"You should really keep that door closed against the storm," he said in his high voice, peering around the plain room. "I see you poor teaching fellows must be hard at it till all hours," he added genially, echoing Ishikawa.
Akitada nodded. "As you say." He wondered what he should do, now that Kobe and his men were long gone. Well, something would occur to him. "Please take a seat. I am glad you decided to accept my invitation."
His guest made no move towards the cushion, but walked past Akitada and into the dark main hall. "Hmm," he said, holding up his lantern and looking about him, "It's a pleasure to visit the old classrooms again. You don't mind?" Without waiting for Akitada's answer, he walked away towards the other rooms.
Akitada got up and followed him. The small foppish figure tripped along in such a childlike manner that he could not work up any fear of the man. He had handled the much larger Ishikawa. Okura was frail by comparison and a coward to boot. The real difficulty was in getting him to confess to Kobe.
Okura's lantern bobbed along ahead of him, its yellow glow disappearing into one room after another, then shining out on dark verandas circling the outside of the hall. He was making sure they were alone.
In due time, he strolled back, saying, "Yes, it brings back memories, though it looks even shabbier than I remembered. I would have asked you to my own office instead, but I expect to move to larger quarters soon." He preened a little, brushing a finger over his tiny mustache. "Perhaps you have heard the rumors? I am marrying into one of the most powerful families in the realm. The Otomos' mansion is in Sanjo ward, and I shall reside there in the future. The adoption proceedings are almost completed and will result, naturally, in promotions and a higher rank."
"My congratulations," remarked Akitada dryly.
"Thank you. The fact is that you have caught me at a good moment. A month later and my rank would not allow us to meet on this familiar footing."
They returned to Akitada's room, where Okura blew out the light in his lantern and minced to the cushion, seating himself and arranging his figured silk robe carefully around him. "Now, what is all this nonsense about Hirata having visited me to discuss Oe's death?"
Akitada brought out the journal and opened it to the last page. He passed it to Okura and went to sit down himself. "I have been puzzled by this entry. Perhaps you would like to explain?"
Okura read and sighed. Putting the journal into his sleeve, he rose. "My dear fellow," he said silkily. "Surely you don't think I will stand still for more blackmail? No, no! You must not even think it. I paid dearly for first place. Oe struck a very sharp bargain, but I paid off. Is it my fault that the greedy fellow would not share and could not handle that radical, Ishikawa? What a slimy bunch all of you professors are."
"I am afraid you must return the journal. It is evidence against you in Oe's murder."
Okura raised thin brows to stare down at Akitada. "Don't be silly! This is nothing. It does not mention names. To be sure, if one were curious, one might guess. But the whole thing is so easily explained away as a simple matter of rewarding one's favorite professor. And who would dare question me now on such charges?"
"You have committed two murders, and there would have been three if Nishioka's rats had not got to the poisoned walnuts first. Not even your exalted new relatives can get you out of those charges."
Okura's bland face became a closed mask. His head cocked sideways, he regarded the seated Akitada for a moment. Then he returned to his cushion and sat down. "You know," he said in an almost conversational tone, "I have always had a good deal of admiration for you. When you came here and asked questions, I confess, you made me uneasy. With good reason, as it turned out, for Oe panicked. I gather you know about the examination?"
Akitada nodded.
"Ah. That was clever of you. It is really too bad that we find ourselves on opposite sides in this matter. I could have used you."
Akitada said nothing.
"But perhaps our differences may be overcome? I dare say you have considered your position and what a man like myself can do for you? Oe practically twisted my arm to let him help me cheat. His problem was that he got greedy. He expected that I was good for a fat income for life. When I refused to pay more, he had the gall to threaten me publicly by reading that insulting poem at the contest in the Divine Spring Garden. I was outraged!"
"So you followed him and killed him?"
"That was not precisely my first intention. One does not like to dirty one's hands in person. As soon as possible after he left, I went to our usual meeting place, expecting him to be waiting for me. You can imagine my surprise when I found him tied to the statue of Confucius and too drunk to care. All I had to do was put him out of his misery." Okura's hand crept to his sash. He chuckled at the memory. "Oh, yes. It was me. No harm admitting it here just between the two of us. It was truly amusing how the police suspected all of you fellows and Ishikawa, when I was the one. And you must admit I did the university a service. Where would the country be with crooked professors like him? Think of the scandal I saved you all from."
"Did you act for the same altruistic reasons when you set fire to Hirata's study?" Akitada asked, trying to keep his anger from showing.
"What else? Oh, Hirata was not as open about it as Oe had been. He dithered on and on about his conscience bothering him and about how he wanted to make things right for the parents of the fellow who killed himself. He proposed that I resign my first place so it could be awarded posthumously to the other student. Now I ask you: what kind of a fool did he think me? What good is first place to a dead man? No money goes with it, no rank, no position. No, no! I saw right through that. He would have accepted a hefty sum from me, pretending, of course, that he would pay it to the parents. Hah! I fobbed him off, told him to wait till I had secured my rank, and then I'd resign." Okura giggled at the thought, and Akitada suddenly wondered if he was quite sane.
Suppressing his rising horror, he asked, "But you went that night and set the fire?"
"That was a really clever move. All the talk about lack of rain and the danger of fires gave me the idea. I went that very night, carrying a small flask of lamp oil with me. The gate was only latched. Hirata has always been a trusting fool. I walked in and made my way to his study. Most of us were invited to his house when we were students. And there he was, fast asleep, sitting amongst his books and papers. And not a servant in sight! I am constantly amazed at the squalid lives you professors lead in private. No wonder you sink to blackmail. Anyway, Ipoured the oil over the veranda just outside his door and used my candle to light it. It blazed up magnificently and almost instantly caught the straw mats on fire, and then the papers joined the merry blaze. He woke, of course. Briefly." Okura rubbed his pudgy hands together and smiled. "Houses burn down all the time. No one will ever connect me with that."
Akitada shuddered. He had no words, but his eyes never left Okura's face and he saw that the horrible smirk of satisfaction gave place to a slight frown.
"I was not so clever with Nishioka, it seems. I wondered about that when there was no news. So the nosy little weasel escaped? Tsk, tsk!" Okura grimaced. "Every one of us knew of Nishioka's weakness for walnuts. He used to munch them while he was teaching. Disgusting! Well, never mind! They'll blame it on the walnut vendor."
If only Kobe were here! Akitada asked, "And what do you plan to do about me, or Ishikawa?"
Okura chuckled. "Ishikawa is no longer a problem. I made sure he would run if he found his cell unlocked and the guard elsewhere. Money has its uses. He'll be caught again shortly, and then nothing he says to implicate anyone else will be believed. I fully expect him to be found guilty of Oe's murder. But you…" Okura fingered his mustache and studied Akitada with small bright eyes. "You are something of an inconvenience, I admit. Actually you really have no evidence, you know, and when it comes to your word against mine, I am very much afraid, my dear Sugawara, that you don't have a leg to stand on. However, as I mentioned before, I am presently engaged in s
ome rather delicate negotiations. You could do some damage there. I am therefore prepared to make you an offer for your silence about this"- he tapped the journal in his sleeve-"and other matters. Shall we say two hundred pieces of gold, a manor with six farms and the guarantee of two promotions within the next two years?"
Akitada almost laughed out loud. The bribe was enormous, particularly for someone in his modest circumstances, but he had expected something more dramatic, like an attempt on his life. This meek offer of hush money was disappointingly anticlimactic.
"Certainly not," he said, getting to his feet. "I am afraid that you won't be in a position to keep such a bargain, because I shall take you to the police myself and lay murder charges against you. You will return the journal to me now." He extended his hand.
Okura looked up at him. "I did not take you for such a fool," he said. "Of course I shall not accompany you to the police. Neither shall I return the journal. And please remember whom you address!"
Akitada made a grab for Okura's sleeve, but the little man twisted aside deftly and jumped to his feet. "How dare you?" he squeaked.
Akitada was becoming irritated. "Listen, Okura, you are not leaving here except to walk to police headquarters. Don't make me tie you up!" He took a step towards his visitor.
"Don't touch me!" shrieked Okura, retreating. "I'll make you pay for that! Don't touch me, I say! I am under the protection of the emperor himself, and you will be very sorry tomorrow."
"Nonsense!" Akitada snapped. "You are a nobody. Your background does not justify your boasting and as soon as the world finds out that you bought first place honors, you are through. That is why you had to kill Oe and Hirata. I'm afraid it's all over!" Feeling rather silly, he made another lunge for Okura who dashed away, shrieking for help.
Akitada almost burst into laughter. "Stop shouting," he said. "You checked the building yourself. No one can hear you."
Okura gave him a frantic look and rushed for the door to the veranda. It was closed, and he lost precious time scrabbling at the handle. Akitada caught up with him and put a hand on his shoulder. But he had underestimated his adversary once again. Okura turned, his teeth bared like a cornered rat, and pulled a knife from his sash. He slashed viciously at Akitada's face. Akitada jumped back and retreated a few steps.
Okura was trembling with rage or fear. For a moment it looked as though he would attack. Then he slipped away along the wall. What followed was another frustrating chase. Akitada could not get close enough to disarm Okura, who was small but surprisingly agile and dashed from corner to corner and finally out into the dark hall, with Akitada on his heels.
Okura's dimly seen form disappeared into the shadows. Akitada rushed after, a foolish mistake that almost cost him his life. He could not see Okura against the solid blackness, but Okura could see him, his figure perfectly outlined from behind by the light from his room. One moment he was groping along the wall, the next something hissed past his right ear and hit his shoulder. He flung himself forward, reaching for Okura, but caught only a piece of silk which tore noisily while he overbalanced and fell, hitting the floor with his chin so hard that he momentarily blacked out. When the pain receded enough for him to roll out of the way of his attacker, he wondered why the knife was not in his back. Crouching in the darkness, he listened. Silence. Then a soft rustle moving away from him. He rose and followed as quietly as possible. For many long minutes they both groped around in the darkness, pausing to listen, then moving again, until there was a thud and a cry of pain. Okura had collided with a pillar. He panicked and, much to Akitada's relief, ran back into the lighted room.
When he followed, Okura lost control completely. He was swinging his knife wildly and screamed, "Get away from me or I'll kill you!"
Akitada quickly moved around him to block his escape via the veranda, keeping his eye on the madly slashing blade, wishing he had some weapon to defend himself or that Okura would lose courage again and give Akitada an opening to disarm him. But this time Okura attacked, his eyes murderous. Akitada raised an arm to protect his face and crouched to go for Okura's middle.
At that moment the door behind him opened abruptly, propelling him forward. He fell to his hands and knees, someone or something kicked him, there was a rush of footsteps, the sound of a blow, and then Okura started shrieking.
When Akitada staggered to his feet, he saw Tora. He had Okura by the scruff of the neck and shook him like a kitten until the knife fell from his fingers. Then Tora pushed him so sharply that he collapsed in a heap on the floor. Snatching up the knife and holding the blade under Okura's nose, Tora snarled, "Sit still and shut up! I'd just as soon kill you as put up with your wailing."
The dapper little man choked back a howl, opened his eyes wide, spat out a broken tooth and some blood, and burst into tears.
"What are you doing here?" asked Akitada, looking from Tora to Hitomaro and Genba who had hovered outside but now joined them, looking pleased.
Tora grinned. "Your lady sent us. She was nervous about you. When we saw you had company, we hid under the veranda, just in case."
"Tamako sent you?" asked Akitada in disbelief.
Tora nodded.
Akitada digested this. A new thought struck him. "Did you hear what we said?"
"Yes," Tora said. "Nasty little monster, isn't he?" He gave Okura a kick which produced another bout of wailing. "We figured you could handle him until we heard all the rushing about and screaming."
Akitada flushed. Not only had Tamako thought it necessary to send reinforcements, but they had witnessed how Okura had got the advantage of him. But perhaps their account of the conversation would convince Kobe to lock Okura up. And the harsh treatment meted out to prisoners might encourage Okura to admit his guilt.
It had been a long day and suddenly Akitada was bone-tired.
"Take him to police headquarters," Akitada told Tora. "Tell Kobe what happened, and that I hope he will charge Okura with the murders of Oe and Hirata."
"Right!" grinned Tora, eyeing the sobbing Okura with satisfaction.
"No!" Okura raised both hands to Tora pleadingly. "If you let me go, I'll give you gold, lots of gold, more than you have ever dreamed of." He started fumbling in his sash, but Genba jumped forward and jerked both of his arms behind him where Hitomaro tied them with rope. Okura let himself go limp and burst into tears again.
Hitomaro had a quick whispered conversation with Tora, who asked Akitada, "How about coming along and sharing a pitcher of wine to celebrate after we get rid of him?"
Akitada stretched. He felt stiff with fatigue. They were kind to offer, but he had better things to do. Shaking his head with a smile, he said unwisely, "Thanks, but no. At the moment I am only thinking of bed."
Tora snorted, and Genba and Hitomaro turned their heads to study the sky. As if on command, a bright streak of lightning hung for a moment over the black trees and distant roofs, casting its white light over the whole room. It was followed quickly by a sharp crack of thunder.
Tora shook his head. "It's getting close. I can manage the prisoner by myself. Genba and Hitomaro will walk back with you, sir."
Akitada said quickly, "No. I don't trust Okura. All three of you go with him. And, Tora, remember to give my message to Kobe."
The men exchanged glances. Then Hitomaro said, "Genba and I cannot accompany Tora to the police."
Akitada stared at Hitomaro without comprehension. Outside the first heavy drops were striking the boards of the veranda. Then he understood and snapped, "I see your usefulness is limited to areas which are remote from the sharp eyes of the police. Go with Tora as far as possible and make certain that he and his prisoner get safely within the walls of police headquarters. Then wait for him and return home together."
Hitomaro's face had reddened. "As you wish, sir," he said dully.
"All right, let's go!"Tora urged.
But Hitomaro still hesitated. "Could I not come with you, sir? The streets are not safe at this hour."
"N
o!" Exhausted and irritated, Akitada made no effort to keep the anger out of his voice. "Do as you are told or you are both dismissed."
They trouped out the door, leaving him behind in the empty room, where the oil lamp still flickered on his desk, casting its uncertain light on student papers. Ashamed about his outburst, Akitada went to finish the paper Okura had interrupted. But he had lost his concentration and Tamako awaited him. Putting away his writing utensils, he used the flame from the oil lamp to light a lantern and set off for home.
The moment he stepped outside and locked the door, he became aware of a change in the atmosphere. The temperature had dropped, and a wet gust of wind tore at the skirts of his robe and knocked the lantern against the wall. Overhead the black clouds roiled as lightning flashed between and behind them. Thunder roared and grumbled almost continuously.
He ran quickly down the steps and into the courtyard. There another blast of wind threw wet sand into his face and blew off his hat. He caught it by the silk cord, winced as it bit into his barely healed skin, untied it and tucked the hat into his sleeve. Steadying his lantern with both hands, he bent forward into the wind.
He passed with long strides through the deserted university grounds, thinking of his bungled efforts at bringing three killers to justice. Although he had solved the cases and laid the ghosts of self-reproach about Hirata to rest, he could not be certain that Okura would be charged. He had even less assurance that Sakanoue would be confronted with his crime and punished. Only Kurata had been apprehended and would be convicted, and that was due more to Tora's efforts than his own.
Well, tomorrow he would return to his job at the ministry and this time he would make every effort to excel at his work. He would be taking a wife and could not afford any longer to chafe at the long, dusty hours among the documents or avoid unpleasant meetings with his superiors. Sato and his wife had made far greater sacrifices for each other and their family. Such patience was more admirable than any heroics he might have dreamed of in his younger years. It spoke of devotion more loudly than any of the love songs recited at the poetry contest. And patience was a small price to pay for the delight he had found in Tamako.
Rashomon Gate – A Mystery of Ancient Japan Page 36