The Case of the Sharaku Murders (25 page)

“You're from Geichosha, right?” said Yumi with mock seriousness.

“Get a load of this chick!” replied Yamashita, giving Yumi a nudge on the forehead. She burst into giggles. “Hey, look, TV cameras! By the way, you know who else is getting on my nerves? The professor. He still hasn't let us take those photos.”

“Which photos are those?” asked Ryohei.

“The ones for the magazine. He won't show us that painting album of his—says the light will damage it. He told us to use the slides Yoshimura and the others have already made, but those guys don't know jack when it comes to photography.”

“But surely they're in black-and-white,” said Ryohei.

“Well, I'll have a look at them today. I've agreed to use them as long as they're not out of focus. Anyway, the professor's guarding that album as greedily as a lioness watching over her cubs.”

“He probably wants to keep it safe until a high-quality reproduction can be made,” Ryohei suggested helpfully.

“Is that what he said?” asked Yamashita.

“Apparently it's supposed to be published as a supplement to his book on Shoei next year.”

“I see. Well, I guess you can't blame him then.” With a wave of his hand, Yamashita headed into the main hall.

The Hon. Yokoyama Shuzo, member of the Japanese House of Representatives, approached the check-in table. He was widely known to be a long-time connoisseur of ukiyo-e and acted as an adviser to the Edo Art Association.

As Yumi handed the politician a program, a barrage of flashbulbs went off. She could hear the sound of a video camera churning away as it recorded the event. She blushed bright red, her face fixed in a permanent smile. Bathed in the bright light of the cameras, Ryohei cringed. The thought occurred to him that Saeko would probably see all this on the TV news and it made him depressed.

“The meeting's started,” an undergraduate named Ota, who was in Yumi's class, came to inform them. He was one of those helping out inside the hall.

Ryohei showed no sign of leaving the check-in table.

“Aren't you coming?” Ota asked him with a puzzled expression.

“Someone's supposed to stay here… Yumi, you go ahead without me,” replied Ryohei.

Yumi gave an apologetic bow and followed Ota into the main hall.

Ninety minutes passed. Ryohei waited impatiently. From time to time, a clamor of voices arose in the hall and spilled through the closed doors. Each time this happened, Ryohei's heart began to beat faster. The only thought in his head now was that it didn't matter to him who announced his theory, so long as the world accepted it.

Ripples of applause reached his ears. It seemed that Professor Nishijima had finished his lecture. Suddenly the noise grew into a crescendo as a young man emerged from the hall. He wore a press badge around his arm.

“Where's the telephone?” he asked Ryohei arrogantly.

Ryohei pointed to a red payphone just behind the check-in table.

“Do you mind?” The man gestured with his chin to Yumi's empty chair and sat down without waiting for Ryohei's answer. “It's me… Yes, it just ended. Incredible! I'm planning to interview the professor now and ask him a few more questions. What a lecture! The evidence is overwhelming. He even showed a slide of a painting with Sharaku's signature on it… A fake? Not a chance. It's from a book published in 1907. That's before Kurth, it seems… You know, Julius Kurth, that German guy. Look, I'll explain everything when I get back to the office. Anyway, I want my article to appear in the Metro section, not Arts. This is
big
.
It's about more than art; it's got roots in all the sociopolitical intrigues of the Edo period. Fascinating stuff. Tanuma Okitsugu's name came up quite a lot… Yes, really. Apparently, Sharaku was part of his clique. That's the theory anyway… See, I told you it was good… Of course, I'll check all that thoroughly. I think we should run a series on this before one of the weeklies comes out with something on it. Anyway, let's take things one step at a time. I'll figure the rest out once I've interviewed the professor. Just make sure you leave plenty of room for my piece. Don't worry, I'll deliver the goods.”

The man slammed down the receiver. Then, as though noticing Ryohei for the first time, he asked:

“You a member of the EAA?”

“Uh-huh,” answered Ryohei, looking down at the floor.

“Happen to know Professor Nishijima?”

“Actually, I'm one of his research assistants.”

“Really? What luck running into you.”

The man hurriedly stood up and handed Ryohei his card.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Yumi said, returning from the hall. “I'll take over now.” Ryohei breathed a sigh of relief.

“This gentleman is from a newspaper,” said Ryohei. “He says he has some questions about the professor.”

“Is that so?” The information seemed to arouse Yumi's interest. She bowed her head politely. Ryohei introduced her to the journalist and then stood up and gave her his seat.

Instead of going into the hall, Ryohei went downstairs to a café located in the basement. It was empty. After ordering a coffee he closed his eyes.

It's all over. I thought I didn't care who got the credit as long as people accepted my theory, but now… I wish I hadn't overheard that journalist's conversation
.

A feeling of melancholy washed over Ryohei. It was he, not the professor, that journalist should have been talking about. Right now there was nothing he wanted more than to get as far away from there as possible, but if he left now there would have been no point coming in the first place.

Ryohei stared blankly into space thinking of Saeko.

December 22

RYOHEI finally crawled out of his futon and went to the front door to get the newspaper, then he lit the kerosene space heater. His head felt as though it were about to burst. He had a hangover. Last night he'd done something he hadn't done for a long time: gotten drunk alone.

He stared fixedly at the newspaper lying on the table, afraid to open it.
This is ridiculous
,
he thought, but still his hand would not move. Finally, resigning himself to the inevitable, he reached for the newspaper.

Ryohei's heart leapt into his throat as he opened it. There, staring out at him, was Shoei's lion painting and next to it a large photograph of Professor Nishijima. Ryohei began to devour the article.

New Theory Links Sharaku to Hiraga Gennai!
Ukiyo-e Artist the Creation of Tanuma Okitsugu?

DECEMBER 22—A two-hundred-year-old mystery has been solved: the true identity of the celebrated ukiyo-e artist Toshusai Sharaku. According to one scholar's theory, Sharaku's real name was Chikamatsu Shoei, a minor samurai from Akita fief who studied Western-style painting from a protégé of Hiraga Gennai, the great Renaissance man of the Edo period. The theory also elucidates the formative influence the Akita clan exercised over the culture of the time by patronizing artists and currying favor with the shogun's Chief Senior Councilor, Tanuma Okitsugu…

The article was simply a summary of Ryohei's paper; nothing new had been added. At the end of the main text, which explained the Shoei hypothesis in some detail, appeared a profile of Professor Nishijima:

Nishijima Shunsaku, the originator of this groundbreaking new theory which has shaken up the world of art history, is a professor at Musashino University and a world-renowned expert on ukiyo-e. After delivering a lecture at the annual general meeting of the Edo Art Association to announce his theory, he was unanimously elected that organization's new executive director. The move means that the newly christened Shoei hypothesis will almost certainly be accepted by ukiyo-e experts around the world. Since unveiling his theory, Prof. Nishijima has been besieged with requests for books and articles from publishers and magazines, as well as invitations to speak overseas. He gleefully complains that his schedule promises to be extremely busy heading into the New Year, and says that in the future he hopes to uncover more paintings by Shoei, which he believes have found their way unrecognized onto the art market over the years.

Though it pleased Ryohei to see that his Shoei hypothesis was getting the attention it deserved, at the same time he couldn't help feeling upset.

Fortunately, the day before yesterday the university had gone on winter break, so for the time being Ryohei would not have to go in to the art history department. That was one small blessing. He decided he needed to get away from Tokyo for a while, at least until his anger subsided. He would return home to Morioka. It was not as though the professor would be likely to miss him or wonder where he'd gone. On the contrary, Nishijima would probably be relieved to have him out of the way. Ryohei could never have imagined that in the short space of one month, he and the professor would have become so estranged from one another.

December 24

“WELL, AREN'T YOU the sly one!” burst out Kato the moment he saw Ryohei. The antiques dealer was alone in his shop polishing a sword.

“I'm sorry,” mumbled Ryohei. “I was planning to tell you everything but…”

“I
thought
it was odd you should go all the way to Akita on account of some no-name artist I've never heard of.”

A thin smile played about the corners of Kato's mouth as he returned the sword to its display case.

“But what a discovery!” he went on. “It created quite a stir around here. My customers have been talking about nothing else for the past couple of days. I hear that dealers up in Akita are rushing around frantically searching for hidden Shoeis.”

“Already? I didn't think—“

“But I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you. They don't even know how to recognize his style. Not unless his signature is actually on the painting. But my guess is most of them have been altered.”

“You're probably right.” Ryohei nodded.

“By the way,” said Kato, glancing up at Ryohei. “That catalogue you showed me on your last visit—the one causing all the fuss. Do you still have a copy?”

“Yes. I brought it to Morioka with me in fact.”

“I see… Would you mind if I had another look at it?”

“Not at all,” Ryohei replied without hesitation. It was the least he could do under the circumstances.

“Thanks. I appreciate it. The newspaper only printed the one painting of the lion. No one's seen anything else by Shoei. If I could get a look at some of his other works, it would help me, you know…”

The art dealer smiled.

“I'll make a copy and bring it in,” said Ryohei. “I don't have the original, of course, so the quality won't be all that great, I'm afraid.”

“That'll do just fine. I'll reimburse you for the copies.”

“Would tomorrow be soon enough?”

“Perfect. I really appreciate it.”

“It seems the catalogue is going to be published sometime early next year, so after that I guess you won't be needing the copies anyway.”

“Is that so? So where's the original now?”

“Professor Nishijima has it. I hear he keeps it locked away in a safe in his study. Apparently he won't take it out to show to anyone—says the light could damage it.” Ryohei chuckled. Come to think of it, he hadn't actually lent it to the professor. He'd been duped into handing it over.

I haven't seen Mizuno since the book fair. He must be fuming right now
.

It was Mizuno who had given Ryohei the book in the first place. But as things stood now, meeting him might be awkward. Ryohei cringed to think of how many people's trust he had betrayed.

“When exactly do you suppose the catalogue will be published?” Kato asked curiously.

He must want to know how much time he's got to make use of the photocopies. Knowing him, he probably has some sort of deal in the works already
.

“April at the earliest is what I hear,” replied Ryohei.

“April, huh? I suppose the professor hasn't gotten around to photographing it yet.”

“I think that will be impossible before mid-January. Until the end of the year the professor will be busy taking over his new duties at the EAA and all that. Then there's New Year's, or course. Don't worry, you've got a good three months.”

“Oh! I didn't mean…”

Kato gave an embarrassed smile.

January 3

RYOHEI'S ALARM CLOCK went off. The ringing continued intermittently. From the depths of his warm futon, Ryohei stretched out a hand toward the alarm clock next to his pillow. But his alarm clock wasn't there. The noise continued.

Eventually, Ryohei realized he wasn't in his apartment in Tokyo but his parents' house in Morioka, and the ringing he was hearing wasn't his alarm clock but the downstairs telephone. Squinting, he poked his head out from beneath his futon cover. The sun was already high in the sky. His mother began calling him from downstairs. It was Iwakoshi on the phone.