by I. J. Parker
“What do you think?” asked Maeda.
Tora snorted. “If you were Yoko, would you stay with him if you could find another man? He certainly wasn’t her idea of a good husband. She said as much to me.”
“Really? And what did you say?”
Kuroki came back in. “Only the gown she wore is gone, and her new quilt. The gown was blue with a small white pattern of shells. The quilt was light green with a pattern of cherry blossoms. She loved it, so I bought it for her.” He shook his head. “What could have happened?”
Maeda asked, “Could she have gone to visit a friend?”
“No. She had no friends. Or family either.” He started blubbering again and wrung his fat hands. “I told you, she was a devoted wife. She had me, and I had her. We were like the two halves of a clam.”
Tora looked at him. He was a singularly unattractive man. No wonder his wife invited men into her house.
Maeda got up. “Well, we’ll ask around, Mr. Kuroki. You do the same. If you can think of anything, let us know.”
Outside, he said to Tora, “She’s gone off with a lover. Taking her favorite quilt.”
Tora thought it likely, but something nagged at him.
Across the street, Mitsui’s son was loading his father’s handcart. Now that old Mitsui had been sentenced, the son was in a hurry to sell his property.
Tora said as much, and Maeda nodded. “May he choke on the money,” he growled.
They crossed the street to Mrs. Kimura’s house. They could hear the children’s voices and laughter. When Maeda shouted a greeting, the children came running, smiles on their faces. Kichiro’s eye had healed, but he still had an ugly scab on his cheekbone.
“You look like a man who’s been in a fight,” Tora said, grinning.
Kichiro laughed. “I was. It was nothing. They ran.”
The girl, suddenly shy, said, “Kichiro, that isn’t true. Saburo made them run.”
“Saburo sends his regrets, being busy with work,” Tora said. “He may stop by some evening.” Saburo wanted to visit them, but the children only knew the bearded man, and he could not wear his facial hair during the day without someone becoming suspicious.
Mrs. Kimura welcomed them and offered fruit juice on her veranda. The garden was filled with bird song coming from the many cages hanging from trees.
“The children are such a blessing to me,” she said, watching them fondly as they tended to the birds. “I’m still afraid to let them go out, but they want to sell the birds in the market.”
Maeda said, “It should be safe enough, provided they only go there and come straight back, and never after dark. We stopped by on another matter. Mrs. Kuroki, your neighbor across the street, seems to have disappeared and her husband is very worried. Would you happen to know anything about her activities yesterday?”
Mrs. Kimura’s eyes widened. “Yoko? Disappeared? So she finally had enough.” She giggled, then covered her mouth. “Shame on me. The poor man.” But she spoiled it with another giggle. “I’m sorry. He’s been so silly about her, and she hates that so much. Some people should never get married.” She nodded toward the Mitsui house. “There’s proof for you. I hear Mitsui confessed to killing Mei?”
“He did. That case is closed. Now we’re looking for Yoko. You don’t think Kuroki killed her?”
She laughed. “Oh, no. He doesn’t have the strength for anything as strenuous as murder. I expect she’s gone off with someone.”
“Who?”
“A man. She used to have them coming around pretending to make deliveries. They went inside, stayed a while and came back out whistling.” She smiled.
“Can you describe them?” Tora asked.
They got descriptions of several young men, younger than either Tora or Maeda. They had other features in common. They were handsome and well-built. They wore short pants and colorful shirts and sandals on their feet. “Ordinary market porters,” she said, “but young and good-looking. Yoko had good taste. I used to wish them joy. Yoko and those young men were positively bubbling with hunger for each other.” She laughed.
Maeda was shocked. “How do you get such ideas? Surely it’s not proper to spy on a neighbor having an affair with a market boy.”
Tora chortled. She said, “Maeda, you have a lot to learn about women, especially old, lonely ones. Those children are a blessing for me. You’re right. Loneliness makes people nosy.”
“And where would the police be without nosy people,” Tora said.
Maeda grinned sheepishly. “I’m turning into a prude. The other day I thought Tora was Yoko’s latest victim.”
Tora blushed. “Prey maybe, but not victim. Though she’s a pretty woman and doesn’t deserve a husband like that. Do we look for one of her lovers now?”
Maeda frowned. “I don’t know. She has a right to leave her husband. Besides, I don’t want to tell the poor besotted bastard where we found her. Assuming we do.”
And that was the end of that. On the way back, they stopped to speak to Hiroshi, who glared at them as he flung a last bundle into his handcart. “What now?” he growled.
“Nothing to do with you or your father,” said Maeda. “I just wondered if you were here yesterday.”
“What if I was?”
“Well, did you happen to see the woman across the street?”
“No.”
“Or any visitors to her house?”
“No. Are you after that poor bitch now? What’s she supposed to have done, killed her husband?”
Maeda clenched his hands. Tora said quickly, “Nothing of the sort. What are you up to?”
Hiroshi transferred his glare to him. “None of your business, but if you must know, I’m selling some stuff. My father has no need for it now, and my wife and children are hungry.”
They walked away, shaking their heads.
14
SPRING RAIN
“Captin Okatta, governor zir.” Koji stood aside to let the police chief enter.
Akitada was in the tribunal office, and the captain stood just inside the door. He was a slender man with a narrow face and pinched lips and wore his bright red uniform with the black feathered cap. At the moment he looked irritated. Akitada gave Mori a nod, the secretary did the same with the two scribes. They got up and walked out of the room, closing the door behind them.
Akitada said coldly, “So you finally show up. What kept you from reporting?”
Okata saluted and said in a clipped voice, “Press of business, sir.”
“You will address me as ‘Your Excellency.’ I’m surprised nobody explained simple protocol to you.”
Okata flushed. “His Excellency Governor Tachibana was the easy-going type. He didn’t stand on ceremony, provided a man did his job well.” He paused, then added, “Your Excellency.”
He was defiant. Akitada saw that the interview would be extremely unpleasant. Suddenly angered, he decided to make short work of it.
“I’m glad you speak of a man doing his job well, Okata,” he said. “I have ordered you to report because I have reason to find fault with the way you are handling it.”
Okata raised his chin. “I’m aware of the posters you put up around town. No doubt every man, woman, and child who’s ever been in trouble with the law filed a complaint.”
So the man was not stupid. His bad performance was due to other reasons. Laziness? Or the conviction he was too good for the job? It did not matter.
Akitada pulled out a sheaf of papers. “Whatever your explanations may be for them, I have here fifty-one separate charges against you or your men. That is an unreasonable number even if they were all from people you’ve arrested. One of my men had the chance to observe your handling of a murder case.” He held up the thick sheaf of papers. “In some of the other cases you refused to investigate charges brought by citizens, you ordered your men to rough up witnesses, you confiscated goods for no good reason, you took two families’ homes away from them and bestowed them on friends of yours, you dismis
sed policemen because they opposed your orders to use cruel beatings in order to get confessions, and the list goes on. This will not do, Okata.” He paused. “You are dismissed.”
Okata blinked. “Dismissed?” he asked uncertainly. “You mean I can go?”
“No!” Akitada slammed his fist on his desk, making the ink stone and water flask jump and a stack of papers topple. “No,” he repeated more calmly. “I mean you are dismissed from your position as captain of the Hakata police force and as chief of police. My secretary has your final pay requisition slip. You need not return to your station. If you have property belonging to police headquarters, you will return it within a week. Now you may leave.”
Okata’s jaw sagged. He turned red and then purple and choked. Akitada was afraid he was having some sort of fit and would fall down dead before his eyes. But the man caught his breath and snarled, “You don’t have the power to dismiss me. I could have you arrested. We’ll see what Lord Fujiwara at Dazaifu has to say about this.” He flung about and rushed out, shoving Mori, who was waiting with his pay slip, violently aside.
Mori hit the wall with a thud and slipped down. Akitada jumped up to help him, but the old man staggered to his feet on his own. “I can’t say I like that man,” he commented, coming back into the office.
“Nor do I.” Mori’s mild comment had managed to defuse Akitada’s own fury. “Please draw up a formal appointment for Sergeant Maeda to replace Captain Okata. He will be the new police chief. Make the appointment and the new rank of lieutenant probationary. Tora has nothing but praise for Maeda, and there are no complaints filed against him. I’d like to see how he handles the job before we make it permanent.”
Mori smiled. “I know Sergeant Maeda and his family,” he said. “They’re good people. Maeda didn’t attend the university, but he excelled as a pupil in the local school. His people couldn’t afford to send him to the capital. This has hurt his chances.”
“Well, I could wish he had a better education, but it’s certainly preferable to have an honest, capable, and diligent chief of police than a learned one.”
*
The next day the weather turned bad. The world was cast into a gray twilight as the rain sheeted down. An air of hopelessness hung over the tribunal compound where the forecourt remained empty except for a large number of puddles. Everyone kept indoors.
Toward noon, a messenger from Maeda arrived with news. Mitsui had been tried and found guilty of murdering his wife. He was condemned to hard labor in the silver mines of Tsushima. It was a harsh sentence for an old man because he would not survive long. Still, since he had no chance of being pardoned, a quick death was thought to be preferable to years of suffering.
Tora looked uncharacteristically glum when he heard the news.
Akitada asked, “Why are you upset? It was a very violent crime. Surely you don’t think a mere prison sentence would have been enough?”
Tora shook his head. “I don’t know what I think, sir. Mitsui isn’t a likeable man. Nobody in that family deserves pity or respect. But I have an odd feeling we don’t know everything in this case. There’s something more to find out. And now the woman across the street from the Mitsuis just walked away from her marriage and disappeared. I talked to her a few days ago, and she didn’t strike me as the sort who would do such a thing.”
Akitada frowned. “Well, the Mitsui case is closed. If it makes you feel any better, go and ask a few questions about this missing woman.”
Tora sighed. “It must have been hard for Maeda to work under that bastard Okata.”
“Yes. The sins of superiors poison the staff. That is why we have a rigorous system of evaluation. But Maeda will have his reward.” He did not mention that his predecessor, Governor Tachibana, had given Okata excellent evaluations, while Okata had always reported mediocre performances for Maeda, listing a number of reprimands for insubordination.
An hour after Maeda’s message, a wet and bedraggled messenger arrived from Lord Fujiwara with the order for Akitada to report immediately to Dazaifu. Akitada looked out at the driving rain and then at the dripping soldier, and sighed.
“I have to go to Dazaifu, Mori,” he said. “I’ll try to be back by nightfall. If there is any trouble, Tora and Saburo will know what to do.”
*
Tora and Saburo offered to go with him, but since none of them knew the tribunal staff very well yet, they were needed here. Akitada changed into his good green brocade robe and white silk trousers. The proper court costume required on this occasion was singularly impractical for a ride through this downpour, but he could not afford to offend Fujiwara. He put on boots over his slippers, tucked his court hat into his sleeve, and covered himself with a straw raincoat and straw hat.
Thus attired, he mounted his horse and, accompanied by the muddy messenger, set out on the highway to Dazaifu.
There were fewer people traveling in this weather, but contingents of soldiers passed now and then, their trotting horses spattering Akitada. He tried to pull the straw coat over his white trousers, but the soaked straw resisted and hung more and more heavily on his shoulders. Since there was nothing to be gained from a slower pace, he drove his horse at a gallop most of the way. Nevertheless, when he dismounted in front of the administration hall and divested himself of the wet straw items and the boots, he found his fine robe wrinkled and water-stained where the rain had leaked through the straw, and dirt spatters on his white trousers. He put on his hat, the only item that had escaped a drenching, and walked to Lord Fujiwara’s office.
The servant glanced at his clothes and smirked, but he opened the door and announced, “Lord Sugawara, Your Excellency.”
Akitada went in and bowed. As last time, Fujiwara was at his desk, and his clerks and secretaries were at theirs. All stared.
Akitada cleared his throat. “Sorry, sir, but the weather is very bad.”
“If this is a complaint, you may forget it,” Fujiwara said coldly.
Akitada flushed and glanced at the clerks and secretaries. Such a tone to a senior official was highly improper in front of them. He said, “I beg your pardon?”
“I called you because Captain Okata was here. He claims you dismissed him.”
Akitada felt his anger choking him. He had not even been asked to sit down. He was here to be publicly reprimanded like a small boy who had broken a favorite dish. He glared at Fujiwara. “That is correct.”
“What possessed you to do such a high-handed thing? It is the function and privilege of this office to make senior appointments to the police and military of Kyushu. You had no right. I have reinstated Okata, who is a fine officer.”
The room swam before Akitada’s eyes. To be sure, Kyushu was a special case as administrative areas of the nation went, but surely a governor could not permit outside powers to interfere in the administration of his province? He tried to clear his head and review the laws applicable to provincial administrations. Commanding officers of the police were dispatched from the capital to the various provinces, but they served only with the approval of the governor.
Akitada bit his lip. “I regret Captain Okata rushed here before my report could reach you, sir. Okata was dismissed for cause. He has shown gross negligence in the past and is universally despised by the people in Hakata. There is reason to think he is responsible for a miscarriage of justice in a recent murder case where he suppressed evidence. In addition, he has proved to be impossible to work with, ignoring the Chikuzen tribunal completely and insulting its staff, including myself.”
Fujiwara frowned. Disrespect toward higher-ranking appointed officials was clearly a serious charge, more serious than miscarriage of justice, for example. He said, “Well, I expect you provoked him. He is rather set in his ways. I’ll have him apologize.”
“Sorry, sir. I will not work with Okata. He is dismissed. If you do not support me in this matter, I’ll resign.”
Silence. Everyone in the room held his breath.
Fujiwara woke belatedly to
the presence of his staff listening with avid ears to a confrontation between two ranking noblemen. He got up. “We’ll settle this in my study.”
Akitada followed him. In the private room, Fujiwara finally had the grace to gesture to a cushion. Akitada remained standing. “Thank you, but I prefer to stand. I shall not change my mind and see no point in a long discussion.”
Fujiwara stared at him. “You’re out of order, Sugawara. I’m your superior.”
“My apologies, my Lord, but I hold my appointment from His Majesty, just as you do. I have responsibilities and duties, just as you do. When these conflict, I must choose what most closely applies to my assignment. I would remind you I am evaluated each year. With Okata running the Hakata police, I cannot carry out my duties as governor. I must also remind you that I have received certain secret instructions which a man like Okata would jeopardize. Under the circumstances, I must stand by my decision.”
Fujiwara deflated with gratifying promptness. “Ah, well. There is the special assignment. Hmm, yes. I see your point, though I cannot imagine … never mind. Very well, have it your way. But the man will be your enemy, and he has friends and supporters. He may give you more trouble dismissed than he would as police chief.”
“I shall deal with him if he should be so foolish.”
Fujiwara pursed his lips. “If there’s trouble, I cannot give you any assistance, you know.”
“I know.”
A silence fell. Akitada thought bitterly that it was always thus with his superiors: they handed out difficult assignments but refused to become involved if problems arose. His wet trousers stuck uncomfortably to his legs and itched, reminding him of the miserable homeward journey.
He cleared his throat. “If I may be excused then?”
Fujiwara nodded. Akitada turned and started for the door when Fujiwara said, “Wait! I’m somewhat troubled by those reports concerning your predecessor. You received my messages?”
Akitada turned back. “Yes, I did. Since Lord Tachibana left two weeks before my arrival, and everybody seems to agree he took ship for home, I did not consider it my duty to search for him.”
