Akitada and the Way of Justice (Akitada Stories)

by I. J. Parker

  “I see,” said Akitada, not seeing at all.

  “This is an old garden,” said the other. “Look at that stone over there, to the north-east. That’s a phantom stone. It has been here for generations and is responsible for untold misfortune to my family. Luckily I came across a book—a heaven-sent find— that explains it all. So now I’m setting a Buddhist trinity to face it from the south-west. That will stop the evil.” He finished with the stone and gave Akitada a happy smile. “Thank you. All will be well soon, you’ll see.” He stepped behind the new stone and squinted past it. “Perfect. Now the smaller ones will go here and there. Do you mind?” He bent to lift one of them, and Akitada reached for the other. A suspicion had begun to form in his mind.

  “I hope I find you well … sir,” he said tentatively.

  With a soft laugh, the other said, “Yes, it’s the master of the house you’re talking to. I like to work in my garden. Physical work empties the heart wonderfully of its troubles. And who might you be?”

  “I’m Sugawara.” Akitada brushed the dirt from his hands and made Lord Inage a small bow.

  The smile on the other man’s face faded. “Ah. I’ve heard of you. Are you on a case? Is this about Masayoshi?”

  “Yes. One of my clerks was accused of his murder. He may be innocent.”

  Inage sighed. Wiping his hands on his jacket, he gestured toward the house. “If you don’t mind my appearance, we can talk on the veranda.”

  When they were seated – Akitada on a cushion brought out by his host, Inage on the top step to the garden, Inage said bluntly, “You’re casting about for another murderer and have come to me. But you’re wasting your time. I did not kill Masayoshi.” He waited. When Akitada said nothing, he said, “Oh, I see. No, I didn’t hire an assassin either. You really must look elsewhere.”

  “Yes. Forgive the intrusion, but I had to come and see for myself.”

  Inage raised thin brows. “And are you so easily convinced? I had every reason to wish the man dead. He was a menace to me and my family. Worse, to our society and nation.”

  Akitada gestured at the lush landscape. “It was your contentment here, in your beautiful garden, that convinced me. A man does not find peace so easily after shedding blood. Can you tell me where else I might look?”

  But the atmosphere had changed. Inage was hostile now. “No,” he snapped. “Whoever killed Masayoshi did the correct thing. I know you lawyers wish to see crimes solved and the guilty brought to justice, but too often you have a very wrong idea of what justice is. I shall not help you. At my age, a man has to consider his karma.”

  Akitada thought of Shigeyori’s grieving father. “In that case,” he said sharply, “beware that you do not add another sin. The young man who was arrested for the murder killed himself in despair, and his father bows his head in shame. If you know of anything that might ease that father’s pain, it is your duty to speak.”

  Inage stared at him, then lowered his eyes and was silent for a long time. When he looked up again, he glanced across to the trinity rocks and sighed. “We try to avert misfortune but life itself is a misfortune. You speak of one father’s grief over the loss of a son. When I was turned away from Masayoshi’s gate, another visitor arrived. I knew him, poor man. Masayoshi destroyed his son by demanding he be sent into exile for a minor squabble in which the youngster had been provoked.” He turned bleak eyes on Akitada. “How do you decide between two evils, Sugawara? That poor man has already suffered so much and so patiently. What shall I do?”

  Akitada said gently, “I know about Kajiwara.”

  Inage’s shoulders sagged. “Oh. Then you think he …?”

  “I don’t know.” Akitada got to his feet. “As you say, justice is not an easy master. I shall seek more answers and think.” He bowed and left.

  He was running out of options. If not Shigeyori, then surely Kajiwara. But Akitada did not like that choice any better than Inage had. If only it could be Kiso! Why had Masayoshi sent for Kiso?

  • • •

  Kiso and Kajiwara were together again, but they seemed calmer today—perhaps because the festival was over, or because they thought Shigeyori’s death had closed the investigation. At any rate, they looked relaxed and cheerful until they saw Akitada.

  Akitada said, “Don’t disturb yourselves, gentlemen. I have just one or two questions. You heard that the young man arrested for your chief’s murder has committed suicide?”

  Kajiwara glanced at Kiso. “Yes. How sad! I can imagine what his poor parents must be feeling.”

  Kiso nodded. “So difficult nowadays to raise sons properly. At least this one accepted his punishment like a man. Sometimes suicide is very proper, don’t you think?” When Kajiwara made an inarticulate sound, Kiso cried, “Oh, forgive me, Kajiwara. I didn’t mean …”

  But Kajiwara had already jumped up. His hands shook so badly that he clenched them. “You did mean it,” he shouted. “You never let me forget my poor boy for a moment. You do it on purpose, Kiso. It is very cruel of you.” With a sob, he fled the room.

  Kiso opened his mouth to explain, but Akitada interrupted coldly. “Don’t bother. Your colleague’s story is known to the police. Your own, however, is another matter. I think you lied about what you were doing at Masayoshi’s that morning.”

  “What?” The color drained from Kiso’s face.

  While satisfied with the reaction, Akitada still wondered what Kiso was hiding. He suddenly remembered the neat stack of account books on Masayoshi’s desk. It was worth a try. “Come,” he said, “you may as well admit it. Masayoshi had questions about the accounts.”

  “The accounts?” Beads of sweat appeared on Kiso’s face.

  Akitada smiled unpleasantly. “And I am even more curious to know what you did about it.”

  “Nothing. I did n-nothing,” stammered Kiso. “I mean, he did nothing. That is …” He was hopelessly entangled.

  “Masayoshi was not the sort of man to overlook improprieties. You killed him and hoped to pin the crime on Kajiwari, didn’t you? You knew Kajiwari had an appointment after you.”

  “N-no, no! I didn’t. You made a mistake. He didn’t … I wasn’t … I’m innocent.” Kiso sweated and wrung his hands. “Please, you must believe me, I’m innocent.” He burst into tears.

  A very satisfactory reaction. But Akitada had just realized something else: if the wardrobe accounts were the reason for Kiso’s panic, it was not likely that he had stabbed his superior and left them behind. He decided to go back and make sure.

  • • •

  This time the imposing gates of the Masayoshi residence were closed, and a taboo sign warned of the recent death. He was admitted by the gatekeeper who was dressed in the drab mourning Lady Otoku’s maids had been sewing. The funeral was over and silence hung over the compound.

  Lady Otoku was behind a screen, dressed in the dark silks of mourning. Her voice was faint. Akitada thought cynically that screens made it easy for women to pretend emotions they did not feel but realized that he had transferred his disapproval from Shigeyori to the woman he had loved—or at least courted.

  After expressing condolences on Shigeyori’s death—she listened with deep sighs—he asked for her help in clearing Shigeyori’s name.

  “Oh,” she murmured, “I thought … you mean Shigeyori did not do it? But why then … oh, how terrible!” She burst into violent sobbing, and the elderly maid hurried to her assistance.

  After her self-control on his last visit, Akitada was surprised. It seemed odd that she should collapse now, but perhaps she, too, felt responsible for Shigeyori’s death. Embarrassed and concerned for her distress, he rose to withdraw.

  “What is it that I can do?” she asked suddenly, her voice thick with weeping.

  He paused. “I was curious what brought your father’s colleague Kiso here that morning, but it can wait.”

  “Kiso,” she corrected him, “is not my father’s colleague. He is a clerk, and he may be a thief. My father summoned him
because he had questions about the accounts. Even though Father conducted some of the affairs of the wardrobe office from here, he was very conscientious.”

  That at least confirmed his guess. “I don’t doubt it,” Akitada said politely. “What was the outcome of the interview?”

  “I never saw my father alive again. Do you suspect Kiso?”

  Before Akitada could answer, the door opened. A servant knelt in the opening and bowed. “A thief has been arrested, Mistress,” he announced in an excited voice. “By the constable in the main hall.”

  Lady Otoku gave no sign of surprise at the news. She said, “I see. Is that all?”

  But the servant was bursting with more news. “It’s Mr. Kiso, Mistress. He was trying to take away the master’s books. Now he’s off to jail.” The servant looked pleased.

  “Thank you, Hiko,” she said. When the door had closed again, she told Akitada, “How clever of you, sir. So my father’s murder is solved. I am deeply in your debt. How very sad that Shigeyori had so little faith in justice.”

  She had regained her control. Akitada found her complacency tasteless and quickly departed for Kobe’s office.

  • • •

  Kobe looked pleased. “The victim identified his killer,” he announced and pointed to Masayoshi’s accounts on his desk. “Kiso tried to steal them. Have a look.”

  Akitada took the books up one by one and leafed through. They were the wardrobe office accounts. A loose note tumbled from one. Masayoshi had been angry enough to jot down some figures and the words, “Let that rascal Kiso weasel out of this!”

  “It’s my fault,” Akitada said with a sigh, replacing the books. “I talked to Kiso earlier and frightened him into making this foolish attempt. Apparently he’s guilty of falsifying the books, but that is all.” He explained his reasoning and saw Kobe’s face fall.

  “Well,” Kobe said, shaking his head, “I had hoped we wouldn’t have to start all over again, but it seems we must. There may be another suspect. Masayoshi was involved in an affair with a married woman, and the lady’s husband recently returned from four years of provincial service.”

  Akitada frowned. “An affair?” This sort of thing happened often enough and explained why many officials dragged along their families when assigned to distant places, though some wives flatly refused to leave the comforts and pleasures of life in the capital, while some husbands preferred the freedom of new liaisons at a distance from their homes. “Wasn’t Masayoshi getting a little too old for that sort of fling?”

  “He was only forty-five.”

  Akitada grimaced. He was rapidly approaching forty himself. “How did you find out?”

  “My wife heard about it. Women know such things first. It seems the husband found her pregnant and sent her home to her family.”

  Akitada sat up. “She was pregnant?”

  “Yes. And an injured husband is a murder suspect.”

  “But the husband wasn’t there that morning, or was he?”

  “He wasn’t seen, but I’m afraid we have to consider him. It seems strange Masayoshi and his paramour didn’t prepare better. They must have expected the husband’s return.”

  Akitada’s eyes widened. Then he smiled. “Oh, but I think they did! Of course, they did. There’s someone who had a much stronger motive than all of our suspects. Come, we have to go back to Masayoshi’s house.”

  Kobe looked startled. “Why?”

  “Sorry. I have been wrong so often in this case that I’d rather make sure first.”

  Kobe grumbled, but accompanied Akitada to the Masayoshi house. When they crossed the entrance courtyard, Akitada halted. “Shigeyori was seen running from the main hall to this gate?”

  Kobe nodded.

  “And both Kajiwara and Kiso arrived and left this way?”

  “Yes. What difference does it make?”

  Akitada started for the main hall. “I don’t know yet, but I take it you had their routes searched for the murder weapon?”

  “Of course, and the entire neighborhood, including the nearest canal.”

  Akitada nodded absent-mindedly. They took the stairs and went inside and to Masayoshi’s study.

  Akitada threw open the doors to the rear veranda and stepped outside. The constable jerked to attention and was ignored. They looked down into a small courtyard with gravel and river pebbles. A memory stirred and Akitada glanced across to Lady Otoku’s pavilion.

  Kobe said unnecessarily, “The women’s quarters.”

  “Yes.” Akitada looked at it fixedly for a moment, then went down the stairs and across the courtyard. Two planters with matching orange trees flanked the stairs to the women’s quarters. He looked at the pebbles in the right planter, then thrust his hand among them. Feeling around a moment, he pulled out a short ornamental dagger.

  Kobe joined him. “The murder weapon?” he asked. “How did you know it was here?”

  “I guessed. I noticed earlier the pebbles had been disturbed and thought a bird had scratched around.” Akitada looked at the dagger with satisfaction. The handle was black lacquered wood with a fine silver overlay, but the blade was wickedly sharp. A crust of dirt and a brown substance clung to its top. “If I’m not mistaken, this belongs to Lady Otoku. It is the sort that is given by a father to a new-born daughter,” he said. “I’m afraid this one still has her father’s blood on it.”

  “Shigeyori after all?” Kobe looked stunned. “He’s the only one who could have taken it from Lady Otoku. Unless you think it was one of her maids?”

  “Not a maid,” Akitada said, “and the fact that Shigeyori was Lady Otoku’s lover doesn’t mean he took it.”

  “But … you don’t mean she gave it to him? To murder her own father!” Kobe sounded shocked. “What a very nasty thought!”

  “I agree. I think she suggested the murder to him weeks ago. That was why he could not keep his mind on his work.” He looked up at the pavilion. “Shall we go arrest the lady?”

  “Are you sure she knew Shigeyori took her dagger?”

  “We arrest her for the murder. I think Shigeyori refused, and she did it herself.”

  “You mean she killed her own father?”

  “Yes. Shigeyori found Masayoshi dead and ran out the front in a panic. The dagger was hidden here, between Masayoshi’s study and his daughter’s quarters—where she had hidden it after the murder. Then she did her best to pin the crime on Shigeyori by sending him to talk to her father. She expected him to come running back to her with the news, but Shigeyori was too horrified and fled. A good thing you posted a constable or she would have disposed of the dagger by now.”

  Kobe shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t understand it. I don’t care how unpleasant the man was to others, he clearly doted on her.”

  “Sometimes fatherly love is too constricting. And she was about to lose everything. She was her father’s sole heiress—until Masayoshi acknowledged another child. If that child was a son, Lady Otoku, as a female, would have to submit to her half-brother’s wishes.”

  “You think she found out about that?” Kobe was thunder-struck.

  “I think Masayoshi informed her. They were much alike, you know. Lady Otoku is a strong-willed female, and he had very firm notions about her future. Her own wishes did not matter to him.”

  Kobe looked at Akitada curiously. “Aren’t you shocked?”

  “No. I didn’t much like her because of her remarkable self-control. She is a clever woman, though, and perfectly capable of pretending grief when it suits her.”

  Kobe looked unhappy. “This will be difficult to prosecute. A young woman of her class? And such a crime.”

  “I know.” Akitada walked up the steps and called out. A servant came and was sent to announce them.

  Lady Otoku was behind her screen again and in the company of the same elderly maid.

  They accepted the cushions waiting for them, refused the offered wine, and went straight to business.

  “We found the murder weapon,”
Akitada said.

  She gave a small gasp.

  Akitada pushed the dagger under her screen. “I believe this is yours.”

  Lady Otoku gave a high-pitched cry and scooted back. “Take it away,” she squealed. Her maid rose, uncertain what to do.

  Akitada retrieved the dagger. “Your father’s blood is on it,” he said coldly. “On the dagger he gave you himself, never suspecting that you would use it against him.”

  “How dare you? I loved my father. Perhaps one of the servants …”