by I. J. Parker
The woman waved the apology aside, saying, "Please don't worry! There is plenty of time. But my husband will be late." She glanced nervously at the darkness outside the window, then smiled at Tora and asked, "Can I be of some assistance?"
"Ah." Tora stroked his small mustache and eyed the lady appreciatively. "It is my very good luck to find his beautiful lady instead."
"Oh!" She batted her eyes and touched her hair again. "I'm afraid you caught me at my worst. I was taking a nap."
"You look elegant. Your husband is a lucky man. At least he shows his appreciation!" Tora touched the hem of the yellow jacket admiringly.
"Oh, this? My husband didn't give that to me. He's an old man who has no interest in such things. Besides he barely scrapes together enough to put food on the table. I married beneath my station." She noticed the little maid, who was still standing there, clutching the basket of vegetables and watching the exchange open-mouthed. "How filthy you are, girl! Go wash your face!" she cried. "And get on with the laundry while you're at it!"
"But you said to fix the vegetables for the evening rice . . . ." One look at her mistress's face, however, made her set down the basket and scurry along the passage and out the back door into the yard.
"Please excuse this humble and uncomfortable place," the woman said, kneeling down near Tora. "Will you take a cup of wine?"
"You are very kind," said Tora, stealing another look at her charms. "I wish I could, but I'm on duty. But perhaps you can help me."
Her eyes widened. "On duty? How can I be of service to the honored gentleman?"
"I came to ask some questions about your daughter Omaki."
"Omaki?" Her face stiffened and a wary look came into her eyes. "She's not my daughter. She's my husband's. Besides, she's dead."
"I know. That's why I'm here. A very unfortunate case. You certainly have my deepest sympathy."
She quickly lowered her eyes, nodded, and raised an embroidered sleeve to her face.
"I'm attached to the Ministry of Justice you see," Tora continued, pleased with himself at the choice of words. She looked up at that, clearly impressed, and he decided to stretch the truth a little further. "Since Captain Kobe of the metropolitan police is following up another lead, we have been asked to investigate this end of the case."
"You don't look old enough to be with the Ministry of Justice," she said dubiously.
Tora gave her another brilliant smile and bowed. "Thank you, ma'am, for the compliment. Actually I'm just a 'junior junior,' so to speak. I got lucky with a case in the provinces and was transferred here. Now I'm trying to make my way in the capital. I don't like to trouble folk when they're mourning a loved one, but you surely want the killer caught, and I'd be glad to get some help." He looked at her pleadingly.
"Well," she said, frowning. "I don't know . . . . Haven't they caught the killer already? That student she was seeing? I expect it was his child she was expecting. Or maybe not, and that's what made him mad enough to kill her."
"There," cried Tora. "That's exactly what I need. A woman's impression of what was going on. I knew right away that you would have a sharp eye and a fine understanding. Look at the way you knew I was too young for my job. I don't believe you miss much when it comes to sizing up people and their feelings. So you knew Omaki was seeing the student?"
"Yes. He walked her home from work a few times. A silly, ugly thing with ears like handles on a jug. Even Omaki made fun of him. I thought she didn't like him, but I guess I was wrong about that."
"Well," said Tora, "we're not supposed to talk about a case with the people concerned, but since you already know . . . Omaki used to visit him at the university, and he wrote poems about her."
She moved a little closer to him, listening avidly. "Poems? You don't mean it! So maybe it was his kid after all. Does his family have any money?"
"I don't think so."
"Then Omaki must've been mad to mess around with him. And look what it got her!"
"Actually," said Tora, "it looks like he didn't kill her. Could there have been another man?"
She thought, chewing her lip. "I suppose it's possible," she said. "She met a lot of people at her work. Sometimes they'd even give her presents."
"Could you find out about that?" He smiled at her and stroked his mustache, letting his eyes travel slowly to her large, dark-skinned breasts, half exposed where her jacket gaped.
She looked down, and pulled her jacket together. Flushing, she raised her eyes to his. "I might need a little time," she murmured, shifting her round hips a little and smoothing the jacket over her knees. Her eyes moved to his lips, his shoulders and his broad chest. "Could you come back?"
Tora nodded. "Tomorrow? Maybe a bit earlier than this?" He let his eyes go to her breasts again. "No point in disturbing your husband's dinner." This time she smiled and leaned towards him, the dusky globes straining from the fabric. A warm, unwashed smell came from her body.
Tora had rarely felt less desire for a female, but an investigator's work sometimes required acting skills, and he forced himself to whisper, "How delightful!" Pretending to recall his purpose, he cleared his throat. "Did your daughter ever mention any admirers to you?"
Her smile faded. "I told you, she's not my daughter," she cried petulantly. Tora apologized profusely, and she said grudgingly, "Well, she kept to herself a lot, you know. It's hard to be a second mother to someone your own age." She patted her hair and gave Tora a sidelong glance to see how he took this. He nodded sympathetically, and she went on, "And then Omaki thought she was much too fine for us after she became an entertainer in the Willow Quarter. Though in my opinion, that's not much better than being a whore."
"Ah! So she may have taken customers?"
The woman looked away. "I wouldn't go that far. At least you'd better not mention it to my husband. The old fool thinks she was a saint. And here she brought home all those expensive things! I ask you, who'd give a simple girl a fine jacket like this," she held out an embroidered sleeve, "for playing a lousy lute?" She paused. "Say! Is it true that the murderer and his family have to pay blood money to her relatives? I mean, if the killer was found, would you people make his family pay up for what he's done to us?"
Tora nodded. The woman placed her hand on his arm familiarly. "I can make it worth your while to look after our interests," she said, squeezing gently. "Humble folk like us don't know our way around police and the courts, but you, being with the Ministry of Justice, could keep your eyes and ears open and help us make our claim."
"Oh, I don't know that I can agree to be an informant to someone connected with a case," said Tora, frowning. "It's against the rules and might cost me my career, maybe even my job, to do such a thing."
"Oh!" she cried, "I wouldn't expect that. Only to get what is rightfully ours." She crept close to him on her knees and murmured, "I'd be very grateful. We are poor people and Omaki was our entire hope in our old age."
Tora raised his eyebrows. Apparently she could adjust her age from girlhood to senility at a moment's notice. He had noted that this was a skill peculiar only to the middle-aged female.
She misinterpreted his astonishment. "The girl had a brilliant career ahead of her," she cried. "Think of the money she would have earned; think of how she could have taken care of her old parents! Is it justice that all of that should be taken from us?"
"Hmm," Tora pretended to consider her claim, "there is something in what you say. I'll think about it. Of course, you are not likely to get anything unless we find the killer and he turns out to have some money."
Before she could answer, there was a loud and angry thumping noise from the back of the house. Mrs. Hishiya jumped a little and got to her feet. "It's getting late. I must see about dinner. My husband will be here any moment. Maybe you'd better not talk to him tonight. Come back tomorrow afternoon."
He knew she was eager to get rid of her impatient lover before her elderly husband returned home from the market. He nodded with a big smile and took his
leave.
Outside, he walked around the block and up the dark alley, counting off roofs until he was behind the Hishiya house. A patch of light fell from the open door on a small yard where the little servant was hanging washing over a bamboo fence.
Tora remained in the shadows and studied the rear of the house. The small yard was full of the umbrella maker's materials and debris. A rain barrel leaned against one corner of the house and propped up a stack of firewood. This reached halfway up to a ledge under a single shuttered loft window. Omaki's room must be up there. Satisfied, Tora nodded to himself. There was plenty of time to go to the amusement quarter and pay another visit to the Willow.
• • •
When Tora entered the wine house, he found the auntie surrounded by her girls. She was giving them their appointments while she kept a careful eye on the entrance.
"Well, my young friend," she asked, greeting him with her gaptoothed smile, "are you ready for some serious battling on the silk mats? How many of my precious flowers can your little soldier defeat?" A chorus of giggles came from her girls.
"No, no, Auntie!" cried Tora, ogling her. "I came only to see you!" The girls hooted with laughter, and she snapped open her fan and hid behind it like a shy maiden. "Besides," he whispered in her ear, putting an arm around her broad waist, "I have only enough to buy a cup of wine for each of us. You know I'm a poor man."
She chuckled when he squeezed her a little and shook a finger at him. "Come, a handsome fellow like you? I'd soon make your fortune for you. There's many a lonely wife who wouldn't mind having a bit of what her husband gives my pretty flowers."
Tora released her abruptly. "I am shocked at you! Does that mean you aren't interested in me?"
She laughed and pinched his arm playfully. "All right! All right! I have a few minutes." She waved a waitress over and told her to bring some of her special wine to her office. "My treat," she told Tora.
When they had settled down in the cubicle where she kept her rosters of girls, her appointment books, her accounts and money boxes, she asked, "Did you find the young chicken I sent you last night to your taste?"
"Ah!"Tora looked dreamily at the low ceiling. "A very tasty morsel, no doubt, but I am still a starving man! I met her outside, complimented her, and offered to walk her home. But she's a very proper girl!" He sighed.
Auntie burst into a loud cackle and slapped at him. "Liar! I saw her face today. If she got any sleep, I'll be a monkey's mother."
Tora made a grab for her and pinched her buttocks. She squealed, "What did you do that for?"
"Just feeling for your tail, Auntie dear."
They burst into laughter as the waitress walked in with the wine. She looked at Tora with new respect. When they were alone again, Tora sipped, smacked his lips appreciatively, and said, "The chicken told me you fired the pretty lute player because she was breeding. I've been wondering who's been playing her 'lute'?"
Auntie's smile disappeared. She narrowed her eyes. "That girl's been found murdered," she said. "What is it to you?"
Tora decided that lies were inadvisable with this shrewd woman. "It happens," he said, "that my master takes a great interest in crimes, and he's promised to help the young fellow the police have arrested. He doesn't think the boy did it. I'm in a bit of trouble at the moment and thought the master might forget the matter if I could find out something useful about the girl's friends."
"So you're trying to pin the murder on one of my customers, eh?"
"Auntie, I swear the student couldn't have done it. He's pathetic. As ugly as sin and twice as naïve as a baby. The fool met her here, and she made him think she liked him. Then she dumped him. He's been going crazy ever since."
"Him? Yes, I saw him. No money there! Dry as last week's rice cakes and less appealing, I told her, but she said she wouldn't mind being a scholar's lady some day."
"Well, she turned him down," said Tora. "I figure she found a better prospect."
The auntie looked thoughtful and pursed her lips. "That girl was always secretive. And she never carried on with the customers while she was working, I'll give her that. She could have done a good business, that one, but she wanted to be a famous entertainer."
Tora got impatient. "Come on! There had to be a man."
"Well, she took lute lessons from one of the music masters at the university. The man spends most of his nights in the Willow. Maybe the kid was his. I expect that's the way he got paid for his lessons."
There was a loud gasp from the door. "That's a horrible lie!" cried Madame Sakaki, white-faced with anger. She pushed the door wider and came in. "How can you say such things? Why must you ruin a man who has never hurt you? For all you know this person will tell the police what you said, and they'll arrest Sato. And once they have him in their jail, they'll torture him till he confesses, and then . . ." She slumped on the floor and burst into tears.
The auntie tsked, got up and went to kneel beside the weeping woman. "Now, now." She put an arm around Madame Sakaki's shoulders. "Do not fret. You've been working too hard, dear, playing every night, and then going home to take care of your parents and husband, and the little ones. This is only Tora, a good friend of mine. He won't get your precious teacher in trouble."
Oh, won't he? thought Tora, when his eye fell on the open door. Michiko was hovering outside. His face broke into a broad smile, but she put a finger to her lips. Tora rose, nodding to the auntie, and went out, closing the door behind him.
"I've missed you, sweet," said Tora to Michiko, nuzzling her neck. "See? I couldn't stay away even one night."
"Not here," she hissed. "I'm working. Come to my place later."
She ran past him into the well-lit front room, where she bowed deeply before an arriving guest in an expensive brown silk robe, and cried, "Kurata-san! Welcome! The Big Willow lost all its fine leaves when Kurata-san stopped coming, and the songbirds were about to fly away from the winter of your absence."
Tora stared, anger rising inside him. He recognized the haughty silk merchant even in these luxurious clothes and the formal hat. The man patted Michiko's cheek and then put his arm around her shoulders. Tora was about to intercede with a well-placed fist when the auntie pushed past him and made a great outcry over the new guest. A bevy of pretty women materialized, and they all walked down the hallway. Tora followed, scowling.
"But Kurata-san," purred Auntie, "what happened? We have been so worried about you. Priceless Pearl wept because she thought you were ill, and Precious Jade has refused all her customers. I hope you weren't angry with us?"
"No, no." The man's voice was high and sharp, and his small eyes undressed the women. "I was merely preoccupied with private affairs."
"Private affairs?" wailed Auntie. "What a faithless fellow! And to think that my beauties suffered sleepless nights over you!"
The merchant laughed and reached out to run a thin, yellow finger along Michiko's slender neck. "I see," he said, eyeing Michiko speculatively, "that I must try to make up for it. Fortunately I have taken a special tonic tonight and feel strong enough for all your nieces, Auntie." Without taking his eyes from Michiko, he asked, "Is my usual room available?"
At that moment, the auntie turned and caught sight of Tora's murderous expression. Leaving Kurata to Michiko and the other girls, she barred Tora's way. "Private party," she snapped.
Consumed with fury, Tora retreated to the front room. He hung around the restaurant for another hour without seeing either Michiko or the auntie again. Finally he left in disgust and walked to the market, where he ate his supper and bought a cheap lantern. Then he returned to the alley behind the umbrella maker's house.
All was dark and quiet. Tora eyed the house. No doubt Mrs. Hishiya had long since dismissed her "cousin," fed her unsuspecting husband his supper, and retired with him. Poor craftsmen and their families were fast asleep at this hour. And so were starving little maids, Tora hoped. He was not, in any case, worried about real, flesh-and-bone people. It was Omaki's restless spir
it which he was afraid to meet. Then he thought of the revelers at the Willow on the other side of town and got angry enough to suppress his fears.
There was a quarter moon out, which shed just enough light for Tora to find a thin sliver of bamboo among the debris, creep across the small yard, and climb up the barrel and stacked wood to the ledge. He accomplished this with a minimum of noise and walked carefully along the ledge to the shuttered window. This he found latched so carelessly that the bamboo strip inserted between the panels opened them at the first try. He listened, muttered a brief prayer, and stepped over the sill into darkness.
When he straightened up, his head crashed into an overhead beam. The noise reverberated and fiery flashes exploded inside his skull. He froze and whispered, "Omaki, do not be angry! I am trying to help! I will find your killer, if you don't hurt me."
Somewhere down below a window opened. Tora opened his eyes and sucked in his breath. He had woken someone. There were the sounds of a muttered conversation, then Mrs. Hishiya's sleepy voice cried, "Shoo! Damned cat!" and Tora heard the sound of something heavy being thrown. Then the window slammed shut and silence fell.
Tora breathed a sigh of relief and softly closed the shutters. He struck a flint with trembling fingers, and lit his lantern.
He was in a small space, right under the eaves, no more than three mats in size. Four stacked clothes boxes, a roll of bedding, and a lute hanging from a nail proved that he had found the dead girl's room. It was blessedly empty of both the living and the dead. He checked the door and found it locked.
It did not take long to search the room. There was little in it beyond the contents of the four boxes and a few small knickknacks on a cross beam. The boxes contained the girl's clothing, separated by season of the year. Tora was surprised when he discovered that two of the chests, those for spring and summer, contained not only some plain, serviceable cotton robes but also silks. In the summer chest especially, he found silk under-robes, two bolts of glossy pale blue and peach-colored silk, and a gown in a bright shade of plum blossom red. He put everything back the way he had found it, and turned to the knickknacks. Omaki's everyday comb of plain wood, with a few teeth missing, lay next to a small lacquered one with a design of golden chrysanthemums. There were several fans, most serviceable paper and bamboo, but one was silk, painted with a pair of ducks under a spray of cherry blossoms. A small brocade envelope next to the fans contained visiting cards, black brush strokes on red paper covered with gold dust. Tora looked at these, raised his eyebrows whistling softly, and pushed the envelope inside his robe. He glanced around the room, bowed deeply to the unseen presence of the dead girl, then blew out his light and quietly climbed out and down again.
