The Death Ceremony

by James Melville

  Otani had not come in any expectation of being able to achieve anything significant by a meeting with Superintendent Fujiwara. He had seen him often enough at conferences of prefectural police commanders in Tokyo, aloof and supercilious, but had never over the years succeeded in having anything like a personal conversation with him. He cleared his throat and sipped at the green tea which had been brought in for all of them by a deferential young policeman. The cup on its fine wooden saucer was of hand-painted delicate china. Expensive, Otani thought, and Fujiwara was studying the design on his own cup with what looked like pleased surprise as he held it in his long, slender fingers.

  "It is most unfortunate that the first tea ceremonies of the New Year, normally so auspicious, should have been marred by this distressing affair," Otani said rather bluntly, and Fujiwara blinked at him with a faint smile. Before he could reply, Otani went on. "The reason for my disturbing you today is that I wished to introduce my two senior colleagues to you, Commander. Both will be associated with me in my efforts to collaborate with you and your staff as instructed by the Superintendent-General of the National Police Agency. You have a copy of his telexed order to me, I believe."

  A sigh like a summer breeze disturbed Fujiwara's calm for a moment, and Kimura's bright black eyes flickered between the two senior men. It was better than the preliminaries to a bout of sumo wrestling. "I have, I have, Superintendent. And of course it is a privilege to receive you. I am quite sure that you will have so much to teach us here in our normally tranquil backwater. Of Inspector Kimura's linguistic talents I have of course heard much." Abruptly his eyes snapped open and his lip curled as he glared at Noguchi, apparently fast asleep. "I have also heard of Inspector Noguchi. I confess myself at a loss to understand what role there may be in this investigation for—" he picked up Noguchi's name-card from the polished table and scrutinised it before tossing it down again "—the head of your Drugs Section."

  Noguchi raised one eyelid momentarily and Otani hoped that Fujiwara had seen the glitter as well as he had. "The Inspector's title does not necessarily reflect the scope of his duties," he said, but Fujiwara raised a deprecatory hand and went on imperturbably. "It is of course not for me to comment on such matters, but I am surprised at the absence from this meeting of my old friend and comrade in arms, Inspector Sakamoto of your staff. He is after all, is he not, head of the Criminal Investigation Section of the Hyogo force? It would have been a special pleasure to see him here today.''

  Otani had not known that Sakamoto was a crony of the head of the Kyoto Prefectural Police. It was a complicating factor, but not one which he proposed to worry about. Nor did he have the smallest intention of involving Sakamoto, whom he detested, in the investigation in more than the most routine context. "Inspector Sakamoto has many duties in Kobe at present, Commander. So indeed have I and my colleagues. We shall therefore not disturb you personally any further, and will I hope be scrupulous to avoid any interference with the work of your officers."

  Fujiwara and Kimura each hitched up a trouser leg at precisely the same moment, and Fujiwara shot a glance at Kimura as though uncertain whether or not Kimura was deliberately aping his manner. "You can scarcely hope to do what the Superintendent-General has in his wisdom required you to do without impinging on the proper concerns of my officers," he snapped, the listlessness gone for a moment. "I have instructed Inspector Mihara to act as liaison officer for you. Let me assure you that at least until the British Ambassador leaves Kyoto this afternoon, he will be perfectly safe."

  Superintendent Fujiwara uncoiled himself from his chair and seemed to float in the direction of the door where he stood waiting for them to leave. There was a further exchange of bows. "Goodbye, Inspector Noguchi. I have so enjoyed our conversation," Fujiwara murmured as the two inspectors filed out ahead of Otani, who turned in the doorway.

  "I am most grateful to you for the friendly spirit of cooperation which has marked this discussion," he said, his face expressionless. "It might have been a difficult, even embarrassing situation for both of us. I now feel much more at ease about what has to be done."

  By unspoken consent the three Hyogo men marched out of the building in silence. Otani was not surprised to see Inspector Mihara standing quietly talking to his driver Tomita beside the car in the parking area at the rear. Mihara broke away as soon as he saw Otani and the others and came over to them. "Good morning, Inspector. We've had a . . . useful meeting with Superintendent Fujiwara, who tells me that you have been good enough to agree to assist us."

  "My pleasure, sir. Gentlemen." There was a wary look on his face as he saluted the men from Kobe and Otani introduced Kimura and Noguchi.

  "There isn't a great deal of time," Otani continued. "We have to step up the security arrangements for the British Ambassador's stay in Kobe, and glean as quickly as possible any relevant considerations from Sunday's shooting incident. I am therefore proposing that my colleagues should go at once to the Southern School headquarters. Inspector Noguchi will examine the exterior of the premises, while I want Inspector Kimura to meet the head of administration—Terada, I believe his name was. Oh, and also the new Grand Master if available. When are the funeral ceremonies planned for?"

  "Not until Friday. I think that an interview could be arranged."

  "Good. After that I think that if possible Inspector Kimura should travel with the ambassador's party to Kobe. What time are they due to leave?"

  "At four-thirty, sir. The ambassador has a meeting with the Governor at the Prefectural Office at four, and then plans to drive straight to the Oriental Hotel in Kobe. We have arranged an escort car with motorcycle outriders all the way."

  "Yes, I meant to report that to you earlier, Chief." It was Kimura, looking slightly embarrassed. "Inspector Mihara and I were talking on the phone first thing, we've sorted everything out with the traffic sections. Our escorts will join the party as they leave the motorway, and take over completely from the moment of arrival at the hotel. The Kyoto motorcycle escorts will turn back at the motorway, of course."

  "All right. It will be dark by the time they get into Kobe City. I want no confusion or security gaps at the hotel, Kimura. Very well. I leave that side of it to the technical experts. Now, Inspector Mihara. If you would be so kind as to contact the tea ceremony people by phone, my colleagues can be on their way." He turned to Kimura and Noguchi. "I'd suggest a taxi. Less conspicuous than going in my car. I shall stay here for a while, then go back to Kobe and wait for you there. I want a few words with Inspector Mihara."

  He felt a momentary pressure against his sleeve and turned to see that Noguchi had strolled off a yard or two, out of immediate earshot. "Excuse me a moment," he said to the others, and went over to his old friend. "I know what you're going to say, Ninja," he began with a smile, but paused when Noguchi shook his head.

  "Fujiwara? He's not really upset. Good actor though. I'd say he's worried about something. Bear it in mind. Pal of old Sakamoto, eh? He's probably the one who put that poker up his arse. Just wanted to suggest—see what you can get out of this Mihara. Seems sensible." It was a rather long speech for Noguchi, and Utani was in a thoughtful mood as he strolled to the road with the others and watched as Kimura hailed a taxi and bounded in, leaving Noguchi to ease his bulk in a more leisurely fashion into the back seat beside him.

  Chapter 7

  KIMURA WAS ENJOYING HIMSELF. In THE FIRST PLACE, although he had little knowledge of, or time for, the traditional Japanese ways, he was conscious of the luxuriousness of his surroundings and had looked with satisfaction at the various small gardens, each a gem of artful design, as he passed through the maze of corridors on his way to the office of the administrator, Terada.

  Secondly, he was relieved that the office was furnished in the Western style, so that he need not imperil the appearance of his trousers by having to kneel or sit cross-legged on a cushion. The fact that he had as a matter of course been deprived of his shoes on entering the premises and was now wearing a floppy pair
of bright green backless plastic slippers did not disturb him: the rule applied universally to Japanese houses, inns and restaurants and was enforced in a surprising number of Western-style buildings too, including schools and even quite a few police stations.

  Thirdly, the susceptible Kimura had been delightedly struck by the number of good-looking women about the place. Most were wearing kimonos, but the girl who had brought not tea for once, but coffee into Terada's office for them and must be his secretary was the perfect picture of the highest class of "office lady" in her silk blouse and sleek skirt. Moreover, there had been an awareness in her eye as he caught it which determined him on the spot to make an opportunity to pursue her acquaintance when time permitted.

  Finally, Terada had just shown Kimura a list of the names of the senior students at the headquarters school. There were not many of them, and among the Chinese characters in which the names of Japanese are always written, a single entry in the special phonetic script used for foreign names jumped to the eye. It read "Patoriku Kei-shii''.

  "I'm surprised that a foreigner would be interested in studying the tea ceremony," Kimura said.

  "They write their names back to front, you know," Terada explained helpfully. "Keishii is his family name. Rather amusing really, almost the same as the Japanese word for police superintendent." The timid smile on Terada's face faded quickly as Kimura stared at him.

  "How is it spelt in Roman letters?"

  "Oh. I think I can remember," Terada said, closing his eyes to assist the process. "C-A-S-E-Y, I'm almost sure. The first name is harder. P-A-T-R ... or maybe L . . . I-K, I think, but I may have missed a letter out. I understand the name is quite common in Ireland where he comes from."

  Kimura nodded, trying to suppress the excitement he felt. "I believe it is, yes," he said. "He's a long way from home."

  Terada was all eagerness to explain. "Yes. Casey-san is the first real Westerner to study seriously—towards the teaching licence, I mean. Quite a few take lessons, but I fear they tend to lose interest after a while. There have been a number of Japanese-Americans from Hawaii and California who have qualified over the years, but we have high hopes that Casey-san will be the first fully-authorised master of the Southern School to open a branch school in Europe.''

  "Indeed. You must be very pleased with his progress. Well, I must get on. Thank you for the list of the guests at the ceremony last Sunday afternoon. And—please forgive me, I have never been present at such a distinguished occasion—I understand from Superintendent Otani who was there that the Grand Master had a number of assistants who distributed cakes or otherwise helped him. Would they have been the people on this list?"

  "No. For the New Year ceremonies all the assistants are male, and as you can see, a number of the senior students are women. Masters of branch schools in the Kansai area consider it one of their privileges to assist at the New Year ceremonies, and this is what happened this year as usual. Casey-san was there, however, as a very special privilege. He is about to qualify and receive his teaching licence, and is in any case staying here at present as a guest of the family ..." Terada corrected himself. "I should say, he was staying here as a guest. After the tragedy he felt—I must say we were all touched by his thoughtfulness—he felt that he should leave the house to avoid intruding on the family's private grief."

  "I see. Well now, I must not trespass too much on your valuable time, especially when you must have so much to do following the shocking occurrence last Sunday. There are just one or two other points I should like to take up with you, though ..." Kimura would have loved to quiz Terada at length about the Irishman Casey, but for reasons best known to himself Otani had laid it down that morning that the strategy in relation to the personnel of the tea ceremony school was to pursue enquiries simply as an investigation into the death of the Grand Master, and to play down the theory that the intention had been to assassinate the British Ambassador.

  Kimura therefore asked Terada a number of irrelevant questions about the Grand Master's movements before he entered the room in which he died, the reception system for guests and whether there was any means of identifying them properly. The administrator seemed anxious to cooperate, and replied at somewhat greater length than really suited Kimura, who eventually stared Terada into silence, examined his fingernails, coughed and simulated embarrassment. Then he spoke, with studied hesitations. "Terada-san. Forgive me, but you will appreciate that I am merely carrying out my official duties. I, er, that is ... I must ask you, are you aware of any enemies the Grand Master might have had? Anyone who might have harboured evil—even murderous—intentions towards him?"

  "Such a thing is inconceivable to me." The reply was prompt and almost vehement. "We are all completely at a loss to imagine any possible motive for this terrible crime."

  It was precisely what Kimura had expected. "Have you no theory, none at all, about how it might have happened? ''

  Terada looked a little like a bank manager out of his depth over evidence of a complex fraud involving computers, and shook his head worriedly. "I have racked my brains, Inspector. The only thing I can think is—could it not have been a dreadful accident? It is the hunting season after all, and in the hills to the north of Kyoto we often find hunters and hear gunshots. Someone cleaning a gun in a nearby house, perhaps, and discharging it by mistake?"

  Kimura managed to prevent himself smiling as the earnest administrator outlined his preposterous hypothesis, and instead nodded sagely. "It is certainly a possibility which we must look into very carefully, Terada-san. Thank you for your helpful suggestion." He began to stir in his seat. "I have taken far too much of your time, I'm afraid. And 1 think you said that the new Grand Master would receive me at eleven-thirty? No, no, please don't trouble yourself, Terada-san. I'm sure your young lady assistant will be kind enough to show me the way."

  It was no use. The young lady in question hovered quite delectably in the vicinity of the door, but Terada was insistent that he must personally effect the introduction to the man who had so suddenly inherited the headship of the school, so Kimura had to content himself with drenching her with one of his most overpowering smiles as he passed. When over a certain age, women generally went a pleasing shade of pink when favoured thus, but Terada's secretary couldn't have been more than twenty-two or -three and looked at Kimura quite coolly, a quizzical twist at the corner of her mouth. The expression was not exactly dismissive, however, and Kimura made a mental note of the fact before turning his mind to the forthcoming interview.

  It occurred to him that the family which provided the hereditary heads of the Southern School of the tea ceremony had a pleasingly appropriate name in Minamikuni, or Southern Province. Although Kimura's knowledge of Japanese history was sketchy to say the least of it, he was aware that at one period there were rival Emperors of Japan, one in Kyoto and the other in Yoshino in the mountains of the Kii peninsula, now a couple of hours' ride from Osaka on the private Kintetsu railway. He presumed that the family must have sprung from a favoured courtier of one of the Yoshino Emperors to have been given a name that reverberated so grandly.

  Otani had not thought to mention to Kimura that he had seen a photograph of Ko Minamikuni XVIII on the television, and Kimura knew only that the new Grand Master was thirty-two years old. Kimura had recently reconciled himself with some pain to the fact that he was in his early forties—just—and in the process had begun to think of younger men as mere boys. He was therefore unprepared for the vigorous air of authority about the man in Japanese clothing who was waiting for him in the room to which Terada led the way, sliding open a gorgeously-embellished fusuma screen door painted with a background of rich greens and golds and depicting a peacock with tail in full array.

  Terada did little more than murmur Kimura's name before standing to one side and then backing out, sliding the door to behind him. It was doubtful whether Otani would have recognised the new Grand Master either, since he could scarcely have resembled less the young man in the photogr
aph on the TV screen. As Kimura approached, his slippers left behind in the wooden-floored corridor, the Grand Master bowed very low from his kneeling position, his forehead almost touching the tatami mat. Kimura hastily knelt and followed suit, not even thinking of his trouser crease until later, and heard a stream of the most elegant expressions of welcome phrased in what to him was the ridiculously affected language of high Kyoto society. Kimura muttered a few conventional phrases of regret in reply, then raised himself cautiously and contemplated the other man.

  It was hard to credit that he was only thirty-two. He was in formal black kimono decorated only by the Minamikuni family crest embroidered in the five specified places. The young Grand Master nevertheless looked tough and the hands folded in repose on his lap were big and muscular. The clean-shaven face was somewhat fleshy, and Kimura noticed that his host must patronise a quite fashionable barber, who had left his client's sideburns just a shade longer than would generally be acceptable in conservative society. The only really incongruous note, though, was struck by the tinted glasses the Grand Master was wearing. These did not completely conceal his eyes but made it impossible for Kimura to read their expression. He assumed that the other man must have put them on to hide any puffiness resulting from a combination of grief and exhaustion, but was left with the nagging feeling that the new head of one of the most distinguished families in the country had made himself look a little like a superior gangster.

  The preliminaries over, the Grand Master spoke quite directly to Kimura, in a pleasantly cultivated voice. The characteristic Kyoto accent was pronounced, but from then on he avoided the worst extravagances of phraseology. "I understand from Terada-san that you may wish to put some questions to me concerning the death of my father last Sunday. I shall do my best to help you."