by I. J. Parker
The resemblance had not escaped Miss Plumblossom. She giggled and bounced. “Come on, lover,” she cooed. “Get it up. I’ve got you right where I want you. If you were a bit more of a man, I think I’d take you home with me.”
Seimei gasped.
Danjuro stopped struggling and moaned again. Akitada shot a glance at his wife and sister and said sternly, “Miss Plumblossom, get up! There are ladies watching.”
Miss Plumblossom made no move to obey. “Time they learned the way to please a man, if they haven’t by now. I don’t mind giving them pointers while Goblin here is twitching between my thighs, but the poor creature’s rod is a limp noodle. I wonder what all those girls have been seeing in him.”
Seimei gave a choking cry and clutched at Akitada’s arm. He looked so profoundly shocked that Akitada thought he was about to faint.
* * * *
TWENTY-THREE
The Twofold Truth
The night between the old year and the new was long. Akitada did not return to his home and bed until just before dawn, to the cheerful noise from the Imperial Palace, where the members of the Imperial Guard were twanging their bows and officials were ringing bells to mark the new beginning.
After the capture of Danjuro in the Spring Garden, Akitada sent his family home and arranged to have Miss Plumblossom escorted by Tora and Genba. The tumult of the demon chase died down gradually, as Kobe and Akitada accompanied the prisoners to jail.
Kobe insisted on interrogating Danjuro and Nobuko immediately and separately. He commandeered the prison director’s office and sent the sleepy constables and guards rushing about, carrying messages and summons to clerks, physicians, and the women’s prison matron. Danjuro was dragged in first. Someone had decided that he was not injured badly enough to rate a litter. Danjuro did not agree and refused to cooperate. The two burly guards had to grip him under the arms and drag him in between them. They expressed their frustration by handling him as roughly as they could, and Danjuro cursed and screamed.
“Put him down!” shouted Kobe over the din. “Why is he screaming like that?”
They dropped him like a load of firewood. One guard grinned. “Broken rib, sir.”
“Oh.” Kobe eyed the whimpering prisoner on the floor. “Well, he’s calmed down,” he said carelessly. “The doctor can take a look at him later. But you shouldn’t have roughed him up before I had a chance to talk to him.”
“We didn’t,” protested the men. “That rib was already broken.”
Kobe turned to Akitada. “Did you have trouble with the bastard?”
“No. But Miss Plumblossom did.”
Kobe’s eyes widened. “Not that woman again? She’s better than any of my men. I may have to give her a job.” He chuckled. “That would stop her from criticizing the police. I could make her a warden of her quarter, maybe?”
“I should think she would like that very much,” Akitada said with a laugh.
Danjuro cursed again. One of the guards unhooked his two-pronged metal jitte from his belt and gave him a sharp prod with it.
“Sit up, you!” Kobe snapped.
“I can’t. She broke my back,” whined Danjuro. “She finished me. I’ll never act again. I want compensation.”
“You what?” Kobe guffawed. “Don’t worry! You’ll be compensated. And if you don’t sit up, I’ll make certain you cannot lie down for weeks.”
Danjuro bestirred himself weakly and with many moans and cries. His face was wet with sweat and tears when he finally faced them.
Kobe burst into another shout of laughter. “Behold the fierce demon king! You look more like an old woman without your mask. What a crybaby! How can someone like you play famous heroes and gods? You’re an insult to men everywhere.”
Danjuro shot him a malevolent glance and sniffled. “I’m an actor,” he said with an attempt at dignity, “not a crude soldier or constable. Besides, I’ve been viciously attacked and injured. Imagine finding yourself pushed into an enclosure where some man starts hitting you! I was defending myself as best I could when that female monster joined in and tried to kill me. You’d do better to arrest that pair than to torture me. Tomorrow I shall lay charges before a judge against my attackers and all of you. Now I demand to be treated by a physician.” He snapped his mouth shut and glared.
The guard jabbed Danjuro again with his jitte while his partner reached for his whip, but Kobe shook his head. “It is late, and I am tired,” he said, “so we’ll dispense with your amusing pretense of innocence. You are charged with murdering three people, specifically the actress Ohisa, the antiquarian Nagaoka, and the retired professor Yasaburo.”
“Ridiculous,” said Danjuro, feeling his ribs.
“Not at all. The actress Ohisa was a member of your troupe and one of your women. You strangled her during a stay at the Eastern Mountain Temple because you had tired of her, and had a new lover. Her murder may have been instigated by your new lover, Nagaoka’s wife. We know she helped you contrive an elaborate plot in which Ohisa’s body would be disguised as hers so that the murder could be pinned on Nagaoka’s brother.”
“Lies,” cried Danjuro. “Ohisa left to go home to her parents.”
“That will be easy enough to disprove,” Kobe said coldly. “Your next murder, that of your paramour’s husband, happened at Kohata in the home of her father. After extracting a fortune in blood money from him, you poisoned him and dumped him by the side of the highway, hoping we would blame it on robbers.”
Danjuro looked at the ceiling. “I know nothing of the man. Total stranger!”
“Then there is murder number three, also by poison. I suppose you found it worked very well the last time, or you had a supply left over. In any case, you entered the eastern jail disguised as a Buddhist monk and asked to see Yasaburo. When you were admitted to his cell, you passed him the poison in a gift of food and departed.”
“What a fantastic tale!” scoffed Danjuro. “Just because I’m an actor and you’ve seen me play a priest, you accuse me of murder. Why would I do such a thing?”
“Because you were afraid that Yasaburo would identify his daughter and because he knew or suspected that you killed Nagaoka. Believe me, Danjuro, your game is up. You can save yourself some pain by confessing now.”
“You can’t scare me. I’m innocent,” Danjuro blustered.
“Don’t forget,” said Kobe, smiling ferociously, “we have your lover in custody. She will talk soon enough once the guards take the bamboo whips to her pretty backside. And she’ll blame it all on you.”
Danjuro sagged. Like a cornered animal’s, his eyes moved frantically this way and that, “Then she’ll be lying,” he muttered.
He was taken away to the doctor, and Nobuko was brought in. She was in tears, but had washed the makeup off her face and managed to rearrange her hair and fairy princess gown. She knelt without urging and bowed deeply to Kobe and Akitada.
“This insignificant person is the actress Yugao, daughter of Yasaburo Seijiro and wife of the actor Danjuro. I humbly ask your honors’ explanation of the charges brought against me.”
Kobe regarded her bowed figure with contempt. “You can stop acting now, Mrs. Nagaoka. We know who you are and what you and your current husband have done. It is in your interest to confess quickly and completely to your involvement in the triple murder of the girl Ohisa, your husband Nagaoka, and your father Yasaburo.”
Her eyes widened. She opened her mouth, then raised a hand to it and bit her knuckles. “Oh,” she wailed, “that you should think I could lay a hand on my own father for whom I grieve day and night. I have not always been a dutiful daughter to him and the guilt weighs heavily on me. May the gods of heaven and earth forgive me!”
Akitada thought it a fine performance, though perhaps just a little overdone. That last phrase especially sounded quaint, like some ancient Shinto prayer.
“Guards!” shouted Kobe. Two uniformed constables entered and stood to attention. “Bamboo whips!” Kobe ordered.
> The prisoner dropped her pose, her beautiful face suddenly a mask of fear. “No, please not that,” she cried. “Ask me anything! I shall answer.”
Kobe dismissed the constables and glowered at the prisoner. “Did you join Uemon’s troupe on the sixth day of the Frost Month on the occasion of a pilgrimage to the Eastern Mountain Temple?”
“Yes. I had always aspired to be an actress, and our father encouraged us to participate in private performances. Theater was his passion. When I heard some actresses in the temple’s visitors’ quarters talking about one of their troupe having deserted them, I acted on impulse and offered to take; her place. It was to be for only one performance, but I fell in love with Danjuro and stayed.”
Regardless of what she called herself, this woman was not only beautiful and self-possessed but very clever. The story hung together. Both her father and Harada had spoken of performances with visiting actors, and Nagaoka and Kojiro had mentioned her talents in singing and dancing. A lonely middle-aged bachelor like Nagaoka would have been enchanted by her. Even now her manner was consciously flirtatious, the lips full and moist, every movement of her body provocative. Such a woman would hardly settle for the quiet devotion of a reserved, older husband, but would try to seduce the stolid Kojiro. Danjuro, a dashing ladies’ man and part-time hero onstage, would have been irresistible to her. Akitada leaned toward Kobe and whispered.
Kobe nodded. He asked the woman, “Did Uemon’s Players ever perform at your father’s house while you lived there?”
The question made her pause. “I... I can’t remember. They may have. It was such a long time ago.”
Kobe leaned forward. “We have a witness who says you met Danjuro there and later had an affair with him.”
She flushed. Kobe smiled triumphantly. Then she lowered her eyes. “Yes. It’s quite true. I was ashamed to admit it. It is the reason my father and I quarreled. He was terribly angry when he found out. I wanted to leave with Danjuro, but he forbade it.”
Kobe and Akitada looked at each other. What was this? A confession wrapped into the old story of the maiden seduced and ruined by the villain?
Kobe muttered to Akitada, “That old man may have dug his own grave when he raised his daughter to associate with such riffraff.”
Akitada murmured back, “In this case, I suspect the woman corrupted the man.”
Kobe snorted and turned back to the prisoner. “We are not getting anywhere,” he snapped. “You lied earlier, claiming to be your sister Yugao. Are you now admitting the truth? That you are Nobuko, widow of the late Nagaoka?”
“The truth? Oh, no. The truth is that poor Nobuko was murdered. I’m Yugao. You must believe me. We look ... looked as much alike as twins.”
Kobe frowned. “Do you claim that you and your sister spent the same night at the Eastern Mountain Temple? How could you not meet?”
She sighed. “It rained. Neither of us left her room, or I might have saved her life that night.”
She was good, thought Akitada. He cleared his throat. “This is pointless, Mrs. Nagaoka. Your brother-in-law told us that your sister Yugao died shortly after your marriage, certainly long before the night at the temple. There has been only one of you for years.”
She tossed her head. “You take the word of the drunken sot who murdered my poor sister?” Raising her chin, she glared at Kobe. “I ask you again, why is it that that murderer runs free, while I am accused of his crime?”
Kobe growled, “Do you want me to send for the whips again? You know very well that your sister’s death can be proven easily.”
She smiled sadly. “My death, you mean. I’m afraid you’ll not prove it. You see, my father was so angry when I ran away that he announced my death. He even went so far as to have an empty coffin cremated and a marker erected with all due ceremony. Father enjoyed making fun of the Buddhists that way.”
Akitada felt the first stab of unease. This sounded remarkably like Yasaburo. His unease changed into dismay when he realized how difficult it would be to prove the woman wrong. Who had seen both women together? Their father Yasaburo and Nobuko’s husband, both dead. The retarded servant? Harada, a recluse?
Kobe gave a disgusted grunt. “So! You persist in your tale! Very well. We shall prove your identity in court. You would do well to remember that the punishment for lying to a judge is one hundred lashes. Some have been known to die from it.”
She paled, but managed a smile. “Then I’m safe,” she said.
“Take her away!” Kobe snapped to the guards.
She walked out gracefully, her hips swaying lightly. One of the guards watched her and swallowed visibly. Kobe cursed.
Akitada shared Kobe’s frustration. If this was indeed Yugao, where was Nobuko? Dead? And what of the missing Ohisa? Worse! If this was not Nobuko, then the whole case against her and Danjuro fell apart and Kojiro would once again stand accused of Nobuko’s murder. But Akitada was certain that they had been right. He thought furiously.
Kobe looked despondent. He muttered, “Bitch! They did it, all right! That actor gave himself away. He’s the weak link, and we’ll beat it out of him. You’d think the woman would fall apart first, but she is the real demon. I was hoping to tie the case up before the New Year.”
Akitada nodded. He felt responsible. If he had checked the background of the people involved more carefully, this would not have happened. Yasaburo’s confusing references to daughters should have warned him. It had never been quite clear if he referred to Nobuko or both sisters. Kojiro had cleared up the discrepancy, but his information should have been checked, particularly since he had never met Nobuko’s sister. Harada had been vague also, probably because he never spent time with Yasaburo’s family and saw the girls only from a distance. It explained also why he had not recognized Nobuko in her makeup and costume.
Kobe growled, “Curse that man for producing two such daughters! What now?”
Akitada rose with a sigh. “We will go out and ask more questions.” He was still sore and tired easily, but he owed Kobe another effort and had made a promise to Kojiro. “I shall talk to Miss Plumblossom and the other actors again. Perhaps you could send someone to Kohata?”
Kobe nodded glumly. “I’ll go myself. A fine New Year’s Day, plodding through the mud for hours to talk to drunken farmers and locals. Not to mention that half-wit.”
* * * *
The night air was thick with the scent of pine torches and greenery as Akitada walked south toward the river. A faintly lit haze of smoke hovered over the dark rooftops and towering pines. People were still celebrating with muffled cries and laughter, and here and there groups of drunken revelers staggered home. Some of them would tumble into the frozen canals and sober up quickly. Some perhaps would not have the strength to save themselves and would die an icy death.
Akitada shivered and walked faster, hoping to find Miss Plumblossom and the others still awake. He was encouraged by the sounds of lute and zither coming from the houses in the pleasure quarter, and by the many people crowding the streets.
Lights shone from behind the high paper-covered windows of the training hall, and he heard laughter. The old doorkeeper let him in, pointing toward the end of the hall. Apparently all the oil lamps and lanterns had been gathered around Miss Plumblossom’s dais. She held court on her chair, her maid on the dais beside her and a group of actors and acrobats clustered around. Tora and Genba sat on the floor at her feet.
They had been celebrating. Cups and pitchers of wine and trays of food littered the floor, and their faces were flushed. Tora and Genba jumped up guiltily when they saw Akitada.
“We were invited for a nightcap,” Genba said.
Tora asked, “Is something wrong, sir?”
“No, but we have run into a problem. Mrs. Nagaoka claims to be her sister.”
Something clattered and there was a gasp. Surprised, they looked at the maid, who had dropped her fan and raised a hand to her mouth, staring at Akitada with wide, horrified eyes.
“
Yukiyo,” said her mistress severely, “you’ve been acting very peculiar ever since we got back. What is the matter with you?”
The maid snatched up her fan and hid her face again. “Nothing, nothing.”
“Nonsense, girl! You know something. I recall you asking a lot of questions about Danjuro and his wife. Out with it!”
The maid cried out and struggled to her feet, but Miss Plumblossom’s pudgy hand clamped around her arm. “Sit, girl! I’ll not have you cause more trouble after all I’ve done for you. You’ve made enough of a mess already. Look what you did to poor Tora! Is that any way to pay me back, you ungrateful girl? I took you off the streets when you were starving and gave you a home. I’ve been a mother to you.”
