The Hell Screen

by I. J. Parker

  Akitada stared at the bloodied, chained, sagging figure of the man. Where had a man of his class learned such language? And why was he so uncooperative when his life was at stake? Instead of eagerly accepting the proffered help, he had made Akitada uncomfortably aware of his own shortcomings, and—in view of recent events—of those of his parents. He thought fleetingly about their sins and their likely fate at the hands of the mighty judge of the dead. Noami’s hell screen depicted vividly the punishments in the netherworld, and he recalled his nightmare in the temple. The chained and bloodstained Kojiro looked little better than Noami’s persecuted souls in the hell of the sharp knives. The human world also had its demons.

  Struggling for control, and for patience with this obstinate man, he said, “I was there that night, though I did not stay in the visitors’ quarters. I heard a woman scream. I am not convinced that you killed Mrs. Nagaoka. If you will allow me, I shall do my best to find out what really happened. I am afraid the evidence against you is too strong to clear you of the crime, but perhaps we may find the real killer.”

  Kojiro turned around. He looked at Akitada and then at Kobe. To Kobe he said, “Have you changed your mind also, Superintendent?”

  Kobe shook his head. “Not at all. But I am a fair man.”

  Kojiro turned back to Akitada. “I cannot fathom your motives for wishing to clear me, but I am prepared to do what I can. Mind you, I still do not care what happens to me, but she would wish me to. She hoped once that you would take my case. For her sake, I shall tell you what I remember and answer all your questions, but do not expect much. There was a time when I thought I was guilty.”

  Akitada was irritated by the renewed reference to Yoshiko but decided to overlook it. “Begin by telling me about your relationship with your sister-in-law.”

  “My brother met his wife on one of his periodic buying trips in the country. Nobuko was the daughter of a retired academician with a small country estate. She was younger than my brother, but eager to find a husband of suitable background and income.” Kojiro grimaced slightly. “Some young women,” he said, “seem to wish for a life of luxury, and the trade may, after all, be a fair one. My brother was middle-aged and, no doubt, rather dull company for a pretty and lively young woman. But he had two advantages. He had money and he resided in the capital. Her father’s motive was more complicated, I think. Professor Yasaburo is an educated man who struggled to make ends meet and could not afford to pay for a dower for his daughter. No doubt he wished to provide for his only child. In any case, she came to my brother’s house and I acquired a sister-in-law. I liked Nobuko very much at first. She was close to my age and talented in music. On my visits, we used to play the lute and sing songs together while my brother watched and listened.” A sadness passed over Kojiro’s face. “My brother was deeply attached to Nobuko. He could not take his eyes off her, and I was glad. But this soon changed.” The prisoner moved uncomfortably and sighed.

  They were all uncomfortable standing there on that filthy, cold floor, thought Akitada, but Kojiro, chained and in pain, was much the worse off. Still, there was nothing to be done about it. To hurry the tale along, Akitada urged, “What changed?”

  Kojiro said bleakly, “One day my sister-in-law asked me to make love to her. She claimed that my brother could no longer ... satisfy her and that she could not sleep for love of me. I was appalled and immediately left my brother’s house. From then on I stayed away as much as I could, but my brother would send for me. I could not tell him what had happened.”

  “You never acceded to her wishes?”

  “Never. I detested that woman from the moment she offered to betray my brother.” Kojiro’s hard stare dared Akitada to doubt it. “I avoided her like the smallpox.”

  “Hah!” Kobe interrupted suddenly. “That is part of the string of lies you told us. If you had been avoiding her so much, why did you go off with her on trips around the countryside, eh? And without a maid or chaperone? I tell you what you really did: You seduced your brother’s wife and when diddling her got a bit difficult in his house, you took her on little excursions. You intended to take your sexual pleasures at the temple. The night of her death, you both got drunk, and you killed her. Maybe it was an accident, or maybe she refused you. When you saw what you had done, you panicked and slashed her face, so she wouldn’t be recognized and you could get away. But you didn’t make it. The wine proved stronger.”

  Kojiro gave Kobe a contemptuous glance. “No,” he said. “I have done nothing but think about that night. I do not know how I got into her room, but I did not drink anything but tea at the temple, and I certainly had no desire to make love to my brother’s wife. I went on the trip because my brother asked me to accompany her, and I could not refuse without telling him why. Her maid did not come with us because she was violently ill the day we left. Nobuko insisted on going, and my brother supported her. He will confirm this.”

  Kobe said, “Oh, he did. But then, he has done his best to cover for his little brother all along.”

  Kojiro glared at Kobe, and Akitada said quickly, “I have been told by your brother that you used to drink too much. In fact, he said you had prior episodes of forgetting where you had been and what you had done. Is it not likely that this happened again?”

  “I don’t deny that I used to drink. Wine has always affected me worse than other men, and there was a time in my life when I welcomed oblivion for a few hours. However, by the time my brother married, I had stopped.” He paused. “I repeat, I did not drink at the temple. At least, I did not do so knowingly. It would have been difficult in any case, because I did not bring wine with me, and the monks, of course, do not serve wine.”

  “Yes. I had thought of that.” Akitada nodded, exchanging a look with Kobe, who merely raised an eyebrow quizzically, as if to say, Believe what you like! “Did you spend any time with Mrs. Nagaoka after you had been shown to your rooms?”

  “No!” The denial was emphatic and bitter. “I stayed in my own room, except for a brief visit to the bath. When I returned, I had a cup of tea and immediately went to bed. I was very tired. And that is the last thing I remember.”

  “Tea?” asked Akitada surprised. “I thought the monks served only water.”

  “There was tea in a pot on a small brazier when I returned from my bath. I do not like tea, and this tasted very bitter, but I was thirsty and the water had been removed.”

  Akitada exchanged another glance with Kobe, who frowned.

  “You said that you remember nothing after you went to sleep in your own room. Did you have any dreams?”

  Kojiro looked startled. “No,” he said, “but when I woke up I felt exactly the way I did after a night of drinking. My head was pounding, I was nauseated, and my sight was blurred. And I could hardly speak. It was as if my tongue had turned into a heavy rock, and my mouth was full of sand. They told you, no doubt, that I reeked of wine and that an empty wine pitcher was next to me. I can only theorize that I was knocked out and the wine poured over me.”

  Kobe snorted. “We checked your head. Nobody knocked you out.

  “Hmm!” Akitada stared at the prisoner thoughtfully. “Do you have any ideas who could have killed your sister-in-law and set you up as the killer?”

  Kojiro’s face lengthened. He shook his head. “No, my lord, I do not. No one knew us there. Only the gatekeeper saw us arrive together. And he was an old man and a monk. You saw him yourself.” He sagged against the wall, his face suddenly drawn and very white. “I warned you,” he said tiredly. “I know of nothing that might help my case.”

  “You do not suspect your brother of the murder?”

  The prisoner came upright with a jerk and a rattle of chains. “What do you mean?” he cried, his eyes suddenly blazing. “My brother was not there. And he loved her to the point of madness. He would never have laid a hand on her... or implicated me! If you plan to shift the blame to my brother, I want none of your help. I will confess to the crime myself before I’ll allow that
to happen.”

  Kobe suddenly looked like the cat who caught the fish. “Well, Sugawara?” he asked. “Are you finished?”

  Akitada nodded. To Kojiro he said, “I shall try to find out the truth. If it falls on your brother, so be it. You have spent all your time here thinking about what happened that night at the temple. I now want you to think about your sister-in-law. Anything you recall about her life before and after her marriage may be important. All her interests, her relationship with your brother and with anyone else in his house.”

  Kojiro opened his mouth, but Akitada raised his hand. “No. Not now. Rest and take your time! I shall return ... if the superintendent permits it.”

  Kobe unlocked the cell door. “We shall see!” he said noncommittally.

  Akitada nodded to the prisoner and turned to leave. Behind his back the chains rattled, then the hoarse voice said, “Thank you, my lord.”

  Once they were away from the cells, Akitada confronted Kobe. “You heard him. He was drugged, of course. With that tea. I spoke to the monks who serve the visitors. They never provide anything but water.”

  Kobe only grunted.

  “Have you turned up anyone else who might have had a reason to kill Mrs. Nagaoka?”

  “No one but her husband. By all accounts, she was a woman of few morals.”

  “Yes. But I met Nagaoka. He was strangely unemotional about her death. His whole concern seemed to be for his brother. Perhaps he suspected an affair between them.”

  Kobe cocked his head. “I’ve had the same thought just now. He was supposed to be besotted with her. But why defend his brother? Maybe he’s a good actor. Why don’t you look into it?”

  Akitada thought of Nagaoka handling the mask the day he had visited. Could he have known the actors at the temple? Could he have paid some starving entertainer to murder his wife and make it look as though his brother had done it?

  They parted at the gate. The weather was still depressing. Dense, low clouds and a leaden atmosphere hung over the city. Now and then a snowflake drifted down, settled on the mud of the roadway, and melted.

  Akitada remembered miserably what awaited him at home.

  * * * *

  THIRTEEN

  Actors and Acrobats

  “Genba!”

  Tora walked purposefully toward the small group at the end of the training hall. Genba’ swung around to stare at him. “How’d you get here?” he demanded in an unfriendly tone.

  Tora ignored the question and bowed to the enthroned Miss Plumblossom. “I beg your pardon for interrupting, madam,” he said with an ingratiating grin, “My name is Tora. I see my friend got here before me.”

  The fat woman moved her fan slowly back and forth in front of her large chest and eyed Tora’s fine figure and good looks with approval. “Not at all. You are welcome, Tora. What brought you here?”

  “Your fame, madam. I heard about you in one of the wine houses on the river, from a big fellow who goes by the name of Bull and happens to be a fellow countryman of mine. He couldn’t say enough about you and this establishment, so I made my way here in spite of the late hour and the snowstorm.” Tora gave her his widest smile and added, “And now that I’m here, believe me, it was worth it to behold your charming face!”

  Genba snorted with disgust, but Miss Plumblossom tittered and toyed with one of the red ribbons in her hair. “What a prettily spoken fellow your friend is, Genba.” Her voice was girlishly high and she lisped a little, but Tora got a closer look at her face and doubted that she would see forty again. She wore paint on her face and rouge on her cheeks, and her eyes were outlined with lampblack, which had seeped into tiny wrinkles and laugh lines. Only the makeup and the giggle suggested her past as a famed acrobat.

  Genba growled, “Don’t waste your time with him, Miss Plumblossom. He’s the biggest liar in town.”

  Miss Plumblossom frowned. “Oh? So you disagree with him? Well, that was certainly not prettily said!” she remarked tartly, and sniffed.

  Genba colored and shot Tora an angry look. “No, no! You— you misunderstood,” he stammered, “That’s not what he—” He broke off helplessly. Miss Plumblossom had already turned her back to him.

  “Well,” she said to Tora, peering flirtatiously over the top of her fan, “and what precisely did you come for, Tora?”

  Tora glanced at Genba, wondering how much he had given away about them while in the throes of his infatuation with this female. Genba compressed his lips and glared back.

  “Apart from your charms, you mean?” Tora asked the lady.

  “Silly man!” She fluttered her fan at him and then hid her face coyly behind it.

  Tora almost burst into laughter. “Well, as I said, I was just chatting with Bull and happened to mention how rusty I was getting”—Tora glanced about the room for inspiration and saw the bamboo fighting sticks in their racks—”at stick fighting. That’s when he mentioned you. I was a bit surprised that a lady should be in this sort of business, but he said yours is one of the best training halls in the city. I had to come see for myself. One rarely encounters both business sense and talent in a beautiful woman, madam.” Tora made her another bow.

  “You may address me as ‘miss,’ “ remarked Miss Plumblossom, patting the coils of her hair. “I’m a single girl.” She shot him a glance to see his reaction.

  He grinned. “Really? What blind fools some men are! Or maybe your superior talent frightened them away?”

  She giggled. “Flatterer! Though you’re not wrong. When I was still a working girl, my career took up all my time. Love interferes with training. Acrobats need the self-control of champion wrestlers or archers. So I abstained. It was hard. Very hard, in fact, because mine is a hot-blooded nature.” She sighed. “In the end it ruined my career. One day, when I performed at court, there was this particular gentleman, a gentleman of such august station and such romantic looks... No, I won’t say more, except he was most persistent!” She smiled and raised her fan to hide her blushes.

  “Ah.” Tora nodded. “A humble person like myself may only admire from a distance what the august personage desired.” And that would be easy, thought Tora, casting appraising glances at the young women cavorting about the room. There was hardly a plain one in sight.

  “Naturally,” said Miss Plumblossom, lowering her fan, “I am a woman of high principles, and this is a respectable business. I have to set a good example for the profession.” She waved a pudgy hand in the direction of the lithe acrobats and dancers. “If you’d like to come for a workout, you’re welcome, but I won’t have anything improper going on. Understood?”

  Tora humbly promised to behave himself. Her face softened. She smiled, patted her coils some more, and added, “Trouble is, none of the yokels I employ is much good at stick fighting. I suppose I’ll have to do it myself. I don’t suppose you’re an actor?”

  Tora had been listening with only half an ear, wondering how to introduce the subject of the actors. “Oh, no,” he said quickly. “Ex-military man. At the moment I hire myself out to gentlemen who want protection, so I have to stay in shape.”

  Miss Plumblossom nodded and pursed her lips. “A good business, that,” she said. “The streets are not safe anymore for men or women. It’s scandalous that the authorities allow depraved creatures to roam about freely. Well, Tora, I’ll try to accommodate you, though stick fighting is not my specialty. Say, once a week, an hour each time, for a hundred coppers each?”

  Tora was momentarily speechless. Had this obese lump of female flesh offered to instruct him in the art of stick fighting? And at such a price? The idea that he might have to face this huge woman in front of people appalled him. He would be laughed out of town.

  She misunderstood his dismay. “Oh, very well,” she said. “I suppose you’re broke like all the rest. Pay me fifty coppers whenever you have some money.” She stood up. “How about a small sample right now?”

  Tora backed away. “No, no,” he said desperately. “You are too kind, but I c
ouldn’t possibly impose on you tonight. You’re all dressed up in that pretty robe and ribbons. Some other time I’d be deeply honored.”

  “Nonsense,” she snapped, and untied the sash about her wide middle, dropping it on the floor. A quick shrug disposed of the black silk robe, which puddled about her ankles. Like the girl acrobats, she wore only a loincloth underneath. Tora looked away quickly and saw a young woman in a blue cotton robe with a white fan pattern bending to gather up the clothes, fold them, and place them on the chair. Her face was averted, but Tora noted that she had a supple narrow waist and rounded hips under the simple cotton robe, and her hair, tied with a white bow, was long and glossy as silk. The maid was a great deal more promising than the mistress, he thought, and turned his startled eyes back to Miss Plumblossom.

  The loincloth was covered with a little red tasseled silk apron in front. It did nothing to hide the large breasts and a belly of magnificent proportions. As he stared, she raised her arms to her hair and, lifting the beribboned coils from a shaven head, handed the stiffly lacquered wig to the maid. Then she stepped off the dais, and walked past him with all the nonchalance of a male wrestler. Her legs were short, but the thighs rose massively to huge, dimpled buttocks, which in turn joined a broad back and thick arms. In spite of her gender, she was built like a male wrestler. Tora glanced at Genba, hoping that the sight had cured him of his infatuation, but found instead that his friend was watching her with a besotted expression.