Текст книги "Death of a Doll Maker "

Автор книги: Ingrid J. Parker

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

21

THE TRAP

Tora took an unobtrusive glance at the man lounging against the door jamb. He wore a workman’s rough clothes, and his hair was tied up in a colorful piece of cloth twisted into a rope. He was big, with coarse, scarred features and fists the size of sledge hammers.

A thug, Tora thought, and Chinese, so perhaps this was the man his master had encountered in Feng’s store. He sidled across the room, pretending interest in a loud argument that had broken out between a man and one of the clerks, and risked another glance. The thug’s attention was on Tora’s master and his interest in a ledger the clerk was holding up for his perusal. Both of the thug’s hands were in sight. None of his fingers was missing.

Nevertheless.

Tora turned and strolled toward the door as if he had become tired of the harbor office and was taking a look at the ships instead. The thug saw him coming and ducked out.

Well, this promised to be an interesting quarry after all. Tora intended to find out why he was watching them and who had told him to do so.

The man was big enough to be easily seen above the smaller people milling around. Besides, the colorful cloth twisted about his head waved like a flag. He walked with a lumbering gait, looking back only once.

Very odd. It was broad daylight, and the man knew he was being followed. Let him try to run. Tora felt quite confident he would catch him. The thug carried too much weight in those broad shoulders and chest.

They strolled into the Chinese quarter. Tora grew somewhat less confident: if he had to tackle the man, his fellow countrymen might take exception and jump to his rescue. But his quarry left the Chinese quarter behind and made for a warehouse district. Here he slowed down as if he were looking for a specific place. Tora decided it was time and speeded up.

The other man glanced over his shoulder again and ran through an open gate, Tora at his heels.

They were in a wide service yard of some sort. As Tora had known, the man was hardly fleet of foot. He made for one of the low buildings, but Tora snatched at the back of shirt, growling, “Hold it. I want a word.”

The man tore himself free and shouted something in Chinese as he ducked into the building.

Tora rushed after him.

After the bright sunlight, the darkness inside blinded him, and he slid to a halt. At that moment, a heavy blow struck the back of his head and sent him falling forward. He passed out before he hit the floor.

*

Pain. And voices. Dizziness. Nausea.

A strange smell. Of dirt and something else.

Never mind. Let it go. Blessed darkness.

The voices returned and with them the pain and the nausea.

Maybe he was having a dream. A nightmare.

Serves the bastard right. He’ll never interfere with me again.

More pain. A laugh.

This pain was fresh, sharp, and lasting. In his side. He wanted to scream but no sound came. Vomit rose to his mouth. He swallowed it down.

What’s next?

The convict ship. They can lose him on the way, if you want.

I want. But I’ll have a bit of fun first. Laughter.

Two people. The voices were familiar. Well, not quite. It nagged at him, but his head felt like a sponge, and his side burned with every breath.

A very bad dream!

Do what you want, but don’t mark him up too badly. He’s as good as dead.

Who was that?

Tora’s eyes would not open. Had he become blind? Feet shuffled about on the floor. Clothes rustled. Then more pain. A leather strap. He screamed. Trying to twist away, he realized his arms were twisted behind his back, his wrists tied. Then he passed out.

When he came to next, he knew enough by now not to make a sound. Even breathing hurt. He lay still and slipped into semi-consciousness.

But this did not last. He pulled at his bonds. All it got him was new agony. He gasped and almost passed out again. They had kicked and beaten him. One of his ribs must be broken.

Watch out! He’s coming around!

This time he knew the voice: Hiroshi!

A hand seized Tora’s topknot and jerked his head up. He moaned and opened his eyes. He saw a fuzzy scene of a lit lantern and two shadowy figures.

“You’ll be sorry for this, Hiroshi,” he gasped.

A moment’s silence, and then a vicious slap that rattled Tora’s teeth and made his mouth bleed.

Hiroshi’s face sneered down at him. “It’s you is going to be sorry, dog official. You thought you were so smart. Had it all figured out. Coming to my house and telling the wife I’d killed Yoko.”

“You didn’t?” It hurt to speak.

Hiroshi laughs. “Of course I killed her. That bitch asked for it.”

“How?” mumbled Tora.

“She was coming back from the market and saw me outside the house. She wanted to know what I’d been doing there the night my father’s whore died. I went after her, pretending I was after sex.”

“You also killed your mother?”

Hiroshi spat. “That Chinese bitch wasn’t my mother. She deserved to die. She’d stolen my father’s gold. I’d have overlooked it, but the greedy cunt wouldn’t share.”

“You’re a killer, Hiroshi. You’re going away for a long time.”

Hiroshi burst out laughing. “You’re going away forever, bastard.” He made a fist and struck Tora’s temple, and all went dark again.

*

When he woke next, he was alone and all was silent. He had no idea how much time had passed, but the pain was still with him, sharp and fresh. He lay very still and breathed slowly. He found he could open his eyes, but they saw only darkness, so he closed them again. Under his cheek was mud. The mud smelled of blood. His blood. It was so still he could hear his own breathing. Was he still bleeding? What had Hiroshi and the other one done to him? Had they left him to die?

If he did not move, the pain was bearable. He drifted off to sleep.

When he jerked awake again, the broken rib reminded him this was no dream. They had attacked him from behind, knocked him out, probably beaten him bloody, and tied him up. Later one of them had kicked him and broken a rib, and later again, Hiroshi had knocked him out with a fist to the temple.

He wanted him unconscious.

Correction: he wanted him dead, but first he wanted him unconscious.

But why?

And who was the other man?

Since he could do nothing else, he thought back. The watcher in the harbor office. He had followed the man, and then he had been ambushed.

The watcher was a stranger. Had he followed them a long time? Their visit to Fragrant Orchid’s house had attracted a lot of attention.

Tora tried to remember the crowd, but he could not come up with an answer. His mind had been on the courtesan’s death and later on the disappearance of the governor. It was not until the harbor office, that his master had noticed the watcher. And there, he had been pretty obvious, leaning beside the door and staring at them.

He had wanted to be seen.

It was a trick worth remembering. The colorful cloth tied around his head had been part of it, and so had his slow lumbering walk. Of course he had been easy to follow. He had made sure he was.

And like a fool Tora had fallen in the trap.

Self-reproach did not help.

He thought of the other voice again. Yes, it had sounded familiar. In an unpleasant way.

Tora concentrated, trying to play back the words in his mind.

He’ll never interfere with me again!

He had it! It had been that bastard Okata. He had taken this revenge because Tora’s reports had cost him his position. And Hiroshi had been eager to help. A pretty stupid thing to do. It would just make things worse for Okata. He had attacked an officer of the tribunal. It would not help Hiroshi either.

But dimly other words came back to Tora.

What’s next? That had been Hiroshi.

And Okata’s answer.

The convict ship.

Either way he’s a dead man.

It was not good, but Tora did not immediately understand.

Either way he’s a dead man.

Then the memory of Sado Island surfaced. His master had pretended to be a convict there and had almost died in the gold mine on that island.

But here?

And then it came to him: Tsushima. Another island with a mine. A silver mine. And yes, they their sent convicts there. Old Mitsui had hanged himself in his jail cell rather than face such a sentence.

Tora shuddered and bit his lip when pain stabbed at him again.

It had been easy for Okata. He had known all about convict ships, had connections who owed him favors, had made sure Tora would disappear without a trace.

He had no idea what time it was, but that did not matter. They would not miss him. Not today, if it was still that, or tonight, or the next day. He was on his own.

And there was nothing he could do. But he tried anyway. He twisted his wrists, gasping with the pain in his side. The effort did nothing but confirm that his ankles were also tied and somehow attached to the bonds around his wrists. Once, a long time ago, when he was younger and tougher and in better shape, he had been bound like this. He had managed to get to his knees and shuffle forward until he could break a jar and saw the rope apart against its sharp edge.

But such things do not repeat themselves. Besides, there was his broken rib. He could not move.

In the end, he rested from his efforts to loosen the rope and dozed off.

*

He came awake next when he heard the door slam.

It was still dark, but perhaps the darkness was not quite so dense as before, because he could see a darker shape bending over him.

“Help,” he croaked and heard someone cursing.

A whispered exchange followed, then a pause.

He hoped against hope.

Next he was turned over roughly and shouted with pain. The light of a lantern blinded him, but he opened his mouth to plead again when a hand shoved some rough fibers into it and then tightened a stinking cloth over his nose and mouth. He could not breathe, jerked violently, and then passed out again.

*

Night and nightmares. Monsters and ghosts and devils with knives, slashing his body. Hell. He had died and gone to hell.

The constant darkness suggested being underground. Buried. Buried alive? Yes, he felt pain, so he must be alive.

So, not hell. If not, then where?

The floor beneath him smelled of tar and wood and the stench of human bodies and excrement. And it moved, sideways and up and down.

He was lying down, his cheek against wooden boards. His arms and legs were still tied, but more loosely. He could move them a little.

But he also heard something, the sound of water sloshing against the wood underneath him and all around.

And he knew.

He was on a boat, or more likely, a ship. And, as he knew well enough from his last involuntary sea voyage, there was no getting away now, even if he had not been in agonizing pain.

He was on his way to the silver mines of Tsushima.

22

THE HIDDEN BUNDLE

After returning well past the middle of the night, Saburo slept late. The sun was high already and slanted into their room in the garrison of the tribunal. Saburo stretched and blinked at the lines of sun and shadow which revealed his surroundings.

He shared this large room with Tora, and while it lacked the comforts of home, it was more spacious than Saburo’s corner of the Sugawara stables. All this place contained was their bedding, rolled up during the day and placed in a corner, where he saw Tora’s now. Not surprisingly, his roommate was already up, though he did not hear the familiar sounds of his men being exercised outside.

He frowned and sat up. Their clothes hung from various hooks, as did two sets of armor. Saburo detested his and wore it only on parade occasions, but Tora was very fond of martial attire and had had his own armor adjusted by an armorer in Hakata. He frequently polished it after polishing his sword.

Saburo was no soldier, nor ever would be. He got up, yawned, and rolled up his bedding, placing it beside Tora’s. Then he dressed in his ordinary blue robe and pants, tying the black sash around his waist, and turning his attention to his topknot. The beard he had removed the night before. It itched too much to let him sleep comfortably.

One of the servants had left a bucket of water outside the door. Saburo brought it in. Dipping a cup into it, he rinsed out his mouth, than spat the water out into the yard. Closing the door again, he washed and, peering in a small mirror, he reapplied Lady Sugawara’s makeup to his scars. He hoped he could soon grow a beard and mustache. But not yet. Not while they were in the midst of an investigation into the disappearance of the last governor and none too certain that danger did not lie in wait for the present administration of the province.

Satisfied with his appearance, he tossed the dirty water outside and left the empty bucket for the servant. Then he made his way to his master’s office to report on his night’s adventures.

Lord Sugawara was already at work in the tribunal office, but when he saw Saburo, he said, “Come, I have some work for you in my study,” and got up.

On the way there, he asked, “Have you seen Tora?”

This surprised Saburo. “No, sir. He was already up when I woke.” He paused. “Though I didn’t hear him exercising the troops. Is it possible he spent the night elsewhere?”

His lordship sighed. “It’s possible, though I’d hoped …” He broke off. In his study, he gestured to a cushion. “Some tea?”

“Yes, thank you. Allow me, sir.” Saburo stirred the coals in the brazier and placed the small water pot over them. Then he filled two cups with some ground tea leaves. “I had an exciting night, sir. Wait till you hear.”

His lordship took his seat behind his desk. “I’m anxious to hear about it. Useful information has been singularly lacking in this case. Do your activities throw some light on Governor Tachibana’s whereabouts?”

“Sorry, no.” Saburo poured boiling water on the tea leaves and stirred each cup carefully, then joined his master at the desk. “But it suggests that the merchant Feng has his fingers in some unsavory business.” He presented the tea to his master and sat down with his own.

They both sipped. His master said, “Please proceed. I’m all ears.”

Saburo began with his visit to the Dragon’s Lair. “Aptly named, I think,” he observed. “It’s where I saw Fingers, the Feng servant with the missing fingers, last time. This time, the sales clerk was there. He met with a young thug, gave him what looked like money, and left. I followed the young thug.”

“Excellent,” said his master with a smile. “I hope he didn’t recognize you?”

“No. Last time I was wearing these clothes. On this occasion, I dressed like the local crowd. Anyway, it turned out the man was a carter, because he took up his cart outside and headed off toward an area of derelict houses and wilderness. There, he took a bundle from his cart and entered an abandoned courtyard. I couldn’t follow him in, but when he came back, he was without the bundle. He next went home, and as it turns out, he lives next door to Mrs. Kimura, who took in the children.”

His lordship frowned. “Then I think he must be the son of that doll maker who was just found guilty of killing his wife. Very odd. What about the bundle?”

“I went back to the courtyard. It was too dark to see much, but it looks as though he dropped it into an abandoned well there.

Lord Sugawara sat up and stared at him. “Where is Tora? He must hear this. Why is he absent today of all days?”

“No idea, sir. I haven’t seen him. He was with you yesterday.”

“Yes, and I sent him off to follow a suspicious character. I got the feeling we were being watched. Something must have happened to him.”

Seeing his master’s worried face, Saburo offered, “Tora knows how to handle himself, sir. He probably discovered a clue he wanted to investigate further.”

“Maybe, but I have a bad feeling about this. Nothing has been as it should be here. And now the disappearance of a ranking official! But go on with your report.”

Saburo preened a little. “This is the best part, sir. I decided to have a look at Feng’s store. As it turned out he was there, meeting with his clerk and Fingers. I couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but they must have reported their activities to him. The clerk wanted money for what he’d done, and Feng slapped him before leaving.”

“Hmm. That’s interesting. I think Feng is playing some sort of illegal game and using those two in it. We need to find Tora right away. Go back into Hakata in your ordinary clothes. You’re acting for me. Contact Lieutenant Maeda and tell him about Tora. And you might as well get his assistance checking out that well. I wouldn’t be at all surprised to find that Maeda knows about it.”

Saburo thought this last somewhat farfetched, but his lordship’s concern for Tora was infectious. He said no more and left.

*

Lieutenant Maeda was astonished to see Saburo.

“You’re very welcome,” he said with a smile, “but I expected that rascal Tora. What is he up to? Chasing more women?”

Saburo winced. “Umm. Has he been chasing anyone?”

“Not really. He did have an eye for one of our victims, though. What brings you?”

“Tora seems to have disappeared. His Excellency is concerned and asks that you and your men have a look around for him. He hasn’t been seen since he followed a suspicious character from the harbor office late yesterday.”

“What?” Maeda shook his head. “Surely the governor’s concern is premature. It’s not even been a whole day. Maybe he got lost and decided to spend the night. It’s a long way back to the tribunal. He’ll probably turn up shortly.”

“Perhaps, but I think it wouldn’t hurt if some of your constables asked some questions in the harbor area. I’ll start tracing him myself later, but there’s another matter I want to check out. The governor suggests you might give me a hand.”

Maeda hesitated. Then he said, “Of course. His Excellency has only to ask.”

Saburo thought privately that Maeda sounded reluctant. Perhaps acting independently from the tribunal was ingrained in the Hakata police. But he put a good face on it and said, “Last night I followed a carter who hid a bundle on a deserted property. It turns out that this man is the son of the murderer who hanged himself. He lives next door to Mrs. Kimura.”

This got Maeda’s interest. “That rascal Hiroshi? What made you suspicious of him?”

Saburo hesitated. He had no idea how much his master wanted the lieutenant to know. “I saw him meeting with someone in the Dragon’s Lair. Money passed hands. I decided to see where this Hiroshi was going with it.”

“Hmm. Yes.” The lieutenant frowned. He ran a hand across his chin. “I don’t trust Hiroshi. You say he hid a bundle? Where exactly was that?”

“I don’t know what you call the area. It’s pretty much deserted. Lots of dilapidated houses. He took the bundle out of his cart and into this courtyard. I couldn’t see what he did with it, but when I went back later, I almost fell into an abandoned well. I think it’s down there. We should try to take a look.” He broke off. Maeda stared at him with such an expression of shocked surprise, that he floundered to a halt.

“Abandoned well? No, it can’t be.”

“What?”

“We pulled a body from a well like that. That very pretty woman Tora had his eye on. She lived across the street from Hiroshi.”

Saburo gulped. “Let’s go! What if the bastard put Tora down there?”

Maeda was already through the door and did not answer. In the front room, lounging constables came to attention. Maeda barked orders that involved ladders, ropes, and names. Within moments, ten constables assembled outside, some carrying equipment, and the contingent started off at a lively trot, the front man shouting, “Make way!” and swinging a short whip.

Saburo hurried after Maeda. In a surprisingly short time, they arrived at the ruined courtyard. It looked different in daylight, but Saburo had no trouble recognizing it. His stomach turned at the thought of what they might find in the well.

The constables knew their way and had the wooden cover off quickly. They hung over the side, peering down.

“Is it deep?” Saburo asked Maeda. He was trying to get a look.

“Not very. People have been tossing their garbage down there for years. Dead rats, cats, dogs, and the occasional female.” He pushed two constables aside and took a look. “Well, don’t stand around,” he told his men. “Get down there and bring up what you find.”

They made faces, but one man tied a rope around his middle and started down while the others held on and shouted encouragement.

Saburo smelled it now, the familiar stench of rotting flesh. “I thought you pulled the dead woman out?” he asked Maeda.

“We did.”

Saburo thought of Tora and felt his stomach clench painfully.

But when the constable was pulled back to the surface, all he brought up was a stained and malodorous bundle.

“That it?” asked Maeda, looking at Saburo.

Saburo wrinkled his nose. “It looks like it. Is it just clothes?”

Maeda, braver than Saburo or more used to the stench of death, took the bundle from the constable and undid it. Shaking it out, he held up a blue robe, much like Saburo’s, a black sash and black pants, also much like Saburo’s. A pair of boots and a soft black cap fell to the ground. He turned pale.

Saburo swallowed and went closer. He looked at the garments, then picked up the boots and hat. “That’s what Tora wore,” he said tonelessly.

Maeda nodded. “I thought so. But where is he? And why are just his clothes here? What happened to him?”

Feeling sick, Saburo snarled, “Stupid question. Somebody got hold of him. Instead of standing around here like fools, we’ve got to find him. He told you that Hiroshi was a killer.”

Maeda recoiled.

Saburo took a deep breath. “You’ve got to arrest him. He knows what happened to Tora. You’ve got to get it out of him. And that clerk of Feng’s paid him. Arrest him, too. I don’t care what you do to them. We must find Tora. Dear heaven, he may be dead. The governor will be livid!”

“It may not mean what you think,” the lieutenant stammered without much conviction. “I can’t believe anyone would attack Tora.”

Saburo gave him a savage look. Snatching the robe from his lands, he spread it out. “There’s blood on the collar in back. It suggests an injury to the back of the head.” He took up each garment, one after the other. “The front of both the robe and the pants is dusty. I think he fell or was lying on his stomach.” He studied the dirt by lifting the fabric close to his good eye and then smelling it. “I don’t know,” he muttered. He pushed the garment under Maeda’s nose. “What do you smell?”

Maeda stepped back, then sniffed cautiously. “Just dirt and some of what must’ve seeped from the other body.”

Saburo sniffed again. “There’s something. I just can’t make it out.” He folded the robe gently and carefully, keeping the front inside. Then he studied the boots. “Look! Someone tied his legs. You can see the twists of the rope in the leather. That rope was tight.” He shook his head. “He was a prisoner, but there are no cuts or rips in the robe, so he wasn’t stabbed or shot with an arrow.”

Maeda nodded. “They knocked him out. For that matter, he may have fallen and hit his head, and some beggar liked his clothes well enough to steal them.”

Saburo gave him a disgusted look. “You mean a beggar went to all that trouble to steal his clothes, and then gave them to this Hiroshi, who promptly dropped them down a well?” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

Maeda flushed. He ran a hand over his face. “Look, I like Tora. I don’t want to think that he’s been murdered. All we know for a fact is that someone knocked him out and took his clothes.”

“So you’re not going to do anything? It’s been many hours since I followed the carter.”

Maeda had had enough. He turned and snapped to his constables, “Cover that well again, and then go to the Mitsui house to arrest Hiroshi and take him to jail.”

But Hiroshi was not home. His hard-faced wife said he had gone out, she knew not where. She seemed uninterested in his whereabouts or in the reason the police were looking for him. Maybe she was used to it by now.

Maeda returned to headquarters, Saburo in tow. “I’ll organize a search for Hiroshi and talk to Feng’s clerk,” he told Saburo. “You’d better report to the governor. Tell him we’re doing everything we can. Looks like we want Hiroshi for Yoko’s murder after all.”

Saburo did not find this reassuring. He borrowed a horse, though he could not ride very well and returned to the tribunal, bruised and sore in mind and body from falling off the horse twice and being laughed at by other travelers.

But worst was his fear for Tora.