The Crane Pavilion (26 page)

No, he could not pay for her testimony. It would be tainted. For that matter, somebody might already suspect that she had been paid to accuse Kanemoto. He tried to ponder this difficulty while she made light conversation and he gave casual answers. To his surprise, he found he was sipping wine and enjoying the warmth suffusing his belly. With a great effort, he pulled himself together.

“I came to ask you for your help,” he said.

“But of course, sir. I’ll do my best.”

“It involves telling the police about Kanemoto.”

Her eyes widened. “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand. Who is this Kanemoto?”

Akitada was frustrated. She had decided to play the innocent. “There are witnesses who say you are Kanemoto’s mistress. One witness knows you were with Kanemoto in his house when Kanemoto strangled a man.”

She pretended to be shocked. “What a dreadful story! Please don’t frighten me like this.”

Akitada’s head felt fuzzy. He gestured at their surroundings. “Don’t lie. Kanemoto gave you this house and paid your debts to keep you quiet. I’m afraid it won’t do. I will not have a man who works for me saddled with a gangster’s crime.”

Outside a gate slammed again, and suddenly he was alert, recalling the sound from earlier. Someone had left then and was now returning. Who? And why?

The answer came immediately: she had sent one of her maids for Kanemoto. He must get out. Rising to his feet, he looked around. “Where’s the privy?”

She looked up at him. “Wait a moment and I’ll show you the way.”

He heard footsteps approaching, heavy ones. Not one of the maids, but a man, no, several men. Akitada turned, and Phoenix snatched at his robe to stop him. He tore himself free and ran to the green shades. Pushing them aside, he flung back a shutter. Outside lay a dark garden, no more than black silhouettes of trees and shrubs beyond a veranda railing. Behind him he heard male shouts and the woman’s voice. He vaulted over the railing, surprising himself and landing in a small shrub of some kind. Without regard for his robe, he pulled free to the sound of tearing silk and ran to the far end of the garden. He hoped to find a gate to a back alley there.

By now he could hear his pursuers thrashing about the shrubbery, as he moved desperately along a tall fence looking for a way out.

When he found the gate, they found him, too. There were three of them, big black shadows against the stormy night sky and the light from the distant house. They grabbed him, and he felt a searing pain in his upper back and another a little lower, His knees buckled. They let him drop.

“Got him!” shouted a man’s voice.

From the distance another man asked, “Dead?”

Rough hands turned Akitada over. He was limp.

“Yup!” shouted the first voice.

“Fine.” The second voice was closer now. “Get rid of the body. Leave him behind one of the other houses. Be careful and come back quick.”

They grabbed Akitada’s feet and pulled him away, out through the gate and along a dirt road. He might have been glad that he was not face down, but by then he had trouble breathing and tasted blood on his tongue. They had stabbed him in the back. Twice. And now he would die in an alley somewhere behind a whore’s house.

27
Rising Mist

Tora woke when the guard unlocked the cell door and admitted Superintendent Kobe.

Kobe ducked in, nodded to Tora, and told the guard, “Get the chains off him.”

Tora stood, and when the chains fell off, he rubbed his wrists, and smiled. “So, what happened, sir?” he asked. “You’re letting us go? Did you arrest Kanemoto?”

Kobe, looking gray and tired, shook his head. “No such luck. Saburo stays, but you can go since you weren’t there when the murder happened and only came in the morning to look for Saburo. The neighbor saw you.”

Tora’s face fell. “Oh! You mean this wasn’t my master’s doing? What about the blind girl?”

“Nothing has changed. She’s still going to trial.”

Tora rubbed the sleep from his face and brushed his hair out of eyes. Kobe was headed away down the jail’s corridor. Hurrying to catch up, Tora asked, “How can you let this happen, sir? She’s an innocent woman who will die for this while the real killer gets away with it.”

Kobe turned an angry face to him. “That’s why I’m setting you free in the middle of the night. It gives you a few hours to find the killer or a witness who can clear the blind girl.”

Tora stopped in disbelief. It must be near morning. Was he to perform miracles? Kobe walked away. After a moment, Tora shook his head. He could not do this alone. He must speak to Akitada, see if he had found a clue. Then perhaps they could work together.

He walked home through the faint drizzle as fast as he could. It was not only pitch dark, but a slight fog hung in the night air. The Sugawara house was silent and remote when he reached it.

Genba, half asleep, admitted him, after he had pounded on the gate for a while.

“Tora? What happened?”

“Kobe let me go. Where’s the master?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t come home. I’m worried, but there’s no one here but me.”

Genba meant he was the only adult male of the household present and could not leave. Tora was on his own. He asked, “Did he come home after seeing us?”

“Yes. He changed clothes and sent for Hanae. She says he asked about her dancing master. He was trying to get you and Saburo out of jail. But he’s been gone a long time now. There was a storm.”

Tora bit his lip. “He was looking for Kanemoto. I don’t like this at all.” He looked up at the sky. It was invisible in the fog but seemed lighter. It must be near dawn. “I’m going to look for him,” Tora said, and made for his house.

“Wait,” cried Genba. “You shouldn’t go alone.”

“I’ll be fine. I think I know where the master is.”

Hanae woke from her sleep as he rummaged in his clothes trunk. “Tora?” She scrambled out of her bedding to fling her arms around him. “Did the master make them release you? And Saburo, too?”

Tora hugged his wife briefly. “No. Kobe let me out. The master seems to be lost. I’ve got to find him.” He bent to the trunk and brought out two swords. The larger one he strapped around his waist and the short one he pushed through his belt.

Hanae watched this with frightened eyes. “You’ll be careful?” she asked.

He nodded and walked out.

Genba waited at the gate. He looked miserable. “I should come with you,” he said again.

Tora shook his head. “It wouldn’t help.”

The gate closed behind him. It was still too early for people to be up in this quarter, and the lights in the houses and businesses had been extinguished. The fog was heavier and muffled all sound. Trees and houses appeared like apparitions against the paler gray. Here and there, leaves and branches lay on the ground, scattered by the storm.

Unlike Akitada, Tora did not waste his time on Ohiya. He felt a sense of urgency, of panic almost. The master and he, they had known each other for too many years not to have formed a bond of brotherhood. They guessed each other’s thoughts and felt the other’s moods. Tora knew something was very badly wrong with his master.

The willow quarter was still awake, but only barely. Here, too, the fog dimmed lights and softened sounds. A few revelers staggered homeward, and some of the courtesans headed home from houses of assignation. The wine shops were still lit up and raucous song and laughter came from them.

Tora went to the warden’s office. The constables were still rounding up drunks and the warden was alone except for some prisoners kept behind bamboo bars. They were mostly asleep.

So was the warden. Tora grabbed his shoulder and shook him awake. “Has Lord Sugawara been here?” he asked.

The warden blinked, then nodded. “Twice,” he said. “Who are you?”

“I’m helping the police look into his disappearance. What did he want?”

The warden blinked. “He’s disappeared? I know nothing about it. The first time he wanted to know about an old dancing master. I sent him to the southern part of the city. When he came back, he made an accusation against a local businessman. I told him to go to the police.”

Tora eyed the man for as moment and decided there was no point in beating him up. “Where does the courtesan Chiyo live?” he demanded.

But the warden had enough of him. He was getting angry. “Who the hell are you and why the devil were you shaking me?” he demanded, coming to his feet.

Tora grabbed him by the neck of his robe and pulled him close. “I want to know what house Chiyo works for. Be quick about it, or else?”

The man pushed back with a curse, and Tora drew his short sword, placing its point against the warden’s throat. The man’s eyes widened with shock. He realized he was alone, and said, “The Ogiya.”

Tora lowered the sword and gave the warden a push so that he sat back down on the floor. “Go back to sleep.”

He found the Ogiya, a large house run by a former courtesan. There the scene repeated itself, except that the owner was still awake, no doubt waiting for her charges to return from their nightly labors. And she offered less resistance when she saw Tora’s face and his swords.

“She’s not here,” she cried, retreating from his menacing figure. “Gone away. Not living here anymore.”

“Where then?” roared Tora.

“Don’t know. She’s been bought out. Gone to live with the man.”

“What man? Where?”

She shook her head in a panic. Tora’s hand went to his sword again. She gasped, “Behind the Rokujo Palace.”

Tora ran out. It was taking too long. Fear settled in his belly, and he ran all the way to the Rokujo Palace. Here more time was wasted as he ran up and down the streets adjoining the palace grounds without seeing anyone to ask.

As he was rounding a corner and finding himself on Rokujo Avenue again, two men emerged from the next side street. They jogged away fast, shoulders hunched and heads lowered as if they did not want to be recognized. Tora ran down the street they had come from. Some lights had come on here and there. A new day was about to begin. At the last house the gate stood open. Tora walked in and approached the house cautiously, listening. When he rounded a corner, he thought he could hear faint voices and followed the sound. The voices were agitated: a man and a woman. At the back of the house, a light gleamed.

He was afraid he was wasting more time, but there was something about this place he did not like. And the panic in his belly was greater than ever. Following his instinct, he went closer.

A joint in the closed shutter let a ray of light escape. It fell across Tora’s path and gleamed on the moist stones at the bottom of the veranda steps.

He stopped. Someone had left prints on the steps recently. They continued down a path to the back of the property. Abandoning the arguing couple, Tora followed them. He came to a small gate in the wall. Like the front gate, it stood open. Beyond lay a foggy alleyway. Multiple footprints were clearly visible in the muddy ground in front of the gate. Something had happened here. Outside the gate, the tracks turned sharply toward the left. Here something heavy had been dragged through the mud, obscuring some of the footprints. There had been at least three sets of prints before the gate. Tora peered down the alley. The usual objects stood behind houses: refuse barrels, abandoned household goods, a small cart. But up ahead, a dark bundle lay in the middle of the path.

His heart in his throat, Tora ran to it and found the body of a man.

He knew, even without being able to see clearly in the darkness and fog, and fell to his knees. He felt his master’s body gingerly. He was on his back. His face and hands felt icy cold. The rain had soaked his silk robe, and Tora could not be certain if he felt blood, but his master was not moving and something was clearly very wrong. His heart frozen, he cried, “Sir? Sir, speak to me. Are you all right?”

A stupid question, and there was no answer.

He needed lights and help. Bending his face close to his master’s, he tried to detect breathing and failed.

He was not all right.

He would never be all right again.

Overcome with grief, Tora burst into tears. “Amida!” he prayed, “please not this. Not after all he’s been through! Not after all we’ve done together! Take me instead. Oh, dear heaven, no, no, no!”

Then, among his sobs and prayers, he thought he heard a sound and became silent for a moment, listening intently. Yes, he heard it again, a soft groan.

“Sir?” he cried, “where are you wounded? I can’t see. It’s too dark here.”

But there was nothing else.

“I’ll get help,” he said, getting up. “Don’t move!”

And that was foolish also, for Akitada was in no shape to move.

*

He felt very cold and very tired. Tora’s voice had taken him from a pleasant dream of holding Tamako in his arms again. Soon, very soon, they would be together again. He knew it, felt it in the center of his being. There was surprisingly little pain, but he had realized long since that two deep knife thrusts to his back were eventually fatal. So it was time, and he did not regret leaving.

But then Tora had arrived and had wept and grieved, and because he had not wanted to be recalled after starting on his journey, he had tried to speak.

After Tora left, he attempted to resume his voyage to the other side and found it hard going. Tamako’s image faded quickly when he managed to recall it. Instead, Tora’s face crowded in, and the faces of his children. No, he thought. This is wrong. I should be thinking of Tamako and Yori. They are my family now. I must go with them. With great effort, he remembered his little son, his firstborn, as he had been before his death, all bright eyes and trusting hand thrust into his own. He felt the guilt again of having exposed his child to the disease that had swept through the city. He had been too stubborn to give in to panic. He also recalled that he had been too harsh a father to this child, and that Yori had gone to his death having had few joys in life to balance against the darkness. Yes, he must get to Yori in that other world and make it up to him.

Then the lights came and voices. And someone grabbed his shoulder and turned him over, and all went black.