The Old Men of Omi Read online

  But his thoughts were with Yukiko. He was as hungry for her as a young man in his teens and could not stop thinking about their night together. Feeling foolish, he reminded himself that this unaccustomed passion was due to long abstinence—or if not abstinence, then those quick and loveless unions he had purchased with silver. Yukiko, beautiful, young, utterly desirable, was his wife. He was barely able to comprehend it yet. Every thought of her filled him with a strange mix of tenderness and lust.

  After spending the night with his daughter, Akitada’s first meeting with Kosehira was awkward. Fortunately, his friend was similarly embarrassed, and the situation in the city was the topic of the conversation. Akitada told Kosehira what he had remembered. Kosehira looked dubious, but said, “Well, since we have nothing else, I suppose you and Takechi had better look for the man.”

  It was easier said than done.

  His next embarrassment stemmed from Tora’s reaction when he told him what had happened. Tora’s jaw dropped in utter surprise. Alas, his shocked silence was temporary. After boisterous congratulations accompanied by backslapping, he bombarded Akitada with advice. You would have thought he, Akitada, had never bedded a woman or—which was more galling—that he was well past the age where he was able to function in the marriage bed. Tora insisted on regaling him with his experience in sexual matters.

  “Remember now, sir, hot passion cools easily. Take it slowly. The young ones like it that way. Else you might frighten her.”

  That one got Tora a stern warning, “How dare you, Tora. Mind your own business.”

  Tora merely grinned, and Akitada was too happy to pursue the matter. But Tora was not done yet. He next advised, “Be careful how you look to others today, sir. It’s hard to conceal one’s thoughts of love-making.” Caught out in a lustful memory, Akitada flushed and shot Tora an angry look.

  “I suppose you’ve been writing a hot poem this morning,” Tora observed with a grin. “Nice custom. Among the rest of us, women prefer something a bit more substantial.”

  “Enough!” roared Akitada. “If you cannot control your tongue, you can go home and stay there. I don’t need you.”

  A stricken look on Tora’s face caused him to relent.. “Oh, never mind. The Grand Shrine Festival is the day after tomorrow. I promised the children they could come. Under the circumstances, you’d better ride home and tell everybody what has happened. I’ll give you a letter for my sister.” He paused a moment to consider Akiko’s reaction. It was altogether predictable. She would be enchanted and immediately start planning. He sighed. “Hanae will need to prepare for my new wife. Yukiko will have Tamako’s pavilion, and that means Yasuko will need new quarters. Have Saburo take whatever funds he needs and get things ready. I don’t want him to spare money this time. And you may return with the children tomorrow.”

  This time, Tora obeyed without further comments.

  As for the morning-after poem, Akitada had, in fact, returned to his quarters before dawn and taken up his brush to write: “Did you come to me or I to you? Your gown, like mist dispersed by wind, revealed my heart’s desire. Am I asleep or awake?” It was a poor effort, but he had never been a poet, and while the image of the wind was quite improper, he hoped she would see how great his passion for her was. He had slipped the note under her shuttered door.

  Many years ago, he had labored longer over Tamako’s morning-after poem, eventually sending her a pretty verse about wisterias, tied to a wisteria branch from her father’s garden. This was different, frank and passionate. He was no longer the young lover.

  His matrimonial duty done, he eventually turned his thoughts to catching a killer. In Otsu, he and Kosehira drafted letters to be sent to Prefect Ishimoda of Echi district and to Masaie, the warden in Okuni. Both were to ask more questions of witnesses near the victims’ homes. A special messenger was sent post-haste and told to return with answers that night.

  Then Akitada went to see Takechi and told him of his idea. “I want to go back to the merchant’s house and talk to the child again,” he said. “And after that, we need to see the judge’s servants.”

  Takechi’s expression suggested that he was as doubtful as Kosehira had been. But like the governor, he was desperate. “Let’s go,” he said.

  The merchant’s shop was open for business. Fumi Tokiari’s son said apologetically, “People need to eat. We had to open up.”

  Takechi nodded. “Better this way. For them and for you. Work keeps your mind on the living.”

  The merchant nodded.

  “We’d like to have a word with your grandson. Is he still here?”

  “My grandson? But he’s only five. He knows nothing.”

  “Nevertheless,” said Akitada impatiently.

  “Yes, they are here. For the funeral.” He led the way to the back of the house which seemed a good deal more crowded today. Akitada spied the boy playing with another child and went to speak to him.

  Crouching down to the child’s level, he asked, “Do you remember me?”

  The boy stared and nodded.

  “And do you remember going to the shrine festival.”

  Another silent nod.

  “You told me you saw a puppet man. A dolly man I think you called him.”

  The child’s eyes brightened. “Yes. I saw him. I wanted the monkey, but mother said I couldn’t have it.”

  “Right. Now think, because it’s important. Where was the puppet man?”

  “Outside.”

  The boy’s mother inserted herself into the conversation. “He means at the fair.”

  “No,” said the boy, “he was outside on the street. I saw him. He showed me his dolls in the box. I liked the monkey. He asked if I was going to the fair.”

  Akitada rose and looked at Takechi. “He was watching the house,” he said,” waiting for the family to leave.”

  The mother gasped and drew the boy closer.

  Turning to the rest of the family, Akitada asked, “Did anyone else see the puppet man outside?”

  They shook their heads.

  “You did not even see him at the fair?”

  They looked at each other and shook their heads again. The boy said stubbornly, “He wasn’t at the fair. He was outside.”

  Akitada gave the child a shiny silver coin and told his mother, “He’s a bright boy. Keep an eye on him.”

  ∞

  The judge’s servants, Kiyoshi and Tatsuko, were still living in his house. They had no place to go, and the heirs had allowed them to stay to keep an eye on the property. Kiyoshi worked at the harbor and Tatsuko looked after her children and kept the place clean.

  She was home when they got there and recognized them. A look of fear crossed her face. “Has anything happened? Is it my husband? Do we have to leave?”

  “No, nothing like that,” Takechi reassured her. “Lord Sugawara wants to ask you a few more questions, that’s all.”

  She smiled with relief and bowed to Akitada.

  “Do you recall,” Akitada asked, “that you told me the judge did not even pay you enough to take your son to see a puppet play?”

  She blushed. “I shouldn’t have complained. The judge’s heirs have been very good to us.”

  “I’m glad to hear it, but I wondered what made you think of puppets that day.”

  “Oh, it was nothing. There was this puppeteer in front of the house, and I was thinking how my son would like to see a puppet show. He was just an ordinary puppet man with a box slung around his neck, the kind that walks around at fairs. They take their puppets out and make them move and talk. It only costs a few coppers to watch, but we didn’t even have that to spare.”

  “Ah. You have an excellent memory. Can you describe the puppet man?”

  She blushed at the compliment. “Well, as I said, he had this box—“

  “No, I mean what he looked like. How old was he, was he tall or short, did he have any distinguishing marks?”

  She frowned. “I didn’t look at him very long and he was on t
he other side of the street. He was a big man. Not young, I think. He had on a colorful cap, but his face looked old. I’m sorry, that’s all. Oh, and he had a limp.”

  “Thank you. That was very helpful.” Akitada gave her a piece of silver, and they left.

  Outside, Takechi said with a good deal of admiration, “I’m beginning to think you’re right, sir. However did you hit on a puppet man?”

  “It took me far too long, Takechi. I went to a shrine fair with the governor’s children and saw a puppeteer there, but my interest was in the sellers of Jizo figures. There have been several mentions of puppets, mostly by children, who have an eye for such things. I suddenly thought of all the vagrants who wander from town to town to perform or sell their skills at fairs. It’s a perfect cover for a convict who has escaped and intends to avenge his family.”

  Takechi nodded. “And this is the perfect time for it. Omi is known far and wide for its spring festivals. I bet he’ll be at the Grand Shrine Festival, too. They are already setting up the booths and grandstands at the Hiyoshi Taisha shrine. We’ll be sure to get him then.”

  “It would be safer if you could find him sooner. Where do such people stay in Otsu?”

  “We have a lot of hostelries for travelers near the harbor. Some cater to hinin like him.”

  Hatta would be an outcast now, though he had once belonged to the respectable family of a senior retainer. A terrible change for a man! All of the homeless migrants of the country, entertainers at fairs and private houses, jugglers and dancers, prostitutes and soothsayers, belonged to this non-class of people. They were almost invariably poor and at the mercy of the authorities who arrested them frequently for stealing and loitering, for causing trouble and for prostitution.

  Akitada said, “Let’s have a word with that very observant neighbor of the jailer. If she saw him, she may remember another detail. And if the people in the Echi district also report seeing a puppet man near the murder scenes, you will have enough for an arrest.”

  Takechi nodded. “We’ll have to be careful, or he’ll smell what’s afoot.”

  Tokuno’s neighbor welcomed them eagerly. “Any news?” she asked. “Have you got him yet? Everybody’s afraid around here. Some people barricade their doors and won’t come out.”

  She was evidently made of stronger stuff because a mere knock brought her to the door. Takechi asked his question, and she said immediately, “The puppet man? You mean he’s the one that killed Tokuno and that merchant? And the judge?” She put a hand to her head. “Amida! He might’ve killed me. I talked to him.” She swayed a little, and Takechi caught her arm.

  “He wanted Tokuno, not you,” he told her. “And you can tell people they are perfectly safe. Now tell us about him.”

  She told, eagerly and with great detail. He had walked down the street, looking at the houses on either side while she had been outside sweeping the path to her door. He had stopped and asked her where the jailer Tokuno lived. “Of course, Tokuno wasn’t a jailer anymore. I told him so. He was just a sweeper now. He seemed pleased by this. I pointed out Tokuno’s house.” She raised a hand to her mouth. “Oh, merciful Kannon! I sent the murderer to Tokuno.”

  “He would have found the house without you,” Akitada said. “Can you describe him?”

  “Oh, he was a tall man. Gray hair. It was long and he tied it in back. And he was really sun burnt, like he’d been traveling. I asked him what he had in his box, but he wouldn’t tell me and walked away.”

  “Was he limping?”

  “Yes. I guessed it was from all that walking they do. And I knew very well he was a puppeteer even if he wouldn’t say.”

  And that was that.

  Akitada and Takechi parted, Takechi to organize his search, and Akitada to return to the tribunal to report and to await news from Echi.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The Grand Shrine Festival

  Word from Echi district arrived late that night. The news was mixed. No puppet man had been seen near the Taira manor at any time, but the fair attended by Wakiya and Juro had indeed had a puppet player on both days of the fair.

  “It doesn’t matter about Sukemichi’s death,” Akitada said to Kosehira. “I myself passed a sizable fair within walking distance from the manor. Hatta was there, I’d swear on it.”

  They had taken to referring to the puppet man as Hatta, assuming he was Hatta Takashi, the son of the Taira betto Hatta Hiroshi, who had confessed to killing the rice merchant Fumi Takahiro and had died in exile. The son had attacked Sukemichi’s father and had also been sent to work in the mines in the north. They had no proof that he had escaped and become a puppeteer to avenge his father’s death and his family’s ruin, but no other explanation would account for all victims. They hoped that, once arrested, the puppet man would confirm their assumptions.

  But in spite of the most thorough searches of every hostelry in Otsu and the surrounding countryside, the puppet man had not been found.

  Kosehira grumbled, “It may all have been in vain. He could have left right after killing Fumi Tokiari. His work was done and he went home, wherever home may be. We’ll never solve the murders, and the people will call us inept.”

  Akitada, who was also worried, pointed out that the Grand Shrine Festival was the next day, and that Hatta would not miss such an excellent chance to earn enough money for his journey back.

  Kosehira grimaced. “Can you imagine what will happen when the constables try to arrest him in the middle of the event?”

  Akitada could imagine it, but he preferred to remain hopeful. “The fair grounds are not part of the procession route, and you can position constables in ordinary clothes there to keep a look-out for him.”

  Kosehira brightened. “Hmm. Yes. That may work.”

  Toward evening, Tora arrived with Akitada’s children and his son Yuki. Akitada greeted them nervously, having no idea how they had reacted to the news of his remarriage. He should have gone home to tell them himself, but that could not be helped now. The children had come on their own horses, smaller versions of Tora’s mount. It gave Akitada considerable pride to see that they could ride so well.

  When Yoshi saw him, he cried “Father! Father!” and slid unaided from the back of his little horse to run to him. Akitada swept him up and swung him around, laughing out loud. “Welcome, my son! What a very fine horseman you’ve become!”

  “I came all the way on my horse,” Yoshi informed him. “Tora said I was doing very well!”

  Akitada put Yoshi down and went to help Yasuko. His little lady also sat her horse well but evidently felt it was appropriate that she should be assisted. She was smiling. Akitada muttered a prayer of thanks to the gods. The children were not angry with him for taking a wife.

  Yasuko let him lift her down, arranged her gown, and straightened her straw hat.

  “Welcome, my daughter,” he said with a smile. “How very ladylike you look!”

  “Thank you.” She peered up at him. “Where is your new lady, Father? I want to see her. Tora says she’s very beautiful.”

  He glanced across at Tora and Yuki, who grinned back. “Yuki,” said Akitada, “I’m very glad to see you, too. Come join us while your father takes the horses away.”

  Yuki obeyed and came shyly, handing Akitada a letter. Tora gathered the reins of the children’s horses and took them to the stables.

  The letter was from Akiko. Akitada tucked it away for later. “Come,” he said to the children. “You shall see my wife. Her name is Yukiko, and she is indeed very beautiful.”

  A little later, he gave another prayer of thanks, because Yukiko and the children seemed to like each other. He waited on her veranda while she introduced them to her brothers and sisters.

  Tonight would be their third night together, the night that sealed the marriage contract. Of course, he had never had an option in the matter, but neither had he wanted to escape. He put aside any quibbling doubts about this match and reminded himself that he was a man in love. Now, if they cou
ld only find the killer, he would be a completely happy man.

  Then he opened Akiko’s letter.

  It was worse than he had expected. “You sly fox, you,” she wrote. “Here I was worried about finding you another wife, and you engage yourself to the daughter of a high-ranking Fujiwara! I’m making all the preparations here. You need not worry about anything. Oh, what a time we’ll have, your little bride and I. And you are set on a great career. Well done, Brother!”

  ∞

  The morning after the third night broke with the noise of festive preparations all around them. Akitada had been awake for a while, watching the sun gradually make its way through the slats of their closed shutters. Yukiko beside him slept in a tangle of quilts and disordered undergown that revealed a smooth thigh and leg. He caressed this limb with his eyes and debated whether to wake her. Her long hair partially covered her face. It struck him that she slept as deeply as a child, and once again he felt that terrible tenderness for his young wife.

  He had lost Tamako to childbirth, and for all he knew his new bride, this lovely young creature beside him, was already embarked on that same final journey.

  In the corridor outside Yukiko’s room there was a rustling sound followed by whispers and a giggle. Yukiko stirred, stretched like a kitten, yawned, and then turned to smile up at him.

  “Good morning, wife,” he said.

  “Good morning, husband.” She covered herself, then stretched out a hand to touch his face. “You need a shave,” she said.

  He kissed her anyway, feeling the surge of desire returning, but suppressed it. They would be embarrassingly late for the congratulations if he delayed.

  He got up and found the traditional wedding offering left outside the door. A tray with elegantly arranged rice buns waited there. When he returned with it, Yukiko was sitting up, twisting her hair into a knot. She seemed to him the most exquisitely lovely woman he had ever seen, and she was his. He knelt to offer her the tray.