by I. J. Parker
Matsuura nodded. "That beggars' guild! No surprise there. Nothing but an organization of thieves and criminals. I'm sure the decent people were grateful for your help, sir."
Akitada regarded him thoughtfully. "As it happened, I was wrong, Lieutenant. The fires had been set by some young rascals on orders of a rice merchant How could you forget that?"
The lieutenant was taken aback for a moment, then said, "I wasn't in the capital that summer. I imagine someone told me about it, but I must've gotten two separate cases mixed up."
It was plausible, but Akitada would be more suspicious in the future. For the present, he just nodded. "That would explain it. I've done the same myself. The reason I mentioned it is that the activities of the prowlers here reminded me of that time. It seems to me that they are part of an organization. I was hoping you could tell me something more about them."
Matsuura spread his hands helplessly. "What can I say? We get reports from travelers who've been robbed while on the roads between here and the coast It's been happening for a long time now. We report all highway robbery to the high constable office in the provincial capital. Sometimes he sends down twenty-five or thirty soldiers to patrol the roads. That is, unless they visit our brothels. Only once have they actually arrested someone."
"I see. And what have you done?"
Matsuura flushed. "I just told you. And I told you last time. It's not in my jurisdiction."
"Have you complained to the governor?"
The lieutenant glowered. Clearly he could not take criticism. "No," he snapped.
"Ah!"
"What good would it do? You cannot possibly judge conditions here. This is not Mikawa."
So Akitada had managed to anger the lieutenant. For better or worse? If better, then perhaps the man had something to hide and was using bluster to avoid answering. If for worse, well, then he felt secure enough under the protection of someone else to deal with Akitada so rudely. In that case, things could get uncomfortable. Akitada was becoming very curious about the high constable.
He had just decided to calm the man down and make his departure when a constable came into the room, saluted, and announced proudly, "We've got the killer, Lieutenant"
Matsuura was out the door in a flash, and Akitada followed.
They ran into the courtyard of the police station where only a short time ago-Mrs. Inabe had wept over the body of her daughter. Almost in the same place now cowered a pathetic individual.
He was a monk to judge by his threadbare black robe, but he clearly had not seen the inside of the monastery in some time. The hair on his head had grown back in patches as if he had made several ill-advised attempts to shave it off with a dull razor. The stubble on his face made him look more unkempt than he was, and he was certainly dirty. His robe had not been washed for a long time and he had clearly been sleeping rough, because dead leaves and bits of grass clung to it. His bare arms and legs were scratched, bruised, and of a uniform grayish color.
His arrest had probably earned him some additional bruises. One of his eyes seemed to be swelling alarmingly and he had a cut lip. Given his condition, Akitada was startled to hear him break into song.
The guard standing beside him kicked him in the ribs and the singing stopped with a cry of pain.
"Found him in the woods near the Bamboo Palace, Lieutenant," the constable explained. "He's the man sold the amulet all right. The merchant identified him."
"Good work, Kitamora," said his superior, eying the prisoner with a contented smile.
Akitada looked over the lieutenant's shoulder at the monk. He caught a whiff of sour wine when the monk opened his mouth to say, "Found it," and belched.
"No doubt," the lieutenant told him. "Where'd you get it?"
"Found it." The monk touched his swollen face and pointed at the constables. "They beat me. I wasn't doing anything and they beat me." He tried to get up. "Gotta go."
The constable pushed him back and slapped him on the swollen side of his face. The monk howled.
"Stop that!" Akitada snapped. The constable gaped at him. Akitada said in a more reasonable tone, "I have found that beating a prisoner may produce a confession but it is rarely the truth. Most of the time, the prisoner just says anything to stop the beating. Besides, this man is drunk. You're likely to get more cooperation if you let him sleep it off."
"He resisted arrest," the constable protested. "That proves he's guilty."
The lieutenant cleared his throat. "Well, we'll have the truth out of him sooner or later. Take him away." Akitada opened his mouth to protest. He had a question he had wanted to ask the monk. But seeing Matsuura's face with its compressed lips and the frown, he decided to leave it alone. He merely asked, "He tried to sell Keiko's amulet?"
Matsuura nodded. "The curio dealer said a begging monk had brought it in, and he'd given him ten coppers for it."
"Ten coppers? Are you sure it's the right amulet. Mrs. Inabe said it was jade."
Matsuura glared. "A jade disk with two dragons. Yes, I'm sure. We're not total dunces here."
"Forgive me, Lieutenant. I didn't mean to imply any such thing. But ten coppers is hardly enough for a valuable piece like that."
"Whatever. The monk was happy enough with the coppers and promptly bought wine with them. As you saw. I guessed as much and sent my men out looking for him. Now if there's nothing else . . ."
There was nothing else. Akitada left.
==
The arrest of the monk troubled Akitada. From what he had just observed, they would beat a confession out of him. The man was middle-aged and looked unhealthy. He was not the type to withstand much pain before agreeing to whatever they asked for. But was he innocent?
The fact that he had had the ainulet was strong evidence. Keiko had been raped and strangled. Akitada was not so naive to think a Buddhist monk incapable of raping a woman. In fact, this particular specimen in his drunken and filthy condition seemed the very type to do such a thing. No doubt he had been tossed out of every monastery he had ever been a part of and ended up roaming the highways of the land begging for food. But the fact remained that he could have found the amulet. It seemed more likely than raping and strangling a young woman near a roadway and then stealing her amulet.
Pondering this, he decided to talk to Mrs. Inabe again. He hoped things had calmed down at the inn and that her husband was elsewhere.
He was lucky. Only Mrs. Inabe sat in the reception room. She looked glum. When she raised her head at the sound of his steps, her face became even longer.
"Oh," she said. "It's you."
This was not promising. He had taken her for a pleasant and accommodating hostess, but now it seemed she wanted nothing more to do with him. He said, "I trust your husband has calmed clown."
"No, sir. He's very angry. He's been in a terrible mood ever since Keiko died. I think it will be best if you go to one of the other inns."
Akitada was irritated at being thrown out of a mediocre hostelry like this. "I understand the place belongs to you. Do I take it that you agree with that brute?"
She flushed and looked away. "He's my husband." Angered further, Akitada snapped, "And was he also he reason you sent away your daughter who had come to visit you?"
To his shock, she turned absolutely white and gulped. He said quickly, "I'm sorry. I had no right to say this. But from what I have seen of your husband, he has been treating you badly. I can do nothing about that, but when he took his ill temper out on my servant Junichiro, I was in my rights to object. However, I shall, of course, remove myself and my things. Please prepare my bill."
He walked to his room where he quickly shoved the laundered shirt, some sheets of paper; and his writing box into the bag he had traveled with and returned to the inn's reception area. Mrs. Inabe was busy with another customer, the merchant Murata. Akitada had not paid enough attention to the man, and it struck him now that Murata's presence here might well have something to do with one or two of the events that had been preoccupying
him.
Murata seemed to be leaving also, for he was paying his bill. When he had settled his account, he shoved a small bag toward the landlady, saying, "This is for your husband, as agreed." The bag clinked but it was impossible to see how much money it contained. From the phrase "as agreed," Akitada deduced that it wasn't a tip for running an ordinary errand.
Akitada cleared his throat, and when Murata turned, he said, pleasantly, "I see you're also leaving. I trust you've had a pleasant visit to the shrines."
Murata narrowed his eyes and said stiffly, "Yes. Quite pleasant." Then he nodded to Mrs. Inabe and walked out quickly.
Akitada filed away the man's curious manner and turned to his hostess. "I saw Lieutenant Matsuura earlier. It seems they got your daughter's amulet back."
She nodded. Her face filled with pain again. "I went to identify it. They were looking for a monk. He sold it to the curio dealer Usami. Why would a monk have my daughter's amulet? Someone must've given it to him for alms." She looked at him, perhaps hoping for some assurance that such a thing could have happened.
Akitada said, "They have arrested the monk for Keiko's murder, Mrs. Inabe."
"Oh?" To his surprise, a look of relief crossed her face for a moment, then was gone. She became sober and shook her head. "A monk? How could a monk do such things to my daughter? It's horrible." For a moment she sat, looking past Akitada to the street outside, then she sighed and reached for her account book to make out his bill.
26 The Cry of a Child
Saburo set out as soon as it got dark. He wore his black shirt and trousers under an ordinary brown robe. Among the small items he carried in his sleeves were a pair of black slippers that were both more silent and more practical for climbing roofs and balancing on beams than the sandals on his feet, a black cloth useful for covering his face and for carrying items, a very sharp knife, a set of metal hooks and thin blades that could open locks, and a length of light, but very strong silk rope.
He walked, having debated the advantages and disadvantages of a horse only briefly, and was tired when he finally reached the manor. He was older than either Tora or the master, and his former agility and stamina had deteriorated rapidly lately. The realization that he was no longer capable of the things he had done in an earlier life was depressing. When he reached the manor, he decided to rest before making his entrance, so to speak.
The night was dark. There was a weak new moon that was made even weaker by a hazy sky.
He was sitting under a pine that grew close to the tall fence surrounding the compound and dozing a little when he heard the sounds of activity from inside. This late at night, he had not expected it. People being awake and busy would make his work more difficult and perhaps impossible. On the other hand, it was so odd that it might well reveal some criminal undertaking and thus make further efforts unnecessary. He decided to investigate.
He walked away from the area, took off his sandals, rolling them up in his brown robe and hiding the bundle in a clump of weeds. With his slippers on his feet, the scarf covering most of his face, and the other items tucked away inside the close-fitting black clothing, he climbed a section of fence, swung over a leg, and dropped softly down on the other side.
Their visit the day before had given him a general idea of the layout of the compound. The noise had come from the entrance courtyard, and he now made his way there, following the fence, walking softly, and keeping to the shadows provided by buildings, crossing open spaces at a crouched run after making sure no one was about.
He could see the flickering light from torches and heard shouts directing men to move something. Perhaps they were hiding contraband goods, he thought. It would not really be surprising after he and Tora had let Kitagawa know that he was under suspicion.
Before him was a stable building. He could smell it and hear the horses moving inside. Beyond the stables was the courtyard where .people were working.
Saburo instinctively shied away from open, well-lit places. Instead he crept along the back wall of the stables until he found an open doorway. The stables ap peared to be in darkness, and he slipped in. The horses knew he was there. They moved nervously as he passed. The stable gates to the courtyard were closed but small openings under the eaves let in enough of the torchlight outside to help him find his way.
He located some bales of straw piled high enough the let him climb up to one of the beams that crossed the stable under the roof. Using the beam to walk across the intervening space, Saburo reached one of the openings. There he lay down on the beam until he could bring his face close enough to peer out.
What he saw astonished him. The men in the courtyard were building an elaborate funeral bier. He wondered briefly who had died but dismissed the thought. It was irrelevant. His hopes had come to nothing. The unusual activity after dark was merely due to the urgency of funeral preparations.
He abandoned his look-out and returned the way he had come with the same care as before. But when he reached the section of the fence where he had climbed in, it occurred to him that he might as well have a look at a few other buildings. It was a good time, since the household was distracted by death.
Saburo found no access to the main house, but a large, two-story building that probably housed servants adjoined it via a covered gallery from which he could climb the roof of the residence. After that, he would have to find a way inside.
Seeing all open door to the servants' quarters, he slipped inside, hoping to find the corridor empty. It was. He moved silently toward the gallery when lie heard someone weeping upstairs and paused. But he decided grief was normal when someone had died, and started forward again.
Above him, the weeping ceased, and a woman's voice pleaded with someone.
Saburo stopped again and listened.
"Please, please," the woman begged, "don't hurt her. She's just a baby." Then she started to weep again.
For a moment Saburo stood frozen. He looked up toward the upper floor, wondering how to get up there without being seen. Then he hurried on to the door to the gallery. There he swung himself quickly onto the railing and climbed one of the supports to the roof of the gallery. He paused for a moment, cast a longing glance toward the main house, then moved quickly back to the servant quarters.
Like the main house, this building had a lower roof section that wrapped around it. The roof of the gallery adjoined this, and Saburo merely stepped across from one roof to the other, then walked along until he readied a window.
He was in a hurry alter what lie had heard but had to move slowly all(] carefully because people were inside.
The room with the window was blessedly empty. He climbed inside and eased the door of the room open. The weeping woman, a crouching figure in the darkness, was in front of another door a few doors away.
He returned to the window and looked up toward the roof: The distance to the eaves was not great. Climbing onto the sill, he took out his rope, threw it over one of the eave beams and pulled himself up. From here he got onto the main roof. It was covered with boards that were held down by heavy rocks.
He found a loose board and shifted it enough to let him slip inside. He was now in a space very familiar to him. Beams crossed each other in all directions and below the beams were rooms. It was dark, but he saw a glow of light to this left. That must be the room where someone was hurting a small child.
As he started his journey along; the beams toward the light, he heard the child cry out.
A man's voice spoke. It was deep and rough but the tone was soothing. It got quiet again and Saburo moved forward. Then the child cried out again, this time clear ly in pain. 'The woman started wailing again, "Don't hurt her. Don't hurt my baby."
The man grunted, "Shut up!"
Saburo realized what must be happening and was sickened. He covered the last few steps toward the lighted room as quickly as he could.
Peering down, he saw the room was just large enough to spread some bedding. An oil lamp burned on a clothing trunk. On the
bedding the back of a large man was moving rhythmically while the child whimpered.
He was too late. The child sobbed, and the man moved uncaringly, focused only on gaining his pleasure. Nauseated by what was happening, Saburo drew his knife and dropped down behind the man and seized him by the collar, pulling him off the child.
He had only time for a brief glimpse of her. Her eyes were closed, her face wet with tears. She was half naked and very pretty. She could not be more than ten years old, but Saburo had no time to think about that, because the man in his grasp reared back with a shout of surprised fury and flung Saburo against the wall with unexpected strength. Saburo dropped his knife and slid down the wall as the man turned.
It was Hozo!
Saburo's surprise cost him a few precious moments. Rage distorted Hozo's face as he flung himself at Saburo. If he had not stumbled over the trousers that hung about his ankles, the fight would have been over. As it was, Saburo rolled away and grabbed for his knife.
Hozo cursed as he kicked off the trousers and came for Saburo again. He saw the knife in Saburo's hand and stopped. "Who the fuck are you?" he snarled, backing away.
Saburo tore the black cloth from his face. "Someone from your past, Hozo. We trained together until they sent me to Mount Hiei. I see you still have disgusting habits. But raping children is more than even I can stomach. You want to say a prayer first?" Saburo closed in on him, baring his teeth.
Hozo's eyes had widened when he heard his name. He backed away some more. "You! Almost didn't know you with that beard. I heard they didn't quite kill you. A pity when I'd warned them about you."
This stopped Saburo. He stared at Hozo. "You warned them? What do you mean? We were on the same side."
Hozo laughed. "You thought we were." His eyes slid to the knife.
Saburo almost missed it, but he remembered Hozo's training. Hozo was a fighter and both bigger and stronger than he. Even with a knife in his hand, he would find this an uneven contest.
When Hozo attacked, Saburo slipped aside and kicked at his enemy's thigh. Hozo stumbled, caught himself, and dove for Saburo's legs. They both slammed to the floor, kicking and struggling for the knife.