The Crane Pavilion (16 page)

They returned home briefly to exchange their sober blue robes with the black sashes for the cheap but colorful clothing of young men bent on a night out.

As they walked through the empty streets on this cold night, Saburo became glum again. It troubled him that he always seemed to be in the wrong, not matter how hard he tried to please his master. He was beginning to suspect that he had never been forgiven for his past life as a spy or agent. In the end there had still been a certain dislike, a lack of trust, and whenever his lordship thought he saw something in Saburo’s actions that displeased him, the old prejudice emerged. That would never change.

But apart from the vague hope that Shokichi might change her mind, this time something else motivated Saburo to disobey. It was not only the arrest of the blind girl, though he did feel sorry for her. It was the memory of that schoolmaster, bent over his endless copying work with red-rimmed eyes as his hungry family watched. What would happen to them when winter came? That broken roof would collapse under the first snow, and they had no money for fuel. They would freeze to death if hunger had not killed them first.

Shivering in the wind and with this image before his eyes, Saburo followed Tora into the world of pleasures offered by the willow quarter. As soon as they passed under the gaudy gate, they were surrounded by lights, colors, sounds, smells of food and perfumes, and the sense that everyone was dancing in the streets.

Nobody danced, of course, but the busy scene with the colorful costumes of the women, the laughter of the men, and the sounds of music being played in wine shops, eating places, and houses of assignation gave the impression of joyous abandon.

Tora smiled happily as he looked around, and Saburo gave him a sour look. Tora’s visits to the quarter had become severely curtailed since his marriage and life as a husband and father, but he had clearly missed it.

“I wonder if the Bamboo Grove is still there,” Tora said. “Not first-class, but a lively place. They always had fresh young girls from the provinces, decent wine, and good card games.”

Saburo grimaced. “And how are those things going to help us find a gangster boss?”

Tora raised his brows. “You’re in a bad mood a lot lately, brother. There’s gambling everywhere. Gamblers know each other. If you’re serious about gambling, you make a study of your opponents. That means you watch and try to draw them out. Gamblers know what’s going on.”

“If you say so.” Saburo glared at the painted young women who made determined efforts to lure them into the premises where they worked. One put out her tongue at him and turned her attention to someone else.

Tora dealt with them by grinning and joking with the women, claiming that his wife would beat him if he succumbed to their charms. This sort of thing was clearly mutually enjoyable, and Saburo thought bitterly that he just did not have the knack for attracting women.

The Bamboo Grove still existed. It was now a wine shop catering to working men and small tradesmen, but it was still as lively as Tora remembered, and in the back room a noisy game of dice was being played.

Tora said wistfully, “I wish we had some funds. All I have is a string of coppers and one piece of silver. What about you?”

Saburo made a face. “I don’t think we should waste any more funds, and certainly not on gambling,” he said primly.

Tora eyed him askance. “I told you you’ve got to pay for information. I don’t think buying a cup of wine will get us what we want.”

Saburo felt in his sash. “Half a string and three pieces of silver.” He added accusingly, “I’d meant to give the silver to the schoolmaster.”

“Hmm. Use the coppers and one piece of silver, and play cautiously.” Tora strode into the backroom, eyed the gamblers, and cried, “Can I trust my eyes? Gengyo, is that you, you thieving rascal?”

Gengyo looked up from his pile of winnings. His face broke into a gap-toothed grin. “Tora, you randy dog! What, you’re chasing the whores again? I knew that marriage wouldn’t last.” He jumped up and embraced Tora, both laughing out loud and slapping each other’s backs. Saburo scowled.

“You’re wrong,” said Tora. “I’m still a dutiful married man and father. But I thought I might try my luck tonight. I brought my friend Saburo. Saburo, meet the sharpest dicer in the willow quarter. Can we sit in?”

Of course they could. Introductions were made and Tora decided that the clientele of the Bamboo Grove had declined a little. The one called Hankei looked like the sort of man they needed. But if he was a gangster, they would have to tread carefully. He hoped Saburo would not make any mistakes.

When told about the stakes, Tora grimaced. “We’re poor, guys. Can you take it down a bit?”

Hankei, who resembled a small monkey, objected. He already had a neat pile of winnings and claimed that any change might break his streak of luck. “If you run out of money,” he offered generously, “I’ll stake you. And the wine’s on me.”

Tora nodded. “Well, maybe your luck will rub off.” Making loans during games was one way unscrupulous moneylenders preyed on the poor and stupid. They settled down, put their money in and awaited their turn with the dice.

Tora watched Hankei rattle the dice in a cup and upend it on the floor, hiding the dice inside. They made their guesses, even or odd, and Hankei’s neighbor lifted the cup. Saburo had guessed correctly and received a share of the pot. Tora had lost.

The payout being settled, and the wine cups refilled, Tora asked, “Did you hear about Nakamura’s murder?”

They had all heard about it and expressed shock that a blind girl should go so far as to slash a man’s throat.

“Though mind you,” said one of the players, “he was known to abuse women. Some of the houses stopped admitting him. But the girls and their aunties are pretty desperate for money, and so he still had plenty of entertainment.”

“Yeah,” said Gengyo, “these days the whores gamble just as much as their clients. The one they call Phoenix owed Nakamura one thousand pieces of gold.”

Shouts of derision greeted this figure. “You must be crazy. Even in silver, that’s more money than anyone in the quarter has, let alone a whore.”

Gengyo defended himself. “The Phoenix is a choja. She makes a lot of money for her house. Her clothes alone are worth a fortune.”

They squabbled over it until Hankei, the monkey, said impatiently, “Come on! Let’s play. I came for a good game.” He pushed the cup and the dice toward his neighbor, who obediently picked them up and rattled the cup. Bets were made. More wine was dispensed and drunk. Money was added to the diminished pile, and the game went on. Tora won a few times, but Saburo only once.

Saburo asked, “Did this Nakamura gamble?”

“Never,” said one of the players. “But he’d ask enough questions about big losers.” He laughed. “Always on the look-out for people needing a loan, that one. No, he was much too smart or too tight to risk his own money.”

“He was a bastard,” one of the others commented. The monkey growled, and the game continued.

Saburo ran out of money and dropped out. The monkey grinned and held up five pieces of silver. “Here! Just give me a piece of paper that you’re good for it.”

Saburo refused. “I’ll watch.”

Tora was down to his last piece of silver. The monkey proposed raising the bets to that amount. With an inward sigh, Tora submitted, placing his coin with the other bets. “Anybody here know Kanemoto?” he asked. “He’s supposed to live in the quarter.”

Silence fell. Then Gengyo asked, “What do you want with him, Tora? He’s got a reputation for being a very unfriendly man.”

“He’s a gangster boss, you mean,” said Tora. “I know. I’ve never met him and thought it would be useful to make his acquaintance.”

Gengyo shook his head. “Don’t be a fool. He doesn’t want people to know him and makes sure he’s left alone. And working for Lord Sugawara isn’t going to protect you, if you make him nervous.”

“Game!” snapped the monkey, rattling the cup. They returned to the dice, placed their bets, and watched as the next man lifted the cup. A rapid calculation, and a general moan went up. Most had opted for “even” and the result was “odd.”

The monkey grinned and reached for the pile of coins, a clear winner.

That was when Saburo’s hand shot forward and seized the dice. Lifting them to his good eye, he scowled. “Look! The bastard used crooked dice!”

Shocked outcries ensued. The monkey jumped up and backed away. “That’s a lie!” he shouted, but the truth was on his face, and in the dice that bore only uneven numbers of pips.

The monkey ran, and Tora shot after him. Saburo only paused to collect Tora’s share of the money, then followed.

Outside, the streets were still filled with drunks and merry-makers. The monkey had disappeared, but Saburo saw Tora’s tall back in its green and yellow shirt disappearing at the end of the street. He dashed after, dodging people, and turned the corner where Tora had disappeared. He was in a darker, smaller, and less crowded street and caught up with Tora in front of a plain two-story house. Only the moonlight illuminated the scene. Tora was pounding on the door.

Saburo faded into the shadow and watched.

After more pounding and Tora’s shouts to let him in, the door opened. A burly, bearded man wearing nothing but his loincloth glared out. “What the flaming hell and all its devils do you want?” he roared.

“A thief just went into your house. I saw him.”

“Nobody came in. Who are you?”

“None of your business. I saw him with my own eyes. He must live here.”

“Nobody lives here but me and my old mother. And I’ve been asleep.”

“Then he must be visiting her,” Tora sneered. “I saw him and I’ll have the constables here if you don’t get him.”

The bearded man laughed. “Go ahead and call them. See if I care.” And with that he slammed the door and shot a bolt.

Tora gave it a kick, shouted, “I’ll be back,” and walked away. When he drew level with him, Saburo hissed. Tora jumped and cursed. “Don’t startle a man like that,” he snapped. “The little bastard’s inside that house. The guy who lives there lied about it. I didn’t think it was a good idea to push my way in.”

“A wise decision. Go home. It’s my turn. I’ll find another way in.”

“If you can’t get him, at least find out who the house belongs to.”

17
The Nun

Akitada woke again to emptiness. He would never again find the warm body of his wife curled up against his side. Never again would he smell the fragrance of her skin or touch the silky strands of her long hair. And he would never make love to her again.

But this time there was a difference to his sense of loss. He rolled on his back and stared up at the dark ceiling. He had not made love to a woman for well over eight months now, and he had woken with the need for Tamako. This need would not be satisfied unless he resorted to having a woman from the pleasure quarter, and that would surely dishonor his love for his dead wife. Tormented by his desire, he flung himself onto his belly and buried his face in his bedding. “Oh, Tamako!” he groaned. “What am I to do without you? Please help me.”

Steps in the corridor outside recalled him to the need for self-control, or Saburo, with hot water for his tea, was about to find him in an embarrassing condition. He sat up with a shudder.

The door opened, but it was Tora who peered in. “Ah, you’re awake, sir. I brought water for your tea.”

Astonished, Akitada asked, “Where’s Saburo?”

Tora sidled in, closed the door and busied himself with the preparation of Akitada’s tea. “Umm,” he muttered, stirring the half-dead coals in the small brazier and setting the iron kettle on it. “Not sure, sir. Where do you keep the tea? Oh, here it is, in this little box. How much do I put in the cup, sir?”

Tora never drank tea unless it was prescribed for some illness, and he was practically never ill. Akitada got up and went to help him. “I don’t understand,” he said. “Why isn’t Saburo doing this?”

“Well, umm, I’m afraid something must have happened. Saburo would never stay away from his duties, not after the way you spoke to him yesterday.”

Akitada winced. He had been too harsh once again. Brushing a hand over his face as if to wipe away the cobwebs of such memories, he remembered instead the deep and humiliating trouble he was in with his superiors. He must not take out his frustrations on his people. He said rather mildly, “Did Saburo go out last night?”

Tora gave him a nervous look. “Yes, sir. We both did. After it got too dark to work on the roof. He was all torn up over the blind girl and some starving schoolmaster, and we thought we’d better make one more attempt before Genba and I leave with the horses today.”

The horses! The lack of money! The dire need of his household!

Tora had the grace to look ashamed. With Saburo gone, Akitada could not send both of his remaining retainers away. Irritation stirred again, but he restrained it. “What happened?”

“We chased a suspect, a crooked gambler, to a private house in the willow quarter. Saburo suggested I return home while he’d find out whose house it was and then follow. He never got back, sir.”

“A gambler? The willow quarter? Are you both mad? How can you be thinking of expensive amusements at this time?”

Saburo might have shrunk from this flash of anger, but Tora knew Akitada better and merely said, “We didn’t go to be amused, sir. We were trying to help people. You always told us to help the poor.”

Akitada bit his lip. “Yes, you did mention something about a blind woman. But I told Saburo to leave that to the police.”

“You did, but the police aren’t going to be much help. We just had the one night and decided to make one more effort. We’d heard that a gambling boss might be involved. I think Saburo got too close. The man’s a gangster called Kanemoto. Kanemoto controls gambling and prostitution in the willow quarter. I think the man we chased went into his house.”

With a sigh, Akitada said, “Well, you and Saburo have managed to foil my efforts to reduce family expenses while wait to hear from the court. The horses will have to remain here until Saburo’s back. Tell Genba to have some more fodder delivered.” He opened the box which held the pitifully small heap of silver coins and two remaining gold bars and took out a silver coin. “Give this to Genba. Then go look for Saburo. If you cannot get any answers at this gangster’s house without putting yourself into danger, go ask Kobe’s help.”