Flask of the Drunken Master (27 page)

Mina’s cheeks flushed red. “They planned to break the brewery doors and urinate into the casks. They thought if they ruined Ginjiro’s stock, he wouldn’t have the money to make repairs and cleanse the brewery—he would have to sell and allow my son to marry his daughter, Tomiko.

“I told them I disapproved of the plan and even threatened to tell Ginjiro. After that, Chikao agreed to abandon the idea. I believed him—he had never lied to me before.

“But then, the evening before Chikao died, I heard him talking with Ren and Kaoru. My husband had changed his mind. They were making final plans to vandalize Ginjiro’s brewery.

“I confronted my husband and told him what I heard. He explained that Kaoru owed more money than we knew—far more than this small brewery could pay. Without a successful place like Ginjiro’s, we would never pay off Kaoru’s debts. And without a wife who could run the business, Kaoru could never succeed once we were gone…” Mina trailed off.

After a brief silence she continued, “That very evening, a debt collector threatened to throw our son in prison unless we paid his debts at once.”

“So you agreed to go along with your husband’s plan,” Father Mateo said.

“I did not.” Mina straightened. “I love my son, but he made his own decisions, and no innocent man should suffer in his place. Unfortunately, Kaoru seemed determined to force his father to turn to vandalism.”

A creak behind them made Hiro shift position to watch the doorway.

Mina continued, “The last time we talked, Chikao promised to stop the plot, but since he died in Ginjiro’s alley, on the very night they planned to vandalize the brewery, I have to believe he did not keep his word.”

“Correct.” Ren appeared in the doorway. “Which is why Ginjiro killed him.”

Ren bowed to Hiro and Father Mateo. “Forgive my interruption.”

“How do you know what happened?” Hiro asked. “Did you go with Chikao that night?”

Ren shook his head. “I already told you, I was home in bed. Chikao tried to persuade me to attempt the vandalism, but I didn’t want to risk Ginjiro’s ruining our chances with the guild. The chance of someone seeing us or connecting us to the acts was far too high. I tried to persuade Chikao of that. Like Mina, I believed that I succeeded.”

“What about Kaoru?” Hiro asked. “Could he have changed his father’s mind?”

“He must have,” Ren said. “I know he tried. Kaoru said he would spend the early part of the evening in Pontocho, so people would see him there, and no one would suspect that he and Chikao committed the crime. He thought the customers here would vouch for his father.”

“So Kaoru planned to meet Chikao at Ginjiro’s that night, after closing?” Hiro asked.

“I didn’t know any of this,” Mina said, “but I don’t believe my husband went to vandalize the brewery. He took the money with him, which he wouldn’t do unless he meant to pay off Kaoru’s debt. At least, I want to believe that was his plan and that he changed his mind about the vandalism before he died.”

Father Mateo glanced at the service counter lined with wooden flasks. “You must have had a successful evening if the profits allowed a payment toward the debt.”

“We didn’t make that much,” Ren said. “Enough to make the initial payment Ginjiro demanded, but nothing more. Even for that, I had to give my half of the evening’s profits too.”

“I thought you disapproved of helping pay off Kaoru’s debts,” the shinobi said.

“I did,” Ren said, “but we couldn’t risk Ginjiro’s giving the brewers’ guild a bad report.”

“Chikao must have given up the plan,” Father Mateo said. “Otherwise, he wouldn’t have taken the money. Maybe a bandit killed him after all.”

“I don’t think so,” Ren replied. “Bandits use swords and daggers, not sake flasks.”

“True,” Hiro said. “But tell me: why didn’t you confess the plan to vandalize Ginjiro’s brewery sooner?”

“Would you have mentioned it in my place?” Ren asked. “To tell the truth, I’m ashamed we even considered it. I’m glad that Mina heard of it and stopped us. I got caught up in wanting something I didn’t have. When she made us stop and think, I realized it wasn’t worth the risk. I thought we could make this brewery work until we joined the guild, and then the guild could help us find a better place to purchase.”

“It didn’t occur to you that Kaoru might not have surrendered the plan?” Hiro asked.

“He said he agreed to abandon it,” Ren said, “and he sounded convincing.”

“We appreciate your honesty,” Hiro said. “We need to go.”

“I will escort the visitors out,” Ren said, turning toward the entry.

Mina bowed and started for the room where her husband’s body lay.

Hiro followed Father Mateo through the passage to the door. After the Jesuit left the building, Hiro turned to Ren. “Do you plan to attend Ginjiro’s trial this afternoon?”

“Someone should,” Ren said. “Kaoru is not reliable, and Mina doesn’t want to—”

“I will be there.” Kaoru stepped into view.

Hiro wondered where Chikao’s son had been during their conversation and how much he had overheard. Based on the angry look on the young man’s face, he had heard it all.

Kaoru scowled at Hiro. “I intend to watch my father’s killer die.”

*   *   *

Hiro and Father Mateo left the Lucky Monkey and turned north on the road that paralleled Pontocho.

The Jesuit shook his head. “We’re out of time. I really thought we’d find the killer and save Ginjiro.”

“We found the killer,” Hiro said.

Father Mateo stopped in the street. “But how? We don’t know for sure who killed Chikao.”

“I do,” Hiro said, “and now, I think I can prove it.”

Chapter 54

Hiro and Father Mateo stopped by Ginjiro’s brewery on their way to the magistrate’s compound. Tomiko stood in front of the shop, sweeping the street with a broom. She bowed as the men approached.

“Matsui-
san
,” Tomiko said, “please tell me you found a way to save my father. The magistrate’s hearing starts an hour from now.”

“Will you attend it?” Hiro asked.

“I wanted to, but I cannot.” Tomiko gripped the broom. “I cannot take my mother there and cannot leave her here alone.”

“Don’t feel bad,” Father Mateo said. “Your father did not want you to attend.”

“I still feel like a coward,” Tomiko said.

“Attendance is no reflection on your courage,” Hiro said, “and Ginjiro will worry less if he knows that your mother is safe. However, if you can manage it, I think your father would draw strength from your presence at his trial.”

Father Mateo shot Hiro a look. The shinobi hoped the priest wouldn’t argue. He wanted Tomiko present at the hearing. She deserved to hear the truth.

Ginjiro’s daughter blinked back tears. “If I don’t go, I will not get to say good-bye.” She set the broom against the wall and bowed. “I will find someone to watch my mother. Matsui-
san
, please save my father. I will be forever in your debt.”

*   *   *

Hiro and Father Mateo heard the crowd in the magistrate’s compound from almost a block away. Inside the wooden palisade, voices chattered and squawked like a murder of crows.

The
d
ō
shin
guarding the gates allowed the shinobi and the priest to pass in without question.

Hiro paused at the edge of the yard and surveyed the crowd. He never forgot his primary duty was still to protect the priest.

The crowd consisted primarily of merchants and the family members of persons standing trial for various crimes. A dozen armored samurai stood guard along the wall, mostly
d
ō
shin
, but also several with the Matsunaga crest. Hiro noticed the commoners edging away from the samurai. Not even the innocent ones felt comfortable standing close to the guards.

He scanned the crowd but saw no familiar faces. Ren and Kaoru wouldn’t arrive for several minutes more. He hoped Yoshiko would attend as well.

If she didn’t, his plan would need adjusting.

Hiro found Suke’s absence surprising. He hoped the monk was merely late and not passed out from drinking too much sake.

The magistrate would probably hear Ginjiro’s matter first. If the shogun wanted lessons taught, murder trials and executions offered the most persuasive ones.

Hiro caught Father Mateo’s eye and nodded toward the front of the crowd. The men moved forward together, commoners parting before them like the panels of a
noren
blown apart by stormy winds. They stood about a body length behind the sandy pit where prisoners would kneel during hearings.

As the
d
ō
shin
led a line of sorry prisoners toward the dais, a commotion at the gates made Hiro turn.

“You cannot keep us out!” Yoshiko’s voice echoed through the compound. “Let us through!”

The crowd grew silent. People turned.

Hiro left Father Mateo near the
shirazu
and hurried through the crowd. Once again, the packed-in commoners parted as he passed. No one blocked the path of a samurai.

At the gates, Yoshiko stood face to face with the
d
ō
shin
who guarded the compound. Beside the samurai woman, Tomiko stood as still and straight as an ancient cedar.

“This is no place for a girl,” the
d
ō
shin
said.

“She is a woman, not a girl,” Yoshiko snapped. “Her father is on trial today. You cannot bar her entry. Step aside!”

“Is this true?” The
d
ō
shin
asked Tomiko. “Is your father standing trial today?”

Ginjiro’s daughter nodded.

“Go home to your family,” the
d
ō
shin
said. “Why do you want to see your father die?”

“That is not your business,” Yoshiko said. “Let us through, or arrest us and let the magistrate decide.”

She took Tomiko’s arm and started past the
d
ō
shin
. To Hiro’s surprise, he let the women pass.

“Who’s next?” The samurai glared at the line of people near the entrance. “Make it quick, the hearing starts in minutes!”

The guard had no authority to keep Tomiko out. Hiro interpreted his words as a vain attempt to save the girl the pain of watching her father’s condemnation. Dislike for bullies notwithstanding, he agreed. Ginjiro’s daughter didn’t need to see her father stand before the magistrate. However, Hiro knew something the other samurai didn’t. Tomiko needed to be there, to ensure an innocent person didn’t die.

Before Hiro could catch Yoshiko’s eye, a
yoriki
emerged from the magistrate’s office, walked to the dais, and glared at the crowd.

Hiro hurried to rejoin the priest before the hearing started.

“Magistrate Ishimaki will hear the afternoon cases now!” the
yoriki
called above the chattering voices. “Silence! Show respect for the magistrate!”

The commoners knelt and bowed their heads to the ground as Magistrate Ishimaki emerged from the building and made his way to the dais. Ishimaki-
san
wore a black kimono and a pair of expensive swords in decorative scabbards. His bald head gleamed in the midday sun as he climbed the three low wooden stairs and knelt on a white tatami atop the dais.

Hiro considered how different the afternoon sessions seemed from the morning hearings held inside the magistrate’s private office. Wealthy men and samurai could speak their claims in private, while the commoners faced justice in the open.

Magistrate Ishimaki arranged his robes and looked at the
yoriki,
who moved to stand beside the pit of sand.

“Call the first prisoner,” the magistrate said.

The
yoriki
unrolled a scroll. “A capital crime. Ginjiro, a sake brewer, accused of murder.” He looked to the right of the dais, where Ginjiro waited with the other prisoners.

The magistrate nodded. “Bring the accused man forward.”

Chapter 55

Two
d
ō
shin
brought Ginjiro to the sand. The brewer walked with his head hung low and his arms and legs bound tightly by elaborately knotted ropes. Ginjiro’s stained kimono bore a filthy witness to his time in prison.

When they reached the
shirazu
, the guards took hold of Ginjiro’s arms and lowered the brewer to his knees in the sand.

Ginjiro bowed his head before the magistrate.

“I will read the charge.” The
yoriki
’s voice rang out across the yard. “This man, Ginjiro, murdered a fellow brewer during an argument over a debt.”

“How do you answer the charge?” the magistrate asked.

Ginjiro raised his head. “I am not guilty.”

“Not guilty?” Magistrate Ishimaki looked surprised.

“That is correct,” Ginjiro said. “I did not kill Chikao.”

The magistrate’s forehead wrinkled in consternation. “Can you prove this?”

Hiro stepped forward. “I can prove it.”

The magistrate’s eyes widened. “Matsui Hiro? You are the man investigating the crime?”

Magistrate Ishimaki looked out at the crowd, but didn’t seem to find the face he sought. His gaze returned to Hiro. “The
yoriki
mentioned seeing you at the murder scene. I should have guessed that you were the one Ginjiro’s family asked for help.”

Hiro bowed. “Yes, Ishimaki-
san
.”

The magistrate leaned forward. “Tell me what you learned.”

“I object!” Kaoru pushed his way through the crowd. Ren followed close behind him.

Kaoru pointed at Ginjiro. “That man killed my father. This …
ronin
 … wants to interfere.”

“On the contrary,” Hiro said, “I wish to see the murderer brought to justice.”

Magistrate Ishimaki shifted his gaze from Hiro to Kaoru as if weighing each man’s words. At last he said, “Matsui-
san
will speak.” He looked at Kaoru and added, “You may speak when Matsui-
san
has finished. I wish to hear all the facts before I render a decision.”