Death of a Doll Maker (Akitada Mysteries) Read online

  Mori was eager to explain. As it turned out, the last governor had only spent an hour or two each day in the tribunal office. He had rarely heard criminal cases, leaving this to the judge and court attached to the Hakata police station. During the hours he had spent with Mori, he had gone over the account books and tax registers.

  His Excellency was very particular about assessments,” said Mori. “He was forever finding reasons to raise taxes, and many a time we set out to inspect rice fields and manors. Almost always he found some reason to raise the assessment.”

  Akitada frowned. “I see. The content of the granary doesn’t show much profit from this.”

  “Oh, the expenses of the administration are paid in rice. And so was his Excellency’s salary.”

  Akitada nodded. He knew anything beyond the moneys paid out to him in the capital, funds meant to cover travel expenses and his first year’s salary, should come from Chikuzen’s taxes. It was a reasonable arrangement, given the danger of shipping gold on the pirate-threatened Inland Sea. But the granary had contained a very small amount of rice, not enough to see the inhabitants through a season after a bad harvest or some other crisis. He did not say this, though.

  Mori produced the tax registers. They sat together looking at the entries, most in Mori’s neat writing with occasional broader and more careless brush strokes marking changes Lord Tachibana had made.

  “Did you like your master?” Akitada asked.

  This startled Mori. “I … I admired him. He was a man of elevated learning, a connoisseur of the arts. He was quite brilliant.”

  The tax registers were dull work. Akitada closed them and looked at the old clerk. His question had made the man nervous. “It’s all right,” he said with a smile. “I won’t tell him what you said. So he liked art?” He glanced up at the walls where scrolls had been hanging. “I noticed he took his pictures with him.”

  “Oh, yes. He was very particular about having us pack them correctly. To protect them against moisture on the ship. I was surprised he didn’t go with them.”

  “You mean he sent them on a different ship?”

  “Yes. He decided at the last moment to change his plans.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. It happened after he left here.” Mori frowned. “His captain sent one of his sailors to ask if the governor had really changed his mind, but his lordship was already gone by then, and so the captain had no choice but to leave without him.”

  Well, Tachibana’s travel arrangements were none of his business. Akitada reached for another document box.

  This contained papers relating to the various harbors and shipping in Chikuzen province. Hakata and Hakozaki were the biggest ports, but there was another landing stage near the Korokan. Akitada set the box aside. “I shall study these later at greater leisure.”

  Mori nodded. “Lord Tachibana also took a great interest in shipping and harbor dues when he first arrived.”

  “But not later?”

  “Not so much. I expect he regulated matters so they needed less attention. He spent a good deal of time in Hakata.”

  “No doubt,” said Akitada dryly. “Are you from Hakata yourself?”

  “No, Excellency. I came here many years ago with another governor. I was a single man then, but I married a local woman and stayed.”

  “So you have family here in Minami?”

  “Not any more. My wife died, and so did my three children. I live alone now.”

  Akitada’s thoughts went to his own family, and his fears rose again. He said, “It must be a lonely life.”

  Mori smiled a little sadly. “It’s quite all right, Excellency. I need little and my life is here.”

  Akitada could not afford to trust anyone, yet this old man had proved his loyalty to the provincial administration. He said, “I’m sure you will do very well, Mori. And I’m sorry about all the work falling on your shoulders now. The Assistant Governor General has promised to send us more staff, including some clerks.”

  They worked past the middle of the night. When a guard outside struck the gong and shouted out the hour of the ox, Akitada stretched and closed the last document. “Tomorrow is another day. Thank you for your help, Mori.”

  Left alone in the office, Akitada felt again the amorphous threat of the place. The darkness and silence of the night outside seemed to close in on him. He sat quite still and listened. Mori’s steps had long since receded, but somewhere a door closed, and a small draft set the candle flickering. He got up quickly and flung open the office door. The corridor was a black tunnel. He returned for an oil lamp and walked down the corridor, holding the lamp high. Nothing! All was empty and silent.

  Ashamed of his panic, he returned to the office to extinguish the candle, then walked to his own room.

  7

  THE UNFILIAL CHILD

  The next day began with the arrival of a contingent of fifteen armed men led by a middle-aged sergeant with a thick beard and mustache.

  Tora met them in the forecourt.

  Their sergeant eyed him askance and demanded, “Who are you?”

  Tora folded his arms across his chest and grinned, “Where are your manners, Sarge?”

  The man bristled. “I’m Sergeant Ueda and these are my men. We’ve been assigned to this tribunal. And now who are you?”

  Tora yawned. “Sorry, Sarge. Late night. You’d best get your men settled and then have them lend a hand in getting the place ready. We’ll talk about your routine later.”

  Sergeant Ueda said coldly, “I prefer to be addressed as sergeant, and I don’t take orders from strangers. Where’s your master?”

  Tora sighed. “I serve Lord Sugawara. The name’s Lieutenant Sashima. And I happen to be the inspector here. That means you do take orders from me. Now get on with it.”

  It felt good to be an authority figure at last. Tora grinned as he walked away.

  *

  It was not until afternoon that he managed to return to Hakata. After wrangling most of the morning with the guard sergeant, he looked forward to seeing Maeda again. He found him in police headquarters, receiving a dressing down from Captain Okata for wasting time on a dead doll maker when he should have been working on the weekly reports due to be delivered to Dazaifu by the captain.

  This reprimand took place in front of grinning constables and various locals who were waiting to report whatever had brought them here. Maeda stood at attention, his face a fixed mask.

  When Okata paused to catch his breath, the newly appointed inspector of Chikuzen Tribunal said, “Never mind, Sergeant. Get on with the case. As for you, Captain, I’ll take those reports. The governor prefers to have them submitted to him first.”

  Okata’s jaw sagged; he stared at Tora with a wrinkled brow. “Who the devil are you?”

  This was the second such question of the day, and Tora sighed again. “Bad memory, Captain? We met yesterday at the crime scene. I’m Lieutenant Sashima, inspector for the province of Chikuzen.”

  Silence fell in the room. Okata goggled and gulped. Then he said, “Nonsense. You have no authority here. We deal directly with the governor general in Dazaifu.”

  “New governor, new rules,” snapped Tora. He turned back to the sergeant, “I came to ask about progress with the Mitsui murder. The governor is interested in the Chinese angle.”

  “Absolutely not,” blustered the captain. “I forbid it. You cannot just walk in here and give orders.”

  Tora cast up his eyes. “Captain, if you want a quarrel with the governor, let’s discuss it in private. You don’t want to lose face before half the town.”

  Okata turned beet red. He turned and walked away, followed by Tora who glanced at Maeda and winked. In Okata’s office, Tora did not wait for the captain to speak. As soon as the door was shut, he said, “You cannot win this game, Okata. Lord Sugawara is your superior, and I have authority here. If we don’t get cooperation and obedience from you, you will lose your appointment. In fact, from what I’ve seen so f
ar, you’re incompetent as a police officer. I have so informed the governor. Your post hangs by a mere spider’s thread. Now sit down and finish those reports while your sergeant and I clear up the murder.”

  Okata’s face had lost all its color. “Y-you … I’ll file a complaint. This is outrageous!”

  “By all means. Just remember what I said.”

  Tora returned to the front of the building. “Let’s go, Maeda. There’s work to be done.”

  Maeda gave him a mock salute, and they walked out together. “So that’s why they call you Tora? Because you snarl like a tiger?”

  Tora grinned. “It felt good. By the way, I’ll send your horses back. Seems the inhabitants of Minami have been looking after them for us. And here we thought they were thieves.”

  Maeda laughed. “They’re not bad people, you know. The last governor treated them like scum. They were owed for many months of work and then he dismissed them. Either anger or desperation drove them to it, as the case may be. I had a word with the headman. Did they offer to come back to work?”

  “They did, and my master approved. But we are to keep an eye on them.”

  Maeda laughed again. “I like your boss. I like you, too, for getting me out of doing the reports. Shall we go see the Mitsui children?”

  “Why not?” Tora looked forward to the visit. “Do they know what happened?”

  “Oh, yes. Word travels fast. But I thought I’d better talk to them myself, and the longer we wait the more time they’ll have to make up lies.” Maeda grinned. “The daughter’s called Atsuko. She married a shrine priest. The son is Hiroshi. He’s working as a porter at the Hakozaki harbor and may have met his father on the day of the murder. We’ll see her first. Her brother will be at work.”

  “Who benefits from the mother’s death? Did she have any money or property?”

  “You saw their house. They’re poor. In fact, I’ve been wondering why the children haven’t helped their parents out. My friend with the tiny trees said Mitsui’s wife had to take a job cleaning a merchant’s house.”

  “Yes. That’s right.” Tora thought about it. “Atsuko means ‘kind child’, but this daughter doesn’t seem to live up to her name. Children should honor their parents. It’s unfeeling to ignore them.”

  Maeda nodded.

  Tora was looking about him as they walked. “Mitsui’s wife was Chinese,” he said. “Are there many rich Chinese here?”

  “Oh no. Most of them are as poor as our people, just scraping by like old Mitsui and his wife. But some have found good fortune here. They’re silk merchants or deal in spices, medicines, religious objects, and art. All of it brought here from China or Koryo, as the case may be. There’s great demand for such things.”

  “I thought trade with China was illegal.”

  “Not all of it. The last governor was a good customer of Merchant Feng. Feng’s shop is over there. He sells silk and paintings from China.”

  They were walking along Hakata’s main thoroughfare. To their right was a long one-story building with a tiled roof and ornately carved window screens. The name “Feng” was inscribed in a large black character on the red lacquer sign above the door. The open shutters revealed dim spaces inside, and two brawny men stood guard on either side of the entrance.

  Tora eyed the place with interest. He noticed that the guards and several people on the street wore strange clothes—long narrow pants under slender belted robes that had slits up the sides. On their heads they had square black cloth caps unlike those worn by his own people. He asked, “Are you sure they don’t sell smuggled goods?”

  “The harbor police deals with smugglers, but Chinese ships come right into the harbor. There are smugglers, but mostly in Satsuma and Osumi provinces.”

  The shrine priest’s house was on the outskirts of Hakata in a neat and substantial compound. Presumably, Mitsui’s daughter had no need for her parents’ money or property. They were admitted by a woman servant.

  The priest, a gray-haired man called Kuroda, received them in his study. “Ah, Maeda,” he said with a sigh. “I’ve been expecting you. How are you? The maid says you wish to see my wife also?”

  Tora recognized the priest, who had been part of the reception committee, and the priest recognized Tora. They bowed to each other. “I’m honored,” said Kuroda, looking from Tora to Maeda and back but sounding not in the least honored. “Has what happened to Mitsui’s wife attracted the attention of the governor?”

  “Not quite,” Maeda said gravely. “Perhaps your lady had best be called, sir.”

  The priest shot him a suspicious glance. “If you insist, but this is very unusual under the circumstances.” He sent for his wife.

  The woman who came was quite beautiful, many years younger than her husband, and dressed in the full Japanese robes of stiff silk, but over them she wore an embroidered Chinese jacket which would have tempted an imperial lady. She did not look particularly distraught.

  “Sergeant Maeda and an, er, official from the governor’s office want to speak to you,” her husband told her.

  She eyed them placidly.

  Maeda looked uncomfortable and cleared his throat. “It’s about your mother, Mrs. Kuroda. I’m afraid it’s complicated.” He paused.

  She stared at him with a frown.

  “Perhaps you should sit down. No? I’m sorry to tell you that she died from a very violent attack.”

  The news had little effect on the beautiful Mrs. Kuroda. She nodded and said, “The woman who died is not my mother. My father married again. It was some hoodlum, I suppose. I take it my father is seeing to the arrangements?”

  Tora cleared his throat. “I’m afraid your father has been arrested for her murder,” he told her bluntly. “We’re here to ask you some questions about your parents.”

  The priest gasped, turned pale, and sat down abruptly. “Arrested for murder? How terrible! What happened? A quarrel? An accident?” He gasped again and put a hand over his eyes. “My dear, some water. I feel faint.”

  His wife turned on her heel and left the room.

  Tora and Maeda exchanged looks.

  “Did the Mitsuis have frequent quarrels?” Maeda asked the priest.

  “How should I know? I rarely saw them. This is dreadful. A shrine priest cannot afford scandal.”

  The wife returned with a cup and handed it to her husband. “What happened to my father’s wife?” she asked Maeda.

  “She was stabbed many times while she slept. Your father claims he’s innocent. He says he wasn’t home, and someone must’ve broken in.”

  “Then why is he in jail?” she demanded.

  “There’s no sign anyone broke in, and he was covered with her blood.”

  She shuddered. “Horrible. It doesn’t feel real. Such things happen to other people.”

  “Did you visit your father’s house regularly?” Tora asked.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “You’re his daughter. Surely you visited. Maybe they both came here to visit.”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  The priest put his cup down and struggled to his feet with his wife’s help. He said, “The Mitsuis lead very busy lives, and so do we. Different lives, I mean. If he says someone else murdered his wife, it must be so. You must find that murderer.”

  Tora frowned. “You mean to tell us neither of you had contact with them at all? Didn’t you know they were badly off?”

  The priest blustered. “If they were in want, they should have come to us. They didn’t.”

  Maeda asked, “Was there perhaps a disagreement between your families?”

  “Of course not,” snapped the priest.

  “But your wife doesn’t seem particularly troubled,” Tora pointed out. “What about her relationship with her father? Or her father’s wife?”

  She glared at him. “You have no right to judge me. I left home when I married, that’s all. I went to see them a couple of times at the New Year, but she was always busy wit
h those dolls. She had her life, and I have mine. And my father favored by brother.”

  Tora was troubled by this lack of feeling. “When did you see her last? Did she tell you she had to clean other people’s houses?”

  Mitsui’s daughter exchanged a glance with her husband. “Yes, I knew. She went on and on about all the fine things in Hayashi’s house. She and her friend enjoyed working there.” She paused and bit her lip. As if it explained everything, she added, “They were Chinese.”

  Before Tora could voice an opinion on a daughter’s duty to her parent, Maeda asked, “This friend of hers? She worked there also? What’s her name?”

  This baffled her. “I don’t remember the names of maids.”

  Maeda ended the visit, practically pulling Tora from the shrine priest’s house. Outside, he said, “Tora, you must curb your tongue. It’s best to make people feel at ease when you want information.”

  “Sorry. You’re right, but I couldn’t help it. That woman is a she-devil, and her husband’s not much better. I’ll watch myself in the future. Let’s go find the friend next. Something isn’t right about this.”

  The Hayashi house was a fitting residence for an important guild official. It had its own compound and small garden behind. Maeda got his information from a servant.

  Yes, a Chinese woman by the name of Mei worked there, but she hadn’t shown up for work. They also had another Chinese woman by the name of Suyin, family name Zhou, but she couldn’t be spared during working hours.

  Maeda did not press the issue. They headed back and entered the Chinese quarter. This was near the harbor but had its own moat and dirt walls. They passed through a substantial gate and found themselves in a warren of streets and houses built so closely together Tora could not tell where one began and another ended. He thought the many walls, some dirt and some wood or bamboo, enclosed other dwellings within them. Each unit seemed to enclose a small village of houses.

  When he commented on this, Maeda said, “They have large families, and all stay together.”

  The Chinese men wore tight, slit robes with narrow sleeves. The women put their hair in braids or buns on the back of their heads and some piled it high on top. Most struck Tora as plain, with flat, coarse faces and round bodies, but there were one or two young girls who were charming and graceful. The cut of the women’s clothes was straight and narrow like the men’s, but they wore skirts under the slit tunics. Their language sounded harsh and animal-like to his ears. He walked and stared, and once he laughed out loud, and Maeda gave him a look.