Death of a Doll Maker (12 page)

“You slept next to your dead wife? In her blood?” Tora’s disbelief was palpable.

Mitsui’s face crumpled. “I can’t help it,” he cried. “I didn’t know she was dead.” Tears appeared in his red-rimmed eyes.

“You must have been blind drunk.” Tora snarled.

Mitsui stopped bawling and hiccupped. “I did stop for a cup or two on the way,” he muttered.

Maeda moved impatiently. “What happened to the knife? We looked. There was no such knife in your house or outside it.”

Mitsui’s eyes went around the cell as if he could make the knife reappear. “They must’ve taken it. I don’t know where it is.”

Tora said, “Your wife Mei had received five pieces of gold the day before she died. What happened to the money?”

Mitsui stared at him. “Five pieces of gold? That’s crazy. She got twenty coppers a month for cleaning the Hayashis’ house. I told her they’d pay more if she wasn’t such a lazy cow.”

“Nice!” muttered Tora in disgust, and turned away.

“We’ll be back, Mitsui,” said Maeda. “You’d better think long and hard about what you did, or the guards will use the whips again.”

Mitsui moaned.

Outside, Maeda said, “I’m sorry you had to see the jail. As for Mitsui, I suspect he’s stubborn rather than confused about that day.”

“He’s a bastard of a husband. I wouldn’t put murder past him. Are we going to talk to the neighbors now?”

“Yes. We’ll see the ones we didn’t get a chance to question.” Maeda sighed. “It’s about as stubborn a case as I’ve ever seen. We have nothing so far.”

*

They returned to the street where the murder had occurred, but this time Maeda pounded on a gate directly across from the Mitsuis.

Nothing happened for a long time, then a woman’s voice asked from the other side, “What do you want?”

“Police. Open up.”

There was a short delay, then the bar scraped back and the gate opened, revealing a young woman’s face with bright black eyes, red cheeks, and two glossy wings of hair framing it. She smiled at Maeda, and dimples appeared in her cheeks.

Tora gave a silent whistle and grinned. So this was the slut.

Her eyes went to him and widened a little. “How nice!” she said softly, looking from one to the other. “I’ve been wishing for company. Come in, my dears, come in.” She took Maeda’s sleeve and pulled him inside. Tora followed eagerly. She slammed the gate shut. “That’ll make the old hags happy,” she said with a giggle. “They’ll talk about it for weeks.”

Maeda cleared his throat. “I’m here on police business.”

She cocked her head and put her hands at her small waist. “Of course you are, my dear, but they don’t know that. They’d much rather think something else.”

Maeda shook his head and sighed. “You’ll be the death of me yet, Yoko. I’m a married man and a public servant. All right, let’s go inside. I want to know what you can tell me about the Mitsuis across the street.”

She glanced at Tora. “Who’s your friend? Is he a public servant, too?”

Tora bowed. “I’m Tora and always at the service of beautiful ladies.”

“He works for the governor and he’s married, too,” Maeda said with a reproving glance.

She laughed. “Well, so am I. Come in, you two. You’ll be safe enough.”

Tora doubted it very much as he walked behind her, watching her shapely bottom wiggle on the way into the house. “Where’s your husband?” he asked.

She cast a look at him over her shoulder. “At work. All day, every day. He’s a city clerk. They keep him busy, and he likes shuffling papers and wielding his brush. I swear the smell of ink turns the man on. The gods know I don’t.”

Given Yoko’s reputation, the large room she took them to was a surprise in its cleanliness. She placed some colorful cushions and brought wine and three cups.

“Not for me,” said Maeda stiffly.

“Thanks,” said Tora, giving her his widest grin. She rewarded him with a full cup and lingering smile.

Maeda cleared his throat. “About the Mitsuis. I suppose you heard the wife was murdered?”

“Oh, yes.” She detached her eyes reluctantly from Tora’s. “Your constable told me. He also took some liberties.” She put a hand to her bosom and blushed. Both Tora and Maeda looked at her firm, round breasts.

Maeda flushed and looked away quickly, but Tora grinned and let his eyes drift from the breasts to the small waist and the round hips and thighs.

Without looking at her, Maeda asked, “Did you see anyone go into the Mitsuis’ house between the hours of the horse and the boar?”

“I don’t watch my neighbors,” she said. “I did hear Mitsui’s cart, I think. It must’ve been about the hour of the boar. And I heard a door slam earlier. The next morning, all hell broke loose on the street. Constables everywhere.”

“Thank you.” Maeda was on his feet. “Unless you have any other pertinent information, we’ll be on our way.”

Tora cleared his throat. “We barely got here, Maeda. I haven’t had a chance to question this important witness.”

Maeda frowned, but he sat back down.

Yoko giggled. She refilled Tora’s cup. “I can see you’re much more dedicated to your work than the sergeant,” she purred, handing it to him with another melting glance.

Tora returned the glance with interest. “Thank you, but I’m still a stranger. I have to ask more questions than the sergeant. So tell me, what were the Mitsuis like?”

She pursed her lips. “They were dull and crabby. Most people around here are.”

“It must be hard for a young, fun-loving girl like you.”

“You have no idea how lonely it is for me, Tora.”

Maeda jumped up again. “I’ve got to get back to the station. See you later, Tora. Or tomorrow, as the case may be.” And he was gone, slamming the front gate behind him.

“The poor man’s henpecked,” Yoko said with a giggle. “By his wife
and
by his captain.”

“Gossip can hurt a policeman’s career. I don’t have such worries.” Tora emptied his cup and extended it.

“I’m glad.” She poured and raised the cup to her lips before passing it to him.

“Ah,” he said, his eyes on her moist lips. “Lucky cup.”

A short silence fell as they gazed deeply into each other’s eyes. She reached across to touch his cheek. “I like you. I want you to come back, but today’s not a good day.”

Tora set down the wine untasted. “Do you want me to leave?”

“In a little. I’m truly sorry, Tora.”

She looked sorry, and Tora was satisfied she had given the gossips cause for their name-calling. But he had a soft spot for sluts and was by no means averse to returning another day. So he nodded and said, “I’d better ask the rest of my questions quickly. What about the Mitsui children?”

She frowned. “I’ve never seen the daughter. The son comes sometimes to see the father. His stepmother cleans other people’s houses when she’s not dressing those dolls. They’re poor. You’d think his children would help out.”

“My thought exactly. Do you have children?”

She shook her head. “No.” She sounded sad and a little angry.

“I’m sorry. But you’re still young.”

She said bitterly, “I’m young, but my husband is old. Like Mrs. Mitsui, I’m the second wife. My husband has grown children and doesn’t care much for making the wind and the rain.”

This left Tora speechless. He quickly drank down the wine and sighed.

She tossed her head. “Never mind. At least my husband doesn’t beat me and make me work for others.” She looked down at her pretty dress and smoothed it over her thighs.

Tora got up. “I bet you make your husband happy,” he said awkwardly.

She was all smiles again. “I get lonely sometimes. Promise you’ll come back, Tora?”

Tora hesitated, then nodded,

11

A CHILD’S CRY IN THE NIGHT

“A
re we almost done, Mori?” Akitada closed another document box and rubbed his tired eyes.

“Only one more,” said the old clerk. “It could wait till tomorrow.”

“No. Give it here.” With a sigh, Akitada delved into another box of tax-grain accounts for the various districts of Chikuzen. Sometime later a scratching at the door interrupted him. Mori shuffled over, opened the door a crack and whispered, “What do you want?”

Koji, newly assigned as houseboy in hopes that he would find it less confusing than gate guard duty or cleaning out the stables, stammered, “Zorry, Master Mori. Very zorry to make a disturbance. Knowin’ as I am that it’s forbidden to come scratchin’ at this door, mornin’ or night. Not even to ask questions is allowed. But I’m not askin’. And it’s not night yet.”

“Spit it out,” hissed Mori. “What do you want?”

“Nothin’, Master Mori. I’m not askin’ questions.”

“Come in, Koji,” Akitada interrupted this hopeless exchange.

Mori opened the door a little wider. Koji stepped in, grinned widely, and bowed. “How you doin’ today, governor zir?”

Mori muttered, “Kneel!” and kicked Koji’s ankle.

Koji turned in astonishment. “What you kick me for?”

Akitada asked, “What brings you here, Koji?”

Koji bobbed another bow. “Very zorry about disturbin’ you, zir, but zomeone’s come. Very important man.”

Mori gasped and ran out.

“Did he say who he is?”

“Yes, he’s the mayor, beggin’ pardon.”

“Thank you, Koji. I think Mori has gone to bring him in. You may return to your duties.”

Koji grinned more widely, sketched a salute he must have copied from the gate guards, and dashed out.

Mori returned, bringing with him Mayor Nakamura.

“Very happy to find you in, Excellency.” The mayor was resplendent in blue silk, fastened across his belly with a brocade sash. “I was passing through Minami and decided to give myself the pleasure of calling on you myself.”

Akitada rose to his feet. “You are honoring me, Mayor. Please sit down. Some wine?”

“No, no. I must dash on, and I see you’re busy. I just stopped by to extend my invitation to a little entertainment I shall arrange to welcome your Excellency to Chikuzen. Since you couldn’t stop when you first arrived, I hope to correct the situation. Would tomorrow night be convenient?”

Akitada heard the implied complaint. He did not relish formal banquets, but they were part and parcel of public administration, and clearly his high-handed refusal to dine with the local dignitaries had upset them. He said, “How very kind. It would suit me perfectly. I regret deeply my rushed arrival the other day. The late hour and urgent state of affairs made it necessary. You may have heard about the chaotic situation I found?”

The mayor relaxed a little and glanced about. “Yes, I heard. Shocking! Thieves stripped your quarters? I did notice the lack of amenities. You must let me know what is needed and it shall be supplied.”

Akitada disliked accepting gifts which might obligate him. “Thank you for the generous offer, but we have already recovered most of the furniture. We will manage quite well for the time being.”

The mayor studied the room again and shook his head. “Well, I’ll look forward to receiving you tomorrow then.” He bowed.

When the mayor had left, Akitada returned to his work. But the visit had broken his concentration. The invitation was to make up for a missed meeting between himself and the Hakata notables, and he doubted the mayor had merely been passing by on another errand. No, the man had wanted to see for himself how he was coping, and he had taken pleasure in expressing his disapproval of the new governor’s behavior.

When it was fully dark, Koji returned to announce that dinner was ready.

Akitada closed the document box and said, “I’ll eat in my rooms, Koji. Thank you, Mori. We’ll continue tomorrow.”

He was walking down the dark passage toward his quarters, when a stranger suddenly stepped from one of the rooms. Akitada jumped back, his heart in his throat. He reached for the sword he was not wearing. Angry at himself and the stranger who had somehow managed to get into the building, he demanded, “Who are you? What do you want?”

The intruder made a hissing sound, then said in Saburo’s voice, “I do beg your pardon, sir. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Akitada’s relief was instant, but irritation followed, though he was mainly angry at himself. “What the devil are you doing with a beard, Saburo?”

“My disguise, sir. I thought it best if people don’t recognize me as your retainer.”

“Hmm. Yes. I see your point. Come into my room so I can get a better look at you.”

An oil lamp lit his study, making it almost cozy. He had arranged his trunk, his books, his sword stand and sword, and his writing box along the bare walls and on the few pieces of furniture. Now he took up the oil lamp to study Saburo’s appearance.

If Saburo had not spoken earlier, Akitada would still not have recognized him. A close-trimmed beard and mustache hid the worst scars of his lower face completely. The one damaged eye still had a cast, but this gave him merely a somewhat rakish appearance.

“I’m stunned,” he said. “Saburo, you’re quite handsome.”

The compliment astonished Saburo to such an extent that his eye started rolling again. “H-handsome, sir?” he asked, flushing.

“Have you looked in a mirror?”

“Why, yes. I had to, to glue on all this hair.”

“Can you control your eye the way you did before?”

“A little. I’ve been practicing.”

Akitada smiled. “Well,” he said, “the disguise is perfect. By the time my four years here are up, nobody in the capital will recognize poor Saburo.”

Saburo looked down. “Don’t joke, sir.”

“I’m not joking. You should consider growing that beard and mustache, but at the moment it’s better if you remain two different men.”

“Of course. I came to tell you I’m off to Hakata. To check on Hayashi. Anything else you’d like me to take a look at?”

“Well, the harbor. I suspect there are smugglers. And I’m interested in the shop of the merchant Feng. He employs a big brute with a broken nose and two fingers missing on his right hand. He has the look of a thug and made me wonder what sort of business Feng is engaged in.”

*

Saburo decided to check out Feng’s store first. It was not quite dark yet, and he wanted a good look at the premises from the outside. He saw immediately that they favored a clandestine visit. There were no living quarters for the owner above the store. Of course, this did not eliminate the possibility of an employee sleeping there at night. And such an amount of costly merchandise would require very careful locking-up at night.