Текст книги "Death of a Doll Maker "

Автор книги: Ingrid J. Parker

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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

3

THE EMPTY TRIBUNAL

Horses for them and packhorses for their luggage appeared quickly, along with drivers and a guide.

They left the escort and the packhorses behind and passed through Hakata city as rapidly as the crowded streets allowed. The sun was setting, and people hurried from their workplaces to their homes. The market looked large and busy.

Tora sniffed the air. “Their food smells good. I could do with some fried fish or even just a bowl of noodles.”

Akitada shook his head. “Later. It will soon be dark. We don’t have time. They’ll have something to eat when we get there.”

“Did you notice those strange houses a while back, sir?” asked Saburo. “They were all plaster and tile, short, ugly, squat little things.”

“It must be the Chinese settlement,” Akitada said. “I’m very interested in that myself. You’ll get your chance to explore, Saburo.”

Akitada’s own curiosity had been aroused by the size and prosperity of Hakata. Trade must be good, he thought, and remembered the instructions passed to him in the capital.

Riding inland on an excellent road that followed a river and connected Hakata with Dazaifu, they reached Minami and the provincial headquarters at dusk. Minami itself was small and had little or no fortifications. It was essentially a large village. But Akitada had been told there were forts manned with soldiers on the mountains all around.

Still, it was a disappointment after Hakata and the impressive signs of road construction and fortifications along the way. The relatively small and plain walled enclosure of the provincial headquarters seemed to contain little more than a modest residence and stables. A flag hung limply above the gate, which stood open. There was no sign of either soldiers or servants.

They rode into the forecourt, dismounted, and looked about them in consternation.

“Ho? Anybody home?” Tora shouted.

Where were the guards? Where were the servants and the tribunal staff? Where was the outgoing governor? What had happened here? Was the man merely too rude or angry to receive him, or had something happened to him and his people? Akitada put his hand on his sword hilt and scanned the buildings.

Tora had to shout again before a young groom finally appeared to take their horses. The boy looked unkempt and frightened.

“I’m the new governor,” Akitada told him. “Where is everyone?”

The boy spoke in a strange dialect. He made out, “Gone. All gone. Old man inside.”

“Gone where?” Akitada asked, but the answer was incomprehensible.

Tora muttered a curse and gave the groom a hand with the horses. “Wait for me, sir,” he said. “I don’t like this one bit.”

“It’s all right. We’ll be careful.” Akitada headed for the residence, followed by Saburo, who still carried the small trunk.

“The old man” met them at the door. He was a thin, gray-haired, bent figure with the face of an ascetic. To Akitada’s surprise, he had a large bruise on his cheek. “I am Mori Kiyomi,” he said, bowing deeply. “The tribunal’s secretary. Welcome to Kyushu, Your Excellency.”

“Thank you, Mori. Where is everybody?”

“Governor Tachibana left two weeks ago after dismissing his staff.”

Akitada raised his brows. “He dismissed his staff? Why?”

“It was thought your Excellency would bring your own people.” The secretary peered past Akitada, encountered Saburo’s visage and stared.

“This is Saburo, one of my two retainers. The other is Sashima Kamatari, also known as Tora. He’s outside putting the horses in the stable. I brought no one else.”

“Oh. Oh dear.” Mori wrung his hands. “That’s a problem. What about baggage? The house is empty.”

“Don’t tell me my predecessor has also removed all the furnishings.”

The old man twisted his hands. “Well, there were some things, but I’m afraid they are gone. They came last night and took everything.” He touched his bruised cheek with a trembling hand.

Akitada felt like cursing, but he could not express his disgust with ex-governor Tachibana. Some of the governors were known to enrich themselves during their terms of office, but walking off with the contents of the governor’s residence and abandoning the compound to thieves was a bit much. He said, “Very well, Mori. It’s not your fault. Take me to my office first. We’ll sort out the other accommodations later.”

The room designated as the governor’s office had been stripped of everything. Pale spaces on the yellowed plaster walls must have held picture scrolls, and darker squares on the wooden floor marked the locations of mats. Akitada saw a small desk, badly worn and of a size customarily assigned to a scribe. It lay on its side in a corner. A rickety bamboo rack held document boxes, but most of them were piled on the floor. Some had been opened and the papers scattered across the room. A bent candlestick lacked its candle, and the cushion near the desk had a big tear in its cover.

Akitada stared at all this and heard a sniffling sound. When he turned around, he saw the old man was weeping. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said. “I couldn’t stop them. I’m only one old man, and the boy was useless.”

“I’m not blaming you. But how could this have happened?”

“After Lord Tachibana left, some of the dismissed servants and their friends came back and helped themselves to things. They hadn’t been paid for a long time.”

“I see. Saburo, set the box down. Well, we must make the best of it. What about the official seal and administrative funds? Or did they disappear also?”

“No, Excellency. I took those to my room. If you’ll allow me …” He hesitated. “The money box is rather heavy. Perhaps your er …” He glanced at Saburo.

“Right. Saburo, give Mori a hand, please.”

Akitada was gathering up the scattered papers and putting them back into the document boxes when Tora walked in with a face like thunder. “They’re all gone, and they’ve taken everything with them. Horses, fodder, carts, everything. And that boy Koji isn’t right in the head. That’s probably why he didn’t run away, too. Should I go back to Hakata for that police captain?”

“No. The former governor’s secretary is still here. He says Governor Tachibana left after dismissing his staff. They hadn’t been paid, so they helped themselves to whatever wasn’t broken or nailed down. I’ll have to leave for the Dazaifu in the morning. They should have some answers there. Meanwhile we’ll manage. By the way, you will go by your full name while we’re here.”

Tora nodded. Given the fact that he would have to fill the role of assistant to a governor, his master had decided that he must have an official name. Many years ago Tora had adopted the name Tora, or Tiger, when he had been in fear of being arrested as a deserter and highwayman. He had eventually divulged his given name Kamatari, and they had decided that his family name ought to be that of the district where he was born. So he had become Sashima Kamatari and gained the status of a well-born man, much to his secret satisfaction.

Mori came back, reverently carrying a beautifully carved wooden container in both hands. Behind him, Saburo lugged a large iron-bound chest. Tora went to help him.

“Never mind. It’s nearly empty,” Saburo told him. They set it down together.

The old secretary passed the box to Akitada. “The seal, Excellency. There is some money in the trunk, as well as papers for properties belonging to the tribunal.”

Akitada took out a heavy seal carved from soapstone. “Saburo, please hand me my orders.”

Saburo opened the leather box with a key tied to his sash and handed Akitada a document. Akitada compared the seal to the imprint on his orders. “Yes. Thank you, Mori. That was well done. Now let’s see what funds we have.”

The old secretary unlocked the trunk. Inside were more official-looking papers and a small brocade bag. In the bag were twenty-two pieces of gold and about fifty pieces of silver.

Akitada replaced the money. “Is this all?” he asked, aghast.

“I’m afraid so, sir. It hasn’t been a good year, and His Excellency drew some funds for his removal.”

Tora grunted. “Bet he travels in style.”

Akitada shot Tora a reproving look.

The old man flushed. “It’s a long way to the capital from here,” he pointed out.

Akitada nodded. “So it is. I take it an imperial inspector cleared the accounts before Lord Tachibana left?”

“Inspector? No, Excellency. The governor cleared them with the Assistant Governor General.”

It was certainly against regulation, but perhaps different laws prevailed in Kyushu. Again he felt his lack of experience with a painful stab. He said, “Saburo, go see if you can make some tea. There’s some in the saddlebag.” Then he asked the secretary to show them the rest of the residence.

They returned first to the reception hall. This, the old secretary explained, also served the governor when he heard court cases. Akitada looked about him in dismay. There was a narrow dais which probably served the governor and his scribes while the accused, his guards, and the populace would all cram into the modest space in front of it. “It’s not very large,” he said doubtfully.

“His Excellency rarely heard cases. Most are handled in Hakata. And the local population is small.”

“There is a jail, I hope?”

“Yes. A room next to the stables. As I said, we don’t have much occasion to arrest anyone.”

This was ludicrous, given the fact the locals had just emptied the contents of the tribunal, but Akitada said nothing.

The rest of the house held the usual number of smaller rooms under the eaves, most emptied of their contents, four slightly larger, central rooms that could be subdivided with folded screens, and two short hallways separating the central reception hall and his private office from the rooms to either side. The hallways led to a rear veranda which overlooked a tangled garden.

Akitada sighed. They had a roof over their heads, but that was all. He was about to walk down into the garden to see what needed to be done there, when they heard the sounds of voices and horses from the forecourt. Their baggage had arrived. Tora and Saburo were already there to supervise the bearers as they carried boxes and trunks into the house. There was not much of it, certainly no furniture. The trunks contained clothes, a few books, Akitada’s writing box, and his favorite sleeping quilt. Tora and Saburo had traveled with much less. All of it was quickly deposited, and the bearers left with their horses.

It was completely dark by now. They walked back through the eerie, shadow-filled reception hall to Akitada’s office. Apart from one of the small rooms under the eaves, which the secretary apparently inhabited and which had contained little besides his writing utensils and desk, the building was empty. A scavenger hunt produced some oil lamps and two braziers. The light of the oil lamps somehow made the room seem even more desolate.

Akitada looked around and said, “It will do until tomorrow.” Remembering the secretary, who hovered uncertainly, he asked, “Mori, where do you sleep at night?”

“I have a house in town, Excellency. It isn’t much, but you are very welcome there.”

“Thank you, but we will stay here. You may leave now, but I want you to report for work early tomorrow. There’s much to be done.”

Mori bowed and started to make more apologies, but Akitada cut him off with a firm, “Tomorrow.”

Saburo found a broom and swept the floor. The tea stood on the small writing desk and a candle lit the familiar trunks and saddlebags. A clean cushion lay beside the desk. Suddenly exhausted, Akitada sat down with a sigh of relief. Pouring himself some tea, lukewarm by now, he reached for the provincial documents.

Tora cleared his throat. “Er, food, sir! We haven’t eaten since early this morning, and then it was only some cold rice cakes. That storm put out the fire on the ship, remember?”

Akitada remembered. “We can’t leave. The place is surrounded by thieves.”

Tora grinned. “True, but I saw a restaurant just down the street from us. I’ll run out and get us something to eat.”

Later, after a rather odd meal of fish and pickled vegetables wrapped into some large leaves, Akitada studied the provincial papers and records. He sighed from time to time and finally closed the last document box. “A sad state of affairs,” he said to Saburo, who sat nearby, nodding off. Tora was snoring in a corner.

Saburo jerked upright. “S-sad, sir? How so?”

“There are no funds beyond what we found. And no new payments are expected until early next month. I have a suspicion Lord Tachibana was less than diligent in collecting dues and taxes. Hakata seems a prosperous place. Did you look into the granary when you went to the kitchen to make the tea?”

“No, sir. I didn’t see a granary. It was dark outside.”

“Well, that too will wait for morning. Go to bed now. It’s been a long day.”

“What about your bedding, sir.”

Akitada gestured to the pile of bags and trunks they had brought in. “I’ll put my head on one of those and cover myself with my robe. I’m afraid you and Tora will have to do the same.”

*

Though he was very tired, Akitada could not fall asleep. It was not the unfamiliar surroundings or the unknown problems lying ahead. He was finally at leisure to remember his family. Nearly every night since he had left the capital had begun this way. His heart contracted with love and longing, and his fear for Tamako’s life twisted in his belly.

They had greeted him with such joy when he returned with his promotion. Flags waved in the breeze and streamers adorned the eaves. That had hurt almost more than the shock of his assignment. He had paused just inside the gate, put a smile on his face, and expressed his surprise and gratification. The four musicians hired for the occasion plucked and fluted happily on their instruments, the dog Trouble woofed and twisted his crippled body, and the children came running to clasp his knees.

His eyes had met Tamako’s. As they made their way into the house and to the fine banquet they had prepared for him, she had drawn him aside.

“What’s wrong?” she whispered.

“I’m to be governor of Chikuzen,” he whispered back.

“But that’s good, isn’t it?”

“Chikuzen is in Kyushu.”

“Oh!” Her eyes widened and a hand went to her mouth. “Why?”

“Later. Come, we mustn’t spoil everyone’s pleasure.”

It had been a fine meal, eaten by his family and the families of his three retainers. Only the house servants were excluded in order to serve the meal, but their own festivities came later, along with the gift of a gold coin from their “fortunate” master.

When Akitada had finally been alone with his wife, he had not known how to begin with what must be discussed.

She had seen his face and said quickly, “I admit it’s bit of a shock, especially just now. But we will manage.” Her hand had gone protectively to her belly. Her pregnancy was just beginning to show under the full gown. The child was expected in early summer, four months from now—when he would long be gone. Giving birth was always a dangerous business. She was paler and thinner than she should have been.

“I’m sorry,” he had said miserably. “I wish I could be with you.”

Her features had sharpened. “You cannot mean to leave me behind?”

“I must. It’s far too dangerous for you to travel so far in your condition, and the children are much too small. The climate is unhealthy, and there may be other dangers.”

She had looked utterly bereft. “I see,” she murmured and turned away.

“It’s not a tragedy,” he had said, feeling blamed for something that was not his doing. “I will see how things stand, and then perhaps you may be able to join me later.”

She said nothing. They had both known this would not happen. She would give birth, and the new child would be unable to travel. Besides, they did not have the money to move an entire household by ship to a distant island and back when his term expired.

Four years!

“Whom will you take?’ she had asked tonelessly.

How could he deprive her of the protection Tora, Genba, and Saburo provided? Besides, both Tora and Genba had their own families now.

“Perhaps I’d better go alone.”

“No,” she had said quickly, turning. “How would it look? You must take Tora and Saburo at least. And perhaps you can get some youngster to be your page.”

“I don’t know. How will you manage with just Genba?”

“I shall manage. When you’re not here, we live very simply and rarely have guests. Besides there’s your sister. Their household is quite large. They will surely spare me some servants if I need them.”

“Yes. That’s good. She’ll be by your side when the child is born.” He had turned away from her because grief had seized him for a moment, grief that he would not see the newborn, or worse, that he would lose Tamako.

Even here and now, on the hard floor in this godforsaken tribunal, his eyes filled with tears and he wept at his loss, real and imaginary.

Tamako had put her hand on his arm. “My poor husband,” she had said half-teasingly. “I’m making this very hard for you. We must be patient about the things we cannot change, and good may come of this in time. Have faith in yourself and in me.”

Overcome with love, he had held her for a moment, then left to talk to the others.

And so the matter was settled, and their lives had changed forever.

4

THE DOLL MAKERS

Akitada slept quite well in the end and woke refreshed. It was another clear spring day. The doors to the outside opened onto a small graveled courtyard. From the narrow veranda, he could see over the tribunal roofs to mountains where the dark green of evergreens mingled with the fresh, bright foliage of new leaves.

His new post no longer seemed quite so discouraging. He was filled with a great energy to get to the bottom of the mystery and set things in order. He would be as good a governor as he could be.

Both Tora and Saburo were gone, and he went looking for them. Tora stood in front of the residence, talking with a messenger. He sounded angry, and the messenger threw up his hands, jumped on his horse and rode off. Tora cursed loudly and volubly after him. In the light of the sunny morning, Akitada was amused.

“What’s the matter, Tora?” he called out.

Tora turned, his white teeth flashing in his handsome face. “Oh, good morning, sir,” he shouted back. “Just a cursed messenger from that police chief in Hakata. Really, someone needs to teach those yokels who has the authority here.”

“Ssh! Not so loud. No need to make enemies before we get started.”

Tora loped over. “This reminds me of Echigo, sir. They don’t want us here.”

“Hmm.”

Tora had a point. Echigo had been the province where governors had taken to their heels in a shower of arrows dispatched by the local warlord. Akitada had arrived as a young vice governor and faced incredible difficulties. There like here, he had been without funds, living quarters, staff, or cooperation. But he was older now and more experienced. Besides this was Kyushu. There were no warlords here. He explained this to Tora, then asked, “What did the messenger want?”

“Okata can’t be bothered to find the thieves who stripped this place. It seems he’s got a murder to investigate.” Tora’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

“Really? Hmm. While I’m paying my respects to the Assistant Governor General, you ride into Hakata and give the police chief a hand with his murder. I bet you’ll get some cooperation from him then.”

*

Tora left Saburo in charge and took one of the horses they had come on. In Hakata, he asked directions to police headquarters. He found them to be nearly the size of the provincial tribunal, well staffed, and busy. The constables eyed him suspiciously when he asked for Captain Okata.

“Not here,” snapped the constable at the door. “What do you want?”

The man sat at a writing desk, where he had been making notes.

Tora looked down at him. “You heard me. Captain Okata.”

The man flushed, got to his feet, and came to face Tora. Putting his face next to Tora’s, he snarled, “Don’t mess with me, bastard.”

Tora grabbed him by the collar and gave him a sharp push. The man stumbled back and sat down. “Who are you calling a bastard, you dog?” Tora asked. “You are to treat people with courtesy, you hear? Even those who aren’t your superiors. Now get up and tell me what I want to know.”

The constable shook with fury but he decided to play it safe and called for support. An older policeman, a sergeant to judge by his hat, joined them and stared at Tora.

“He attacked me, Sarge,” the constable whined.

“Don’t lie,” the sergeant told the constable mildly. “Aren’t you with the new governor?” he asked Tora.

Tora nodded. “Finally an observant public servant. Greetings, Sergeant. I’m Sashima Kamatari, but you can call me Tora. Senior retainer and inspector to your governor.”

The sergeant nodded. “An important man. Did you hear that, Goto? Well met, Tora. I’m Maeda. What can I do for you, or for his Excellency, as the case may be?”

“Well, since we have no staff, there’s nothing for me to do, and the governor sent me to help when he heard you’re hard pressed working a murder.”

The sergeant laughed. “Hard pressed? That’s a good one. Though it’s true the captain doesn’t care much for blood. Or maggots, as the case may be.”

“Really?” Tora grinned. “I take your point, Sergeant. Well, I don’t mind them. What I can’t abide is killers running loose, thumbing their noses at us.”

“Or robbers, as the case may be.” The sergeant chuckled and studied Tora. “You’ve been a policeman, then?”

“No, but the master and I have investigated some tricky murders in our day. Anyway, here I am. Where’s the body?”

Sergeant Maeda laughed. “Well, let’s go see how the captain is managing.”

When they stepped outside, the sergeant looked at Tora’s horse. “One of ours?”

“I’ll need it for a while longer. They took the tribunal’s horses, too.”

The sergeant stopped. “Not one horse left? Can you be serious?”

“No horse, no ox, no food, no bed, and no staff. The place is empty except for a half-witted boy and an old geezer.”

Sergeant Maeda shook his head in amazement. “That would be old Mori. Trust him to stay when the rest took off.”

Tora growled, “My master will catch the stealing bastards. They took what belongs to the emperor. Actually, he’d hoped Captain Okata would lend a hand.”

The sergeant chuckled and started walking again. “Not a chance.”

Tora decided not to pursue the subject. “Tell me about the murder.”

“An old woman was stabbed in the merchants’ quarter. They say her husband did it.”

“He confessed?”

“Not right away. The captain’s still questioning him.”

They turned down a narrow street of cramped wooden houses. Two red-coated constables lounged around in front of one of the houses, but straightened up and stood stiffly to attention when they saw them coming.

“Lazy lot,” muttered the sergeant.

One shouted, “The captain’s inside. He’s been waiting for you.”

The sergeant did not bother to reply. “What do the neighbors say?”

The constable looked at his partner and said, “Not much.”

“What do you mean?”

“They heard nothing and they saw nobody.”

“You’re telling me they were all home and awake during the night?”

The second constable giggled. His partner flushed. “Well no. They were home, but while they were awake they saw and heard nothing.” He added lamely, “A bunch of old people.”

“So she didn’t scream or call for help?”

Both shook their heads.

Have you found the weapon?”

They shook their heads again.

“You did look?”

“The captain made us search the house.”

“But not outside?” They shook their heads in unison. “Well, get started. First the garden and then up and down the street. Look over fences and into weeds. Pretend you’re a killer and need to get rid of a bloody knife where it can’t be found.”

They looked rebellious. The silent one said, “The captain didn’t say to do that.” The other tried to get clever. “If nobody can find it, Sarge, there’s no point looking.”

Maeda just looked at them, and they left.

They entered the house and walked down a dirt-floored corridor past a kitchen and a work room. The house smelled of stale food and dirt. The light was dim because the shutters had not been opened, but Tora stopped to stare at rows upon rows of wooden shelves filled with tiny people, some fully dressed, and others as naked as they were born. “What the hell?” he started, then he realized he was looking at dolls, at least a hundred of them in different stages of completeness. The house belonged to a doll maker.

In the living quarters in back were four people.

An elderly man knelt, his hands tied behind his back. His clothes were stained with blood, and he looked frightened. Two burly constables stood on either side of him. Captain Okata, the fourth man, faced them. He turned and scowled at Maeda. “About time you got here. You can take over now. We made a search of the house and haven’t found the knife yet. He has nothing to say about it. Knows nothing and has done nothing.” He grimaced. “It’s a disgusting mess up there.” He jerked his head toward the steps leading to the second floor. Then he stared at Tora.

Maeda said, “We’ll take a look, sir. This is Lieutenant Sashima, the new governor’s inspector. He’s offered to help. He’s got experience with murder cases. And he requested assistance with some thieves who cleaned out the governor’s place.”

Okata eyed Tora coldly. “The murder is solved. And since you have experience, you and your master will surely make short work of the thieves.”

Tora controlled his anger. “Normally, we would, Captain, but we don’t have any staff. I’ve always been told we’ve been given two hands so they can wash each other. Maybe a little cooperation is in order?”

“Coming from the capital, you people may not realize that here we’re used to taking care of our own problems. Thieves at the governor’s residence are the governor’s business, and investigating murders in Hakata is my business. Besides, I just told you we’ve got our killer.” He turned on his heel and walked out.

“That’s it?” Tora looked after him. “Where is he going?”

One of the constables snorted. “Home. Case solved. The old guy did it. We’re taking him in. Once he’s in jail, we’ll have the confession out of him in no time, don’t you worry.”

The prisoner shivered uncontrollably.

Tora asked, “Does that mean he denies killing his wife?”

Sergeant Maeda sighed. “I suppose so. I guess it’s my case.”

The doll maker looked to be about sixty and in bad health. Thin and stringy, he trembled and stared at the ground. He had large dried blood stains on his clothes and hands. The gray hair of his topknot had come undone and one side of his face was beginning to swell. Apparently the constables had beaten him already without getting a confession.

Tora bent down to the man. “What’s your name?”

No answer. The man’s teeth chattered. Since it was not particularly cold, he must be in shock.

“Speak up, Mitsui!” The constable kicked him. “The bastard doesn’t want to talk, but we’ll see if we can change his mind.”

Tora gestured to the man’s face. “Maybe he won’t talk because you punched him. I’ve always found that the best way to shut up a suspect.”

The doll maker came out of his stupor. “I told them! I wasn’t here,” he wailed. “People can tell you I wasn’t. I was in Hakozaki, making a delivery. I got back late. She was dead.” He gazed up at Tora. “Please make them understand!”

Tora touched his shoulder. “If you’re innocent, you’ve got nothing to worry about. Sergeant Maeda and I will get it straightened out.”

The constables laughed. “Right,” sneered the one who had kicked him. “We’ll see who gets at the truth quicker. You or us.”

Maeda snapped, “It’s my case until the captain says otherwise. And you’ll leave him alone until we’ve checked out his story. Or else!”

The other constable pointed. “Look at him. He’s covered with her blood. And he didn’t report the crime until this morning.”

Tora asked, “Why not?”

“He won’t say.”

The doll maker muttered, “It was dark and I was tired. How was I to know?”

“What?” cried the constable. “You have the nerve to say that you got in bed with a dead woman and went to sleep?”

The doll maker started sobbing.

“You can take him away, but don’t touch him.” The sergeant turned to Tora. “Come, we’ll go up and have a look at the dead woman.”

They climbed a steep and rickety stairway to an upper floor with two small rooms. One was evidently storage for the doll making business, the other was the Mitsuis’ bedroom. A shutter stood open, and the spring sun shone on a bloodbath. Tangled in blood-soaked quilts lay a woman, her face and limbs white from blood loss, and her dark hair partially covering her face.

She had struggled against her assailant, but probably not for long. The killer had hacked away at her until he had hit her neck and caused her to bleed out. There was blood everywhere, on the floor, on the walls, soaked into her clothes, and into the bedding. Bloody footprints headed out of the room, and there was a bloody handprint near the doorway.

Tora walked around the body, looking at the tangled bedding. He bent to touch the stains. “They’re nearly dry,” he said. “This happened many hours ago.”

“The killer butchered her,” said the sergeant, sounding awe-struck. “Looks like he stabbed her at least twenty times. He kept stabbing away in a frenzy.” He gave a small snort. “Bet the captain didn’t take a very close look. Probably just peeked in or took the constables’ word for it, as the case may be. But it looks bad for the husband. Usually only husbands get that angry at their wives.”

“I don’t know. He had blood on him but it was mostly on his back,” remarked Tora, walking around the body to study it from all sides. “How would it get there if he was leaning over her as he stabbed her?”

“Hmm. Maybe he slipped in the blood and fell.”

“Maybe. And maybe he really came in after dark and went to sleep next to her.” Tora pursed his lips and poked a finger at the bedding beside the dead woman. “As you say, the killer stabbed her many times, but it could have been a woman. It doesn’t take much strength to shove a knife into a body.” He looked at the floor. “Perhaps we’d better measure the footprints and that handprint, though I’d guess they belong to the husband. Here’s a footprint that’s bigger though. It’s been smudged.”