of the men have killed Tokuzo? The way he was mistreating them, surely someone got angry enough.”
Shokichi looked away. “The men are cowards, and the girls don’t tell their families. They’re too ashamed.”
Nothing.
With a sigh, Tora got up. “The girl Ozuru?” he said. “Where was she from?”
“Yasaka village. I went to her funeral. Tokuzo allowed some of us to go. I think he wanted us to think that it wasn’t his fault.”
“Why didn’t one of you tell the police? Or at least the warden of the quarter?”
“The police?” Shokichi snorted. “You forgot what happened to Ohiro?”
Tora said nothing.
“The warden knew. You’ve got to report deaths. But who’s to prove it was Tokuzo’s fault?”
Tora nodded. She got up, a tall, slender girl. Not pretty, but he saw character in her face. “Are things better now?”
“A little. The bastard’s mother is just interested in the money. She doesn’t beat us. I swear he got his kicks out of hurting women.”
Tora nodded. “Well, I’ll go talk to Miyagi’s people.”
“She grew up here. I’m not sure where. She was a timid thing. Real quiet. You’d have thought she was a nun the way she kept her eyes down and wore nothing but dingy clothes. Tokuzo beat Ozuru, too, but it was a customer who threw her over the railing. He said she was stealing his money. I never believed that. If he’d said she was a dead fish in bed, it would’ve been different.”
Something about Shokichi’s description made Tora pause. “Who would know about them? Tokuzo’s mother?”
She nodded. “Or the warden. We’re all registered there.”
“Right. I forgot. Thanks, Shokichi.”
She came to the door with him. “Good luck, Tora.”
The warden of the quarter was a new man. He eyed Tora coldly but eventually provided an address for Miyagi, along with the information that her death had been listed as the result of illness, and Ozuru’s as an accident. “The owner said she was drunk and fell down the stairs.”
Tora grimaced, muttered, “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” and left.
Miyagi used to live in a very staid neighborhood of small neat houses, built close together to conserve space. A fire trap, thought Tora, but there were signs that the people who lived here were aware of the danger. He saw buckets at every door and water barrels at every corner. Clearly, they were looking out for each other. He eyed the house the dead woman had lived in. Somehow it did not look like the family was desperate enough to sell their daughters as sex workers. He walked through the small gate and knocked.
A young woman with a baby on her hip stuck her head out of the door.
Tora bowed. “Please forgive the trouble. I’m looking for the family of a young woman called Miyagi.”
She smiled at him. Tora almost always got smiles from women. “Miyagi? No. Never heard of her. You could try the next street.”
But Tora knew he had the right place. “Have you been here long?”
She shook her head. “My father-in-law bought the place from some people called Satake. About a year ago. But they were just two old people.”
Tora thanked her and asked for the warden’s house. It was two blocks away, and the warden was on his roof, repairing some wooden boards held down by large stones.
“Satake?” he asked, peering down at Tora. “Yes. The old people sold the house. They left and I heard they’ve both died. Him first, then the old lady a little while ago. Very sad. Why do you want to know?”
“Just checking the tax register,” Tora lied and gave the man a wave.
This trail had ended, and his next call required a horse. He would have to ride all the way to Yasaka village in the foothills to find out if Ozuru had any living relative who might have taken revenge for her death. He wasn’t very hopeful, and returned home.
An Answer of Sorts
Saburo returned to the beggars the following night. He found the priest Kenko in a corner of the temple ruins that served as the beggars’ place of worship. The reason he found it was that Kenko had lit a number of candles and was dusting the altar. He had evidently salvaged odd pieces of statuary and religious objects from the rubble and set them up on a broken table covered with pieces of silk and brocade. The effect was at once flamboyant and sad, but the flickering lights lent the arrangement a certain eerie sparkle.
Saburo bowed deeply several times, first to the chipped Buddha presiding in the center of the arrangement, and then to the priest.
“Forgive me, Reverence,” he murmured.
“Ah, Saburo,” said the old man, turning. He wore a multi-colored surplice over the red silk gown and a green trouser skirt. Like his altar, he was a colorful sight, though all the garments were sadly wrinkled, stained, and even torn in places. “You’ve come back to us. Will you stay?”
“Sorry, no, Reverence. I have found work and a place to live. But I need some help.”
“All of us need help,” said Kenko, frowning. “It sounds as though you manage better than
most of us. How then can I help you?”
“The man who attacked me committed a murder. My friend and his wife are now in jail because the police think they did it. I must find the real killer. Jinsai saw him, but he won’t tell me about it.”
Kenko said nothing. He stood quite still and looked away into the night, cocking his head as if he were listening. Saburo heard nothing and thought the old man might be hard of hearing or had somehow drifted off into some meditation. He said a little louder, “Reverence? Did you hear me?”
“Buddha hears all, but not all requests are answered.”
Saburo was getting angry. “That isn’t just. You must tell Jinsai to help me. Buddha cannot let the innocent suffer for the guilty. What sort of faith is that?”
Kenko looked at him. “You were a monk once; you tell me.”
Saburo hissed in frustration and flung out of the makeshift Buddha hall.
As he headed toward the street, he almost collided with Bashan. The blind masseur was entering the ruined temple compound with his medicine case strapped across his broad chest. His shaved head gleaming faintly in the light of the distant fires.
They stopped simultaneously. Then both bowed, smiled, and passed each other, Bashan tapping his way with his staff.
As Saburo headed for his lodging, he wondered if he should have thanked the man. But Bashan had seemed in a great deal of hurry. Perhaps he had been called to someone who was sick.
Back at Mrs. Komiya’s, he lay down on his bedding and fell deeply asleep.
The next morning, he woke to a realization. His failure to elicit information from the beggars and their priest could only mean one thing: they were protecting one of their own. He felt angry about this. The assassin had taken advantage of him, left him with a sore head, and was responsible for the trouble his friend Genba was in.
But he could not think of any way to get the beggars to talk.
He got up and did Mrs. Komiya’s chores. He carried in wood, fetched more water, swept outside her front door. Then he peeled some vegetables. As a reward, she gave him a bowl of gruel.