The Death Ceremony

by James Melville

  Kimura inclined his head in acknowledgement. "You are most kind, sensei. I hesitate to trouble you at all at such a time. In fact most of our enquiries can be dealt with quite satisfactorily by members of your staff, and Terada-san has already been very helpful. My main purpose in seeking this brief interview was to assure you that we shall intrude as little as possible into your private distress, but it will of course be necessary for us to examine very carefully the room in which the tragedy took place. One of my colleagues is already at work in the grounds."

  "I understand."

  Kimura pressed on, still a little unnerved by the unblinking gaze from behind the barrier of the tinted glasses. "Terada-san has already provided me with the relevant information about the guests who were present at the ceremony last Sunday afternoon, and has explained the arrangements so far as the assistants were concerned." Kimura paused for quite a long moment, and the Grand Master helped him out.

  "So you want to know where I was at the time," he suggested pleasantly. Kimura nodded. "Not very faraway, certainly, but involved with the second stage of the previous ceremony, the first one of the day. It was set for eleven a.m."

  Kimura was all at sea, and it must have shown. "Let me explain what actually happens on these occasions. The waiting period and the actual New Year ceremony takes altogether about an hour or a little longer. Guests are then escorted to another part of the complex here—our new building at the back, actually, where a light meal is served to them and the whole atmosphere is more relaxed and less formal. People don't actually eat very much of the meal—they just taste it and then wrap it up in the furoshiki wrapper we provide and take it home." He smiled. "Once the furoshiki were made of real silk. Now they are nylon. There is a kind of lottery too, and two or three lucky guests win souvenir prizes—a fan, or a specimen of calligraphy by my father. It is the custom for my mother, my wife and myself to host this part of the proceedings, moving about among the guests and chatting to them. The meal itself and sake are served by some of our senior students—the ladies, of course. Meantime, guests for the next ceremony are beginning to arrive. We hold three ceremonies on each of two days here in Kyoto, and have a similar programme at our Tokyo branch headquarters the following week."

  "Thank you. I apologise for my ignorance." Kimura was genuinely surprised and not a little impressed by the smooth assembly-line arrangements as described by the Grand Master. "There were, therefore, quite a large number of people involved in the proceedings here on Sunday."

  "Indeed, yes. At least thirty, I suppose. One moment." Minamikuni's lips moved silently as he counted quickly on his fingers. "No, probably nearer forty, if you include the people outside marshalling cars, the reception staff and so on. Terada-san could probably make a complete list for you fairly easily."

  "One last question, if I may, sensei." Kimura found himself using the honorific form of address, "Teacher",

  quite unselfconsciously. "How many people actually live on the premises here?"

  Again the answer came promptly and openly. "In the private family apartments, my parents. I should say my mother now, of course." Kimura made a solemn face. "My wife and myself, and our son. He's five. There is a maid who lives in, and of course the banto-san."

  Japanese inns of the more expensive type commonly employ banto or night watchmen/porters and after a moment's reflection Kimura realised that one would be needed for premises so full of priceless objects as the historic headquarters of the Southern School.

  "I should explain that we are seldom all here at the same time," the Grand Master continued. "Only at New Year, during the obon festival in August, and for special family occasions or when receiving particularly important visitors like heads of state or other Government guests when they visit Kyoto. I normally live in my own house elsewhere in Kyoto, with my wife and child, and I also have a flat in Tokyo where I have to spend a lot of time on business."

  "I am sorry. I said it was the last question, but I have one more."

  "Dozo. Goenryo naku. " The Grand Master's go-ahead could not have been more courteous.

  "Apart from members of the family and the two servants you mentioned, do you ever accommodate guests overnight here?"

  "Oh yes, frequently. An old-fashioned place like this, and as spacious, is very adaptable. There are plenty of tatami floors to sleep on, and we keep stocks of spare bedding. Members of our staff, visiting masters and even senior students quite often spend the night here if we are preparing for a big occasion. That is why I prefer to live in my own house."

  He no longer seemed young at all to Kimura as he rocked back slightly on his haunches and surveyed him. "I think I see what you are driving at, Inspector. And I must confirm with regret that these premises are all too accessible to anyone wishing to plan an attempt on the life of a distinguished guest." Kimura strained to read the expression in the shaded eyes as the Grand Master continued, but without success. "It is a matter of great shame to this house that His Excellency the British Ambassador was fired upon. We must be thankful that the attempted assassination was unsuccessful, even though it had such tragic consequences for our family."

  In the circumstances, Kimura saw little point in going over the ground he had covered, however perfunctorily, with Terada, and judged in any case that it was time to go. His own lower limbs were completely dead as a result of kneeling on a fiat cushion for so long, and he winced as he rose after a final low bow and began to hobble towards the fusuma door, impressed by the smooth ease with which Minamikuni rose to his own feet and seized his elbow to help him.

  "It can be painful if one isn't used to it," the Grand Master said.

  Chapter 8

  HE TURNED AWAY AFTER MAKING HIS FAREWELLS to Minamikuni, Kimura was pleased and surprised to see Terada's attractive secretary standing quietly at the end of the corridor, apparently waiting for him. Although pins and needles were still racing like darts of ice and fire through his legs, he straightened himself up bravely and tried the smile again. This time it was returned. Not with quite the incandescence which Kimura always tried to achieve when ingratiating himself with a woman, but encouragingly warm all the same.

  "Terada-san was called away, I'm afraid. I'll show you the way out."

  "How very kind of you. I'm so sorry, I didn't introduce myself to you properly. I am—"

  "Inspector Jiro Kimura from Kobe. I know. My name is Mie Nakazato. How do you do."

  "Delighted to meet you, Nakazato-san. I wonder—on the way out, would it be possible for me to see the room in—the new extension, I think the Grand Master said. Where the guests have their meal after the tea ceremony?'' "Of course. I expect you'd like to see the room where ... it happened, too. This way."

  Kimura followed at a suitable distance, hanging back a little so that he could admire the way Miss Nakazato's hips swayed as she walked. As a member of the office staff she was spared the green plastic slippers and wore what were obviously her own soft indoor shoes. They fitted her feet snugly and Kimura felt at a disadvantage as he slopped behind. Otani frequently teased Kimura about his marked preference for European or American woman friends but as a matter of fact his mind was far from closed on the subject, particularly in the case of Japanese girls who were taller and better endowed than average. Miss Nakazato struck him as being likely to become more and more interesting on riper acquaintance.

  So accurate had been Otani's description of the room in which the tea ceremony had been interrupted that Kimura felt as if he had seen it before. Terada had been unable to provide immediately a plan of the seating arrangement as finally settled by the guests themselves, but had undertaken to try to produce one after consultation with the local tea master who had acted as the principal assistant. The others who had distributed the cakes had been in the room for only a short time and would in any case have been unlikely to recognise all of the guests by sight.

  The room in the new extension where the meal was to have been served was a revelation to Kimura. Although the floor was of
tatami matting the room itself was airy and light, quite obviously of the late twentieth century and with an atmosphere in sharp contrast to the subdued austerity and almost religious gloom of the other room. "We can serve meals to up to thirty or more people here at a time," Mie Nakazato said with an air of proprietorial pride. "The actual food is supplied by one of the most famous restaurants in Kyoto, but there's a kitchen and servery behind where it can be arranged, and for heating miso soup and so on. There's one thing I'd be very interested to know," she continued without any change in her manner of speaking. "Why have you come from Kobe to see us here? Isn't it a matter for the Kyoto police?''

  Kimura had been gazing at her intently, trying to decide whether she had had the "Mongolian fold" removed from her eyelids by cosmetic surgery as many Japanese girls do, and did not at once take in the question. "I beg your pardon?"

  "I asked why you are concerned with this affair rather than the Kyoto police. I imagine the Grand Master asked you the same thing."

  "No, as a matter of fact he didn't. It's quite coincidental really. The Commander of the Hyogo Prefectural Police Force and his wife happened to be here as guests on Sunday, as you of course know, so they were witnesses. I'm his . . . well, his deputy, more or less. I think the Kyoto police felt it would be simpler if we were to handle things on their behalf.''

  Kimura hoped that like most lay people, the toothsome Miss Nakazato would have only a vague idea about police procedures and that his wholly unconvincing explanation of his involvement might satisfy her. He was disappointed.

  "I see," she said, manifestly sceptical. "I thought it might have something to do with the British Ambassador. I saw in the paper this morning that he's supposed to go to Kobe later this week to open a trade fair. And he and his wife were here on Sunday, of course."

  Kimura nodded and made an airy gesture with one hand which just happened to brush the girl's shoulder through the silk of her blouse; at which Kimura apologised profusely. The warmth of her skin was quite delightful. "Yes, another odd coincidence," he said then. "Very distressing for the ambassador, I'm sure. He's to visit Kobe, is he? I do remember reading something about a trade fair, but that sort of thing hardly concerns us in the police, you know. Except for the traffic department, of course." Kimura gave a merry, dismissive little chuckle which died on his lips as he saw Miss Nakazato's expression become one of polite disbelief.

  "That's rather strange," she said with careful courtesy. "I have a message for you from the Governor's office. The British Ambassador will be expecting you there following his meeting with the Governor and would be pleased if you would ride with him and his wife to Kobe in their car."

  Kimura thought fast, and cleared his throat in an official manner, drawing himself up rather stiffly. "It would have been helpful if you had passed on that message at once, rather than waiting till now, Nakazato-san. It concerns confidential police business, you see."

  The girl seemed to be taken aback by Kimura's sudden change of manner and the eclipsing of his earlier radiance towards her, and looked down in some confusion.

  Kimura waited until she raised her head again, and then adjusted his features so as to project what he hoped looked like stern kindliness. "Nakazato-san," he asked, "how long have you worked here at the Southern School headquarters? ''

  Mie Nakazato was rapidly regaining her poise, and there was a hint of impishness in her brown, intelligent eyes. "Nearly two years."

  "As Terada-san's secretary throughout that time?"

  "Yes."

  Kimura took a deep breath, and risked a twinkle. "I should like to ask a favour of you. In return I will confirm that we cannot completely rule out the possibility that what happened here last Sunday might have a bearing on the British Ambassador's personal security. That is why I shall be travelling down to Kobe with him this afternoon." Miss Nakazato nodded slightly in acknowledgement. "The favour I ask is this. Please do not mention this to any of your colleagues. May I have your assurance on that point?"

  She nodded again. "I won't say anything."

  "Did you take the call from the Governor's office yourself?"

  "Yes."

  Kimura was relieved. He knew perfectly well that there was no effective way of maintaining confidentiality about their involvement nor about their concern for the ambassador's security. Otani's instructions were simply to play it down so far as possible. If he could also induce Mie Nakazato to see herself in a slightly conspiratorial relationship to himself, he might well be able to pick up some useful additional information about Patrick Casey: not to mention the distinct likelihood of his being able to get to know her better. Much better.

  Kimura smiled at her, careful to aim at merely friendly rapport. "Good, that's agreed, then." He took a last look round the spacious, luxurious room, then moved towards the corridor through the glass windows of which the bamboo grove was partially visible. The sight reminded him of Noguchi, and he turned to Miss Nakazato. "I must have a word with my colleague. I expect he's still outside." As he spoke, it occurred to Kimura that even if Noguchi had wanted to come in it was most unlikely that he would have been willingly admitted to such classy premises, suit and tie notwithstanding. "After that I wonder if I could persuade you to have some lunch with me nearby? There are some questions I should like to ask you in strict confidence."

  Miss Nakazato looked startled and more than a little suspicious as she considered the invitation, but only hesitated for a moment. "I normally eat lunch here . . . but since Terada-san won't be back before mid-afternoon I suppose I . . ."

  "Good," Kimura said briskly, and looked at his watch. He was dogged by ill-luck in the matter of timepieces, and his latest electronic purchase was behaving erratically. "Yes, it's more or less lunchtime," he surmised. "I'll be waiting for you outside the front gate in about fifteen minutes."

  "All right. Just after twelve-thirty," the girl agreed after a glance at her own watch, and led him round the corridors to the main entrance where his shoes were neatly positioned on the stone floor below the wooden step, a long-handled shoehorn conveniently to hand so that he could step into them. Kimura made his way round to the side of the main building, on stepping stones set into the white gravel, and looked hopefully in the direction of the bamboos.

  "You took your time," Noguchi said, materialising at his side from behind, and Kimura jumped.

  "I didn't see you, Ninja," he said irritatedly, by no means for the first time in his career.

  "Saw you, though, didn't I? Found a new girlfriend, I see."

  "Whatever do you mean, Ninja?" Kimura coloured slightly. If Noguchi had added the ability to see through solid walls to his other talents life would become impossible.

  "I was under the floor if you want to know. Heard every word."

  Kimura studied his colleague. The tie had disappeared, presumably stuffed into a pocket of the jacket which had also been removed; and from Noguchi's begrimed appearance Kimura could well believe that he had been crawling about in the open space underneath the wooden structure of the buildings.

  Noguchi gazed blandly back. "Mustn't keep you from your lunch date. Thought you might like to see this, though." Noguchi rummaged in his trouser pocket and produced a small plastic bag which he handed to Kimura. Inside it was a brass bullet-case.

  "Where—"

  "In the bamboos. Very careless of him." Noguchi took his trophy back before Kimura had scarcely had time to do more than glance at it, sniffed, and wiped his nose with the back of his beefy hand. Although his craggy, battered features rarely revealed his state of mind, Kimura inferred without difficulty that his colleague was feeling pleased with himself.

  "I'll be off back to Kobe, then," Noguchi said. "Leave you to your new playmate." He half turned away then changed his mind. "Fujiwara," he said. "Put me in mind of you a bit."

  Kimura was outraged. He had tried to draw Noguchi out on the subject of the commander of the Kyoto force while in the taxi on the way to the Minamikuni headquarters, without success.
"Now come on, Ninja. A joke's a joke, but ..."

  "You think at first that he's all piss and wind, then you realise he might be smarter than he acts." While Kimura was taking this in, Noguchi suddenly clapped him on the back, nearly knocking the breath out of him. "Watch it, though. Seems he's a pal of Sakamoto."

  Then Noguchi was gone, and Kimura slipped his jacket off and brushed the back fastidiously with a paper handkerchief before putting it back on and straightening his tie in preparation for his rendezvous with Mie Nakazato. One never knew what Noguchi had been handling, but could be reasonably confident that it would have been something not very nice.

  Chapter 9

  yes, Inspector. Do come in. What can I do for you?" Otani's manner was mild and courteous, even though the last thing he wanted was a discussion with the head of the Criminal Investigation Section, who had rapped on his office door within five minutes of Otani's return to Kobe. "I must be rather brief, I'm afraid: I have a busy afternoon ahead of me."

  Inspector Masao Sakamoto marched in, halted and stood rigidly to attention two yards in front of Otani's desk, his lips pursed disapprovingly and his thin features tense. In spite of the nature of his duties, Sakamoto usually wore uniform about headquarters, and Otani noted the perfection of his turn-out, even though as usual his collar seemed a size or two too big for him, so that the scrawny neck moved when he turned his head, while the shirt itself remained motionless. The skin of his face and head seemed on the other hand to be drawn more tightly over the bones of his skull than is the case with most people, making his eyes protrude.

  "I wish to lodge a formal complaint, Commander," he announced in his vinegary voice.

  "Oh? I am sorry to hear that. What is it . . . this time?" Sakamoto seldom sought an interview with Otani unless to lodge a complaint, and Otani rarely himself found occasion to summon him. Guessing what was coming, Otani fixed his gaze on Sakamoto's prominent Adam's apple which wobbled disconcertingly as he spoke.

  "I am informed that you were this morning in conference with Superintendent Fujiwara of the Kyoto Prefectural Police, sir."