The Hell Screen - [Sugawara Akitada 02]

by I. J. Parker

  “Well, if it isn’t the superintendent himself!” fluted the lady in the chair. “How very gratifying!”

  “How do you do, Miss Plumblossom,” said Kobe, stiff-faced. “Now, where is this man you suspect of being the slasher?”

  The painted eyebrows rose another inch. “Tsk. Tsk. Superintendent. Is that mannerly? Surely there is no need to be so abrupt, seeing that I have saved the police months, maybe years of trouble, by catching the monster.”

  “Madam,” snapped Kobe, “I have little time to waste. Let me see the fellow now. We have absolutely no proof that you have the right man.”

  “Ah! But I have. Identified by his victim, Superintendent. When he was about to attack her again.”

  Kobe glanced at the young woman with the averted face. “If I recall, last time I spoke with her, your maid said she could not describe her attacker. She said it was too dark and she passed out. How, then, can she be sure now?”

  “She knew him, all right. The monster grabbed her again. The other night, right outside my establishment. Out in the alley. Meant to kill her this time, no doubt, to keep her from identifying him. We would have caught him then, but it was dark and he got away.”

  Kobe muttered something that sounded like a curse. Miss Plumblossom’s eyebrows climbed again and she pursed her red lips disapprovingly.

  “If he got away,” Kobe said with forced patience, “how is it that you have him now?”

  “Hah! The fool made another attempt in broad daylight, thinking he hadn’t been recognized. Walked right in here, bold as brass. Poor Yukiyo happened to be with me.” Miss Plumblossom put a pudgy hand on the head of the young woman, who seemed to shrink into herself. “Yukiyo’s eyes almost popped out, she dropped the dishes and screamed so loud the tiles rattled on the roof. That’s when the animal rushed forward to wring her neck, but I kicked him in the jewels. Appropriate, don’t you think?”

  Kobe grimaced. “Ouch!”

  “Well, of course that brought him to his knees. Then Mr. Oishi here, who was waiting for his wrestling lesson, jumped on top of him, and flattened him out proper. We tied him up and threw him in the back room. I doubt he’ll give you any trouble, but you’ll have to carry him back.”

  “All right, let’s have a look at him!” Kobe’s impatience carried him in the direction of the door behind the dais, but Miss Plumblossom stopped him.

  “A moment, Superintendent!” she cried, rising majestically from her chair.

  He paused, and she preceded him to the door. Willy-nilly the superintendent of the capital police and a highly entertained Akitada followed a mere female, famed acrobat though she was. The constables and Mr. Oishi pressed after them.

  Because Miss Plumblossom’s bulk and the broad shoulders of Kobe blocked Akitada’s view of the captured criminal, his first inkling that something was amiss was Kobe’s indrawn breath and the words, “But that’s ...” before he stepped aside for Akitada to see the bound man on the floor. The shock of recognition propelled Akitada forward. Pushing both Kobe and Miss Plumblossom rudely aside, he fell down on his knees beside Tora.

  Tora was conscious, his face white and glistening with perspiration. “Thank heaven, sir,” he whispered. “Take me home.”

  Akitada touched Tora’s face and found it ice-cold. He used a sleeve to dab gently at the beads of sweat. “Yes, of course.” He looked up at Kobe. “I want him untied. Tora was working for me. I trust you remember him?” When Kobe nodded, he went on, “The women have made a terrible mistake. Tora may be badly injured and needs a doctor immediately—if there is a decent one available in this neighborhood. And then perhaps an oxcart to take him home. I will pay the costs.” He turned back to Tora and, tugging at the knots in the rope which tied his hands, asked, “How badly are you hurt, do you think?”

  “Don’t know. My ribs. Can’t breathe well.” Tora paused, took a careful breath, and added, “That fiend of a woman kicked me in the groin. The second kick today.” He closed his eyes. A tear escaped and slowly trickled down the side of his face. Akitada, sick with worry, tossed aside the rope and dabbed Tora’s face again.

  Kobe finished untying Tora’s feet and then confronted a very nervous Miss Plumblossom. “Well, it looks like you put your foot in it properly this time, madam,” he growled. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

  Miss Plumblossom stammered, “B-but he was attacking Yukiyo right in front of us. We saw him. Didn’t we, Mr. Oishi?”

  “Well,” said Mr. Oishi, with a voice surprisingly high for a man of his bulk, “he was certainly walking fast. When you kicked him, I naturally assumed he meant you harm. Else why would you do such a thing?”

  “Quite right.” Miss Plumblossom nodded. “I was provoked into a defensive action. The law permits me to protect myself and members of my family. I know my rights, because I had a learned man read my license to me.”

  “Get the doctor!” Akitada was on his feet, glaring at her, furious at the delay. “He is in pain and may have suffered permanent damage. We can unravel the tale later.”

  Miss Plumblossom flushed and offered timidly, “I have some knowledge of treating injuries. I’ll take a look at him.”

  “No!” Tora gasped, wild-eyed. “Keep the fiend away from me! Get Seimei!”

  Akitada laid a soothing hand on Tora’s wrist. “Seimei is too far away. You need some help now, and then we’ll take you home.” Turning back to Miss Plumblossom, he demanded, “Who is the best doctor hereabouts? Quick, woman, before I lose my temper completely and lay charges for your arrest! You are clearly a menace who should never have been licensed in the first place.”

  Miss Plumblossom shrank back before his flashing eyes. “The Temple of the Twelve Divine Generals is just around the corner. One of the monks there practices healing. But he’s getting old—”

  Akitada told one of the constables, “Get the man!” The constable looked at Kobe, who nodded.

  “Tell him to bring ice!” cried Miss Plumblossom after him, adding for Akitada’s benefit, “To bring down the swelling of the jewels.”

  Tora groaned and turned his face away. Akitada knelt back down by his side. “My poor fellow. I am so sorry. I suppose you were looking for that girl. Gold, was it?”

  Tora nodded.

  “I should not have spoken to you the way I did yesterday. Please accept my apologies.”

  Tora nodded again, then reached for Akitada’s hand and squeezed it.

  “What’s this about a girl?” asked Kobe, startled by Akitada’s humble apology to a servant.

  “I asked Tora to find a group of actors who may have witnessed the murder in the temple. One of the young women promised to meet him last night in the pleasure quarter. I would not let him go, so he came today, no doubt worried about her safety.”

  Miss Plumblossom gave a little gasp. “Gold! I might have known!” Raising her voice, she called, “Yukiyo! Come here this instant!”

  The maid crept in. Her face was averted, but Akitada saw enough of it to be appalled.

  “Come here, girl,” commanded Miss Plumblossom. “Look at this young man well! Are you certain that he cut your face?”

  The maid trembled and wept, but she shook her head mutely.

  “He didn’t?” roared Miss Plumblossom. “Then how could you say so?”

  “I... I... he grabbed my arm outside ... in the alley. He frightened me.” The maid’s speech was marred by her missing upper lip, but they understood her.

  “But, stupid girl, that is not the same as taking a knife to your face. Look at what you made me do to him! Was grabbing your arm in the alley worth that? The man may never enjoy a woman again!” Tora went rigid and clutched at Akitada’s hand. Miss Plumblossom, in full spate, continued, “He may never have a wife or beget children! A eunuch the rest of his life! And all because you made us think he was the slasher!”

  The maid burst into hacking sobs.

  Akitada said grimly, “Enough! It has happened. Let us try to make sure your predictions don’t co
me true. Now get out of here.”

  Miss Plumblossom left meekly, taking the sobbing maid with her. Kobe slammed the door after them, then crouched down next to Akitada.

  “You poor fellow,” he said to Tora. “Women can be devils, but don’t believe what she said. The doctor will fix you up like new.”

  Tora compressed his lips, stared at the ceiling, and said nothing.

  An old monk, bent almost double and wearing a threadbare black cotton robe liberally stained across the chest and sleeves, eventually made his appearance and examined the patient with many head-shakings and mumblings. To Akitada’s irritation, his leisurely examination began with Tora’s face, eyes, and tongue, and moved on to the feeling of his pulse and his abdomen, before it focused on his injuries. After considerable manipulation with his gnarled fingers—during which Tora went absolutely rigid until Akitada snapped, “enough!”—he pursed wrinkled lips and announced, “The cold and wet appearance of the skin, along with the extreme paleness, suggests that the life force has withdrawn and that the patient is therefore in a state of negativity. This indicates that the male force of yang has been weakened and overpowered by the female yin force, thereby creating a severely abnormal imbalance.”

  Tora’s eyes grew round with horror. “She unmanned me!” he groaned. “I knew it. Just make an end of me right now. I can’t bear life as a eunuch.”

  Kobe was shaking his head in pity, but Akitada glared at the monk. “Stop talking nonsense,” he snapped. “Surely you can do something to bring down the swelling and reduce the pain. What about that ice?”

  The monk rummaged in his bundle and brought out a stoneware jar and an ointment box, muttering, “The human body is transient, weak, and impotent.” He applied the thick black ointment. “It is untrustworthy, impure, and full of filthiness.” He took up the jar dubiously. Jerking his shaven head toward the door, he said, “She always orders ice for injuries that swell. I won’t say she’s wrong, since swellings attract heat, but in a case of severe negativity it’s a very dangerous thing to do. I don’t advise it. Leeches would be my choice. They’ll bring the swelling down without chilling the flesh further.”

  With Tora’s fingers gripping his painfully, Akitada said, “Put on the ice! In her business the woman should know what works best.”

  The monk grunted. “The love of women leads to delusion. Don’t have any leeches anyway,” and transferred the ice to a square of cotton, which he tied and placed on the injured groin. Tora sighed and relaxed a little.

  Next the old monk fingered the purple bruises on Tora’s chest. “No broken ribs,” he pronounced, “but some of the vital organs may have been displaced or injured. The patient’s coldness and the sweating suggest a rupture may have occurred, but it is too soon to tell.”

  “What if there is a rupture?” asked Akitada, visions of Tora’s slow and agonizing death from internal injuries passing through his mind.

  But the monk knotted up his bundle and rose, saying piously, “We must all prepare to leave this world of nothingness.”

  A miserable silence settled over the room after the monk had left. Then Tora said tentatively, “The ice helps.”

  “Good,” cried Kobe. “You see! All will be well.”

  “What about your breathing?” asked Akitada.

  “The same.” Tora looked up at him. “I’m not afraid to die.”

  “You are not going to die,” cried Akitada, and jumped up. “Where is that oxcart? You are going home, where Seimei will make you well.”

  The door opened. Miss Plumblossom said, “There’s a messenger outside for you, Superintendent.”

  Kobe left the room, and Miss Plumblossom inched in. She had been weeping, for black smudges ringed her eyes like a badger’s. “I’m very sorry, Tora,” she told the patient. “I’ll try to make it up to you. Whatever I have, it’s yours.”

  Tora waved a languid hand. “Forget it!”

  “No, no,” she insisted, wringing her hands, when Kobe put in his head again.

  “The oxcart is ready. But I have to leave. Looks like they found Nagaoka. Dead. His skull bashed in.”

  * * * *

  SEVENTEEN

  Switched Boots

  Since Kobe had rushed off without giving particulars about Nagaoka’s death, Akitada merely saw Tora settled under Seimei’s care before he went looking for the superintendent. Unfortunately, at his headquarters nobody knew or wanted to tell him where he had gone. He met with the same results at the prison, but here Akitada fretted and complained, and finally demanded to see Kojiro. The officer in charge relented and took him to the cell.

  Kojiro rose as soon as Akitada entered. He looked much better than the last time they had met. Apparently there had been no further beatings, and he had been allowed to wash and shave. When he recognized his visitor, he bowed, his eyes intent. “Is there news, my lord? Have they found Nobuko’s murderer?”

  Evidently Kobe had not bothered to inform the man of his brother’s death. Akitada steeled himself for the ordeal. “There is news, but it does not concern your sister-in-law.” He searched for the right words. “I was hoping,” he finally confessed, “that the superintendent had told you. He received an unsubstantiated report that your brother has met with a mishap.”

  Instant anxiety appeared in the other man’s eyes. “Mishap? What kind of mishap? Is he wounded? Ill?”

  “I have no details, nor do I know where he was found.”

  “ ‘He was found’? Then it must be serious.” Kojiro clenched his manacled fists and glared at the locked cell door. Frustrated, he started pacing back and forth. The chain on his legs clinked and limited his path to no more than three steps either way. Like a caged beast, he had learned when to turn. “He may even be dead,” he muttered, then stopped. “Is he dead?”

  Akitada spread his hands helplessly. “There is a chance that the man they found is not your brother after all,” he evaded awkwardly.

  “But they found a dead man and think he’s my brother?”

  Akitada nodded.

  Kojiro sat down abruptly and put his head in his hands. After a moment he said dully, “Thank you for telling me. This way I shall be prepared when Kobe finally bothers to inform me.”

  “This is bad news, and I am very sorry to be the one to bring it.” Akitada crouched down near him. “A number of strange things have been happening. Perhaps they have something to do with the death of your sister-in-law, and if the man they found is indeed your brother and he was murdered also, the same killer may be responsible. The best thing you can do now is to help me find justice for both. Can you explain why your brother might sell all his goods, everything except the house? And why he would then disappear without telling anyone where he was going or why?”

  Kojiro raised his head from his hands and looked at him bleakly. “Perhaps, but I doubt it has anything to do with Nobuko’s death. My brother’s business affairs have not been going well for a few years now. I offered money on a number of occasions, but he always refused it. Too much pride. His reputation was excellent, and his creditors did not press him for payment as a rule, but perhaps this time their patience ran out. Paying his debts is a matter of conscience with him. He would do so even if it meant selling everything. My brother had much honor.” Tears welled up in his eyes, but he controlled himself immediately. “Could he have been killed because he carried the money on him?”

  “Possibly. His servant said he left with a saddlebag, and was dressed for a journey. He may have rented a horse. Did he have any creditors outside the capital?”

  “Yes. He sometimes bought art objects from temples and from country manors. I’m afraid he kept business details to himself, perhaps because he did not want me to help him out.”

  “The last time I was here, I asked you to think about your sister-in-law.”

  Kojiro rubbed his face as if to remind himself of his own problems. “I don’t know what you have heard, so I had better tell you what I saw and thought of her.” He told about his encou
nters with Nobuko, from their first meeting to the calamitous trip to the temple. He described her beauty and said he had distrusted her for marrying his middle-aged brother, but had accepted her when he saw his brother’s happiness and pride in his young wife’s talents.

  “She could play the zither like a professional and knew wonderful songs. Sometimes she even danced for us. My brother was completely enchanted, and in time so was I. I was stunned, appalled, when she approached me one day to suggest we become lovers because my brother was ... inadequate and she wanted a child. Torn between disgust and pity, I stopped my visits to my brother’s house. But he sent for me and I went back reluctantly. To my relief, my sister-in-law was cold and distant. I assumed she was embarrassed about the incident.”