The Crane Pavillion Page 3

  Nakatoshi looked startled. “Nothing. Or rather, she found refuge on his estate. A matter of charity.”

  Akitada snorted.

  “Have I touched on a sore subject? You must forgive me. I know very little about Abbot Genshin and nothing whatsoever about the lady.”

  Akitada saw no reason to beat about the bush. “The reverend abbot was a great philanderer before he took the tonsure. I believe he did so only because he was involved in a scandal. The other woman also died.”

  “Dear heaven. Can it be so? He has the reputation of being a truly holy man. There’s talk he will be made a bishop soon. Do you believe he is responsible for this lady’s suicide?”

  Akitada did not answer this. “Did the police investigate?”

  “Yes. Apparently there was no doubt. She was alone in her pavilion, pushed one of her trunks under a rafter, climbed up, and tied a length of silk around the rafter and her neck, then jumped off the trunk. Two children who lived in the neighborhood and sometimes visited her found her the next morning.” Nakatoshi paused, then added, “Abbot Genshin was on Mount Hiei with his monks. He hadn’t been in the capital for many months.”

  Akitada sat in silence, thinking about it. “I don’t like it,” he said finally. “What is it that he expects me to do?”

  Nakatoshi flushed again. “I hardly dare propose it, but could you take a look at the place, and maybe talk to the people who live there?”

  “Other people live there? In the Takashina mansion?”

  “Yes. A nun, a student, and a retired professor. All absolutely respectable people who have fallen on very hard times. There’s also a caretaker and some artist, and Genshin has people from the city make repairs and trim the gardens.”

  “How very odd! I recall the place. It used to be quite big, covering a whole city block on Tsuchimikado.”

  “Yes, that’s it. Badly overgrown these days, but as I said, it’s kept in fairly decent shape. The main house is empty, since Genshin doesn’t use it, but some of the rooms in the wings and pavilions are occupied by the people I mentioned. Will you look into it?”

  Akitada had been home for months now and had not left the house in all this time. He was aware of the fact that he was becoming a burden to his people who felt the need to hover protectively over him. Perhaps it was time to emerge from this self-imposed confinement and escape their supervision for a day. He nodded. “Don’t expect much. Only that I’ll visit the mansion and perhaps talk to the people who live there on Tasuku’s charity.” He shook his head at the notion of a charitable Tasuku. “It’s the oddest thing I’ve ever heard,” he muttered.

  Nakatoshi smiled his relief and jumped up, thanking him profusely. The next moment he was gone.

  Akitada also got up and stretched. He was wearing his old house robe and had torn slippers on his feet. The robe was badly worn and stained. He did not care about such things, but he could not go among strangers like this. He headed out of the house to find Tora.

  When he reached the front veranda, he saw Nakatoshi and Tora in the courtyard below. They were in conversation, and Tora was grinning broadly. When they parted, Tora called after Nakatoshi, “I knew you could do it! Thank you, sir.” And then he did a little dance while Nakatoshi could be heard chuckling on his way out the gate.

  Akitada waited until the gate had closed behind his visitor, then he called down to Tora, “Come in for a moment.”

  Tora rearranged his face and bounded up the steps. “What a nice gentleman Secretary Nakatoshi is! I’m very glad you received him, sir.”

  Akitada looked at him, decided to say nothing, and requested a change of clothes.

  Formal attire, which was what was called for in this instance, was by no means easy to put on. And Akitada had not bothered with it for months now. Tora dug around in one of the trunks, the one for summer clothing, and brought forth white silk trousers and a short coat and robe of matching dark blue, figured silk. “Will this do, sir?”

  Akitada looked at them. They were wrinkled. Tamako used to look after his wardrobe. “Hmm.” He reached for them.

  “Maybe the women could do something about the wrinkles,” Tora said dubiously.

  “No time,” muttered his master, stepping into the trousers and tying them at his waist. Tora held out the blue coat for him and then the outer robe. Reaching back into the trunk, he brought out a somewhat battered hat of stiffened black gauze, a pair of black slippers, and a blue sash. The sash he wound tightly around his master’s waist, folding over the ends in front. Akitada slipped on the shoes and tied the hat under his chin as Tora held up the big round silver mirror.

  Tora stepped back, cocked his head critically, and remarked, “You’re getting as thin as a stork, sir. Shall I come with you?”

  “If you keep your comments about my appearance to yourself,” Akitada snapped.

  Tora grinned.

  *

  They went first to speak to Kobe. Their arrival brought the superintendent to his office door with a smile on his face. “Good work, Tora,” he said. “Come in, come in!”

  Akitada looked from one to the other and shook his head. But he entered, sat down, and accepted a cup of wine. Tora hovered near the door.

  Kobe was still grinning. “Let me guess. You’re here about the suicide of a Lady Ogata. Right?”

  Akitada turned to give Tora another look. Tora studied the ceiling. Turning back to Kobe, Akitada said with a frown, “Was this just a conspiracy to get me out of the house, or is there really something wrong about her death?”

  Kobe laughed but had the grace to look guilty. “There may be something odd about it. Mind you, it’s nothing we could prove, but I got the feeling the characters living in the good abbot’s house have their secrets. No doubt she did, too. As there was little we could do, it seemed just the thing for you to investigate.”

  Akitada compressed his lips. “I’d hate to think someone died to give me a chance to exercise my mind. I do wish you wouldn’t meddle in my life.”

  Kobe threw up his hands. “It wasn’t me. Well, not right away. Secretary Nakatoshi wrote to Lord Kosehira for his advice, and he suggested he talk to you.”

  “The plot deepens. And you were to find a suitable murder for me?” Akitada paused. “But this is no murder, if I understand you correctly. The police have decided it’s a suicide. Surely you could have found something better.”

  Kobe looked uncomfortable. “Well, let’s say there was no immediate suggestion of foul play in this instance. Look, if you insist on a clear-cut murder, I could use some help with several other cases. It’s not as if greed and violence aren’t alive and well in the capital.”

  Akitada shook his head. “No, thanks,” he said a little bitterly. “Since you and my other friends have seen fit to interrupt my peace, I’ll take a look. But I had hoped that you could at least tell me there was something wrong about the suicide.”

  “Well, there was no note. And the others seemed very surprised that she should do such a thing. But it looked very much like a suicide and the coroner concurred.”

  “Tell me what you know about these ‘others’.”

  Kobe thought. “There isn’t very much. They all live there by invitation. Since the abbot isn’t using his mansion and has no family to speak of, he has allowed certain people to take up residence there. Lady Ogata is said to have been a waiting woman to one of the emperor’s concubines. She was without family and very poor. There’s a retired university professor. I think he taught Chinese. His name is Suketada. He’s elderly. The youngest is a student, Takechi Akushiro. He is from one of the provinces and doesn’t seem to have much money. Or else, he squanders it on loose living. The last is a nun. She’s also old, but seems healthier than the professor. I know nothing about her background. Oh, and then there is the painter Yoshizane. He’s in his fifties and lives there because he supplies the abbot’s temple with his paintings.”

  “What about servants?”

  “No servants. Just a caretaker, a fairly s
hiftless character called Koshiro.”

  “Thank you.” Akitada rose with a sigh. “I suppose I’ll take a look. Don’t expect anything, though.”

  Kobe also got to his feet. “Akitada,” he said, “I’m truly sorry if we troubled you, but your friends care. The forty-eight days since your wife’s death are long past, and yet you still hide in your room. As for Lady Ogata, I have no proof that her death was not a suicide, but both Nakatoshi and Kosehira thought you would be interested since it happened to someone connected to Abbot Genshin. He was a friend of yours, I believe?”

  Akitada nodded. “At one time. But back then, Takashina Tasuku was hardly the sort of young man I’d wish my own children to meet.”

  Kobe’s eyebrows rose. “You don’t say? The good abbot is known as a most saintly person now. People change, you know.”

  “Over the years, I’ve had reason to doubt that.” Akitada grimaced. “In any case, you and my other keepers have done well.”

  4

  The Old Professor

  The Takashina property slept in the autumn sun behind high walls and closed gates. Not a sound but the singing of birds came from inside. Here and there, curved, tiled roofs showed above the trees. The roofs and outer walls appeared in good repair, but the place was clearly half-abandoned. An estate of this size occupied by a noble family and its retainers would have attracted innumerable sheds and lean-tos against its sturdy walls, especially along the street where the main gate was. Poor people hoped to benefit from the traffic a wealthy and powerful household attracted and set up stands to sell food and other goods. Besides, some of the poorer servants often received permission to attach their humble homes to the estate’s walls.

  There was nothing of the sort here.

  The huge roofed gate was closed and the gatekeeper’s window blocked by a piece of wood. Tora went to pound on the gate, shouting, “Ho! Anyone home? Open up.”

  Nothing happened.

  “Shall I try to climb in, sir?”

  “Not yet. Knock again.”

  Tora was still belaboring the heavy gate, when a tall, elderly gentleman came down the street. He was dressed in a fusty black robe, bareheaded, and leaning on a knobby stick. When he reached them, he stopped and watched Tora.

  Tora had turned red with his efforts and now delivered a vicious kick to the gate. “No good, sir,” he said, turning away. “We’ll have to become thieves and climb over.”

  The gentleman chuckled. “Or you could use the small gate,” he said gleefully. “We all do. Of course, your master may consider it beneath his dignity.” He cast a glance at Akitada’s fine clothes.

  “Not at all,” Akitada said stiffly. “Lead the way, sir.”

  The gentleman approached the small gate, which was cut into the larger one, poked it open with his stick, and stepped through. Akitada and Tora followed.

  Inside, he paid them no further attention and strode off toward the main house.

  Akitada took in the weedy gravel of the wide front courtyard, the massive center section of the main house with two galleries branching out toward its wings, and what must be service buildings to his left.

  “A moment, sir,” he called after the gentleman. The man paused and looked over his shoulder. Akitada went after him and said, “I’m afraid I don’t know your name.”

  Bushy gray eyebrows rose. “And I don’t know yours. Let’s leave well enough alone, shall we?” And the man started off again.

  Akitada followed. “Please forgive me, sir, but I’m looking for someone who knew Lady Ogata.”

  This time the man stopped and glowered at Akitada. “And what prurient curiosity brings you here?”

  Taken aback, Akitada snapped, “I’m Sugawara Akitada.”

  The eyebrows rose another fraction. “And what precisely should that tell me?”

  Tora joined them. “Now look here, sir. What gives you the right to be rude to a man of my master’s standing?”

  The man eyed him. Suddenly he smiled. The smile made him appear younger and almost charming. He said, “I’m older than you. At my age, I can get away with bluntness. You can’t, and neither can he.”

  “Old people are supposed to have learned wisdom,” Tora pointed out angrily.

  The man snorted and turned to walk away again. Tora was about to lay hands on him, but Akitada pulled him back. “Are you by chance the retired professor who lives here on the charity of the owner?”

  The man kept going. “What if I am?”

  “The abbot is an acquaintance of mine and has asked me to pay his tenants a visit. It seems to me the least you can do is answer a few questions.”

  The man turned. “I see. Yes, I’m Professor Suketada.” He gave Akitada a long measuring glance, then nodded. “If you must be a nuisance, follow me. It’s hot in this sun, and I must conserve my energy. My room is just this way.”

  Perhaps the comment about living on charity had shamed the professor. He seemed somehow shrunken, diminished in stature. He climbed the steps to the covered corridor and then walked to one of the wings of the mansion. There he paused among a row of doors. Inside was a smallish room. Shutters on the opposite side let in some light, and Akitada saw that most of the space was taken up by books and papers. These were stacked along the walls or piled on surfaces of stands and desks. One larger desk, its lacquer cracked, held more papers and writing utensils. A single tattered tatami mat lay in the middle of the room, and some bedding was rolled up in a corner. He saw no clothes chests, but against one wall stood a leaning clothes rack, heavily laden with robes and other paraphernalia of dress. All of it seemed to be of the same rusty black color as the professor’s current outfit.

  “Have a seat,” he told them, gesturing to the mat. “I have no wine, but I’ve just bought a stuffed dumpling from a vendor. He claimed it contains fresh fish, but I doubt it.” He took a small package wrapped in oiled paper from his sleeve and sniffed it. It released a strong odor of rancid fish. “Do you want some?”

  Akitada said quickly. “Thank you, we have just eaten. We need nothing.”

  Their host looked relieved and placed the greasy package on a small, chipped tray.

  Poverty, thought Akitada. Such extreme poverty that he is probably hungry most of the time. What must that be like for a man of his background? What could have brought a scholar so low?

  Professor Suketada went over to the shutters and threw them wide. Light flooded in. Outside, the lush plants of the overgrown garden approached to within a few feet of the narrow ledge. “No candles or oil, but the sun will do for me,” he said, rubbing his hands. “I’m very happy here.”

  Perhaps this comment was meant to take some of the sting out of being very poor and living on someone’s charity. He did not look at all happy.

  After he came back to sit down with them, he and Akitada took each other’s measure. Close up, the professor looked worn, tired, and unhealthy. His skin was pale, his eyes red-rimmed, and his tall frame sagged. As if they had aged with his body, his shoes and clothes were not just threadbare; they had gaping holes. “Sugawara?” he said. “Didn’t you take a first at the university?”

  Surprised, Akitada nodded. “A long time ago. I’m afraid I don’t recall you, sir.”

  The professor’s eyes were watery. He blinked several times. “I don’t see too well, but I think you used to have a mustache then. I was very young myself. You were always chasing after women. Disgraceful, as I recall. You’re lucky the quality of your Chinese essays made up for it.”

  “I don’t think …” Akitada paused, then guessed the mistake. “It might have been my father, sir. He was Sugawara Koretada.”

  “Yes, yes. That’s the one.” He squinted at Akitada. “Yes, I was a mere child myself then. Anyway, good family. Honor your name, or you’ll come to this.” He gestured at his abode.

  Akitada wondered again how the man had come to this. Professors who taught at the Imperial University were well-born, with family money and connections in addition to their stipend. />
  But his purpose was to discover what had happened to Lady Ogata. Or more precisely, what role Tasuku had played in her death. He considered how to bring up the subject.

  The professor eyed his dumpling longingly. “Now, what do you want?” he said, his voice impatient.

  “I used to come here when Abbot Genshin was still Takashina Tasuku. We were at the university together. As I recall, he, too, had an interest in women.”

  Suketada frowned. “Perhaps.”

  “You have had a death here recently. A Lady Ogata died. I believe, she, too, was a permanent resident in the Takashina mansion.”

  The professor was silent for a moment. Then he said, “Under the circumstances, there’s nothing permanent about such a residency. She’s dead, and I won’t be around much longer myself. Young man, get to the point. I thought you had questions to ask. So far you’ve only uttered statements.”

  “Well then, what was Abbot Genshin’s relationship with the dead woman?”

  Suketada stared at him. “I have no idea. Do you mean were they lovers?”

  Akitada was becoming frustrated. “Well, were they?”

  There was a moment’s silence, then Suketada’s lip twitched. “Do you seriously expect me to blacken the character of the man on whose charity I live here?”

  Akitada flushed. “Forgive me. My question was clumsy. Let me explain. I’ve promised to find out what happened, why the lady would suddenly commit suicide. Can you throw some light on this?”

  “No.”

  “Well, do you know how she came to live here?”

  “Considering your questions, you and your friends seem to know next to nothing about the lady. I don’t know any more, but I can guess. The answer is most likely that she was poor and alone in the world.”

  “Surely the abbot knew her personally. I would think he knows you and his other lodgers. Why else would he offer these accommodations?”

  “Ah. You think there is a story? Possibly a romance? True, the lady was quite beautiful, if my old eyes haven’t fooled me. I may be going on in years, but I do know female beauty.”