by I. J. Parker
“Well,” he said more firmly, “I must make the best of it. If you know of any post that I might fill, anything at all that will keep the roof fixed and food on the table, I’d be very grateful.”
“Of course, but there is nothing a man like you could accept. Those posts are in the hands of the chancellor and his brothers. We must change their minds—if they have indeed already made them up. What about your old post at the ministry.”
“Already filled.”
“Already? Akitada, that suggests planning. Who hates you enough to want to ruin you?”
“Many people. The Sugawaras have never lacked for powerful enemies. We don’t have to do anything to make new ones. I should have known, but when the news came about Tamako … I wasn’t thinking straight. Nothing mattered then. All I felt was rage against fate. When fate itself was bent on destroying me, a few Fujiwaras hardly mattered.”
Nakatoshi frowned. “Yes, I can understand that. But we cannot be certain that the ruling family is behind this. There’s something about it that seems to be very bureaucratic. The censors?”
“These days I don’t even know who the censors are. Never mind. I must look about for something to do. And that reminds me. There was a time when I was forced to earn some money solving problems and finding people. I could do so again. As a matter of fact, it was you who brought a case to my attention. I refer to the lady who hanged herself in Abbot Genshin’s mansion. Just what was your interest in this?”
Nakatoshi looked embarrassed. “Well, Akitada,” he said after a moment, “it was really only that I had heard of it and hoped you might be interested. I had no other reason. It seemed to be a bit of a puzzle and I thought it would be a good idea to get you out of your room, that’s all.”
Akitada had suspected as much. “Then Genshin didn’t ask you to contact me?”
“No. But Akitada, if there’s anything odd about the death, we could bring it to his attention. He’s quite rich.”
“I’m aware of it. But I will not beg for work, especially not from Genshin.”
Nakatoshi hung his head.
After a moment, Akitada said, “What was Genshin’s involvement with the lady?”
Nakatoshi looked up. “None at all, as far as I know. Or rather that’s what he claims. He heard of her abject poverty and offered her refuge in his residence. She had no income, but he provided a small amount of his rice income to pay for her food.”
Akitada thought of the bare room and the two trunks, one filled with costly costumes, the other holding a few ordinary, rough pieces of clothing. But this charitable Genshin was nothing like the Tasuku he once knew. “And what do you think?” he asked.
“I have no knowledge. All I can say is that I believed the story. He’s well known for his charities and has done similar things before.”
Akitada nodded. “So they say. I used to know him many years ago. He chased women then, but only those most highly placed. He ruined many of them and cost one her life. I cannot get those tales out of my head. The similarities to this lady’s situation are too great. She seems to have ended up in such a destitute condition because of some scandal.”
“Oh.” Nakatoshi absorbed this. “If he’s involved, that would be very shocking indeed. Genshin is very highly respected and serves as Her Majesty’s religious teacher. It means he has access to the private apartments of the imperial ladies.”
“Dear heaven. Setting the fox to watch the chickens.” Akitada shook his head. “I wonder if I made a mistake many years ago when I agreed to keep his secret.” He sighed. “It’s so hard to know what to do sometimes. I must trust that others certainly knew what I knew then.”
Nakatoshi, though deeply shocked, had no comment, and the two friends parted soon afterward.
16
The Gamblers
Over the next week, Tora and Saburo waited. They hoped to find a good time to speak to Akitada. Finally, Tora tried to raise the subject of the blind girl, but Akitada snapped, “I have more important things on my mind. We are out of funds and it doesn’t look as though I can count on a salary for the foreseeable future.”
Shocked, Tora sat down uninvited. “What will you do, sir?”
“For the time being, I must await word from above. But it will be just as well if we make some preparations. Genba tells me that there is no more feed for the horses. You and Genba will take them to the farm tomorrow. They can graze there. I’m afraid I cannot pay you and the others more than a small portion of your pay. We must make certain we have money for food during the coming months. Tell the roofer that I have changed my mind, and the repairs will have to wait until spring.” Akitada thought for a moment. “I wish someone offered to pay us for looking into the case of Genshin’s mysterious lady.”
Tora offered, “He seems rich enough.”
“No! I will not ask him.” Akitada pursed his lips in thought. “Something is very strange about that story. I don’t like the cursory way her death was investigated. I think we’ll take another look at the people there and talk to the nun when she returns.”
Leaving aside their desperate need for money and Akitada’s refusal to listen to Saburo’s problem , Tora found something to be pleased about in this speech. His master had not sounded so determined in many months. He heaved a silent sigh of relief. Surely all would be well again.
“Yes, sir,” he said eagerly. That sounds fine to me.
*
When Tora gave Saburo the news a little later, Saburo sagged with disappointment. “I suppose I’ll have to look for another job now that things are so bad and the master has nothing for me to do,” he said.
Tora felt a little guilty for his own relief when Saburo was in bad grace with the master. “I tell you what, Saburo. We can still ask a few more questions about your murder. The master is waiting for an answer from the Ministry of Central Affairs.”
Saburo shook his head. “I don’t want to make him angry again. What bothers me most is the blind girl and that schoolmaster with his family. Nobody cares about them, Tora. I’ve been poor and helpless, but I was a male without a family. Sachi is a mere girl, and she’s blind. I think she was chosen by the killer because she’s blind and helpless. It makes my blood boil to think of such cruelty. And that poor schoolmaster slaving away at his copying work without any hope of ever getting out of debt! Meanwhile his children starve and his wife weeps. What kind of life is that?”
Tora nodded. “You’re right. Helping people like that is more important than obeying rules. I think we should go ahead. I’ll find a way to explain it to him.”
Saburo hesitated, then nodded. “Thanks, Tora. Do tell him I hate going against his wishes. I’ll make sure to do my work here first.”
Tora looked thoughtful. “You know, we need a schoolmaster here. The superintendent has been sending over his own tutor, but that cannot go on forever. Why don’t you tell the master about your man?”
“Oh, but he would get very angry if I mentioned the matter again.”
“Well, it’s up to you. It’s just a thought.”
“Yes. It’s a good thought. But there really isn’t any money for it. The superintendent’s tutor doesn’t cost anything.”
“True enough. Well, it’ll have to wait. Let’s talk to the moneylenders again. I have an urge to meet them for myself.”
*
They had to wait until after their evening rice. Their master’s new-found energy had provided new chores. Primary among these were some repairs to the roof, since the budget did not cover the expense of a new one, and the autumn weather had been miserably wet.
Both Tora and Saburo were tired and dirty when night fell. They would have liked to stay home. Tora had to leave early the next day with Genba to take the horses to the farm, and Saburo was likely to be needed for many things in their absence. Their only chance was this night.
They cleaned up as best they could and put on clean robes, then set out for the city. As before, Saburo knocked at Nakamura’s door, and as before,
the bulbous-eyed son opened the door.
“Greetings,” said Saburo with a slight bow. “I brought a colleague. Two sets of ears are better than one, you know. We’ve come for more information.”
Nakamura Junior gestured them in, asking, “Then there’s no news?”
Saburo said vaguely, “This and that, but nothing conclusive. People didn’t like your father, and that’s a fact.”
The son said hotly, “People liked my father’s money well enough. They just don’t like to repay it. Thieves, the whole lot of them.”
Saburo said nothing. They followed the son into the main room of the house. The daughter was absent this time, but Saito sat in his usual place like a fat toad.
The son said, “Uncle went to the jail today. He says the police are sure they have the murderess. We may just be wasting time here.”
Tora spoke for the first time. “We also went to the jail. I don’t know who you talked to, Saito, but Superintendent Kobe told me he wasn’t happy with the situation. The blind girl denies the charge very firmly. The superintendent was very interested in the list of suspects you provided.”
“Suspects?” protested Saito. “Why would borrowing money make you a suspect? They weren’t there, and she was.”
“That’s not true,” countered Saburo. “We know two of them were there that morning and there may have been others. Keep in mind that your father did his money-lending business in the city, and that included the Daikoku-yu where he went every morning. But there may have been someone else, someone not on your list. So we need to know more about where your father found most of his customers.”
Tora added, “And you’d better tell us about his women. Maybe it wasn’t the money that was the motive, but his womanizing. Maybe he mistreated some women in the quarter. The owner of one of the houses might have paid someone to get rid of him. Or maybe he raped some young girl and her father took revenge.”
Nakamura’s son cried, “My father didn’t rape young girls. That’s a dirty lie. Who told you about that?”
Tora cocked his head. “So there was something? Doesn’t matter if it’s true or not as long as someone believed it. You’d better tell us everything you know, if you want us to solve your father’s murder.”
The son glared. “We’ve changed our minds. We don’t want you to go on with this. It’s very unpleasant to have such lies stirred up.”
Saburo looked at Saito. “You’ve said very little. Are you also content to leave matters as they are? You know it could be dangerous.”
Saito glanced at the younger man. “We’d better tell them about the note,” he said.
The son shook his head. “No. You know what he said. Not a word must get out.”
Saburo asked quickly, “What is it, Saito? Who has contacted you?”
Nakamura’s son rushed over to grasp Saito’s arm. “Don’t tell them!” he pleaded.
Saito shook him off. “We’ve received a warning to leave things alone.” His nephew collapsed, moaning.
“A warning?” Tora raised his brows. “Do tell!”
Saito glanced at the young man. “My nephew is afraid. The warning came from Kanemoto.”
“The gangster boss Kanemoto? How interesting! What did it say?”
Saito pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his sleeve and handed it over. Tora and Saburo bent over it together. The writing was large and careless, the characters malformed, but the message was clear: “You’ve been meddling! Leave it alone or you’ll be sorry. The police have the killer!”
Nakamura’s son cried, “Now you’ve done it. He’ll have killed, too.”
His uncle grimaced. “Be calm,” he told his nephew. “This man has spoken to the chief of the police. If anyone can protect us, it’s them.”
“As if the police cared about people like us!” protested his nephew.
Tora thought he had a point. He did not feel a great urge to return to Kobe and ask him to protect the Nakamura clan. But for the time being, he pretended willingness to be of help. “How is it that Kanemoto’s involved in this? What sort of business did you and your partner have with Kanemoto?”
Saito said, “I never met the man. I think my brother must’ve become involved over some deals he made in the willow quarter.”
Tora considered this. It made sense. Kanemoto was the sort of gangster who made his profits from gambling and prostitution. Because he had never, to their knowledge, been known to resort to violence, the police had turned a blind eye to his activities. Perhaps this had changed. Kanemoto had just become a suspect. But proving his guilt would be dangerous and might draw his attention not only to himself and Saburo. It might well also involve the whole Sugawara household. They would have to be very careful.
He said, “We’ll be back. Meanwhile, don’t tell anyone that you’ve talked to us.” He glanced with a frown at Saito’s nephew, who was still moaning and muttering.
Saito asked anxiously, “You will speak to the superintendent? About protection and to make sure they arrest Kanemoto and his gang?”
Tora said vaguely, “We’ll share our information with the police. And we’ll be back in case there are more messages from Kanemoto.”
Saito nodded glumly.
Outside the house, Tora rubbed his hands with satisfaction. “Couldn’t be better,” he said. “This will interest Kobe greatly. You’ll see your blind girl will be out in no time.”
Saburo thought about it. Perhaps Shokichi would forgive him then, but he no longer wanted to be forgiven. He was better off alone than with a wife who burst into angry recriminations whenever he did not do as she wanted. Perhaps he might tolerate such behavior in a mistress, but certainly not in a wife. Yes, why not? She could be his mistress. And he could leave whenever she behaved badly; she would soon learn to behave. The thought cheered him. “What next?” he asked Tora.
“Well, since Kanemoto hangs out in the willow quarter, we should go there.” Tora looked up at the moon. It was a cold clear night. “Come along, the day has started for the whores and gamblers.”
They returned home briefly to exchange their sober blue robes with the black sashes for the cheap but colorful clothing of young men bent on a night out.
As they walked through the empty streets on this cold night, Saburo became glum again. It troubled him that he always seemed to be in the wrong, not matter how hard he tried to please his master. He was beginning to suspect that he had never been forgiven for his past life as a spy or agent. In the end there had still been a certain dislike, a lack of trust, and whenever his lordship thought he saw something in Saburo’s actions that displeased him, the old prejudice emerged. That would never change.
But apart from the vague hope that Shokichi might change her mind, this time something else motivated Saburo to disobey. It was not only the arrest of the blind girl, though he did feel sorry for her. It was the memory of that schoolmaster, bent over his endless copying work with red-rimmed eyes as his hungry family watched. What would happen to them when winter came? That broken roof would collapse under the first snow, and they had no money for fuel. They would freeze to death if hunger had not killed them first.
Shivering in the wind and with this image before his eyes, Saburo followed Tora into the world of pleasures offered by the willow quarter. As soon as they passed under the gaudy gate, they were surrounded by lights, colors, sounds, smells of food and perfumes, and the sense that everyone was dancing in the streets.
Nobody danced, of course, but the busy scene with the colorful costumes of the women, the laughter of the men, and the sounds of music being played in wine shops, eating places, and houses of assignation gave the impression of joyous abandon.
Tora smiled happily as he looked around, and Saburo gave him a sour look. Tora’s visits to the quarter had become severely curtailed since his marriage and life as a husband and father, but he had clearly missed it.
“I wonder if the Bamboo Grove is still there,” Tora said. “Not first-class, but a lively place. They always h
ad fresh young girls from the provinces, decent wine, and good card games.”
Saburo grimaced. “And how are those things going to help us find a gangster boss?”
Tora raised his brows. “You’re in a bad mood a lot lately, brother. There’s gambling everywhere. Gamblers know each other. If you’re serious about gambling, you make a study of your opponents. That means you watch and try to draw them out. Gamblers know what’s going on.”
“If you say so.” Saburo glared at the painted young women who made determined efforts to lure them into the premises where they worked. One put out her tongue at him and turned her attention to someone else.
Tora dealt with them by grinning and joking with the women, claiming that his wife would beat him if he succumbed to their charms. This sort of thing was clearly mutually enjoyable, and Saburo thought bitterly that he just did not have the knack for attracting women.
The Bamboo Grove still existed. It was now a wine shop catering to working men and small tradesmen, but it was still as lively as Tora remembered, and in the back room a noisy game of dice was being played.
Tora said wistfully, “I wish we had some funds. All I have is a string of coppers and one piece of silver. What about you?”
Saburo made a face. “I don’t think we should waste any more funds, and certainly not on gambling,” he said primly.
Tora eyed him askance. “I told you you’ve got to pay for information. I don’t think buying a cup of wine will get us what we want.”
Saburo felt in his sash. “Half a string and three pieces of silver.” He added accusingly, “I’d meant to give the silver to the schoolmaster.”
“Hmm. Use the coppers and one piece of silver, and play cautiously.” Tora strode into the backroom, eyed the gamblers, and cried, “Can I trust my eyes? Gengyo, is that you, you thieving rascal?”
Gengyo looked up from his pile of winnings. His face broke into a gap-toothed grin. “Tora, you randy dog! What, you’re chasing the whores again? I knew that marriage wouldn’t last.” He jumped up and embraced Tora, both laughing out loud and slapping each other’s backs. Saburo scowled.
