Текст книги "Death of a Doll Maker "

Автор книги: Ingrid J. Parker

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Saburo would never have it, but he was not afraid.

As he explored the waterfront, Saburo noticed two men, perhaps sailors, meeting with another man beside one of the docked ships. There was a brief argument, then money changed hands and disappeared into the shirt of one of the sailors. Both walked away, heading into town while the other man climbed back on board.

He thought this a promising beginning and followed the sailors. They entered a large wine shop. By the light from lanterns, Saburo saw they were not sailors but thugs, probably Chinese, or of Chinese descent. He deduced this from their tall, muscular build and their flat, broad faces. They wore colorful and new-looking pants and jackets and leather boots on their feet, but they were scum.

Well-paid scum with neatly trimmed hair and beards.

Saburo touched his own facial hair. It itched quite badly, but he didn’t dare scratch for fear of losing patches of his painfully glued and trimmed beard. He had confiscated the hair from the stable boy’s head, and hoped he did not have to maintain his disguise for very long.

The two thugs entered a large wine shop with the impressive name The Dragon’s Lair. Inside, they joined three others, similar types but Japanese.

Saburo was still standing inside the door when the biggest of the Chinese looked up and their eyes met. Saburo had observed before that people could sometimes feel someone staring at them. He let his eyes slide on to another man and so around the room. A waiter appeared by his side, and he sat down and ordered a flask of wine.

Sometime later, he cast another cautious glance at the group and saw the big Chinese reaching for a wine flask. Two of the fingers on his right hand were missing.

It could be coincidence, but Saburo recalled his master’s description of the man in Feng’s shop. He debated whether to stay where he was and incur further expenses for wine, or go outside to hide in some doorway and wait for the big Chinese to come out.

The door opened again, and two children came in, a slight girl and a much younger boy. They were poorly dressed and each carried a birdcage. Passing among the customers, they were offering to sell their songbirds. When they reached the five toughs, a discussion took place, accompanied by raucous laughter. The girl shook her head violently and retreated, pulling the boy with her. One of the men reached for her, causing the boy to shout something at him. The waiter ran over and pointed the children to the door. When the girl did not move quickly enough, the waiter gave her a rough push that made her fall down and drop her cage. A wild fluttering and twittering came from the cage.

Saburo half rose, cursing the incident, which escalated before his eyes when the boy kicked the waiter’s shin and got a loud slap.

The girl scrambled up, snatched the cage, grasped the little boy’s arm, and pulled him away. The outraged waiter followed them to the door, shouting after them.

Saburo subsided in his seat and decided not to leave a tip.

Two poor children.

Trying to earn a few coppers by selling birds.

The girl had not been much older than twelve, he thought, and the boy perhaps nine. He wondered what sort of life they led at home. Why did their parents send them out at night into dangerous places to sell their birds?

In the corner, the Chinese suddenly burst into laughter again. Still grinning, they got up, tossed some coins to the waiter, and walked out.

Saburo would have followed in any case, but there was something troubling about their sudden departure after the two children. He paid a few coppers for his wine and went out into the street.

It was still busy, with lanterns bobbing in the slight breeze from the water and men searching for wine, women, or games. At the end of the street, three of the thugs headed toward the dense warren of streets beyond the wine shops and brothels. They were walking fast. Two of them had disappeared. So had the children. The three abruptly turned a corner.

Saburo sped up to the corner and saw a dark tunnel between the walls of two-story houses. The alley was so narrow not even the fitful moonlight penetrated. There was no sign of the Chinese, but he heard a sudden laugh up ahead, and then a shout. Then sounds of running footsteps receded.

Saburo wished he had dressed for spying. Not only were those clothes black and made for climbing and scaling roofs, but they had a series of clever pockets holding assorted weapons of his former trade. He bent to touch the thin blade he carried in his right boot and plunged into the darkness.

When his eyes adjusted, he knew he was in a poor quarter of tenements for sailors and porters. He quickly became disoriented by the way the alley turned this way and that. Dead ends and switchbacks filled with heaps of refuse or discarded building materials slowed him down. Finally he stopped and listened.

In the distance, he heard laughter again, and a moment later the thin high cry of a woman or child. He ran in that direction, stumbled over something and fell, picked himself up, and came to another dead end.

As he turned back, he saw a faint seam of light on the wall of a building. It marked a door in the back wall of this tenement. He pounded on it. When nothing happened, he kicked and the door flew open. He burst into a small room where a man and two women sat at their meal, their eyes wide with shock and fear at his intrusion.

“Quick,” he gasped. “Some men are attacking two children. Where’s the next street?”

Open-mouthed, they pointed to another door. Saburo pushed back the bar, opened it, and stood in a narrow street. At its end, moonlight fell on some struggling figures. He heard another shrill cry, pulled the knife from his boot, and rushed toward them.

“Halt!” he shouted. “In the name of the governor!” He added a loud whistle for good measure. “Constables! Over here!”

They fell for it. In a moment, all five men had melted into the shadows, leaving behind the slight figures of the two children and their broken bird cages.

The girl was sobbing as she got up and pulled her skirt down. The boy lay unmoving in the street.

Saburo guessed what the animals had been after and was sickened by it. He slowed down, put his knife away, and asked the girl, “Did they hurt you?”

She shrank away from him.

He bent over the boy and found he was alive and breathing, though unconscious. “Don’t be afraid,” he told the girl, straightening up. “I work for the governor as a sort of constable. I noticed those bullies following you and thought I’d keep an eye on them. Being a stranger in this town, I got lost. I hope I wasn’t too late?”

It was a stupid question. The girl was too young to understand. She ignored him and knelt down beside the boy to take him in her arms.

Saburo said. “He’s alive,” to reassure her, hoping the child was not seriously hurt. He had a bloody nose and would probably have a black eye. He bent and felt the back of the boy’s head. It seemed undamaged. As if to prove it, the boy opened his eyes.

“Oh, Kichiro,” the girl cried, “are you hurt?”

He blinked at her and then stared at Saburo. Freeing himself from her arms, he cried, “Don’t you touch my sister. I’ll kill you,” and lashed out weakly at Saburo with a balled fist.

“Don’t,” she cried, catching the flailing hand in hers. “He came to help us.”

The boy closed his eyes and fell back.

Saburo stood and looked around. He did not like this place. Neither did he trust the hoodlums not to come back to take out their frustration and anger on them.

“Where do you children live?” he asked. “I’ll take you home.”

She gestured vaguely down the street. “We’ll be all right,” she said. “It’s not far.”

“Your brother cannot walk,” Saburo pointed out and scooped him up. The child was not exactly light, and he hoped she had spoken the truth about the distance.

“Thank you,” she murmured and went to gather the cages. One was broken and empty. In the other, the bird lay dead. She gave a small moan, removed the limp body and laid it gently in a patch of grass. Carrying both cages, she started off down the street.

Saburo walked behind, the boy occasionally stirring and muttering in his arms. They took a confusing number of streets and alleys to end up in a shrine garden.

The girl passed through this to the back where a ruined building loomed over the trees below. Here, an assortment of bird cages, much like the ones she carried, hung from tree limbs or were stacked against the wall of the abandoned building. There were birds in the hanging cages. Some chirped sleepily.

Saburo stopped and listened carefully. He was still afraid they might have been followed, but all remained still.

The girl walked around the corner of the building to where an open doorway gaped. Entering, she told Saburo, “Wait here, please. There are some boards missing on the stairs. I’ll bring a light.”

Saburo stood, his arms aching a little, and looked about. It was very dark, but he could see the rickety staircase rising precariously into the darkness above. Below, the blackness was broken here and there by what must be open windows or holes in the roof.

A shimmer of light appeared above, and the girl came down. She carried an oil lamp. Saburo started up the stairs, watching out for missing and broken steps, worrying over whether the stairs would support their weight.

Upstairs, grass mats had been hung from rafters and across windows to make a small space in an empty, open area reminding him of a warehouse. The floor was scrupulously swept. An old trunk, a small bamboo rack with a few chipped dishes, a small pile of bedding, and a bird cage with a bird made up the furnishings.

The bird, a pale green color, woke and sang.

The girl went to spread out some bedding, and Saburo laid the boy down. His eyes were wide open.

“How are you, Kichiro?” Saburo asked.

“My eye hurts. And my head.” He looked for the girl. “Naoko?” He sounded frightened.

She said, “This man’s a friend who helped us. Thank him!”

Saburo smiled. “No need.” He looked around. “How do you manage? Where is your family?”

She looked away. “Our parents are dead. There’s no one. I’m called Naoko. Kichiro is my brother. He catches song birds. Bush warblers and white eyes and cuckoos. I make cages for them, and we sell them in the market and on the streets.”

“My name is Saburo. As I told you, I work for the new governor and am a stranger here. Those men you tangled with are bad. You shouldn’t be walking around at night. And you should really not be going into wine shops.”

She nodded calmly. “I know. We needed money, so we decided to give it a try. Sometimes the sailors like a bird to take on their ship with them.”

With a sigh, Saburo dug into his sash and extracted a string of coppers. Counting out half of them, he placed them on the trunk. “I think your brother will be all right in the morning. This is for food. I’ll be back when I can, but you must be more careful.”

She looked at the money. Tears rose to her eyes. “Thank you.” Then she looked up at him and added softly, “If you’d like to take your pleasure, I won’t mind.”

Saburo thought he had not heard right. Then he exploded into a curse, took her thin shoulders in his hands, and shook her. She looked terrified and the boy started up with a cry.

Saburo dropped his hands and said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that, but you’re just a child. How can you even think of such a thing?”

“I’m nearly fourteen,” she said, her chin raised defiantly. “And you needn’t worry. I’ve been raped before.”

Sickened, Saburo turned away. “Don’t ever do such a thing again, do you hear? Now go to bed. Be careful when you go out tomorrow. Those men may be around. I’ll be back tomorrow evening, but if there’s more trouble, go to Sergeant Maeda at the police station.”

12

THE MAYOR’S BANQUET

When Akitada woke, Saburo was already moving about his room. Yawning, Akitada sat up. It was light outside, but the long sleep had made him feel rested and energetic. Getting up, he said, “You let me sleep too long,” and went to open the shutters. A small greenish bird perched in the cherry tree, singing in sunshine. When he turned around, he saw that Saburo looked tired. He had removed the false beard and mustache and reapplied fresh makeup. It made him seem unnaturally pale.

“You look terrible,” Akitada announced and sat down at his desk.

Saburo busied himself with making tea. “I just got back, sir.”

“Really? I don’t insist you go without sleep completely. Was it an interesting night?”

“You might say so.”

“Should we talk about it outside?”

“No. I think your private quarters are safe enough these days. Besides what happened has probably nothing to do with smuggling.”

The tea water boiled and Saburo brewed the tea.

“So what happened?” Akitada asked, watching him.

“I found two poor children who’d been attacked by thugs. The girl is only thirteen, and her brother is about nine. There were three of the bastards, and they tried to rape her. I took the children home, if you can call the place home, and then stayed outside to watch in case the men returned.”

“Three grown men trying to rape a child? What kind of place is this? And where were the constables?”

“The children made the mistake of going into a wine shop near the harbor to sell some song birds. They live in a bad part of town, and the hoodlums followed them.” Saburo presented a cup of tea.

Akitada was too angry to drink it. “Everything that has happened so far points to the complete incompetence of Captain Okata. I think I’ll do as Tora suggests and remove him from his post, replacing him with his sergeant.”

Saburo nodded. “I told the children to go to Sergeant Maeda. And I’d like to go back tonight if I may.”

“Yes, but get some sleep first.”

“One of those men was Chinese and had two fingers missing. And he collected something, probably money, from one of the captains of the ships. The missing fingers were on his right hand. The last two. I thought of the man you met at Feng’s store.”

Akitada sat up. “Aha. Yes, it sounds like him. Ugly, big brute?”

Saburo nodded. “I’d like to have a word with him.”

“I don’t like this business about collecting money from ships docking here. Better not tangle with him until we have more information. What about Hayashi?”

“Yes. I almost forgot. He had a meeting. First with Feng and the shrine priest. That took about an hour. Then the priest left and others arrived. Looked like a guild meeting.”

“Interesting.” Akitada finally sipped his tea. “I’m to dine with the mayor tonight. I expect some of those men will be attending. Perhaps I can learn something then.”

Tora came in as Saburo poured a second cup. He had little to report but listened with shocked outrage to Saburo’s tale about the children. “I’ll talk to Maeda,” he offered.

“Not today. You’ve done enough for the local police. Maeda sounds like a good man. Let him work his case. I want you here. Saburo had no sleep last night, and I’m attending the mayor’s banquet tonight.”

*

To make up for snubbing the Hakata notables, Akitada had taken pains with his appearance. He wore a fine green figured silk robe and white silk trousers. Behind him rode six soldiers from the provincial guard. Because it was a private entertainment, he had dispensed with the flag bearer, but they attracted attention anyway.

The mayor had arranged to have the banquet on the upper floor of a large restaurant overlooking the Mikasa River. Numerous colored paper lanterns hung suspended from the open gallery and could be seen from a distance. Over the door was a gilt inscription identifying it as the ‘Great Happiness’ restaurant.

It looks and sounds like a brothel, Akitada thought sourly. He hated these social occasions.

The ‘Great Happiness” opened its double doors, and he was greeted by waiters in bright red shirts and black trousers who bowed him in and up the stairs into a large room overlooking the river. Outside was the gallery with the colored lanterns swaying softly in the breeze.

A number of well-dressed men greeted him with bows and wishes for good health and a long life. Mayor Nakamura stepped forward, all smiles and rustling dark blue silk. He made introductions, and Akitada tried in vain to match so many names and faces. He did recognize Hayashi, the fat chief of the merchant’s guild, and Feng, the Chinese merchant. He exchanged bows and made polite remarks about Hakata, Minami, Dazaifu, and Kyushu. They requested comparisons to the capital or asked if he had seen the emperor close up. He had not and felt this lowered him in their estimation.

Nakamura eventually led him to a dais where they were to occupy seats of honor. The others took their seats below.

The doors of the room opened to admit a small group of musicians who carried lutes, zithers, and flutes. They took their stand to the side and struck up a light tune. Akitada listened with pleasure to the flute player. He had not played his own flute in many weeks and promised himself to practice soon.

A long line of exquisite young women in colored and diaphanous gowns entered next and dispersed among the guests, each taking her place near one of the men.

Akitada winced when a particularly tall and beautiful creature knelt beside him with a deep bow, announcing softly, “My name is Fragrant Orchid. It will be my pleasure to serve your Excellency tonight.”

So it was to be that kind of party, he thought, merely nodding to her. He disliked such affairs intensely and became morose.

His host leaned closer. “Fragrant Orchid is our leading beauty. I’m told she’s very talented.” He winked.

Words had double meanings. She had offered to serve him tonight, and the mayor had called her very talented. Even without the wink, it was clear that he had been presented with the services of a prostitute. No doubt they knew he had not brought his family and thought him desperate to lie with a woman. Suddenly angry, he ignored his companion and turned to the mayor. “I’m afraid I have brought my work with me tonight. Being a stranger here, I hope you and some of the other gentlemen will share your views on local conditions and problems with me.”

Nakamura looked taken aback, and there was whispering among the others. But then his host smiled and bowed. “Please ask away, Excellency. I hope you will come to enjoy what our city has to offer.” His eyes went meaningfully to Akitada’s female companion.

“Thank you. I’m sure I will.” Akitada did not look at her and continued quickly, “I’ve been surprised that my predecessor was already gone when I arrived. He must have left in a hurry.”

The mayor cast a glance at his companion and said cautiously, “His Excellency, Governor Tachibana was a connoisseur and collector of art. He was anxious about shipping his art home and feared the summer storms. Mr. Feng could tell you more about his collection.”

Akitada looked at the Chinese merchant who smiled expectantly. “I had the pleasure of visiting your fine store yesterday, Mr. Feng. A young man showed me an extraordinary painting of a Chinese village. I also found some charming dolls to send to my children.”

If Feng was startled by this information, he handled it well. With a bow, he expressed himself deeply honored but devastated that he had not known of the governor’s visit. “Perhaps, if you’d advise me of your next visit, Excellency, I’ll be able to show you other wonderful things.”

“Thank you, Mr. Feng. I look forward to it.” Akitada turned back to the mayor. “What sort of administrator was Governor Tachibana? Did you find him easy to work with?”

The mayor shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t think any of us experienced any problems while he was governor.” He glanced at the other guests. “Does anyone here know of difficulties?” They all shook their heads.” Nakamura laughed a little nervously. “This is a peaceful place nowadays, Excellency. Nothing much happens here as a rule.”

Akitada raised his brows. “Really? I hear about violent men roaming the streets and attacking children. And my assistant managed to walk in on a murder investigation the very day I sent him to inspect Hakata’s police headquarters. For some reason, the chief, a Captain Okata, objected to his interest. He seemed to be under the impression local crime was not the business of the provincial tribunal.”

This produced an awkward silence.

Finally, Nakamura said, “Sometimes Okata can be very rude. I’ve said so myself. The fact is the district magistrate is in Hakata. Police headquarters are under his supervision. The provincial administration hasn’t operated as a tribunal for a long time.”

Feng added, “Okata is a good officer, a person of rank. Governor Tachibana had every faith in him. Perhaps he misunderstood a question.”

Akitada was still digesting the fact that the entire law enforcement for Chikuzen seemed to be located in Hakata and under Captain Okata. He considered Feng’s comment and nodded. “It’s possible. I shall have a talk with him myself.”

A light touch on his sleeve reminded him of the woman beside him. Fragrant Orchid extended a cup of wine to him. Her eyes were downcast, and she was flushed. It occurred to him that he had been unnecessarily rude by not paying her more attention. He said, “Forgive me. You have been very patient with me. It has been a long time since I’ve had such charming company.”

She glanced up with a quick smile and offered the wine with both hands. Her scent was quite heavy, stirring and warming his blood, perhaps because he knew why she was here. Hers was a flawless beauty of large, liquid eyes and full, moist lips. Like elegant women everywhere, she used make-up, whitening her skin and outlining her eyes with black. The paint enhanced her features and gave her an air of mystery. He said more gently, “Business all too often intervenes when we should relax and enjoy the beauties of this world.”

She dimpled and murmured back, “How painful that only the wine reminded you of me.”

He sipped without looking away from those strange eyes. “Not so. Rather my duties have blinded me momentarily.”

The mayor beside him chuckled. “I wondered when your Excellency would begin to enjoy the evening. Here comes the food. I hope our poor fare is not too humble for your taste.”

The atmosphere in the room relaxed considerably. The musicians struck up another tune, and the other guests chatted or flirted with the women beside them. Waiters passed around on silent feet, placing tray tables with dishes of food before each guest. Mouthwatering smells began to fill the room. The musicians struck up a new tune, and outside the moon had risen in the night sky, silvering the river below and the roof tops of the city beyond.

Akitada considered Fragrant Orchid’s attractions. Her name was apt, but then it was likely a professional one. She was tall for a woman, but graceful, and beneath the diaphanous pale green silk, her breasts were firm and full, her waist surprisingly small, and her hips and thighs softly rounded and inviting. She was a very desirable woman.

It struck him that his physical pleasure in her was stimulated by many different senses. His eyes feasted on her beauty as much as they had on the moon-silvered landscape outside, his ears absorbed the sound of her voice like the very pleasant music, his nose was simultaneously teased by her musky scent and the aroma of the dainty dishes before him, and his tongue yet tasted the sweetness of the wine while yearning to taste her lips. He was strongly aroused.

As if reading his thoughts, she gave him a sidelong smile.

He pulled himself together and asked, “Did you by any chance meet my predecessor?”

Perhaps it was his imagination, but he thought his question upset her. For a moment her eyes left his to glance away. Then she said calmly, “Yes. I enjoyed his acquaintance. His Excellency was a most learned, considerate, and polite gentleman.”

He was embarrassed. “And I am not. You haven’t forgiven me.”

“Perhaps I shall when I know you better.”

Boldly, he suggested, “A promise and an offer?”

She nodded, smiling.

He felt ridiculously flattered and excited. Since he did not trust himself to say anything else, he turned to his food. To his relief, nobody seemed to have noticed the flirtatious exchange. The conversation among the guests ranged from an upcoming festival to rumors of the discovery of gold in Osumi province. Akitada listened and asked a question about the gold, but no one seemed to know particulars.

Toward the end of the banquet, the mayor suddenly recalled Akitada’s earlier comment. “About this murder, Excellency,” he said. “No need to trouble yourself about it. The dead woman was just the wife of a doll maker. The husband did it. Okata has a confession.”

Akitada reflected that apparently the murders of women, especially if they were the wives of mere doll makers, were not considered important enough to disturb the peace of mind of the mayor or have an impact on the Hakata community. He became morose again, but nothing else of interest was said, and he was more relieved than disappointed when his beauteous companion and the other females took their leave. Some of the guests were already drunk and snatched at the hands and skirts of the departing women. The musicians packed up their instruments, and the mayor rose to thank him and the other guests for coming. Akitada expressed his own gratitude for the luxurious entertainment, and the others applauded.

And so the evening ended. Akitada walked down the wide stairs first, the mayor behind him.

Waiting at the bottom was a child, a little girl in a colorful silk gown and embroidered jacket, a miniature version of the beautiful Fragrant Orchid except that her hair was only shoulder-length. She looked almost exactly like the doll Akitada had bought for his daughter. For that matter, she was only slightly older than Yasuko but apparently already in the trade.

She made him a very deep bow and held up a folded note on scented paper dusted with flecks of gold. He took it, asking, “Is this for me? Who sent you, child?”

But she only smiled an enchanting smile and ran out of the restaurant. The mayor caught up and chortled. “Congratulations, Excellency. Our most famous beauty likes you. She rarely gives invitations.”

Akitada suppressed his embarrassment and left quickly.

Back at the tribunal, Tora awaited with eager questions about the food and the women at the banquet.

Akitada answered curtly, then said, “The doll maker has confessed to the murder, so your case is closed.”

“Maeda won’t have liked that,” Tora commented. “And I think he’s right. There was something else going on.”

“But you will not have time for it in the future. Your duties at the tribunal are waiting.”

Akitada did not open Fragrant Orchid’s letter until he was in his room and alone.

It was brief. The message, written in a somewhat awkward hand simply read, “Please come to me. I have something to tell you.”

He firmly resisted regret, tore up the scrap, and sat down to add a few lines to his letter to Tamako, describing the banquet and the foods, though not his companion.