Death of a Doll Maker (8 page)

Maeda laughed. “They’re not bad people, you know. The last governor treated them like scum. They were owed for many months of work and then he dismissed them. Either anger or desperation drove them to it, as the case may be. I had a word with the headman. Did they offer to come back to work?”

“They did, and my master approved. But we are to keep an eye on them.”

Maeda laughed again. “I like your boss. I like you, too, for getting me out of doing the reports. Shall we go see the Mitsui children?”

“Why not?” Tora looked forward to the visit. “Do they know what happened?”

“Oh, yes. Word travels fast. But I thought I’d better talk to them myself, and the longer we wait the more time they’ll have to make up lies.” Maeda grinned. “The daughter’s called Atsuko. She married a shrine priest. The son is Hiroshi. He’s working as a porter at the Hakozaki harbor and may have met his father on the day of the murder. We’ll see her first. Her brother will be at work.”

“Who benefits from the mother’s death? Did she have any money or property?”

“You saw their house. They’re poor. In fact, I’ve been wondering why the children haven’t helped their parents out. My friend with the tiny trees said Mitsui’s wife had to take a job cleaning a merchant’s house.”

“Yes. That’s right.” Tora thought about it. “Atsuko means ‘kind child’, but this daughter doesn’t seem to live up to her name. Children should honor their parents. It’s unfeeling to ignore them.”

Maeda nodded.

Tora was looking about him as they walked. “Mitsui’s wife was Chinese,” he said. “Are there many rich Chinese here?”

“Oh no. Most of them are as poor as our people, just scraping by like old Mitsui and his wife. But some have found good fortune here. They’re silk merchants or deal in spices, medicines, religious objects, and art. All of it brought here from China or Koryo, as the case may be. There’s great demand for such things.”

“I thought trade with China was illegal.”

“Not all of it. The last governor was a good customer of Merchant Feng. Feng’s shop is over there. He sells silk and paintings from China.”

They were walking along Hakata’s main thoroughfare. To their right was a long one-story building with a tiled roof and ornately carved window screens. The name “Feng” was inscribed in a large black character on the red lacquer sign above the door. The open shutters revealed dim spaces inside, and two brawny men stood guard on either side of the entrance.

Tora eyed the place with interest. He noticed that the guards and several people on the street wore strange clothes—long narrow pants under slender belted robes that had slits up the sides. On their heads they had square black cloth caps unlike those worn by his own people. He asked, “Are you sure they don’t sell smuggled goods?”

“The harbor police deals with smugglers, but Chinese ships come right into the harbor. There are smugglers, but mostly in Satsuma and Osumi provinces.”

The shrine priest’s house was on the outskirts of Hakata in a neat and substantial compound. Presumably, Mitsui’s daughter had no need for her parents’ money or property. They were admitted by a woman servant.

The priest, a gray-haired man called Kuroda, received them in his study. “Ah, Maeda,” he said with a sigh. “I’ve been expecting you. How are you? The maid says you wish to see my wife also?”

Tora recognized the priest, who had been part of the reception committee, and the priest recognized Tora. They bowed to each other. “I’m honored,” said Kuroda, looking from Tora to Maeda and back but sounding not in the least honored. “Has what happened to Mitsui’s wife attracted the attention of the governor?”

“Not quite,” Maeda said gravely. “Perhaps your lady had best be called, sir.”

The priest shot him a suspicious glance. “If you insist, but this is very unusual under the circumstances.” He sent for his wife.

The woman who came was quite beautiful, many years younger than her husband, and dressed in the full Japanese robes of stiff silk, but over them she wore an embroidered Chinese jacket which would have tempted an imperial lady. She did not look particularly distraught.

“Sergeant Maeda and an, er, official from the governor’s office want to speak to you,” her husband told her.

She eyed them placidly.

Maeda looked uncomfortable and cleared his throat. “It’s about your mother, Mrs. Kuroda. I’m afraid it’s complicated.” He paused.

She stared at him with a frown.

“Perhaps you should sit down. No? I’m sorry to tell you that she died from a very violent attack.”

The news had little effect on the beautiful Mrs. Kuroda. She nodded and said, “The woman who died is not my mother. My father married again. It was some hoodlum, I suppose. I take it my father is seeing to the arrangements?”

Tora cleared his throat. “I’m afraid your father has been arrested for her murder,” he told her bluntly. “We’re here to ask you some questions about your parents.”

The priest gasped, turned pale, and sat down abruptly. “Arrested for murder? How terrible! What happened? A quarrel? An accident?” He gasped again and put a hand over his eyes. “My dear, some water. I feel faint.”

His wife turned on her heel and left the room.

Tora and Maeda exchanged looks.

“Did the Mitsuis have frequent quarrels?” Maeda asked the priest.

“How should I know? I rarely saw them. This is dreadful. A shrine priest cannot afford scandal.”

The wife returned with a cup and handed it to her husband. “What happened to my father’s wife?” she asked Maeda.

“She was stabbed many times while she slept. Your father claims he’s innocent. He says he wasn’t home, and someone must’ve broken in.”

“Then why is he in jail?” she demanded.

“There’s no sign anyone broke in, and he was covered with her blood.”

She shuddered. “Horrible. It doesn’t feel real. Such things happen to other people.”

“Did you visit your father’s house regularly?” Tora asked.

“What do you mean by that?”

“You’re his daughter. Surely you visited. Maybe they both came here to visit.”

“No.”

“No?”

The priest put his cup down and struggled to his feet with his wife’s help. He said, “The Mitsuis lead very busy lives, and so do we. Different lives, I mean. If he says someone else murdered his wife, it must be so. You must find that murderer.”

Tora frowned. “You mean to tell us neither of you had contact with them at all? Didn’t you know they were badly off?”

The priest blustered. “If they were in want, they should have come to us. They didn’t.”

Maeda asked, “Was there perhaps a disagreement between your families?”

“Of course not,” snapped the priest.

“But your wife doesn’t seem particularly troubled,” Tora pointed out. “What about her relationship with her father? Or her father’s wife?”

She glared at him. “You have no right to judge me. I left home when I married, that’s all. I went to see them a couple of times at the New Year, but she was always busy with those dolls. She had her life, and I have mine. And my father favored by brother.”

Tora was troubled by this lack of feeling. “When did you see her last? Did she tell you she had to clean other people’s houses?”

Mitsui’s daughter exchanged a glance with her husband. “Yes, I knew. She went on and on about all the fine things in Hayashi’s house. She and her friend enjoyed working there.” She paused and bit her lip. As if it explained everything, she added, “They were Chinese.”

Before Tora could voice an opinion on a daughter’s duty to her parent, Maeda asked, “This friend of hers? She worked there also? What’s her name?”

This baffled her. “I don’t remember the names of maids.”

Maeda ended the visit, practically pulling Tora from the shrine priest’s house. Outside, he said, “Tora, you must curb your tongue. It’s best to make people feel at ease when you want information.”

“Sorry. You’re right, but I couldn’t help it. That woman is a she-devil, and her husband’s not much better. I’ll watch myself in the future. Let’s go find the friend next. Something isn’t right about this.”

The Hayashi house was a fitting residence for an important guild official. It had its own compound and small garden behind. Maeda got his information from a servant.

Yes, a Chinese woman by the name of Mei worked there, but she hadn’t shown up for work. They also had another Chinese woman by the name of Suyin, family name Zhou, but she couldn’t be spared during working hours.

Maeda did not press the issue. They headed back and entered the Chinese quarter. This was near the harbor but had its own moat and dirt walls. They passed through a substantial gate and found themselves in a warren of streets and houses built so closely together Tora could not tell where one began and another ended. He thought the many walls, some dirt and some wood or bamboo, enclosed other dwellings within them. Each unit seemed to enclose a small village of houses.

When he commented on this, Maeda said, “They have large families, and all stay together.”

The Chinese men wore tight, slit robes with narrow sleeves. The women put their hair in braids or buns on the back of their heads and some piled it high on top. Most struck Tora as plain, with flat, coarse faces and round bodies, but there were one or two young girls who were charming and graceful. The cut of the women’s clothes was straight and narrow like the men’s, but they wore skirts under the slit tunics. Their language sounded harsh and animal-like to his ears. He walked and stared, and once he laughed out loud, and Maeda gave him a look.

Tora sniffed the air. “It smells delicious. And it’s past time for the midday rice. How about sampling the local fare? I’ll pay.”

Maeda chuckled. “Either you’ve won a wager or your pay’s better than mine, as the case may be. Though come to think of it, your pay must be better. You’re the governor’s executive officer.”

Tora snorted. “As for that, I’ve yet to see a copper of it.”

They ate in a large Chinese restaurant called Golden Dragon near the harbor. To Tora’s surprise, the guests occupied wooden chairs like those of Buddhist abbots. Tora sat down, shifted his bottom around a bit, and grinned. “I could get used to this. It feels a little stiff, but you don’t have to worry about getting up and down and it keeps your robe out of the dirt.”

He was even more enthusiastic when the food arrived and he sampled. The noodle soup was particularly rich and delicious. “What’s this?” Tora asked, raising a pale succulent sliver with his chopsticks.

“Chicken.”

“May the Buddha forgive me for eating an animal.” He chewed and smacked his lips.

“Wait until you taste the pork dumplings.” Maeda held one out between his chopsticks.

“Are you sure it’s safe?”

“Taste it.”

The dumpling was the best thing Tora had ever put in his mouth. “Oh, I know I’ll go straight to hell for this. How do they manage all this killing of animals when it comes to their souls?”

“Buddhism isn’t very popular with the Chinese. They’re mostly devout followers of Master Kung-fu-tse.”

Tora ordered another plate of dumplings. “My master will like this. He’s not altogether convinced the Buddhist priests are right. By the way, how’s your prisoner?”

“Mitsui’s weeping and shaking like a leaf. He’s sure he’s going to the mines for the rest of his life. Or worse, as the case may be.”

“What’s worse than working in the mines?” Tora recalled conditions in the penal colony of Sado and shuddered.

“You know about mines?”

“Yes. My master was in one on Sado Island.”

Maeda stopped chewing. “You’re pulling my leg. He’s a nobleman, isn’t he?”

“Yes. But it’s the truth. I swear. He was pretending to be a convict to check into a murder there. He escaped. Barely.”

Maeda shook his head in amazement as he thought about this. “He must be a very brave man. You may have a point about mines being worse than a quick death. Here it’s cheaper to lose a prisoner while rowing him across the bay to the convict boat. Being chained hand and foot hampers the swimming.”

“That’s horrible. Is there a lot of crime in Hakata?”

“Not so you’d know. But plenty of bodies wash up. Okata enters them as accidental drownings.”

“What? Doesn’t a coroner look at them first? You
do
have a coroner?”

“Yes, a good one. Doc Fujita’s a trained physician. That reminds me. He had a look at Mrs. Mitsui. She had twenty-four stab wounds, most to the chest and belly, but also several to the face. Some cuts were very deep. Fujita says the knife was sharp and more than the length of a hand. She bled to death.”

Tora nodded. “It sounds either personal or the work of a madman. A husband might’ve done it in a fit of anger.”

“I took him back to the house and made him check if anything was gone. He said their big knife is missing. It’s about the right length. He insists the killer must’ve got in and used the knife to kill her.”

“Any signs of someone breaking in? She’d gone to bed.”

“No, but he says she would’ve left the door unlocked for him.”

“Careless. So what now?”

“Hmm. If he’s innocent, I suppose we are left with a madman.”

“Oh well, that narrows it down.” Tora looked disgusted and poured himself some more tea. It was sweetened with honey, and he thought it a very acceptable substitute for wine.

Maeda waved a waiter over to order another dish, which appeared in the form of fluffy objects like tiny hairy pillows.

“Golden Dragon’s Beard,” said Maeda. “Try it. It’s sweeter than honey.”

Tora eyed the hairy objects with a shudder. “Thanks, I’m too full.”

Maeda picked up a pillow, tearing it into sticky pieces before putting them into his mouth. He rolled his eyes and rubbed his belly. Tora decided the hairy things couldn’t be too bad and took a small bite from another pillow. The sticky strands separated and stuck to his chin.

Maeda laughed and reached across to wipe Tora’s chin. “Tigers don’t have beards in my experience.”

They finished the sweet with sticky fingers and faces, but the waiter brought bowls of warm water to wash off the remnants of the meal.

Tora burped with satisfaction. “Best meal I’ve ever had. I’m beginning to like our Chinese neighbors.”