The Crane Pavillion Read online

  Tora was very angry. Akitada found him pacing in his cell, chains rattling with every step and turn. When he saw Akitada, he stopped.

  “Sorry, sir,” he said, teeth clenched. “Someone set us up.”

  “I know. Unfortunately we cannot do anything about it. Superintendent Kobe must not become involved.”

  Tora glowered. “You mean he’s letting this happen? He won’t do anything about it? We’re to rot here in prison? Then he’s not the man I thought he was!” He started pacing again, muttering under his breath.

  Akitada sighed. It was his fault, too. “Please stop that. It’s making me dizzy, and there’s not much time,” he said as calmly as he could.

  Tora stopped and went to lean against a wall. “Sorry. I wouldn’t have had you troubled if I could’ve helped it.”

  “I know. The only way to get you out is to find the killer before the trial tomorrow. I’ve talked to Saburo. He gave me the story and named some suspects.” Akitada told Tora what Saburo had said, then asked, “Do you have anything to add to it?”

  Tora shook his head. “It’s always been Saburo’s case. I came into it too late to do much good. I wish they’d at least let me go. I could help. All they have on me is that I was helping Saburo from under the house. I don’t know why no one is looking for Kanemoto. Surely they ought to talk to him since the body was found under his house.”

  “It seems he has given a statement that he wasn’t home when all this happened and knows nothing about it.”

  “That’s a lie.” Tora started pacing again.

  Akitada said nothing.

  After a moment, Tora stopped, his handsome face worried. “You’ll be careful, sir? He’s a gangster. They’ll will kill you if you get too close.”

  “I’m aware of it. Well, if there’s nothing else …” He crossed the space between them and embraced Tora.

  Tora flung his arms around him tightly. “Thank you, sir,” he said in a muffled voice.

  Akitada left quickly.

  24

  The Search

  Looking grim and feeling tired, Akitada returned home to change out of his good robe and wash his hands and face. After his ablutions, he felt marginally better. Sending for Genba, he told him about Saburo and Tora.

  Genba was stunned. “And the superintendent won’t let them go?” he asked in a tone of disbelief. “They haven’t really done anything, have they?”

  “No. Someone is putting pressure on Kobe to keep him from interfering in the blind woman’s conviction. I’m going to find out what is going on.”

  Genba wrinkled his broad brow. “The weather’s turning. Do you want me to come?”

  “No, Genba. You’re the only one left. You must keep an eye on the others.” The thought crossed his mind that his family had been attacked before, and that Genba would not be able to stop armed soldiers. But this time, he did not think he was dealing with warlords. No, this was a different type of enemy. “Is Hanae around?”

  “Yes, sir. Shall I tell her about Tora?”

  “No. Send her to me. I have something to ask her.”

  Hanae arrived, having been told by Genba what had happened to her husband. She bowed deeply, then asked, “You have seen him, sir?”

  “Yes, Hanae. He is well but very angry.”

  She smiled. “That’s my Tora,” she said softly. “Genba says you have a question for me?”

  “Yes. Do you remember the man who gave you dancing lessons years ago?”

  “Ohiya!” She chuckled. “It seems like an age ago. You met him, sir.”

  “Yes. He was helpful to us when we tried to find out what had happened to you. Is he still around?”

  Her face fell. “I heard he has fallen on hard times, sir. He’s moved away from the quarter. I don’t know where he lives now.”

  “Ah. Well someone will know. Thank you, Hanae.” He looked at her dainty, neat figure and thought how lucky Tora was to have found such a wife. In fact, they were all lucky. He said, “Hanae, I have never thanked you for writing to me about my wife’s death. And I haven’t thanked you for being with her and for looking after my children.” He choked up a little, thinking about it.

  Hanae said quickly, “I was glad to be here, sir. We are like family. I loved my lady, and she’s loved all of us. She would have done the same for me.”

  Akitada’s eyes filled with tears. “Thank you. I shall never forget it.” He blinked once or twice, then said quickly, “Well, I’d better be on my way and see what can be done to restore your husband to you.”

  *

  He walked to the willow quarter in heavy wind gusts. The sky was clouding over quickly and it was getting cold again. He had been to the “floating world” of courtesans and prostitutes before, but that was years ago now. He expected changes, but all seemed the same. The business of pleasure still thrived in the capital.

  When he entered the quarter’s warden’s office, he found it busy with the affairs of drunks and customer complaints, ranging from theft to being overcharged, but his silk robe and hat got him quick attention, and he asked about Ohiya.

  The warden himself consulted a ledger and informed him that Ohiya had moved to the southern quarter on Inokuma Street in the ninth ward. Akitada thanked him and left.

  It was a long way to the southernmost part of the city, and Akitada had not yet recovered from his ride into the mountains. He had also not eaten since breakfast, having been too distracted with all that had happened. But he plodded southward through the city, pulling his robe up around his neck against the sharp wind.

  Inokuma was a dirt road. The area was not far from where Tora used to have a small house where he and Hanae had lived because they were afraid to tell him of their marriage. The area was still as rustic as ever. It had also started to rain, and Akitada had to watch where he placed his feet. The road was used by farm animals and deeply cut by wheels.

  Ohiya shared a house with a widow who kept chickens and sold their eggs. It was a shocking environment for the elegant dancing master, but Ohiya himself answered the door to Akitada’s knock. He did not recognize Akitada but regarded him with astonishment.

  “Your honor has come to see me? And in this weather?” he asked in the familiar fluting voice. He gave a slight, nervous laugh. “I doubt a gentleman like you would be here to buy eggs. What can I do?” he performed a perfect bow, deep and elaborate.

  Akitada shivered. “Can we go inside? I’ve come to you for help again. We met some years ago when Hanae was abducted.”

  Recognition dawned and Ohiya stepped aside. “Lord Sugawara? Can it be?” He glanced down at his creased and stained robe and the tattered slippers on his feet. “I’m sadly changed, my lord,” he said. “Nobody comes to Ohiya anymore.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it.” Akitada said, feeling some pity though Ohiya was a product of the flesh trade and a lover of boys on top of that. He had never approved of either way of life, but Ohiya had eventually revealed some empathy for poor Hanae and helped to find her.

  Ohiya led him to a room cluttered with the remnants of the dance master former life. Colorful robes, now faded and wrinkled, hung from a clothes stand, and trunks, utensils, mats, and bedding looked dusty and worn. On a finely lacquered trunk that had lost chunks of its finish rested some earthenware dishes and a rusty cooking pot.

  “Please forgive this poor abode,” Ohiya said, placing the better of two old cushions for him. “May I offer you some wine, my lord?” he asked.

  Akitada was very thirsty after his long walk here. He nodded. “Thank you. That’s very kind.” It was good to be out of the wind and rain and to sit down, resting his weak leg.

  Ohiya produced a large pitcher and poured two cups. One of them he emptied quickly, refilling it before joining Akitada.

  Akitada reached for his wine, but noting that the cup was dirty, he put it back down. “I am sorry to see you in such surroundings,” he said politely.

  Ohiya looked at him bleakly. “Alas, old age has caught up with me. Tha
t and the changes in this world. They say, the sky in autumn changes seven times. I’ve lived too long.” He sighed dramatically and drank, filling his cup for the third time. It dawned on Akitada that the man had become a drunkard. It was not clear whether this had led to his loss of work or whether the loss of work had driven him to drink. He hoped it hadn’t muddled his brain.

  “You are not teaching the young women to dance any longer? Hanae always said you were her best teacher.”

  Ohiya became sentimental. “Ah, Hanae! Such grace and quickness. Her feet did not touch the ground. She was exquisite. My best student. What a loss!”

  “Well, she married Tora, my senior retainer. They are very happy and have a sturdy son.”

  Downing another cup of wine, Ohiya said magnanimously, “Yes, I don’t blame her. Tora is incredibly good-looking. Even I … alas, he did not care for me. The best ones never do.” This sad comment on his love life required another draft. “But what pains me is the decline of my art. All used to be elegance and respect for the classical movements. Now it is fads and seduction merely.”

  This conversation reminded Akitada of Lady Ogata. “By any chance, are you familiar with gosechi dances?”

  Ohiya’s face lit up. “Of course. I used to teach the dancers.” He shook his head. “That was in the days of my glory. Oh, those little ladies were so charming. You can always tell quality. Mind you, they had their own minds, and their nursemaids—ugly old things—would encourage their little darlings. But I knew how to manage. I flatter myself that we put on stunning performances during the years I had the honor to work at the palace.”

  Akitada glanced around the shabby room again. It was indeed a comedown from the imperial halls. Ohiya drank again and belched.

  “I heard there was something called ‘the dance of the cranes,’” Akitada said. “Are you familiar with it?”

  “Oh, that? We only performed it once. We had a tall girl that year. Perfect for that long-legged bird. She did very well, as I recall.” Ohiya smiled. “Her father sent me two pieces of gold when it was over. He wanted her to catch the crown prince’s eye. It didn’t happen, but she caught plenty of other eyes. Did you know that cranes dance when they are mating?”

  Akitada nodded. “Who was the girl?”

  Ohiya thought, fueled his effort with another cup of wine, and shook his head. “Forgot. I’m getting old.”

  He was also getting drunk. Akitada was becoming worried and returned to his original purpose to get his answers as quickly as possible. He said, “Better slow down on the wine a little.”

  Ohiya flushed and said apologetically, “I have been practicing my craft. It’s thirsty work. Please ask me anything.”

  “I need some information about two people who are well-known in the willow quarter. Do you keep in touch with your former friends?”

  Ohiya grimaced. “Friends? I have no friends,” he said bitterly. “But it is my life. A few still care about true elegance. The clientele has changed since quite common people have come into money. Such people want to see low entertainment. Girls dress up in men’s clothing and dance with swords these days. It’s shocking. No properly trained asobi would have done such a thing in my day. They’ve picked up the abominable and depraved behavior of the kugutsu vagrants.” He sighed deeply and reached for his wine.

  “Do you know the man they call Kanemoto?”

  Ohiya almost dropped his cup. “No,” he cried. “Not really. Please don’t ask.”

  He knew enough, apparently, to be panicked by the mere name. “I thought you might. He seems to be mostly involved with gambling and prostitution. My interest is in his personal life.”

  Ohiya relaxed a little. “Oh, I wouldn’t know about that. He prefers women,” he said.

  “Any particular one?”

  Ohiya drank and belched again. He put his hand to his mouth and gave Akitada a comical look. “Oops! Your pardon, sir. My stomach isn’t what it used to be. I’m getting old.” The thought made him teary-eyed. “You should’ve seen me in my youth. Oh, they all thought I was so handsome. I got love letters even from the most highly-placed gentlemen. Very highly-placed! And from some of the ladies, too.” He giggled. “And more than letters. But I mustn’t tell. No, no. I mustn’t. But it was such fun.” And now he wept openly, brushing the tears away with his hands. “Oh, what I have come to!” He swung an arm about, gesturing at his shabby abode and knocking over his wine cup. “Oops! Lucky it was empty.” He laughed and poured himself more wine.

  “You were about to tell me who Kanemoto’s girlfriend is.”

  “Oh, her!” Ohiya waved dismissively. This time the wine sprayed from the full cup in his hand. He stared at it. “What happened? Did I drink it?” He giggled. “Never mind.” He poured some more.

  Akitada, who had barely been missed the shower of wine, reached across and took the cup from his hand. “Who is she?”

  “Who?”

  Akitada bit back an angry comment. “The woman who sleeps with Kanemoto?”

  Ohiya screwed up his face in thought. “Now who is she? A drop of wine would help me remember,” he added in a wheedling tone.

  “You drink too much. That’s why you no longer teach.”

  Ohiya protested weakly, “I still teach. I have three promising pupils. The wine is for after work.” Self-pity seized him again. His face crumpled and he sobbed. “I’m old. That’s what it is. They’ve all left me because I’m old. All my boys, my lovers, my pets are gone. I’m all alone!”

  Akitada’s disgust melted on that last wail. Loneliness was everywhere. The lady in the crane pavilion, the professor, the painter, perhaps even the student. And Genshin? Was he lonely now that he was a monk? He, too, had lost his good look. Would the women at court give him a second glance these days?

  And what of his own loneliness?

  Akitada was not a vain man and had never thought of himself as handsome. He had reached middle age and already discovered a white hair or two. Would any woman still consider him a suitable husband or lover?

  But what was he thinking of? Tamako had not even been gone a year.

  He looked at Ohiya, whose head had sunk to his chest. Was the man asleep? Yes, that was the sound of a snore. Suddenly frustrated, Akitada jumped up and took Ohiya by the shoulders—thin, bony shoulders—and shook him violently. Ohiya’s eyes opened and stared.

  “Wha—?”

  “What’s the name of Kanemoto’s woman, you drunken sot?” Akitada roared.

  “Phoenix. They call her Phoenix. Lucky bitch. He’s buying her a house.”

  Akitada let Ohiya go and straightened up.

  Ohiya rubbed his shoulders. “You hurt me,” he complained.

  Ashamed, Akitada fished a silver coin from his sash and dropped it on the floor.

  The sight revived the man amazingly. He snatched up the coin and staggered to his feet to perform one of his elaborate bows. “How generous!” he cried, staggering a little. “May Amida bless you a thousand fold! May you never lack beautiful women and may you have many sons!”

  Not likely, thought Akitada and turned to leave.

  25

  Phoenix

  It was getting dark and the rain was heavier when Akitada left the dance master’s place. As he walked away into the dusk, he heard the sound of a small drum and Ohiyah’s voice, strangely melodious for a man who was drunk, begin an old song. The sound was soothing, and Akitada’s frustrations melted. He felt sorry for the man who had nothing to look forward to but death. He also became aware of extreme fatigue and a very painful left leg. He felt a great temptation to go home to his warm bed. For that matter, he wished he could just close his eyes for a very short rest, but wind and rain buffeted him and time was running out.

  The memory of Tora and Saburo in their cells and of the blind woman only a night away from being found guilty of a grisly murder made him continue. His stubborn journey took him all the way back to the willow quarter. Ohiya had provided the professional name of the woman who had witnessed t
he gambler’s murder, but he still had no idea where she could be found. As things stood, he could not ask Kobe to take up the investigation.

  When he reached the willow quarter, it was blazing with colored lights even in this miserable weather. Snatches of music floated on the perfumed air and the hanging paper lanterns swung in the wind, giving the scene an air of wild abandon. Perhaps it had always been thus, but Akitada was impressed in spite of his aversion to the hedonistic world of prostitution and gambling. He got a sense of what drove men to squander their hard-earned money here. It was more than lust for women; it was a desperate hunger for an experience that would blot out their real lives for the span of a night. To the women and professional gamblers as well as a host of others this was the only real life, and they stood ready to collect their wages.

  Akitada made his way back to the warden’s office. It was busy. The drunken brawls, the heart attacks of middle-aged men, the theft reports, and the unconscious revelers had to be dealt with. The constables were on their rounds, and the cells were full.

  He was so wet, tired, and sore that he wished he could sit down for a while and rest, even in one of those cells. But the stares from guards and drunks made him ashamed to give in to weariness.

  The warden, a man habitually engaged in dealing with the grossest behavior of people, eyed his appearance with a frown.

  “I was here earlier,” Akitada said.

  The warden merely looked back and waited.

  “I need more information. A few days ago there was a murder in a bath house in the next quarter.”

  The warden nodded. “The Daikoku-yu.”

  “Yes. It appears the young woman charged with crime may be innocent. Meanwhile, there has been a second murder in your quarter. A gambler was found strangled.”

  Again the warden nodded. “They arrested two men. They lost heavily and accused him of cheating. Maybe he did. It happens. No reason to kill a man.”

  “Yes. But these two men work for me, and that gambler worked for a man called Kanemoto. The body was found under Kanemoto’s house. Why wasn’t Kanemoto interrogated about the incident?”