by I. J. Parker
Kobe pointed at Hanzo. “You,” he growled. “Come up here!”
The reedy youth sidled up to his mother, who demanded, “Did you help yourself to my seed money again, rascal?”
One of the farmers cried, “What seed money?”
Hanzo flushed. “Don’t make a scene, Mother! It was nothing. Just one piece I’d saved.”
Mrs. Endo suddenly piped up, “Oh, you had more than one piece. You’ve been paying with silver ever since the night you and Gombei got drunk. I saw you pull several pieces from your sleeve and wondered if your mother had sold that rice paddy to Katahachi.”
Katahachi said quickly, “She offered to sell it, but I said ‘no.’ It’s bad land, hard to get to and the water disappears as quick as in a rice pot.”
“It’s perfectly good land,” snapped the mother, glaring around her. “Katahachi’s an old skinflint, and his daughter was a sharp-tongued harpy. Because we turned down the girl, they spread scandal about us.”
Katahachi, Mrs. Endo, Gombei, and several farmers all started speaking at once. Kobe roared for silence and then asked Mrs. Endo, “Which night was it that Hanzo and Gombei got drunk and paid with silver?”
She thought. “I remember the monk came that night and bought his wine.”
“Could it have been the night of the murder?”
She looked startled, then nodded. “Yes. It must’ve been. It was the last time the monk came, and when they told me about him being drunk when he killed Tsume, I remember thinking that it must’ve been on my wine.” She looked a bit guilty. “Gombei didn’t ask me if the monk got the wine here.”
Kobe grunted. “Gombei didn’t care. Too busy beating a confession out of him.” He turned to Hanzo. “Did you take Katahachi’s silver?”
“No,” cried Hanzo. “Why blame me, when the place is full of vagrants and thieves?”
Some farmers murmured in agreement, but Katahachi stared fixedly at Hanzo and suddenly shouted, “You. It was you! You took my silver because I turned you down. I wouldn’t buy your barren paddy nor give you Tsume with a fat dowry. I want my silver back, every piece. And if you’ve spent it, you piece of dung, I’ll have your land. I should’ve known it was you, always snooping about and bothering Tsume at her work. You lazy dog, you just wanted my silver and my hard-working Tsume so you could waste my money on your pleasure while she worked your fields for you.”
“My son’s no thief,” cried his mother.
Ignoring them, Kobe turned to Gombei. “Pay attention now, for your life may depend on it. While we’re talking, my men are searching both your place and Hanzo’s farm. They’re very thorough.”
Gombei paled, and Hanzo clutched his mother’s arm.
Kobe continued, “We know you were together that night. Did you and Hanzo go to Katahachi’s farm?”
Sweat pearled on Gombei’s face. “I m-may have done,” he stammered. “I mean, I was pretty drunk already that day. Hanzo came to the police station and told me that Tsume was sorry about throwing me in the ditch and wanted to talk to me.”
“That’s a lie,” cried Hanzo.
The door of the taproom opened, and one of the metropolitan police constables came in. He carried a clinking bag in one hand and dangled a wooden amulet on a string of small shells in the other.
Katahachi rushed forward, grabbing for the amulet. “My wife’s amulet,” he cried. “I kept it with the silver.” His eyes went to the bundle, and his face lit up. “You found it. You found my silver. Amida be praised!” Falling to his knees, he embraced the constable’s legs.
“Good work,” boomed Kobe. “Where was it?”
“Where you said to look, sir. In the young man’s clothes chest. Five pieces.”
Hanzo’s mother cried, “Then that Gombei put it there!”
“Five pieces?” wailed Katahachi. “I had thirty!”
But Kobe was looking at Hanzo’s mother. “So,” he said. “The constable used no names, but you knew all along your son had the silver. You’re both under arrest.”
Mrs. Masazaemon turned white. Her son fell to his knees and started weeping. “I didn’t kill her,” he whimpered. “I swear it. Gombei’s trying to pin the murder on me when all I did was take the silver. And there were only fifteen pieces,” he wailed with a look at Katahachi, who called him a liar and demanded the other twenty-five.
Gombei was stunned at this betrayal by his erstwhile friend. “He m-must’ve killed her, because I d-didn’t,” he stammered, then burst into speech. “He was talking about how easy it would be. He knew where Katahachi kept the silver, and said a penny-pinching fool like him didn’t deserve it. I told him I was sworn to uphold the law, but he laughed, saying he’d only been joking, but that it was a good time to visit Tsume because Katahachi was going to the capital and wouldn’t be back till late. So we went. Hanzo stayed in the main room, while I went to look for Tsume. She was sleeping in the back of the house, but when I embraced her, she got angry. She called me names, and threw things at me. I was so upset, I ran out the backdoor and home. She must’ve caught Hanzo stealing the silver, and he killed her.”
Hanzo screamed, “He lies! He told me himself that he tried to rape her but she fought him off. He was afraid she’d talk, so he strangled her. When I heard all the shouting, I ran off with the box of silver.”
This caused another burst of excitement, and Kobe shouted again for silence. Turning to Akitada, he said softly, “Your idea worked, but one of them is lying.”
Akitada shook his head. “No. They’re both telling the truth, at least as they see it. I think there’s more to come. Why not charge all three and see what happens?”
The guards had established order with their whip handles, and Gombei was rubbing his head, while Hanzo sobbed piteously in the arms of his mother.
Kobe regarded the group in disgust. “All right. The men are charged with attempted rape, murder, and robbery, and the woman with being an accessory. We’ll get at the truth with some floggings.” He nodded toward Hanzo. “Start with him.”
Hanzo screamed when the guards ripped his robe down to his waist.
“No,” cried his mother, wrapping her arms around her son. “He didn’t kill her. I did.”
Shocked silence fell.
The widow released her son and stepped forward. Her voice was flat but firm. “Hanzo told the truth. The girl came to my house and accused him of the theft. She was very disrespectful. My son denied taking the silver, but after she left, I searched his room and found the box. My son is weak, and that Gombei must’ve put the idea in his head. I took the box with the silver back to Tsume and begged her not to ruin my son. I even offered to give them the rice field to forget the matter, but she wouldn’t hear of it. Suddenly something seized hold of me then, some evil demon. I didn’t mean to kill her, but my hands went round her neck and I shook her. When I saw that she was dead, I carried her to the well, along with the empty box, to make it look like she’d been killed by robbers. The silver I hid under Hanzo’s clothes.”
Kobe rose. He seemed to tower over the woman. “You killed the girl?” he roared. “Your obsession with your worthless son caused you to murder an innocent person, and you would’ve let the monk die for it? And here today you put the blame on Gombei, a disgraceful wretch but neither a thief nor a murderer. Be careful what you say, woman, for your punishment will be severe. The law does not tolerate false accusations.”
She threw back her head. “Do with me what you want. I’m a mother. I did it for my son.” She turned to embrace Hanzo.
But Hanzo flinched away with a look of horror. “How could you, Mother?” he said. “You’ve ruined my life.”
• • •
Ennin was walking out of the gate to the Western Prison when Akitada walked in. He looked cleaner and healthier, his hair and beard were trimmed, his eyes were clear, and there was a spring in his step.
“Ah,” said Akitada, pausing to admire the clean cotton pants and jacket which had replaced the filthy monk’s robe, “Y
ou’re a changed man, Ennin.”
“Yes. And I’ve taken back my old name. It’s Higeyoshi, sir.” The ugly man looked down at himself with a grin. “I find the religious life is not for me. In any case, a drunken monk gets in too much trouble, while a drunken brewer of sake, or a poet, or even a high official like you enjoys the respect of all his friends. I’m a master at brewing sake, and not bad at making poems either.” He blinked up at the flowering cherry tree above them and recited, “Come cherry flowers! Now’s the time for us to go. If we hang about too long, we’ll weary our company.” Bowing to Akitada, he smiled sweetly, and walked through the gate in a gust of white petals.
The stories have appeared previously in Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine:
“Instruments of Murder” October 1997
“The Curio Dealer’s Wife” November 1997
“A Master of Go” December 1998
“Akitada’s First Case” July/August 1999
“Rain at Rashomon” January 2000
“The New Year’s Gift” April 2001
“Welcoming the Paddy God” December 2001
“The O-bon Cat” February 2003
“The Tanabata Magpie” September 2005
“Moon Cakes” January/February 2007
“The Incense Murders” September 2009
“The O-bon Cat” is also included in the anthology:
Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine Presents Fifty Years of Crime and Suspense
(Pegasus 2006)
About the Author
I.J. Parker was born and educated in Europe and turned to mystery writing after an academic career in the U.S. She has published her stories in Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, winning the Shamus award in 2000. Several stories have appeared in collections, such as Fifty Years of Crime and Suspense and the recent Shaken. The award-winning “Akitada’s First Case” is available as a podcast. The Akitada series of crime novels features the same protagonist, an eleventh century Japanese nobleman/detective. It now consists of eight titles, with an ninth to be released soon. These books are available in audio format and have been translated into twelve languages.
Please visit the author’s web site at www.ijparker.com for more information.
You will find the Amazon Page of the Author’s books: here
Also by I. J. Parker:
The Akitada Novels (in chronological order):
THE DRAGON SCROLL
RASHOMON GATE
BLACK ARROW
ISLAND OF EXILES
THE HELL SCREEN
THE CONVICT’S SWORD
THE MASUDA AFFAIR
THE FIRES OF THE GODS
DEATH ON AN AUTUMN RIVER
The HOLLOW REED trilogy, a Kindle exclusive:
DREAM OF A SPRING NIGHT
UNSHEATED SWORDS
DUST BEFORE THE WIND
