Akitada and the Way of Justice (Akitada Stories)

by I. J. Parker

  “Murder?” stammered Akitada, aghast.

  “Yes. I thought I’d come myself. Anything you can tell me about him?”

  Akitada’s first reaction was disbelief. “Are you sure? I saw him earlier today. He left here a little overwrought because his performance report was poor, but I cannot imagine …” His voice trailed off.

  Kobe raised his brows. “You dismissed him?”

  “I was getting around to it when he saved me the trouble. Burst into an angry speech that ended with a resignation, then stormed out—after knocking one of his colleagues to the floor for sniggering.”

  “A violent temper, in other words.”

  Akitada became cautious. “I don’t know … it seemed that way, but … what exactly happened?”

  “He killed Masayoshi. The director of the wardrobe office.”

  “I don’t think I know him. But why? And when?”

  Kobe spread his hands. “A few hours ago, around the time of the noon rice. And why do such things happen? His temper explains it well enough. The young have little restraint. In this case, Masayoshi had forbidden visits to his daughter.”

  “Shigeyori seduced the daughter of a ranking official?” For someone of Shigeyori’s low social standing, that was the height of audacity. Akitada had liked his spirit when he had applied for the clerkship, but this was most improper. Still, the boy was very young, and the young make foolish mistakes when they think they are in love. “You are quite sure he’s guilty?”

  “Reasonably. We have ruled out robbery. Too many servants about and nothing was taken. One of the servants saw him running from Masayoshi’s house as if devils were after him. Who can say what sets a violent person off? It does not take much.”

  Silence fell while Akitada wondered if he had any responsibility for Shigeyori’s actions. Perhaps he could have handled the interview more gently. Then it occurred to him that Kobe must have something else on his mind with this personal visit. “Do you have doubts about his guilt?” he asked hopefully.

  “Well, he denies doing it. Very firmly. And Masayoshi had enemies. I wondered if you …” Kobe hesitated.

  “Yes?”

  “Shigeyori gave you as a character reference and asked that we talk to you. He thought you might act on his behalf.”

  Akitada was appalled. What had possessed Shigeyori? And after their unpleasant talk this morning? But perhaps the clerk had been clever, thinking that such an appeal to Akitada’s fairness would cause him to feel guilty. It did.

  Worse, taking on Shigeyori’s case would ruin tomorrow’s holiday with his family. They were to take a boat ride on the Katsura River. He had disappointed his wife too often already, and the excursion had been planned for months. Tamako and her maid had been busy cutting and sewing new summer robes for the occasion. This very morning, Tamako had been in the kitchen, humming with happiness as she prepared delicious foods for the outing. No, he would not crush her hopes again.

  He was about to refuse outright, when it occurred to him that he might at least use the rest of the day to ask some questions. Possibly something might turn up to help Shigeyori. It would go a long way to ease his conscience and let him enjoy his holiday.

  “I don’t have much time,” he said to Kobe, explaining their plans, “but tell me what happened and I will talk to some people today.”

  Kobe nodded. “Briefly then: Shigeyori was seen running from the main house where Masayoshi’s room is. The servant who saw him said he looked as if he had seen a ghost or something—his words. A short while later, another servant took the midday rice to his master and found Masayoshi slumped over his desk. He had been stabbed in the back. Masayoshi’s known visitors that morning all insist that the man was alive and in good spirits when they left.”

  “And Shigeyori?”

  “He claims he never saw Masayoshi. Most likely a lie.”

  “What did he say he was doing there?”

  “Secretly visiting the daughter.”

  “In broad daylight? When the father had forbidden the relationship?”

  “Exactly.”

  “You have the weapon?”

  “No. It was either a large knife or a short sword. We searched Shigeyori’s rooms, but he could have thrown it away.”

  Akitada pursed his lips. “Hmm. Tell me about the other visitors.”

  “Two of Masayoshi’s colleagues, Kajiwara Heizo and Kiso Yasuhira, stopped by on business matters. Neither stayed long. Nothing suspicious about it, but they came separately.”

  “Did they explain?”

  “They said it was routine. Something to do with the wardrobe office.”

  Akitada raised his brows at this. Few senior officials enjoyed being troubled at home. If Kajiwara and Kiso found it necessary to call on Masayoshi, it was more likely that it was anything but routine.

  Kobe apparently agreed. “Office gossip has it that neither was on good terms with Masayoshi.”

  “They are the enemies you mentioned?”

  “Well, they may have motives, though there are others.”

  “Then he was not well liked?”

  Kobe grinned. “He was not a likeable man, forever criticizing others. But there is only one other person with a strong motive. Lord Inage. He was a secretary in the Council of State until recently. He and Masayoshi were both mentioned for a lucrative appointment to the governorship of Omi province next year. Masayoshi made some ugly accusations, and Inage was dismissed. And Inage called there today, very angry. He was not admitted, but he could have slipped in the back way—or sent in an assassin.”

  An assassin? Akitada frowned. It did not seem likely for someone like Masayoshi, who was of minor importance in the administration. “What about his family? Wives? Children?”

  “Masayoshi was a widower with a grown daughter, Lady Otoku.”

  “Only one child? The one Shigeyori was courting?” Akitada, who had lost a child himself and was now raising a little daughter, felt a sudden sympathy for the dead man. Shigeyori was not his idea of a charming son-in-law. He sighed. “The body has been removed?”

  “Yes. It looked like a straightforward stabbing.” Seeing Akitada’s surprise, he amplified, “Two wounds to the back. Close together. More than likely both fatal.”

  From across the Greater Palace grounds came the sound of the gong that marked the time. Akitada glanced out through the open doors at the tile-topped walls and curving roofs of the ministries and government buildings. Beyond, in the haze of cooking fires, the city spread southward toward the confluence of the Kamo and Katsura Rivers. Tomorrow he would be there, on a boat, sailing away from his problems.

  “The hour of the rooster already,” he said. “It will be sunset in another two hours. I’d better start now, if I am to find out anything useful today.”

  When they rose, Kobe said, “I assume you’ll want to speak to the prisoner first?”

  “No.” The thought of seeing Shigeyori again was so unpleasant that Akitada almost snapped at Kobe. At best, Shigeyori had an unstable character; at worst he was a cunning criminal who planned to gain Masayoshi’s wealth by marrying his daughter. Kobe gave him a curious look. “No,” Akitada repeated, more calmly. “I’ll have a talk with Masayoshi’s people. Perhaps there is another explanation.”

  As he walked through the eastern quarter of the city, he took pleasure in the clear skies, the pleasant breeze, a patch of orange daylilies nodding over a humble bamboo fence, and a pair of sparrows feeding their fluffy youngster. It would be fine weather for their outing tomorrow. Sailing on the river on a summer day was sheer bliss. He pictured tying off the boat at a pretty bank and spreading mats on the grass for the cold picnic his wife Tamako was busily assembling at home. He imagined playing with his little daughter and teaching her how to fish. Perhaps there would be rice cakes filled with sweet chestnuts or sesame seeds, or cold steamed dumplings with shrimp, or quail eggs wrapped in seaweed.

  He arrived at the dead man’s residence with an unsuitably happy expression on hi
s face. The gatekeeper stared at him in surprise until Akitada rearranged his face and gave his name and Kobe’s, adding that he was assisting the superintendent in his inquiries. The man bowed him in, closed the gate, and left.

  Akitada paused in the neatly raked entrance courtyard and looked about. He was impressed. The compound was large and well-maintained, its walls newly white-washed and the double gate massive. The main house and adjoining pavilions had expensive tile roofs, and broad stairways led up to deep verandas with red-lacquered balustrades. In spite of the fact that the family consisted only of the master and his daughter, Akitada saw many well-dressed servants—far more than he could maintain on his own salary. Masayoshi’s private income must be considerably larger than his stipend from the wardrobe office.

  A man’s wealth figured prominently among possible reasons for his murder.

  He was about to approach one of the servants to begin his questioning, when the gatekeeper reappeared at a run and bowed. “My lady will see you now, sir.”

  This astonished Akitada. First, no unmarried woman of good family received strange males. Secondly, her father had been murdered only hours before and her lover arrested for the crime.

  Intrigued, he followed the servant past the main house to the rear of the compound. They passed a small courtyard garden with a dry landscape behind the main hall and approached a charming pavilion. At the foot of its stairs stood two large Chinese planters with small, neatly trimmed orange trees, in imitation of similar ones in the imperial palace. A few white pebbles had fallen from one of the planters, perhaps disturbed by a bird. So far it was the only place that had not been carefully raked or swept. Masayoshi evidently insisted on good service.

  Lady Otoku received him quite informally. She was at her weaving frame, busily moving a bewildering number of wooden shuttles with brilliant silk threads through the weft of what looked like an exquisite piece of brocade.

  Many women of noble families were adept at weaving, but none received callers without hiding behind a screen, or at least covering her face with a fan.

  Two maids were with her, both busy sewing the simple hempen garments that would be worn by the household in mourning for its master. One of the maids was very young and looked tearful and agitated, but her mistress turned a calm face to Akitada. Lady Otoku was quite pretty, with a round face and even features, but she was older than he had expected, and that perhaps explained her composure.

  He bowed. “Forgive my rude intrusion at this time, Lady Otoku. I hope to be of some help.”

  She nodded. On her gesture, the older maid dropped her sewing, placed a cushion for him, and then went to pour him a cup of wine.

  “I am weaving,” Lady Otoku said in a soft voice, “because I find that keeping my hands busy calms my mind. The police have arrested a young man, I believe?”

  Akitada was not sure he had heard correctly. Perhaps she was signaling that she wished to keep her relationship with Shigeyori quiet. He glanced at the maids. The older woman was bent over her work again, but the young girl stared at him with wide, frightened eyes. He wondered if Shigeyori had lied about the relationship. The weaving loom produced soft clicks as Masayoshi’s daughter worked. He said cautiously, “His name is Shigeyori. I have been told that you know him.”

  “Yes.” She paused to look up from her weaving. “Did Shigeyori do it?”

  Her voice was as serene as her eyes. Akitada felt out of his depth at such self-control. “He has denied it, but your servants saw him leaving the main hall shortly before the murder was discovered.”

  She sighed. “He was here this morning. I do not know if he saw my father also.”

  Well, she was honest to a fault. Akitada asked, “Who had reason to wish your father dead?”

  She frowned at this. “You mean other than Shigeyori?”

  Startled, Akitada made sure he had understood her. “Are you saying that Shigeyori had a motive to kill your father?”

  “Oh, I thought you knew. He asked to marry me and my father refused. I understand that unpleasant words passed between them.”

  Akitada digested this. Perhaps her loyalties had shifted to her father after the murder. “This happened today?”

  “Oh, no. A few weeks ago. Shigeyori and I hoped my father would change his mind.”

  “But he continued his visits to you? I take it you welcomed his attentions then. Are you still planning to marry the young man?”

  If he had hoped to embarrass her, he was disappointed. She looked sadly at him. “I don’t know what to do. I wish to honor my father’s wishes, but I cannot think that he fully appreciated Shigeyori.” She paused. “I suppose I would like you to find my father’s murderer and prove Shigeyori innocent.”

  Akitada looked at her calm face, her proper gown, the way her hair was tied back so neatly, her air of domesticity at her loom, and wondered how she had inspired passion in the younger Shigeyori. Of course, Shigeyori was ambitious and she would have her father’s money. The more he thought about the law clerk, the less he liked his courtship of Lady Otoku.

  “The police will do that,” he said firmly. “I take it that you don’t really suspect Shigeyori. What about others then?”

  “My father had many enemies. He said it was a matter of envy. Men wanted his position, or he threatened theirs.” She paused to eye him speculatively. “I will pay you well to bring his murderer to justice.”

  “Thank you, but I won’t have the time. I am told some other people called here today. Of course, you may not know about all the comings and goings in the compound.”

  “On the contrary, I know precisely what goes on. I have run my father’s household for a number of years now. The servants keep me informed. My father had several visitors today, but only three of interest. Lord Inage stopped by briefly. The two clerks from the wardrobe office also reported. Their names are Kiso and Kajiwara and they came separately, Kiso first and then Kajiwara.”

  She was truly an astonishing female. A sudden suspicion crossed Akitada’s mind. “I assume you’ve already given Superintendent Kobe these facts?”

  “Of course.”

  He bit his lip. “Is there anything you have not told him?”

  There was not. Akitada departed after repeating his condolences while she repeated her offer to pay him. He then went to speak to the house servants. Here, however, he got no further. The man who had seen Shigeyori running away was positive the young man had come from the main house and not from Lady Otoku’s quarters. He said again that Shigeyori had looked as if he had seen a demon. This might be an imaginative touch on his part, but so far nothing absolved Shigeyori, and Akitada knew he had a temper. They also confirmed that the two clerks had called earlier and that there had been nothing unusual about such visits. Finally, Akitada asked to see where Masayoshi had died.

  Masayoshi had conducted his business in a pleasant room in the rear of the main building. One of Kobe’s constables lounged on the veranda overlooking the small courtyard, no doubt hoping for a glimpse of one of the maids. Akitada gave his name and briefly peered into the room. The body had been removed and fresh grass mats covered the floor. A neat stack of account books was carefully lined up with a box of writing tools on the desk. The household was nothing if not well-run. Akitada almost wished for slovenly servants.

  It was well past sunset by then, but in the scented dusk, Akitada returned to the Greater Palace to visit the wardrobe office, a large cluster of buildings directly north of the imperial residence. The gorgeous outfits and fabrics for the court and for state occasions were commissioned and stored here, but Masayoshi’s duties as director would have been light. Kiso and Kajiwara carried out the day-to-day chores. Akitada hoped to find at least one of them still in.

  They both were. The festival had kept things bustling in the wardrobe office because the ladies of the imperial household vied with each other in their festive costumes. He found the two clerks together, bent over order books and stacks of precious fabrics. They became guarded when h
e identified himself and his errand.

  Kiso was about thirty—a short, round-faced man with a dark complexion, his button eyes as restless as his movements. Kajiwara reminded Akitada of an emaciated rat. He was much older, with thin grey hair and closely set, narrow eyes. The small goatee and mustache disguised a receding chin.

  Fear can rarely be hidden completely, and Akitada had seen it in many forms. These two had the panicked look of small animals cornered in their hole and desperately trying to find some escape.

  Of course, many lower-ranking officials lived in constant fear of their superiors, and their nervousness might mean nothing. He countered their apprehension with urbanity. A frightened man might blurt out something, but he might just as well freeze into protective paralysis.

  They relaxed a little when questioned about the workings of the office and their co-workers and began to make the obligatory remarks about what a loss Masayoshi’s death was to the government.