Akitada and the Way of Justice (Akitada Stories)

by I. J. Parker

  “You did see her leave the day before he died?”

  Otagi nodded. “And good riddance, too.”

  Akitada’s brows climbed in astonishment. The man’s vindictiveness was surprising, and he expressed himself with an astonishing freedom, even for a trusted upper servant. His speech suggested an above-average education, and he might well come from a better class of people than his present status indicated. “Did you not think it strange that she took none of her things with her?” he asked.

  “She came here with nothing,” Otagi said, pursing his thin lips, “so why should she take anything? It was enough that she lived in luxury here. She did not deserve it. Women are as deceitful as snakes.”

  Akitada finished putting on his boots thoughtfully, then reached for his straw coat. “By any chance,” he asked, “did your master suffer from a cold about a month ago?”

  Otagi stared at him. “A cold? Yes, he did. And a bad cough. I was sent to the pharmacist. How did you know?”

  “Something someone said.” Akitada nodded and left.

  Even putting aside the steward’s misogyny and the stepson’s resentment, it seemed that Chiyo had left the Ishigake house under a cloud. Akitada glanced up at the sky. It was an unrelentingly thick gray color, and the rain was worse. His straw cape was becoming heavy with moisture and cold water trickled unpleasantly down his neck. With a sigh he turned his steps toward police headquarters again. The Ishigake case was puzzling, and he could not get the lisping constable out of his mind.

  Sergeant Kishida was an old acquaintance of Akitada’s and answered his question readily enough.

  “Yojibei? Oh, he’s well enough nowadays, a bright lad with a good future. Mind you, I’d not have given you two coppers for his chances when he first came to us. His mind was not on his duties. But he’s come along quite well lately since he got married. That’ll settle a man down amazingly.” The sergeant laughed tolerantly.

  “Was he assigned to guard duty at Rashomon about six weeks ago?”

  Kishida thought. “Six weeks? Rashomon duty is punitive. Nothing to do but stand around from dawn till dusk.” He chuckled. “But six weeks ago Yojibei may have been in trouble. A moment?” He went to a heavy ledger which lay on a stand in the guard room and flicked through the pages. “Yojibei, Yoji … ah, yes. Here he is. Ninth day of the Rice-Growing Month. Guard duty at Rashomon from sunrise till sunset. Now I wonder what he got that for?” Kishida muttered, scratched his head, then his face brightened. “Of course, the rascal was reported for gambling. That must have been it. Well, he’s toed the line since the captain had a word or two with him.”

  “I see. By the way, that case you and he testified for this morning, did you ever find the rest of the stolen goods?”

  The sergeant’s face fell. “Nothing but the robe,” he said. “I figure he divided the stuff with his cronies. It’ll turn up in time. Good thing he confessed to taking the robe. We knew we had him, when he told us about that.”

  “He told you? You mean he confessed to the theft immediately?” Akitada asked, astonished.

  “He did indeed. Surprised me, too.”

  For some reason this example of eccentric honesty in a man accused of murder made Akitada extremely uncomfortable. He said, “I am curious about something Constable Yojibei said. Can you tell me where I can find him?”

  “He’s gone off duty. Let me check.” Kishida rummaged among his papers. “Here it is. He lives behind the Yoshida Shrine, in Rokkaku Street.”

  Akitada sighed. It was a long way in the rain. The chilly wetness had penetrated to his robe which clung unpleasantly to his back and chest.

  Yojibei’s apartment was in a small street of long houses. In this weather the surroundings looked incredibly dreary. Water poured unchecked from patched roofs, the wooden walls were blackened by moisture, ragged fencing leaned drunkenly, and the rest was an unrelieved expanse of brown mud. Apparently the constable rented space from a noodle maker. Through the open doorway, Akitada could see the drying racks filled with strings of pale buckwheat noodles. Yojibei’s quarters had a separate entrance, and when he knocked on the door, a woman’s voice called out to come in.

  He removed his muddy boots and soaked straw coat, slid back the door, and stepped into a good-sized room which consisted of a large area with tatami mats on the floor and a screened off food preparation corner. The tasteful arrangements surprised Akitada in such a humble dwelling.

  A pretty young woman in a blue cotton gown knelt on the mats, engaged in stitching lengths of fabric into a man’s robe. She stared at Akitada in surprise. “What do you want?”

  The tone was peremptory, upper class. Akitada smiled. “My name is Sugawara. I work in the Ministry of Justice and am investigating the murder of Ishigake Takanobu.”

  The young woman dropped her needle and turned absolutely white. Akitada said gently, “I am addressing his widow, I think?”

  She cried out, put both hands over her face, and burst into heart-wrenching sobs.

  The door behind Akitada slid back. “What’s going on here?” a male voice cried.

  Recognizing the lisp, Akitada turned to the handsome young constable and said, “Ah, Constable Yojibei. I came to see you, but I find that the young lady I have been searching for has been in your care all along.”

  Yojibei paled. “Who are you?”

  “Sugawara, from the Ministry of Justice. Sergeant Kishida gave me your address. It seems there are some aspects of the murder of Ishigake that you neglected to report.”

  The constable staggered. For a moment Akitada thought he was going to faint, but instead he stepped past him to stand protectively in front of the young woman. “She has done nothing. It is entirely my responsibility.”

  Akitada raised his brows. “Are you confessing to the murder?”

  “No!” They cried out together. The woman reached up to clutch the young man’s hand.

  “It is not his fault,” she cried. “He saved my life and I begged him to take me away from that house. He is a good man.” And she burst into an agitated account of her own foolish pursuit of the wealthy Ishigake, her defiance of her father’s stern admonitions, and her misery in the home of an abusive husband.

  “And how did Yojibei find you?” asked Akitada, who had listened to the story skeptically.

  Seeing her sudden fear, the constable squeezed her hand reassuringly and said to Akitada, “I suppose, I’d better make a clean breast of it, sir. I used to keep bad company before … that is, I used to gamble and I wasn’t very lucky. In fact, I owed a lot of money. The men I played with are a rough lot, and they told me if I didn’t pay up, they’d kill me. I’m only a constable and I knew I couldn’t pay what I owed. I told them to go ahead and kill me. That’s when they put me in the way of making some money. They said they knew a man who would pay ten bars of silver to have his wife killed. It was wrong of me to go meet that man, but I didn’t want to die and I had some idea that I could trick him out of the money somehow. Well, I said I’d do it, and he paid me half the silver.”

  “Ah,” nodded Akitada. “You met Ishigake at Rashomon the day before he died.”

  Both young people stared at him in shock.

  “I believe,” Akitada continued, “Ishigake had a cold that day.”

  “Were you there?” Yojibei gasped.

  “My own husband paid to have me murdered,” wailed Chiyo.

  Akitada looked at her. “Why?”

  “He accused me of infidelity. How could I have met men when I had never left my rooms since my arrival? He set his servants to spy on me, especially that odious Otagi.”

  “Did you give your husband reason to accuse you of faithlessness?”

  “Never. But he knew I was sickened by his love-making. One day he went into a rage and beat me. I told him I’d run away and find another man, one who was young and treated me properly. He was furious. And that’s when he started having me watched.” Silent tears coursed down her cheeks. “He need not have bothered. I had no
place to go.” “Why not go back to your parents?”

  “How could I go back after the scenes I’d made to be allowed to marry him? I was miserable. Then that dirty old Otagi started making suggestive remarks.” She blushed. “I was so frightened I thought I’d better tell my husband, but that made it worse. He said I was lying to get rid of Otagi, and he beat me again. I thought he’d kill me if I didn’t stop him. That’s when I threatened to go to his superiors at court and show them my bruises. He got very quiet then and apologized, saying he was jealous because he loved me so much. I didn’t believe him, but I was glad I finally had something I could use against him.”

  Akitada grimaced. “You made your point so well that he decided to have you killed.” He turned to Yojibei. “And why did you not carry out your agreement?”

  “I never really intended to.” The constable looked down at the young woman and said simply, “Especially not when I saw Chiyo. I think I fell in love with her then.”

  She smiled through her tears and pressed her cheek against his hand before releasing it. Turning to Akitada, she said earnestly, “I’ve been foolish . I know that now. How stupid to think that a wealthy husband was more important than one who cares for me! Yojibei saved my life.”

  “Please believe us, sir,” Yojibei pleaded. “I did not kill Ishigake. He was alive when we left together.”

  Ah, thought Akitada, here it comes. “What happened?”

  Again the two lovers exchanged a glance, their hands finding each other again. Yojibei said, “He found us together. I … it was not my first visit. I’d gone to his house right away, straight from Rashomon, as soon my relief came. I was to do it that night, if I could, and I thought, the rain … well, there are fewer people about then, and I could take a look. He’d left the gate open for me and I stood in the dark, in the rain, and watched Chiyo through the open shutters, and that’s when I knew I could never do it. She was so beautiful, and she looked so sad. I made up my mind that I would warn her.”

  Chiyo took over. “I was frightened at first when he just appeared out of the rain, but Yojibei was so gentle and kind. He told me to leave that house, because someone had asked him to kill me. I didn’t believe him. Besides how could I go? I had no money, nothing. After he left, I couldn’t eat or sleep. Then my husband came in the middle of the night, and I could see that Yojibei had told the truth. My husband had expected to find me dead. He looked disappointed, and he was hateful and cold. He asked me if I had heard any noises earlier in the night. I told him I had. That there had been someone in the garden, but I had shouted for the maid and whoever had been out there had left. He was satisfied with that and went away. And I wished I had left with Yojibei.”

  The constable said, “I didn’t sleep either, worrying about her. So I went back again. She was glad to see me, and we talked.” He flushed. “She said I had been right and thanked me. And I … we made love. When he came in, he found us together.”

  She gave a little sob and hid her face against Yojibei’s thigh. “He was like a madman, screaming terrible things. He had a knife, and … I thought he was going to kill us both.”

  The constable released his hand from her grasp and straightened his shoulders. “I took away the knife and hit him with my bare hands,” he said. “I knocked him out. I know he was alive because I checked. Then Chiyo said that he must’ve brought the knife to kill her himself. That made us angry, and we took some gold from his sash. With what he’d already given me, we had enough to pay off my debt and find a place for us to live. I figured it wasn’t stealing. He owed Chiyo that money for what she had to put up with. Anyway, we left that house together before he could come around and shout for help.”

  Akitada sighed. “I trust you have been with the police long enough to know how weak your story sounds.”

  The constable’s shoulders sagged. “Please, sir,” he begged, “at least keep Chiyo out of it. She’s suffered enough.”

  “No. I won’t have you lose your life because you saved mine!” She rose and stepped in front of Yojibei. “Help us, sir,” she cried. “If they arrest Yojibei, I’ll confess to the murder myself. I’ll say, I took my husband’s knife and ran it through his body.”

  Akitada raised his brows. “Didn’t Yojibei tell you that your husband’s throat was slashed?”

  • • •

  Akitada trudged back to police headquarters through the same steady drizzle. His straw raincoat was heavy with rainwater and his boots squelched at every step. He no longer bothered to avoid the puddles.

  Sergeant Kishida was looking into one of the cells in the jail, and suppressed a smile when he saw Akitada’s sodden figure. “Did you find Yojibei?”

  Akitada nodded. His eyes fell on the prisoner in the cell, the robber Hajimaro.

  This time Akitada was close enough to see his face. The man was younger than he had thought in court, only about twenty-five or thirty, and under the dirt and straggly hair and beard he had a well-shaped face with large, soft eyes and a mouth which could smile even under these circumstances. Though he was sitting chained to the wall, he bowed a little to Akitada, who nodded in return.

  The sergeant said, “Hajimaro took his punishment like a man. I wish we could let him go. Listen, Hajimaro,” he pleaded with the prisoner, “if you confess, it’ll go easier with you. You can say he came at you with the knife and you defended yourself and cut him by accident.”

  Akitada looked at the sergeant in astonishment. Rehearsing a prisoner in a lie to get him a lighter sentence was the last thing he would have expected a policeman to do. Especially not Kishida, who was as upright as a young pine.

  But the prisoner amazed him even more. He spoke patiently, as if he had explained himself before, “I cannot do that, because it wouldn’t be true.”

  Kishida stamped his foot. “Don’t you understand, man? They’ll whip you till you confess or die. Do you want that?”

  “No.” Hajimaro sighed, then smiled again. “You’re a kind person, Sergeant, but we all must die some day. For someone like me it’s not a bad thing. No more hunger or cold. No getting old and sick. No worries. Just peace.”

  Akitada shuddered. “When will they begin to question him again?” he asked Kishida.

  “As soon as the captain comes back. Any moment.”

  “Can you ask for a delay? I would like you to come with me to the Ishigake mansion. I think I know who really murdered Ishigake.”

  • • •

  The door was opened again by the house steward. Otagi looked with disfavor at their dripping clothes, but admitted them.

  “The young master is busy with his accounts,” he said coldly. “If it’s about the stolen things, can you come back some other time?”

  Kishida said, “This gentleman is with the Ministry of Justice. He has some questions concerning the murder of your late master.”

  Otagi protested, “But that is over. I myself heard the judge pronounce sentence.”

  Akitada said, “You may not be aware of the fact that the prisoner has not confessed. The case is still open and subject to review. Now, if you will lead us to your room, we will not need to bother your master.”

  Otagi blinked. “My room? It’s … dirty. We can talk in here.” He walked to a sliding door and pushed it open.

  “Your room,” repeated Akitada, his voice allowing no argument.

  “But,”stammered Otagi, “it hasn’t been cleaned. And it’s too small. And cold. You would not like it at all.”

  “Go!” snapped Kishida, putting his hand on the short sword he carried in his sash.

  The reason for Otagi’s reluctance became evident when they entered his room. Here was the missing silver mirror. And next to it stood lacquered boxes of cosmetics. Quilted silk bedding was still spread across the floor, with a lady’s sheer white under gown lying crumpled on top. And against the wall stood the trunks which were, no doubt, filled with Chiyo’s silk robes.

  Kishida’s jaw sagged. “You stole the stuff yourself?” he said to O
tagi, then turned to Akitada. “Is he the killer?”

  Akitada nodded. To the steward he said, “So you killed your master when he caught you stealing those things.”

  The man was as pale as the silk under gown. “No. He didn’t catch me,” he cried. “I found him dead. It’s just … well, she was gone. Nobody needed those things anymore. The young master’s not married. So I thought …” He paused. “I thought I’d store them here.”

  “You’re lying. And you lied to the judge,” Kishida accused.

  Otagi compressed his lips.

  “I found your mistress and had a talk with her,” said Akitada. “She says you used to spy on her. It was you, wasn’t it, who told your master that his young wife was betraying him? You did it out of spite, because she rejected your advances and complained to her husband about you.”