by I. J. Parker
“Look,” Saburo tried again, “they won’t know you told us. We’ll go and ask them if they saw anything.”
Tora added a third coin and juggled all three. “Actually,” he said, “you should point out those that are your customers, even if you don’t recall seeing them that morning.”
Jinzaemon’s eyes had become fixated on the flying silver pieces. “You’re pretty good,” he said grudgingly.
Tora flashed him a smile. “Thanks! If you can distract me and I drop one, it’s yours.”
“Give me that list again,” said Jinzaemon.
Saburo passed it over. The coins spun smoothly.
“Well, a few names here I recognize.”
“Oops!” Tora dropped a coin.
“Let me see. Yes, I seem to remember Matsuoka.”
The remaining two coins flew back and forth.
“And Harada is a regular. He may have been here.” Jinzaemon paused. “And the same for Ozaki and Kato.” Tora dropped another coin. Jinzaemon eyed the remaining coin hungrily as Tora tossed it from hand to hand. “That’s it,” he said. “I don’t know the other people. Where’d you get those names anyway?”
Tora grinned. “One more question, my friend. Are Nakamura’s family and his brother Saito also regulars here?”
“Saito comes sometimes. Haven’t seen him recently. I don’t know Nakamura’s family.”
“Thanks!” Tora tossed Jinzaemon the last coin. “We’ll take a look around.” He rubbed his chin. “Then maybe we’ll have a bath.”
They walked away as Jinzaemon bent to scoop up the other two coins.
“You’re very extravagant with your money,” Saburo said. “That bastard didn’t deserve it.”
“You have to pay for information,” Tora told him. “And the nastier the informer, the higher the price.”
Saburo, who was very shy about showing his scarred body, said, “I don’t want a bath.”
Tora was unfeeling. “You’ll have to bear it if we can get some information that way.” He burst into laughter. “Bare it! You’ll have to bare it. Get it?”
Saburo gave him a sour look. “Ha ha.”
They peered into a number of rooms where men had massages or shaves. The workers were all men, two of them blind, all of them with the shaven heads of their profession. Saburo wondered whether the customers were afraid of women barbers since the murder.
In the steamy room where people soaked in two deep tubs, they also found customers, the men in one tub, the women in another. A screen separated the two. Either the bathhouse was always well attended at this hour, or the notoriety of the crime had brought more business to Jinzaemon.
Tora appeared to be satisfied with his inspection. He returned to the front, paid the fee for both of them, and they went to the dressing room where they left their clothes. In the steamy room of the tubs, the bathers paid them scant attention as they washed themselves and then climbed into the tub where three men were already soaking.
There were some stares at Saburo’s lean, scarred body, but they seemed more impressed with the muscular Tora, who also sported mementos from his military career and other violent encounters. The three bathers, most likely tradesmen, offered timid nods. A brief silence fell.
Tora broke it first. “There was a nasty murder here, we hear,” he offered.
They nodded eagerly. The fat man said, “A shampoo girl cut a fellow’s throat. Can you imagine?” He rolled his eyes.
“Intentionally?” Saburo asked.
They looked at each other. The bearded man snorted. “Maybe. She’s a hot number for all that she’s blind. The men like to make passes at her. It’s a kind of game.” He chuckled. “She gets pretty sharp, I can tell you.”
Saburo eyed him with a frown. “That doesn’t mean she’d kill someone.”
The man grinned and cocked his head. “Who knows what women may do? It’s easy enough to say the knife slipped.”
The other two nodded wisely.
“Were you here when it happened?” Saburo asked suspiciously.
Two shook their heads, but the third, an elderly man, nodded. “I was. I could hear the screaming all the way in here,” he said. “Everybody jumped out and ran to see what happened, They were stark naked and dripping water all over. There was a crowd in front of the room where it happened. I couldn’t get close, but they say there was blood everywhere. The girl was covered in it.”
“I say that proves she did it, right?” The fat man said..
The old man disagreed, “She says she found him dead but didn’t know what happened. She tried to help him. That’s how she got his blood on her clothes. It could have happened that way. She’s blind after all.”
The other two laughed at this suggestion.
Saburo asked the elderly man, “Did you see anyone you recognized in the crowd?”
“Several of the regulars. Mind you, I don’t know their names. I thought I saw one of the courtesans, though.” He chuckled and waggled his gray eyebrows at his companions. “I was wishing she’d jumped out of the bath wearing nothing but water. No such luck! She was in full costume, scarlet silk and dark green brocade. Probably drumming up custom for her house. The working girls come here a lot.”
“She sounds like a choja,” said one of the others. “Don’t they normally send someone else to do that?”
“Who knows? She was something, though. I was trying to get quite close.”
Saburo wanted to get the subject back to the murder. “A friend of mine was here that day. His name’s Matsuoka. Did you see him?”
The elderly man shook his head. “Don’t know him.”
“What about Harada or Kato?”
“Nope. Wait a minute, I did see a couple of regulars earlier. Ozaki was just leaving. He’s a tailor and always comes early to get back to his shop for opening time. And the man who owns the paper shop was here. I don’t know his name.” He frowned. “That reminds me. I’ve got to get to work.”
Not surprisingly, the other two also discovered they had places to be and scrambled out. The steaming vat was temporarily left to Tora and Saburo.
“So,” said Saburo with satisfaction, “we have two names. Both Matsuoka and Ozaki are on the list of debtors, and they were here that morning.”
Tora climbed out. “It’s something,” he said, toweling himself dry. “But it could still be anybody. Or at least anybody who was here. It needn’t be a regular customer either, just someone who owed Nakamura money.”
Saburo joined him. “In that case, we’re nowhere. So much for taking a bath we don’t need,” he said angrily. “I thought you’d be better at this. You used to want to be like the master. And now that you have a murder to work on, you lose interest.”
Tora headed for the dressing area. “You’re too impatient, Saburo. In a case like this, little bits of information come your way gradually. In the end you just put them all together. If you rush, you end up making bad mistakes.” He stepped into his trousers and added, “Like the police did when they arrested Sachi.”
“It’s not like you to advise patience,” Saburo grumbled. He hurried into his clothes.
“Even I can see that we cannot check out all these people.” Tora waved the list at Saburo. “That’s for the police to do. We must find another way.”
They were walking out of the bathhouse when Jinzaemon hurried up, smiling broadly.
Saburo muttered, “Don’t give that bastard any more money. We don’t have any to spare.”
Jinzaemon bowed. “A pleasant bath, gentlemen? I pride myself on having the roomiest tubs and the hottest water. And it’s always clean. Kamo river water from above the shrine, where it comes from the sacred mountains.”
“It was all right,” Tora remarked. “We had a chat with some of your customers.”
Jinzaemon looked anxious. “You didn’t trouble them, I hope?”
“Oh, no. They wanted to talk about the murder. That’s what brought them here. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you arranged t
he crime yourself to drum up some business.”
“Don’t make jokes like that!” cried Jinzaemon.
“Well, the police will be around. If I were you, I’d watch my step. From what I’ve seen and learned here, you act as a pimp, selling the favors of the neighborhood whores and forcing decent women to service your customers on the premises.”
The bathhouse owner paled. “That’s a lie!”
“No, it isn’t. Sachi’s talking to the police! And furthermore, you allow swindlers like Nakamura to come here to sell their services to poor people. Did he pay you for pointing out clients? Maybe you quarreled over the arrangement? Yes, you’d better watch it, Jinzaemon. The truth will out!” With that, he and Saburo left to a volley of curses from the owner.
Outside, the icy wind made short work of the pleasant warmth left by the bath.
15
In Disgrace
The Office of Central Affairs, or Nakatsukasa-sho, was not far from the Justice Ministry, but Akitada’s feet became heavy as he made his way there. The Nakatsukasa-sho was the most powerful ministry of the government, but its enclosure was deceptively modest. Akitada passed under a simple gate into a small graveled courtyard. Nobody stopped him. A few clerks walked quickly between halls, and two senior officials stood chatting. He climbed the steps to the main hall, his feet like lead. Inside the building, a servant finally approached and asked his business.
“My name is Sugawara. I came to make my report. Will you please advise His Excellency’s secretary?”
The servant bowed and disappeared. Akitada stood, gathering his courage. Within the next half hour he might be ruined. Actually, he might be ruined already and merely have come to get confirmation of the fact. He thought what he would do in that case and came up with nothing.
A clerk in a black silk robe appeared. He bowed. “May I confirm that you are Lord Sugawara Akitada, governor of Chikuzen province?”
“I resigned that post, but yes.”
The clerk’s brows shot up. “Resigned?” he asked. But he corrected himself quickly. “If you will please follow me.”
So the news of his resignation had not reached the Office of Central Affairs. This would be awkward. Akitada’s heart started to beat unpleasantly fast. He tried to calm himself by breathing deeply as he followed the clerk.
He was led into a large office, furnished plainly with a desk and some cushions, as well as the customary assortment of books on a stand. Three men stood in its center, looking curiously at him. He saw by the rank ribbons on their hats that all three outranked him by several steps, and one held the lesser third rank. He did not know any of them but bowed deeply.
The oldest man, gray-haired and smooth-shaven, was the highest ranking official. He had tired eyes that studied Akitada morosely as if he wondered who had saddled him with this new nuisance.
The next in rank was middle-aged and portly. The last was a young man, only in his early twenties. He had a stylish mustache as many young sparks did these days. He smiled, but not in a friendly manner. He seemed to be enjoying the coming confrontation.
The elderly man said, “I’m His Excellency’s senior secretary, Soga. His Excellency is unavailable. Did I understand the servant to say that you wished to report?”
Akitada bowed again. Another Soga? He still chafed under the memory of the late Minister Soga, his superior and Kaneie’s predecessor. It was unlikely that this man would treat him more fairly. “Yes, your Excellency. I had the honor to serve briefly as governor of Chikuzen province while certain crimes were committed there, and these led me to look into treasonable activities between Hakata businesses and China.”
The three men looked at each other. Secretary Soga said, “The Grand Minister has received a report from the Assistant Governor General at Dazaifu. It does not explain what you are doing here.”
Akitada swallowed. “Sir, I resigned my post when I received news of my wife’s death. I came home to look after my family.”
The portly man harrumphed. “You cannot resign. I assume you took unauthorized leave,” he said.
The young man’s grin broadened. It struck Akitada that they knew already what he had done and had merely waited for him to show up. That he had walked in on their meeting must give them great satisfaction.
The secretary asked, “Well, was it authorized leave?”
“Authorized?” Akitada felt himself flush. Did they not understand how a man might feel about the death of a beloved wife? No, clearly they did not. He said, “I properly informed my superior, the Assistant Governor General of the situation. I have two young children who were left without a parent. I also formally resigned my position, seeing that my return to the capital would take months. I thought it best to allow His Excellency, the Assistant Governor General, to appoint a replacement.”
A silence fell while they stared at him.
Then the young man said in a high, nasal voice, “You surprise me. I thought only the emperor made such appointments.”
“I meant an interim appointment,” Akitada corrected himself. He was beginning to sweat and could feel the moisture on his face and back.
The secretary frowned. “I see. Do I take it that the Assistant Governor General authorized your departure?”
“I assume so. I left before he could respond.”
Another silence. Akitada saw satisfaction on their faces. They had him now. He had left his appointed position without permission.
The heavy-set man asked in a silky tone, “And you returned to the capital when?”
“Early in the sixth month, sir.” Another pregnant pause ensued. In desperation, Akitada added, “I have been ill.” It was not a lie, though it hurt him to say it. He had been unable to function all this time, all these weeks, the entire summer. No wonder he was in deep trouble.
The admission, however, won him a temporary reprieve. The secretary said, “Well, it does explain some things. However, I think you will find that His Excellency, and indeed His Majesty himself, will consider your leaving your post so abruptly a serious offence. I shall inform His Excellency of your visit. You will, no doubt, hear from him.”
He was lost. The faces of his children and of his people, all trusting him to provide for his family, flashed across his mind. He bowed deeply again. Then, in despair and rising anger, he looked the secretary in the eyes and said, “Given the fact that I have served His Majesty well in uncovering the conspiracy and perhaps averting an invasion by our enemies, I had hoped for more understanding, sir.”
They were taken aback by his daring. The secretary cleared his throat and said coldly, “You will have to leave the decision regarding your service to His Excellency.”
Akitada bowed again and left.
Outside in the corridor a cluster of officials had gathered. They ducked away when he appeared or pretended to be in conversation. He bit his lip and walked away quickly. Behind him, he heard whispers and suppressed laughter.
It was the most humiliating moment of that day. He had been a fool to think that his reputation would see him through this trouble. His effort had been as pointless as hitching a horse with a rotten rope.
Many years ago, when he was still young, he had found himself in front of the censors to receive a stinging rebuke. That, too, had not been altogether deserved, but he had been young then, untried, and humble in his own inexperience. Now he was middle-aged and had served his country for more than twenty years. He had risked his own life and that of his retainers. He had lost Seimei, and Tamako had died in his absence because of the demands of his position.
Perhaps he might have averted her death if he had been here. He would at least have had a chance to ease it, to hold her in his arms, to tell her how much he loved her.
And for all his sacrifices and the many significant services he had performed for his country, he was now being humiliated, laughed at by men who had never had to risk anything. Anger welled up again and was instantly suppressed.
What did it matter when he had lost hi
s wife—and the child he had never had a chance to get to know?
But he felt in need of some kindness and turned his feet toward the Ministry of Ceremonial. His friend Nakatoshi served as senior secretary there. Nakatoshi had once been Akitada’s clerk. His capabilities and family connections had earned him his present rank and position, and he had reached the same level as Akitada. Unlike others, Nakatoshi had been sorry to leave the Ministry of Justice and had in time become a close friend.
Nakatoshi was in—he had always been a most conscientious official—and greeted Akitada by getting up and coming to embrace him. His face shone with pleasure and concern.
“How are you, my dear friend?” he asked as he released him and invited him to sit. He studied Akitada’s face. “You look pale and thin. Are you well?”
Akitada gave a snort of bitter amusement. “Seeing that I’ve just lied to Kinsue’s Senior Secretary about having been too ill to report in a timely manner, that’s probably a good thing. No, my health is well enough, but I seem to have created a problem for myself.” He paused, then added, “And for my people. I seem to have lost my post at the ministry and am likely to be dismissed from government service.”
Nakatoshi gasped. “You must be joking.”
“It’s no joking matter, Nakatoshi.”
“Are you quite sure? I cannot believe it.”
Akitada gave him a bleak smile. “I come to you directly from the meeting. The truth is, I only know the Senior Secretary by name. The others didn’t bother to introduce themselves. One was middle-aged and fat. He had the look of one of the Fujiwaras of the chancellor’s family. The other was in his early twenties and supercilious. They enjoyed themselves.”
“But that’s outrageous! After all you’ve done and sacrificed for them! Does Kinsue know?”
“I have no idea.”
Nakatoshi sat stunned, shaking his head mutely. It was clear that he felt Akitada’s humiliation personally. It was why Akitada had come to his friend, and he started to feel a little better.
