The Death Ceremony

by James Melville

  A dark flush mantled Patrick Casey's cheeks. "That's a private matter," he muttered.

  Otani stiffened and spoke in his most formal manner. "Let me remind you that you are in very serious trouble. You are accused of complicity in a conspiracy to murder, and as an accomplice to manslaughter. Your position could scarcely be worse. Quite apart from that, it is a requirement of the law that foreigners must at all times notify their whereabouts to the authorities. This means that you must either be at your registered address or a registered guest in a hotel. Where did you spend the night? Tell the Inspector."

  The colour was now drained from Casey's face as Kimura leaned forward and pressed the attack in English. "Well? You understood what the Superintendent asked. Come on now. Where were you?"

  Casey muttered in such a low voice that Kimura had to stop him twice and ask him to speak up. Otherwise neither he nor Otani interrupted. "Rosie Winchmore and I used to—well, when she first started at the university and I was in my final year we ... we got it together for a few months, until she met the fellow she has now, Roger his name is. Anyway we kept in touch a bit. There was no particular row, you see, and when I came here she used to write now and then. So naturally it was a good chance to meet again when she wrote to say she'd be in Rokko for a few days and then in Nagoya, both not far from Kyoto. That evening. . . well, we walked and talked and then met Mr Otani here . . . then we had a few drinks, and, well, we went to one of those coffee shops with the private rooms, you know?"

  Kimura looked at Otani and nodded twice, almost imperceptibly, in a prearranged code to indicate that he found the Irishman's story convincing. Otani was tempted to bring pressure to bear through the National Police Agency and the Foreign Ministry to have him transferred to Hyogo Police custody, but following his confidential conversation with Inspector Mihara at home the previous evening, was now reasonably confident that no harm would come to Casey. In the meantime it was important for Sakamoto and Fujiwara to think that he was still pursuing his own original idea that an attempt had actually been made to murder the British Ambassador, and that it had resulted instead in the killing of the elder Minamikuni.

  "Explain to him, Inspector," he instructed Kimura, and after a quick glance to which Otani responded with a nod, Kimura began to speak in a voluble undertone to Casey in English. Otani could not begin to guess whether or not they were being overheard or the conversation recorded, but had agreed with Kimura on the way that the points he wanted to be made to the young man had better be put in English, and as idiomatically as possible. It was more than likely that Fujiwara or one of his staff other than Mihara understood English, but Otani was prepared to bet that nobody in the Kyoto force could approach anything like Kimura's standard of fluency. Sakamoto, so far as he knew, spoke not a word of the language.

  He waited and watched patiently as Kimura rapidly told Casey that his Embassy in Tokyo had been informed of his arrest, and that his interests would be fully protected. That he was undoubtedly under some suspicion of involvement in a criminal conspiracy and at the very least would in all probability be required to give evidence as a material witness. That in the meantime he should answer such factual questions as were put to him by any police officer truthfully, but to offer no opinions and above all to sign no documents, either in Japanese or English, irrespective of whether or not he agreed with their contents, Kimura concluded by saying that he hoped that it would be possible to complete their enquiries within a day or two and urging Casey to try to be patient.

  As the expressions of bewilderment and the beginnings of relief chased each other in succession across the young tea master's face, Otani wondered how long he could keep all these plates in the air. It was absolutely vital to secure some hard evidence against Superintendent Fujiwara if he was to proceed against him openly. As matters stood, he had not even enough material to complete the hypothesis he was building up in his own mind; certainly not enough to take to the National Police Agency with a request for an internal enquiry, let alone for a case to be put to the district prosecutor.

  There was no particular reluctance to institute criminal proceedings against police officers—there had been a spectacular case not long before involving several members of the Osaka force who had been running their own protection racket—but to accuse a man of Fujiwara's seniority would be a grave matter indeed. Otani hoped with all his heart that the instructions he had given Noguchi, following their conversation about the rifle, would turn out to have been the right ones and that Noguchi would find what Otani hoped he might. It had been more difficult to persuade Atsugi of the Foreign Ministry to do what he had asked of him, but he eventually agreed.

  He and Kimura had got as much as they usefully could out of Casey in the inhibiting environment of one of Fujiwara's divisional headquarters, even though the young Irishman would certainly be able to help a lot at a later stage. When they had met that morning outside the building Kimura had obviously been bursting to report on a conversation he had had with Mie Nakazato the previous evening; but that would have to wait a while. The immediate need was to talk to Sakamoto.

  Chapter 20

  We acted upon information received, Superintendent." Sakamoto's thin lips closed firmly after the last word, and he fixed his eyes on the meticulously ordered pen-tray in front of him. The office he had been allotted in Kyoto Prefectural Police Headquarters was more spacious than that he had occupied in Kobe, and he had after all had the use of it for only a very short time. Nevertheless its bare emptiness was depressing to Otani.

  "I must ask you the nature of the information. You may or may not be aware that the Irish Ambassador has called personally at the Foreign Ministry in Tokyo to express his concern over the arrest of Casey, and has been promised a full report. He will no doubt demand consular access to the young man before long." Sakamoto said nothing, and this came as something of a surprise to Otani. He was used to Sakamoto in complaining moods, or even showing something approaching acidulous satisfaction when reporting on some petty infringement of the police regulations by one of his colleagues, but had never found him uncommunicative before. "I must ask you the nature of the information," he repeated icily.

  Sakamoto's gaze remained focused on the orderly pile of paper-clips in their special compartment of the pen-tray. "An anonymous telephone call," he said at last. "To the effect that Casey was the author of the death threat received by the British Ambassador at his hotel in Kobe. To the further effect that evidence of his authorship was to be found in his hotel room in Kyoto. A search was made of his room, and certain articles were found."

  Sakamoto pulled open one of the drawers of his desk and took out a folder, which he pushed across to Otani. "You will observe that the newspaper has been mutilated," Sakamoto said as Otani opened it to find a copy of the English-language Mainichi Daily News folded to show that parts of one page had been cut out with scissors. He lifted it to find a photocopy of a page of a Japanese-language book which evidently dealt with the history of the tea ceremony. The page in question included a plan of the oldest part of the Southern School headquarters complete with the dimensions of the rooms. The folder also contained a publicity brochure put out by the Kobe International Trade Centre where the European Fair had been opened by the assembled envoys of the European Community. After the manner of its kind, the brochure too incorporated plans of the layout of each floor, with measurements.

  "Casey's fingerprints are on each of these items," Sakamoto said thinly. "Do not hesitate to handle them yourself, Superintendent. They have been photographed. I should add that a sample has been taken from the portable typewriter found in Casey's room. I would recommend that it be compared with the typing on the envelope." A ghost of a smile flitted over the death's head face. "You are about to ask me how it comes about that we in Kyoto have any knowledge of the letter in question. There is no mystery,

  Superintendent. It was the first thing the manager of the hotel mentioned to me when I telephoned him. I had intended it as a mere cour
tesy enquiry after the ambassador's well-being following his departure from Kyoto Prefecture and the protection of this force. The manager is an old acquaintance of mine and one who was often helpful to me during my years on your staff. He will, I am sure, confirm what I have told you if for any reason you wish to check with him."

  I have, as you know, been talking to Casey myself this morning/' Otani said as equably as he could, thinking furiously. "I too made it quite clear to him that he is under suspicion. This . . . this evidence you have produced is hardly conclusive, however." He pushed the folder aside contemptuously.

  "He is manifestly guilty." Sakamoto rapped out the words angrily, and Tor almost the first time stared Otani full in the face. There were spots of red at each cheekbone, and Otani could see a vein throbbing at his temple where the thinning hair had been cropped away to near-baldness.

  "That remains to be proved," Otani said. "I take it that Superintendent Fujiwara authorised the action you have taken?"

  Sakamoto's eyes glittered. "Of course. In fact your question is otiose. The Commander has confidence in me. A very different situation from that which prevailed—"

  "That's enough, Sakamoto!" Otani's anger arose and subsided very quickly, but his words acted like a slap on the face to Sakamoto who jerked back swiftly in his chair and clamped his lips together again.

  Otani rose to his feet and stared down at his former subordinate. "I will say only one thing to you about this affair," he said. His voice was now controlled, but cold and hard. "The District Prosecutor will be advised by the Ministry of Justice to examine the case you will be making to him with the utmost care. I remain in charge of this investigation, Inspector, and you will submit the papers to me before they go to the prosecutor." The sound of Sakamoto picking up the telephone was quite audible as Otani closed the door behind him without looking back.

  Kimura was not waiting at the appointed spot, which was the wooden bridge in the Chinese style which spans the ornamental lake in the middle of the spacious and beautiful garden behind the vermilion, green and white splendour of the Heian Shrine, so Otani put a few coins in the box provided and taking one of the brittle powdery bread-sticks leant over the rail, breaking bits off and tossing them to the huge, multicoloured carp which congregated near the bridge waiting for just such treats. The sunshine was still bright, and the fish had not yet entered the comatose state in which they would pass the hardest weeks of winter. They were sluggish, though, and the jostling for the food was less greedy than Otani remembered from previous visits to the shrine in warmer months.

  He was tired and worried, but a feeling of affection came over him as he spotted Kimura from some distance away, approaching the bridge with his habitual jaunty swagger. After his session with Sakamoto it was like getting out of a suit and necktie and putting on a comfortable yukata. Kimura grinned as he eventually caught Otani's eye and quickened his pace, only to stop almost at once and survey with an air of extravagant admiration two girls who had briefly strayed from a party of high-school pupils being conducted round the garden by a girl bus guide in a powder-blue uniform who was holding in one white-gloved hand a small flag with the number 5 on it. Although their navy-blue sailor-style tops and overlong voluminous pleated skirts were dismally unbecoming, the girls were quite pretty.

  "Come, come, Kimura," Otani said as he finally approached. "If you'd married at the proper time, you'd probably have a daughter of their age. You should be ashamed of yourself. Well, out with it, man! We can talk about this morning afterwards. What about this secretary you saw last night?" He passed Kimura a chunk of the breadstick and between them they soon distributed the remainder of it to the seemingly bored carp. Otani had long since given up any serious attempt to get Kimura married off, but Kimura was still distinctly shaken by the impact of Mie Nakazato, and looked warily at his superior before he replied, choosing his words with care.

  "Yes. She was very helpful—within limits, of course. After all, she is only a secretary, but in a job like that she could hardly help finding out a good deal about the family situation. Sorry I'm a bit late ... to tell you the truth, I was on the phone to her. Just checking one or two points."

  Otani looked at him quizzically, but made no comment, and after a moment Kimura began again. "You know, the late lamented Iemoto really was an amazing old goat." The note of jealous admiration in Kimura's voice was very obvious, and he moved a little closer to Otani. "Dozens of them, and his wife didn't seem to bother in the least." A disturbing thought struck Kimura. "I can't believe he would ever have tried it with Nakazato-san herself, though," he added stoutly, but with a slight frown. "That is to say, his wife turned a blind eye except when he had an affair with her own younger sister. Who just happens to be the Governor's wife."

  Otani straightened up very slowly and brushed the crumbs off his hands. "Indeed? That's extremely interesting." His voice sounded very quiet and far away, and Kimura preened himself. "I thought you'd find that bit of background useful. Yes, apparently the fur really flew, but in that special Kyoto way—you know, vicious but quiet." "Yes, yes, I see," Otani said absently, leaving Kimura in some doubt whether he had taken in what he had just said. "Let's take a stroll round the lake, Kimura."

  They set off, but for some time Otani said nothing more, and Kimura began to find his silence oppressive. "How did you get on with Sakamoto, Chief?" he enquired, and Otani with an apparent effort dragged himself back to his surroundings.

  "What? Oh. Sakamoto. Yes." A look of indignation replaced his meditative expression. "They're setting that young fellow up, Kimura-kun. Sakamoto could see I didn't believe a word of what he told me, and scarcely even bothered to pretend. It's absolutely disgraceful. They planted a heap of pathetic so-called 'evidence' in Casey's hotel room and then confronted him with it so that he would handle it and leave prints. Fujiwara or Sakamoto typed that envelope. I'm convinced."

  "What envelope?"

  "The anonymous note delivered to the British Ambassador in Kobe, of course. I must have been mad to fall for that theory so easily right at the beginning—why, I even suggested it, confound it."

  They reached the end of the bridge and began to walk along the paths among the patches of moss, stunted pines and the azalea bushes which would be covered with hot pinks and reds in May. "We need some more pieces to put together, Kimura, and there isn't a lot of time. You really did agree with me about Casey?"

  Kimura nodded vigorously. "Definitely. I'd bet my midsummer bonus against a hundred yen that that man's no terrorist. But there's still the question of the gunman, Chief. He was real enough. At least, the bullet was."

  "After I'd finished with Sakamoto I went to prefectural headquarters to try to see Fujiwara again," Otani said. "I wanted to find out just what he thought they were playing at. He wasn't there, though. Some sort of check-up at the hospital, they said. I'm inclined to think it's one of those diplomatic illnesses. It's more convenient for him to be out of the way at the moment." He stopped suddenly, his shoe scuffing the loose gravel of the path. "So the Governor's wife is the widow's sister. She was there that Sunday, you know. With her husband."

  Kimura smiled sunnily. "Come on, Chief. You're not suggesting it was Mrs Minamikuni out there, aiming at her sister, are you? Creeping round the bamboos in her kimono and killing her husband by mistake?"

  Otani brushed Kimura's words away with a gesture, not bothering to be irritated with him. He was preoccupied again, visualising the room with its sweet, open-air smell of fresh tatami mats, the natural light softened and subdued by being filtered through the translucent shoji paper, and trying to see again in his mind's eye the woman at the Governor's side. It was no good: he would have to ask Hanae. He had hardly noticed the Governor's lady at the time, except to form an impression that she must be a good bit younger than her husband.

  "What about the bank accounts?" Otani snapped out of his reverie and fired the question abruptly at Kimura.

  "Ah. The financial arrangements there are quite interesting.
Mrs Minamikuni senior is the authorised signatory for what Nakazato-san called the 'staff account'. In other words, payments of salaries for the permanent staff. That consists of Terada the administrator, Nakazato-san, the old banto who takes care of the shoes and acts as nightwatch-man, and the maids."

  "Is that all? I got the impression that there were dozens of people about the place."

  "There are, usually. But they're all pupils or teachers. Good-looking, too, some of those girls. Not only do they help around the place, but quite a few used to get recruited as playmates for the Iemoto. And they paid for the privilege, would you believe it? Anyway, Mrs Minamikuni deals with all payments of that kind as well as gardeners' fees, caterers' and florists' bills, electricity, gas and all the routine things. Logical enough, because apparently she's always there, whereas the Grand Master has to do a lot of travelling. I don't know whether the young Mrs Minamikuni will take over all that side of things, now. She's a very colourless creature, according to Nakazato-san."

  "I'm more interested in the school's income, Kimura."

  "I know. But I didn't find out much about that. The fees from teachers all over the country are remitted by bank transfer to the Grand Master's various personal accounts. Presumably his widow will have some claim on them. For at least the past five years all the account books covering revenue have been kept personally by the Grand Master's son—the new Iemoto, I mean. And he prepares the tax returns and so on. Nakazato-san has never seen those books. The only revenue that she and Terada have anything to do with is cash that comes in. An astonishing amount, at that. Apparently practically every guest who ever goes to the place hands over a gift envelope on arrival. Occasions like the New Year ceremonies net more than you and I earn in a month between us. Terada and Miss Nakazato receive the cash and hand it over later to the Grand Master."

  They were nearing the exit to the garden, and soon passed out through the gate and on to the wide expanse of the outer precinct of the shrine. The party of high-school pupils were having a group photograph taken, their guide smiling graciously in their midst, though the expressions on the youngsters' faces were for the most part solemn.