Rashomon Gate (18 page)

After a little, the music ended and there was some subdued talk. Embarrassed, Akitada rose, cleared his throat and went to greet the music teacher.

Sato was again with a woman, this one older and more elegant than the murdered girl. They had not heard him, and this time surely there was no doubt that the teacher and his visitor were lovers. Both were seated cross-legged, their lutes resting in their laps, and their heads inclined towards each other. But it was more than their physical proximity to each other. They exchanged soft glances and the woman reached out to caress Sato's cheek.

Taken aback, Akitada retreated, but he had already been seen. The couple jerked apart, staring at him. Making a bow, Akitada apologized for his intrusion. The woman blushed and assumed a more decorous kneeling posture. Her beauty, though mature, was poignant. Akitada explained lamely, "I heard the music and could not resist it."

"It's a holiday," snapped Sato angrily. "Don't you have a private life?"

The woman got up with her lute and slipped out without a word or gesture to either of them.

"I am sorry," Akitada said again, looking after her. "Believe me, if you are worried about my complaining about your private lessons, your secret is safe with me. But this lady played so well that she can hardly be your pupil." He flushed, thinking how this must sound to Sato.

Sato looked at him without expression. "She is a fellow musician and acquaintance who dropped by for a chat," he said. When Akitada made a move to leave also, Sato became hospitable. "Will you take some wine?"

Somewhat surprised, Akitada accepted readily. Sato was an interesting enigma. Akitada sipped his wine and said, "I assume the police captain has talked to you about the girl who was murdered in the park. Could you provide him with a name?"

"Yes. Her name's Omaki. I had to go and identify her body. Poor little wench!" Sato took a big gulp of his wine. "I suppose I've got you to thank for the police interest?"

Akitada met his eyes calmly. "I am afraid it was unavoidable. My servant and I found her, and I remembered meeting her with you."

Sato looked away. "Yes, I see. I suppose it couldn't be helped. She was a silly girl, but she didn't deserve to die so young." He grimaced. "It was a bit embarrassing, though. I met her in the Willow Quarter."

"She was a prostitute?"

"Not everybody in the Willow Quarter is a prostitute," snapped Sato angrily. But he calmed down quickly and sighed. "Poor Omaki. She was training to become an entertainer. If you ask me, she was on her way to becoming a prostitute when she died. It was her karma. Her father's a poor man, an umbrella maker called Hishiya. They live in the sixth ward. The mother had died and he remarried. It's the usual story: the second wife did not get along with the grown daughter. The girl threatened to sell herself to a brothel rather than stay home as a servant to the new wife. The father, who's a decent man, came to me one evening. Told me the girl played the lute and asked if I could get her a job. I listened to her play. She was untrained but not bad. The long and the short of it was that we made an arrangement by which I got her a job in a place I know, and she paid me for a few lessons. She learned quickly. Anyone else would have succeeded. But for her? All wasted! Poor silly chit!"

He filled his cup again, drank deeply, and stared out the door. Akitada sipped his wine slowly. He did not believe either the sentiments or explanations. Sato had become positively chatty. The man's behavior, his reputation, the fleshy, sensuous lips and soulful eyes— all were at odds with the detachment he pretended. No, Sato was a womanizer, perhaps a murderer, not a humanitarian.

"Did you know of anything that might help the police find her killer?" Akitada asked.

Sato shook his head. "I doubt it. I knew she was with child, foolish girl. That meant the end of her career just as it was starting. But she didn't seem to care. When I asked her about the child's father and her plans, she closed up. Actually, if anything, she seemed more cheerful, or excited, than before." He paused and thought. "There was one thing I told that captain. I saw her with one of the students here. Maybe that young rascal was the father of her child. He used to moon about the place where she worked. Damned youngsters ought to keep their heads in their books! Though this particular one was hardly a dashing figure. Can't imagine what she saw in him!"

There was a sharp twanging sound, and Akitada's eyes went to the music teacher's hands. They were clenched tightly around the neck of the lute. Sato followed his glance and immediately relaxed his long fingers. They looked powerful from twisting tight lute strings, and agile from many hours of practice. Powerful and agile enough to twist a piece of silk around a woman's neck and strangle her to death?

"Oh, I can see what's going through your mind," Sato said angrily. "It wasn't my brat and I had nothing to do with her death. And having said that much, I have no intention of pursuing the subject."

Akitada reddened, disclaimed such suspicions, and changed the subject to the previous evening. But his comments about Oe's argument with Fujiwara seemed to irritate Sato more. He growled, "I wasn't there, and I don't care a monkey's fart what that bastard Oe does. Serves him right, if he made a mess of himself." Grasping his lute, he got to his feet.

It was a signal that the conversation was over. Akitada rose also and left to return to his room, where he found a bleary-eyed Tora waiting for him.

"You look terrible," Akitada said sourly, eyeing Tora's unshaven chin, his dishevelled hair and the bloodshot eyes. "Where have you been? Have you had any sleep?"

"None at all!" Tora grinned. "Sleep isn't everything. As you'd find out if you tried it. You know, you should sleep with a woman more often. It may not be restful, but it's a great deal better than sleeping alone. Not having a woman saps a man's vital essence after a while. I may look worse than you, but my vital essence is in top shape, thanks to the prettiest and most talented female you ever saw. Oh, what a body that girl has . . . and the things she does with it! There's a position she calls 'monkeys swinging from a branch' where she—"

"Enough!" Akitada roared in a sudden fury. "Watch your tongue when you speak to me! And spare me the details of your sordid affairs! Seimei is quite right. I have spoiled you. Your excessive familiarity is beginning to grate. And now you are becoming insolent. Not only do you lack all respect for your betters, but you don't seem to do much work. Why did you not return to the house last night and report to your mistress for your duties this morning?"

Tora gaped at his master speechlessly.

"My mother complained about you," blustered Akitada, "and I did not know what to say. Be careful! If you try my patience too much, I shall abandon you to the streets."

Looking pale, Tora scrambled to his feet. "I'll go right now, sir," he mumbled, eyes averted and his voice tight with shock.

Immediately ashamed of his outburst, Akitada bit his lip. "Well, er, maybe you'd better wait a little before showing up at home. Er . . . do you know anything about building kites?"

"Making kites? Of course! And flying them! When I was a kid, I was champion in my village two years running. Why?"

"Some of the younger students are making kites in the dormitory courtyard. I think they must plan to fly them today. There is a good breeze for it. I want you to go over and talk to the Minamoto boy. He is probably still on the veranda pretending to read a book. You might see if you can get him interested in kites."

"A boy who's not interested in kites? You must be joking!" Tora paused abruptly and said, "I beg your pardon, sir. I'll take care of that right away." He rushed out, then stuck his head back in. "Oh, I forgot. I've solved your other case for you. The dead girl's name is Omaki. She played the lute in one of the wine houses in the Willow Quarter until she was fired."

"I know, and that hardly solves the case," Akitada said. Tora's face fell. Hanging his head, he turned to leave, when Akitada added, "All the same, it was good of you to ask around. We'll talk about it later."

When Tora was gone, Akitada sat down heavily and stared at the spray of white hollyhocks that survived, somewhat crushed, in a wine cup full of water on Akitada's desk. Perhaps Tora had a point. A man was not meant to spend his life alone unless he was a monk or hermit, and Akitada had no interest in the contemplative or spiritual life. What was it Sato had said? He had asked if Akitada had a private life. Against his better sense, he closed his eyes and thought of Tamako in her Kamo finery. It was a revelation how enchanting her face seemed to him now, since he had really never realized it before. And she had a very graceful figure, slender, with elegant shoulders and a most enticing neck when she turned her head. The image of that white neck with a delicate rosy ear half hidden by the silky black hair was extraordinarily erotic, and he called himself to order sharply, ashamed that Tora's tussle with a common prostitute should have caused him to think with physical desire of the young woman who had been like a sister to him. He reached for the student papers.

Professor Hirata stopped by when Akitada was halfway through the stack of essays. He complained of not being able to find Oe. "Have you spoken to Ishikawa yet?" he asked.

"No, he left early this morning. It is a holiday, and he may be visiting friends." Akitada found it difficult to behave normally around Hirata and had to force himself to carry on a conversation. "How did the rest of the contest go?"

"I left after the final competition. They tell me that the party went on into the night, with boat rides on the lake and impromptu poems praising the moon. Incidentally, Fujiwara won another prize in the love poetry category and was declared this year's poet laureate. Oe will be furious when he finds out. He has expected that honor for years now. For all we know he will contest the results on the grounds that he was forcibly removed by Fujiwara before he could present the rest of his work."

Akitada smiled thinly. "Surely he has been embarrassed too thoroughly to show his face in public for a while."

Hirata nodded. "Besides there is the matter of the last examination. We can exert a certain amount of control over him in the future. I have thought about that. It will surely be enough if we confront Oe and Ishikawa with our knowledge. We will insist that Ishikawa stop his blackmail demands and that Oe remove himself from judging future examinations. I admit it hardly punishes their behavior, but there is nothing we can do to rectify what happened in the spring. The damage is done, and we cannot bring back that poor young man who killed himself. Besides, reversing the results at this time will permanently damage the reputation of the university." Hirata looked at Akitada anxiously.

Blackmail begets blackmail, thought Akitada. But he said, "Certainly. As you wish."

There was a pause. Hirata bit his lip. His face betrayed surprise and worry at Akitada's lack of interest. He was about to pursue the subject, when Tora burst into the room.

"You'll never guess what just happened!" he cried. "The police arrested one of the students for the murder."

"No!" cried Hirata. "Who is it?"

"It's Rabbit." Tora looked at Akitada. "You know, the fellow I told you about. The one who got into a fight with another student in the kitchen that day." Tora fumbled in his sash and produced a crumpled piece of paper. "Here!" he said, extending it to his master, "he wrote you this note."

Akitada unfolded it. It was short, stating simply that the author was innocent of the crime, implored Akitada's help, and offered to pay for it. It was signed Nagai Hiroshi. He passed the note to Hirata.

"Poor boy!" cried Hirata, looking shocked. "That nice, awkward youngster. Who could possibly believe him capable of murder? There must be some mistake."

Akitada recalled the brief encounter at the gate the afternoon before, and had the sinking feeling that there was no mistake. "What about this fight you saw, Tora?" he asked.

"I think the other fellow had been making fun of his crush on a woman. But I'll lay you a bet, sir. If Rabbit was that girl's lover, I'll give up women for good!"

Amused in spite of himself, Akitada murmured, "I don't want to create difficulties for the young man, but I am tempted to hope you would lose."

Tora looked hurt. "I know I'm right. She was a good-looking skirt, and he looks like a cross between a mangy rabbit and a crane. He walks like some long-legged bird that's stepping on broken reeds, and his big ears are flapping in the breeze while his teeth are looking for his chin. Believe me, no pretty girl in her right mind would be seen with something like that!"

"You exaggerate," said Akitada, but he recalled Sato's words about Omaki's unlikely boyfriend. "I met the young man at the gate yesterday. He looked very ill."

"Hah!" cried Tora. "Maybe he did fall for her! Anyway, the police searched his room and found a bunch of stuff he had written. They took it all away with them." A thought struck him. "That just goes to show the trouble you get into with an education. It's his writing poems about the girl that got the fellow arrested."

Akitada's eyes met Hirata's. They smiled. "What do you think I should do?" Akitada asked the older man. "I hate to meddle in Captain Kobe's business again so soon after we had words over the beggar he arrested."

"What about the beggar?" Tora interrupted.

Akitada frowned at him and continued, "Besides there is our own problem. You know I want to get that matter settled as soon as possible. Getting involved with this student may keep me here indefinitely."

Hirata avoided his eyes. "Your fame as a righter of wrongs seems to have spread to the students," he said lightly. "Of course you must try to help Hiroshi. A young man's life and his family's honor are at stake. Even the reputation of this university is less important than that." He paused. "I recall meeting Hiroshi's father when he brought the youngster. Mr. Nagai is a poor schoolmaster in Omi province. The boy is the only son of five children, and I am sure the family is making many sacrifices to pay for his studies."