Death of a Doll Maker

by I. J. Parker

  Tora sniffed the air. “It smells delicious. And it’s past time for the midday rice. How about sampling the local fare? I’ll pay.”

  Maeda chuckled. “Either you’ve won a wager or your pay’s better than mine, as the case may be. Though come to think of it, your pay must be better. You’re the governor’s executive officer.”

  Tora snorted. “As for that, I’ve yet to see a copper of it.”

  They ate in a large Chinese restaurant called Golden Dragon near the harbor. To Tora’s surprise, the guests occupied wooden chairs like those of Buddhist abbots. Tora sat down, shifted his bottom around a bit, and grinned. “I could get used to this. It feels a little stiff, but you don’t have to worry about getting up and down and it keeps your robe out of the dirt.”

  He was even more enthusiastic when the food arrived and he sampled. The noodle soup was particularly rich and delicious. “What’s this?” Tora asked, raising a pale succulent sliver with his chopsticks.

  “Chicken.”

  “May the Buddha forgive me for eating an animal.” He chewed and smacked his lips.

  “Wait until you taste the pork dumplings.” Maeda held one out between his chopsticks.

  “Are you sure it’s safe?”

  “Taste it.”

  The dumpling was the best thing Tora had ever put in his mouth. “Oh, I know I’ll go straight to hell for this. How do they manage all this killing of animals when it comes to their souls?”

  “Buddhism isn’t very popular with the Chinese. They’re mostly devout followers of Master Kung-fu-tse.”

  Tora ordered another plate of dumplings. “My master will like this. He’s not altogether convinced the Buddhist priests are right. By the way, how’s your prisoner?”

  “Mitsui’s weeping and shaking like a leaf. He’s sure he’s going to the mines for the rest of his life. Or worse, as the case may be.”

  “What’s worse than working in the mines?” Tora recalled conditions in the penal colony of Sado and shuddered.

  “You know about mines?”

  “Yes. My master was in one on Sado Island.”

  Maeda stopped chewing. “You’re pulling my leg. He’s a nobleman, isn’t he?”

  “Yes. But it’s the truth. I swear. He was pretending to be a convict to check into a murder there. He escaped. Barely.”

  Maeda shook his head in amazement as he thought about this. “He must be a very brave man. You may have a point about mines being worse than a quick death. Here it’s cheaper to lose a prisoner while rowing him across the bay to the convict boat. Being chained hand and foot hampers the swimming.”

  “That’s horrible. Is there a lot of crime in Hakata?”

  “Not so you’d know. But plenty of bodies wash up. Okata enters them as accidental drownings.”

  “What? Doesn’t a coroner look at them first? You do have a coroner?”

  “Yes, a good one. Doc Fujita’s a trained physician. That reminds me. He had a look at Mrs. Mitsui. She had twenty-four stab wounds, most to the chest and belly, but also several to the face. Some cuts were very deep. Fujita says the knife was sharp and more than the length of a hand. She bled to death.”

  Tora nodded. “It sounds either personal or the work of a madman. A husband might’ve done it in a fit of anger.”

  “I took him back to the house and made him check if anything was gone. He said their big knife is missing. It’s about the right length. He insists the killer must’ve got in and used the knife to kill her.”

  “Any signs of someone breaking in? She’d gone to bed.”

  “No, but he says she would’ve left the door unlocked for him.”

  “Careless. So what now?”

  “Hmm. If he’s innocent, I suppose we are left with a madman.”

  “Oh well, that narrows it down.” Tora looked disgusted and poured himself some more tea. It was sweetened with honey, and he thought it a very acceptable substitute for wine.

  Maeda waved a waiter over to order another dish, which appeared in the form of fluffy objects like tiny hairy pillows.

  “Golden Dragon’s Beard,” said Maeda. “Try it. It’s sweeter than honey.”

  Tora eyed the hairy objects with a shudder. “Thanks, I’m too full.”

  Maeda picked up a pillow, tearing it into sticky pieces before putting them into his mouth. He rolled his eyes and rubbed his belly. Tora decided the hairy things couldn’t be too bad and took a small bite from another pillow. The sticky strands separated and stuck to his chin.

  Maeda laughed and reached across to wipe Tora’s chin. “Tigers don’t have beards in my experience.”

  They finished the sweet with sticky fingers and faces, but the waiter brought bowls of warm water to wash off the remnants of the meal.

  Tora burped with satisfaction. “Best meal I’ve ever had. I’m beginning to like our Chinese neighbors.”

  Maeda grinned. “They say most devils live near a temple.”

  Tora sobered. “Or marry shrine priests,” he said.

  8

  FATHER AND SON

  They located the modest house belonging to the Zhou family and asked for Suyin. Her family received Maeda with the greatest respect in a large room which served as living quarters for many Zhous of all ages. Parents, wives of sons, unmarried daughters, and grandchildren all seemed to live together amicably.

  This family togetherness was customary, and it struck Tora he had rarely known anyone as lonely as the dead woman, who seemed to have had no one except Suyin to confide in. In his own country women were supposed to be cherished by their families, protected by fathers, husbands, and brothers, and surrounded by other women in the household. He knew his wife Hanae spent many happy hours with his master’s wife and Genba’s new bride.

  As it turned out, Suyin did not have a husband or children, but she, too, was part of this large family. She was plain to the point of ugliness and past middle age, which explained why she was still unmarried and tended many small children belonging to her brothers’ families. The Zhous were not well-to-do. They were able to feed their large family, but had little beyond that. Maeda and Tora talked to Suyin in the same room where most of the Zhous spent the day. She was surrounded by other women, busy with assorted chores, and a startling number of small children ran about, many of them bare-bottomed.

  They all listened as Maeda told Suyin about her friend’s death. She wept. Several toddlers clinging to her skirts joined in, and it was a while before everyone calmed enough for Tora and Maeda to ask their questions. And finally new facts emerged.

  “She was happy for once,” sobbed Suyin, “really happy. She had earned some gold; she showed me five coins and said she was going to spend it on herself. She’d never been able to do such a thing before. She was going to buy some green silk at Mr. Feng’s store and sew herself a fine new dress. And there were some embroidered shoes she wanted, and then she said she and I were going to take a trip together. We were going to visit a mountain shrine and bathe in the hot water sacred to the mountain god. She believed it would cure the pains in her hands and legs.” Suyin looked at them tearfully, then wailed, “Oh, poor Mei. She never had any luck.”

  The listening family murmured, nodding their heads. A child started to bawl again.

  “She had gold?” Tora asked, flabbergasted. “Where did she get it?”

  Suyin sniveled and turned away to blow her nose. “She sold some of her dolls for quite a lot of money and decided not to tell her husband. He never gave her anything, even though it was Mei who did most of the work. He just fired the clay dolls and delivered them when they were ready. It was Mei who painted them and made their clothes.”

  “Who gave her the money?” Maeda asked.

  “She didn’t say. She just smiled and said she could sell as many dolls as she wanted.”

  Tora asked, “When did she get this gold? I suppose her customer paid after she delivered the dolls?”

  Suyin looked vague. “I’m not sure. She showed me the coins when she ca
me to work with me at the Hayashi house. That was day before she was killed. She smiled and sang all day as she worked. After work, she bought some sweets for both of us.”

  “Then she must have gotten it at least two days before the murder.” Maeda said. Suyin nodded and burst into tears again.

  “Why didn’t she want her husband to know about this money?” Tora asked.

  “He wasn’t nice to her because she was Chinese. He told her it was her fault they were poor. I told her she should ask for some of the money for herself because she did most of the work. She did, but he gave her a black eye. After that she was afraid of him.”

  Tora and Maeda exchanged a glance. Tora asked Suyin, “What about his children? Did she mention them?”

  Suyin shook her head. “I asked her after he struck her that time, but she just shook her head. Something wasn’t right with them. I know he had a grown daughter and son, but both married and moved away.” She glanced at her eagerly listening family and drew a small child with a snotty nose and a thumb in his mouth closer to her. “Poor Mei,” she said again, shaking her head.

  The sun was setting when they left the Zhous. Tora squinted at it. “Well, now you’ve got your motive. Mitsui must have done it. A man who beats his wife because she asks for a bit of money for a new dress is going to do a lot more when he discovers she’s kept five pieces of gold from him.”

  “Maybe. Time to go to Hakozaki. Let’s see what the son has to say.”

  They asked for Hiroshi at Hakozaki harbor. This was not as large or as busy as Hakata’s, but here, too, some large ships anchored, and the shore was covered with bundles and boxes of goods which had either just arrived or were to be loaded. Tora wished he had time to look around, but Maeda headed straight for the office of the harbor master. There he got directions to a warehouse much like the ones in Naniwa. Tora suppressed a shudder climbing the steep stairs. The memory of that terrible night of fire and of the burning body falling down still haunted him.

  “Hiroshi?” The warehouse manager shook his head. “I got rid of the lazy bastard. He’s always either drunk or half asleep.”

  “When was that?” Maeda asked.

  The man scratched his head. Let’s see. Yesterday? No, the day before. He didn’t seem to care. Sorry I can’t help. But when he wasn’t working, he used to head straight for the wine shops.”

  They walked the streets near the harbor, peering into various evil-smelling dives to ask for Hiroshi. They found him in the fifth, enjoying life in the company of friends.

  Hiroshi was a big young man with a deep tan from working in the open, but his face was puffy from too much drink. Like the others, he wore only a dirty loincloth and a ragged shirt, but he had wine before him and was shooting dice with three or four other porters.

  When Maeda and Tora approached, he looked up, and for a moment they thought he would run, but he relaxed.

  “You’re Mitsui Hiroshi?” asked Maeda.

  “Who wants to know?”

  One of his friends supplied the answer. “Hoho! The police want you, Hiro! What have you done?” They all laughed.

  Hiroshi flushed. “Shut up!”

  Maeda said, “Would you mind stepping outside to talk to us?”

  “Yes, I mind. I’m finally winning.”

  Maeda said, “We’ll wait.”

  Hiroshi cursed but decided to leave the game. Outside, he asked, “What the hell do you want? If it’s about my father, I know you bastards arrested him.”

  Maeda raised his brows at this. “I would have thought you’d be more upset that he’s in jail for having killed your stepmother.”

  “A lot of good that would do. You got the wrong man but what else is new?”

  “Do you have proof he’s innocent?”

  Hiroshi heaved a sigh. “The one hundred questions of a fool! You’ve got the wrong man because the police are idiots, that’s how.” He looked from Maeda to Tora. “Who’s he?”

  Tora said, “I work for the governor. Your father claims he found your stepmother already dead. He says he was here in Hakozaki that day, making a delivery, and got home late. Is this true?”

  “Sure. He was here. We didn’t talk much. He delivered his goods and left.”

  “So then he would have gotten home when?”

  “How should I know? I was working all day.”

  Maeda frowned. “When did you last see your stepmother?”

  “Weeks ago. It’s a lousy job. I don’t get much time off.”

  “Did she mention having money of her own?”

  “Are you kidding? How would she get money?”

  “Maybe from your sister?”

  Hiroshi made a face. “You must be joking. Atsuko is a stuck-up bitch who won’t have anything to do with her poor relations. Especially when they ask for money. She’s too good for the likes of us.” He suddenly looked angry. “Life’s easy for women. They just spread their legs for some old rich guy.”

  It was crude, but having met the shrine priest’s wife, Tora could understand the brother’s bitterness. Still, why had Hiroshi not done better for himself? He said, “You’re married?”

  “Am I? To a lazy wife with six brats. All of them eating like hungry wolves. How’s a man to feed a family like that on fifty coppers a week?”

  Tora did not point out that drinking and gambling were bound to reduce his wages even more, but Maeda was sarcastic. “You have my sympathy. Especially since you’re out of work again. Your master says he fired you for drinking, and we found you gambling just now.”

  Hiroshi flared up, “The son of bitch! I told him what I thought of him and his job. He didn’t like it. And I’m trying to earn a few coppers playing dice.”

  “Right.” Tora grinned. “Did you ask your father or sister for help?”

  “No. My sister set the dogs on me last time.”

  “Yours isn’t a very close family, is it? Let’s go back to your stepmother’s murder. What did you do the day of the murder?”

  “What, me? I worked.”

  “And after work?”

  “I met some friends and went home. What business is it of yours? Are you accusing me of killing my own stepmother?”

  “I’m not accusing you of anything. Did you get along well with your stepmother?”

  “Sure. She’s my father’s wife.”

  “Be a little more specific.”

  “Look, I told you I haven’t been home in weeks. I’ve got nothing to tell you.”

  Maeda nodded. “Very well. Can you think of anyone who might have had a reason to kill her?”

  Hiroshi narrowed his eyes. “What sort of reason?”

  “I was hoping you’d tell us.”

  Hiroshi lost his temper. “Fuck you, Policeman! You’re too lazy to find her murderer so you’re trying to pin it on me or my father. You’re not going to get me to do your dirty work. If I knew, I’d have told you from the start. You’d better start doing your job.”

  Tora cleared his throat. “Your stepmother was Chinese. Did your parents have any problems with their neighbors?”

  “Not that I know of, but my sister doesn’t want people to know. Me, I couldn’t care less. I’ve got friends among the Chinese.”

  “Who do you think killed your stepmother?”

  Hiroshi shook his head. “How the hell should I know? I wasn’t there.”

  Maeda said through clenched teeth, “If you think of anything else, get in touch,” and turned away.

  Hiroshi snorted. “Don’t hold your breath.” He glared at Tora. “My stepmother’s dead, her killer’s loose, and the police have nothing better to do than harass the family. I’m glad I’m not a policeman.”

  “So am I,” Maeda called over his shoulder.

  Hiroshi spat and went to rejoin the gamblers, and Tora caught up with Maeda.

  The sergeant muttered, “He’s worse than his sister. They were well rid of them.”

  “He wasn’t exactly helping his father, was he? I bet the old guy disapproved of the son
’s life. Maybe Mitsui wasn’t a good husband, but he earned his money with hard work.”

  “Whatever the case may be, the father could have gotten home earlier than he said.”

  “What about the witness who saw the old man after dark?”

  “Unreliable. He was drunk.”

  “There’s too much drinking going on. The son does a lot of drinking himself. He seems to be a regular in the “Auspicious Cloud.”

  Maeda just grunted. He was in a sour mood.

  “Maybe we should go back and talk to Mitsui’s neighbors again. Someone must have seen something that day.”

  “The crime probably happened after dark. Most people were in bed and asleep.”

  “Maybe not all. What about the woman Mrs. Kubota called a slut?”

  Maeda started laughing. “Yoko? I thought you’d forgotten about her. Very well. We’ll talk to her tomorrow.”

  They were passing an elaborate two-storied gatehouse, and Tora stopped. “Look at the size of the gate. What’s behind it?”

  “The Hachiman shrine. Sacred to Emperor Ojin, Empress Jingu, and Princess Tamayori. You want to go in?”

  “Well, I could ask the god to help us.”

  Maeda stopped and grinned. “Why not? Nothing else comes to mind.”

  9

  AKITADA GOES SIGHTSEEING

  Akitada spent every free moment, mostly after hours in his private study, going through the document boxes pertaining to shipping and trade in Hakata harbor. He paid special attention to trade with China and Koryo.

  The government controlled and restricted all contact with foreigners by law. The fear of invasions had caused the court to deny foreign ships the right to land their people and goods on Japanese soil. Visitors were supposed to stay at the Korokan, the government’s lodge for foreigners. But noble families who owned coastal land allowed the foreign merchants to dock there and engage in trade. The court permitted this, because these families acted as intermediaries who funneled costly goods directly to the courtiers in the capital. Thus, an abundance of luxury goods entered the country from China in spite of the laws.