Текст книги "Rashomon Gate "

Автор книги: Ingrid J. Parker

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"Oh, no. Lord Sakanoue rode a horse."

"In front of the carriage?"

Kinsue shook his head. "The ox is slow. Sometimes the gentlemen passed us, and sometimes they were behind. But I know that, coming back, he was out in front." He scratched his head and frowned, but said no more.

"I see." Akitada turned to look through the open doorway, picturing the nighttime bustle of departure, the carriage drawn up at the foot of the steps, the waiting riders. Again he had an eerie sense of something intangible, of an unseen presence listening, waiting. "How many went with the prince that night?" he asked.

The old man thought. "Let's see. There was me and Noro. Noro's the boy that rode on the ox. Then there was Lord Abe and General Soga, and Lord Yanagida and Lord Shinoda in front. Yes, that's all. The others had to stay to pack for the trip to the country."

Four witnesses besides the driver and the boy! Akitada shook his head and said, "It seems strange that your master should suddenly have decided to remove the whole family to the country on the very day of his annual visit to the Ninna temple."

Kinsue shook his head sadly. "Who can say? The soothsayer cursed us," he muttered. "It was an evil day when the master had him whipped from the gate. That's what I told my old woman, when there was the trouble with the young lady we weren't supposed to know about."

That confirmed the boy's account. Akitada returned to the events at the temple. "You say you saw everything that happened at the temple. Were you not tending to your ox?"

"No. That's what the boy was there for. I was sitting down by the wall, watching the gentlemen on the veranda and listening to the master praying."

"Are you sure you could hear and see?" Akitada asked in disbelief. "It was surely dark, and you were across the courtyard if you were sitting by the wall."

"It's only a small courtyard, and the sky was getting light."

"Very well. Go on. Tell me everything you saw and heard from the moment you arrived."

Kinsue got a faraway look in his eyes. "After His Highness got out," he said, "I untied the ox and told Noro to take it to the next courtyard and feed it. Then I sat down to wait. His Highness had already gone in and I could hear him chanting. The gentlemen were sitting on the veranda outside the door. After a time the sun started coming up over the mountain. Then the monks rang the great bell of the temple, and the master stopped chanting. Lord Sakanoue got up and walked to the balustrade to tell me to bring the ox, which I did. I remember Noro and I were talking about being back in town in time for a good breakfast. We hitched the ox to the carriage, and then we all waited. The gentlemen were still standing on the veranda. They were talking, but I couldn't hear what they said. Some of them came down to get their horses. Then Lord Sakanoue went to the door and knocked, crying, 'Your Highness! Everything is ready!' But my master did not come out. One of the gentlemen and Lord Sakanoue talked and then they went in. Me and Noro stood staring up, wondering what was wrong. The other gentlemen came to look, too. Then Lord Sakanoue came back out, and he was carrying the master's purple robe and he was weeping. He said the master was gone."

The old man let his head drop to his chest and he wiped his eyes again. "I never saw my master again," he muttered. "The monks came then, and the abbot, and they all searched and searched. Then they brought an exorcist and a medium. The medium went inside and when she came out, she said that the master had been reborn in paradise because of his devotion in reading the sutra and in wishing to be with his son. I suppose it must be so." Kinsue stopped, exhausted.

Akitada gave him time to recover. Then he said, "You must have wondered what happened. Did you not think your master might have just walked away? Or that someone might have abducted him or even killed him and hidden his body?"

Kinsue shook his head. "It was impossible," he said stubbornly. "I watched. The gentlemen watched. Lord Sakanoue made all of us come up and see that there was no one in the hall, and there was no way the master could have left. It must have been as the medium said."

"Kinsue," cried a faint, quavering voice outside. The interruption was so startling that both men jumped a little.

"My wife," explained Kinsue.

"I would like to meet her."

Akitada followed Kinsue out. Under the paulownia tree stood a short, fat old woman who was staring at the rake and the pile of leaves as if her husband might suddenly materialize. When Kinsue called out to her, her face lit up until she saw Akitada. Her husband made the introductions. Getting awkwardly down on her knees, she bowed rapidly several times.

Akitada said, "Please get up. I wondered if you might have some message for Sadamu from his sister. He is worried."

The old woman began to cry. "Oh, my poor little lady," she sobbed. "All alone now. May Amida protect her!" She fell to praying, eyes closed and lips moving soundlessly.

"Hush, old woman!" cried her husband, scandalized. "Do you want to frighten the young lord?" He turned to Akitada to explain. "My wife took the young lady her morning rice before she left for the country. The young lady's maids were busy loading the carts, and so she was allowed into the young lady's quarters. The young lady was weeping terribly, but it was a bad time, what with the sad news. I am sure the young lady is quite well by now. Being married to Lord Sakanoue, she is now number one lady of the household. That is something, isn't it, when she is but fifteen years old?"

Fifteen? She was a mere child then. "Was there really a marriage?" asked Akitada, looking at Kinsue's wife. She nodded, her eyes unhappy.

"But I thought Prince Yoakira had refused to give his consent," Akitada said.

The two old people looked at each other, puzzled. "But they must be married," said the old woman. "His lordship spent the night with her three nights running, and I baked the wedding dumplings myself on the third day." Her face crumpled again. "It was the day before the master went away to heaven."

Kinsue shook his head in wonder. "What a day! So many things happening!"

"Yes," said Akitada. "It must have been. Thank you both. I shall tell Lord Minamoto what you said."

The old woman scrambled up to whisper something in her husband's ear, then wobbled off at a half-run. Kinsue said, "My wife went to fetch something for the young lord."

Akitada nodded and turned to look up at the prince's quarters. Here the quarrel had taken place after Yoakira had discovered to his shock that his granddaughter had, willingly or otherwise, become Sakanoue's wife. No wonder he had been furious! What had passed between the old nobleman and his new grandson-in-law? Had he acknowledged the marriage, or refused to countenance it? Akitada thought he knew the answer to that. It was the motive for the murder of the prince. Poor children, both at the mercy of an unscrupulous man. He tried to imagine what the girl must have felt, must be feeling now.

Lost in thought, he walked up the steps again and stood in the doorway looking in. It must be a marriage as empty and desolate as this room. He thought of his parents, their formality with each other, the absence of any signs of fondness, of physical familiarity. But his mother had always been a strong character, well able to cope with an autocratic husband. Was this what had frightened Tamako? Had she been afraid that he would be a distant husband, leaving her to the cold demands of her mother-in-law? He sighed unhappily. That mystery would never be solved, but the strange disappearance of the man who used to occupy these rooms would be, if he could help it.

As he thought this, Akitada felt his hair bristle. It was as if something spoke to him with a terrible urgency.

He looked around. Not so much as a clothes chest remained, only the outline where one had stood, obliquely, near the door. Packed and ready for transport to the country? Why had they removed the prince's things? he wondered. He had been gone by then and would hardly need his clothes.

Someone had inexpertly scoured the wooden floor after the chest had been removed. The marks had dulled the deep gloss of the floor-boards. Kinsue, no doubt, in his fervent desire to keep the master's room spotless.

The calligraphy scroll caught Akitada's eye. Idly, he deciphered the Chinese ideograms, feeling strangely as if he were hearing the words in his head. "Seek the truth and thou shalt find it! Neglect the truth and it shall be lost forever! The seeking is within thy power, but the finding is in the hands of heaven. Thou must search the truth within, for thou shalt not find it without." The words were attributed to Meng Tse.

With a sigh Akitada turned away and went out into the courtyard. Kinsue and his wife awaited him.

"Tell me," he asked them, "what has become of the prince's clothes and other things?"

"Oh, they've been taken to the country," the old man said. "Lord Sakanoue took them himself in the last cart."

"I see. Well, I see your wife has returned, and I must be on my way. Thank you for telling me your story. Lord Minamoto will be glad to know that you and your wife are taking such good care of his home and are thinking of him."

Kinsue's wife shuffled up. With a toothless smile splitting a round face that resembled a dried yam, she bowed and extended the small box tied with a bit of hempen string towards Akitada.

"It's sweet dumplings," Kinsue explained for her. "The young lord is partial to them."

"Thank you," said Akitada, accepting the parcel, "and thank you also for your explanations. Should either of you remember anything else, even if it seems unimportant, send for me. It may help the young lord to understand."

Kinsue nodded. "There's nothing else, sir," he said, "except the horse, but how can that matter?"

"Horse?"

"Lord Sakanoue's horse, the one he took to the mountains. It wasn't his and it wasn't one of ours. I know all of our animals, sir."

Sixteen

Roasted Walnuts

In spite of the brutal murder of its most famous scholar, the university was open as usual. Akitada arrived just in time for his first class. He was relieved, because that meant that he need not exchange pleasantries with Hirata. Their relationship had become unbearably strained, not only because Akitada still resented the way Hirata had trapped him into a marriage proposal– one which had turned out to be unwelcome to Tamako– but also because even the briefest encounter with the father reminded Akitada painfully of the daughter. Striding quickly through the main hall, he went directly to his own classroom.

His students sat waiting, their faces turned eagerly towards the door as he entered, their smiles welcoming him before the fifteen blue-robed backs and the fifteen black-capped heads bowed low before their master. His heart warmed with gratitude. He considered for the first time that a teacher had a blessed life. Encouraged by his reception, he spent the morning expounding the laws governing provincial administrations and was pleased with their patience.

In fact, Mr. Ushimatsu, the middle-aged student, outdid himself, having not only memorized the names of all the provinces, but volunteering to point them out on the map. He also supplied fairly accurate information about crops, industries, towns and temples, until even his peers looked impressed. When Akitada praised him, Ushimatsu's eyes sparkled with pleasure. He murmured shyly that he dreamed of being sent to one of the provinces as a recorder or junior clerk on the staff of one of the governors. Therefore he had thought it wise to prepare himself by studying all the possible assignments ahead of time.

One of the young nobles snorted. "You want to leave the capital for some godforsaken place?" he cried. "And as a mere clerk? I have more ambition than that, I hope. Why bother to attend the university if that is all you want, Ushimatsu?" A chorus of supporters joined him, and it looked for a moment as though poor Ushimatsu would once again be cowed by his sneering comrades.

But Ushimatsu bowed to his critic. "Forgive me, Mokudai, but that is all very well for you. And for a lot of the others, too, I imagine. You have relatives who are great men here in the capital, and your Chinese is much, much better than mine." With a smile at the others, he added, "I am quite content to be a secretary to one of your cousins, or perhaps some day to one of you. As for leaving the capital, I quite look forward to that because it means that I shall get to see what the rest of the country looks like."

Young Lord Minamoto cried, "And I shall envy you, Ushimatsu. I wish I were free to see the world." For a moment a look of great sadness passed over the boy's face. "Oh, Ushimatsu," he said softly, "when you talked of the great snows and the bears in Echigo, I wished I could see them for myself. And I wished to sail the Inland Sea to see the monkeys in Kyushu, and travel the Tokaido Highway until I looked on Mount Fuji. But I know that I will probably never leave the capital as long as I live."

The critics yielded, and Akitada said quickly, "None of us knows what the future may bring. Many a great lord has been sent on missions of importance by His Majesty. We all serve where we can."

Akitada was inordinately proud of the progress Ushimatsu had made. If he kept up his pace, he would pass the next examination. Making a mental note to lend Ushimatsu some of his documents, he assigned an essay on the system of corvée to the class and dismissed them for their noon rice.

As young Minamoto passed his desk on his way out the door, Akitada remembered the present from Kinsue's wife. "Sadamu," he said, "I have something for you."

The boy's eyes widened with pleasure. "For me? What is it?" he cried, taking the box.

"It is not from me. This morning I went to speak to your grandfather's driver. He and his wife are the only ones left at the mansion."

"Kinsue," nodded the boy, his eyes suddenly intent. "What did you discover?"

Akitada hesitated. "Essentially Kinsue supports the official story. Your grandfather entered the temple hall, but did not emerge. When his attendants looked for him, he had disappeared."

The boy sighed. "Kinsue would not lie. He loved Grandfather. There must be an explanation. Will you go to the temple?"

"Yes. I will after I have talked to the men who were with your grandfather. I am told the Lords Abe, Yanagida and Shinoda, as well as some general, accompanied your grandfather. Do you know any of them?"

The boy nodded. "I know them, but not well. They came often to the house, but I was not present when my grandfather entertained them. The general is called Soga. I am sorry I cannot help you any more."

"It does not matter. By the way, I am amazed you know the names of your grandfather's servants. There must be many of them."

The boy smiled. He was weighing the box in his hand and shaking it slightly. "Of course," he said. "But especially Kinsue and Fumiko. Fumiko is Kinsue's wife. Are they both well? Is this present from her?" Somehow the string had come undone. His lordship raised the box to his face and squinted at a crack under the lid, his nose twitching a little.

"Go ahead and look," said Akitada with a smile.

Instantly the lid came off. "Sweet dumplings!" cried the boy, doing a little skip and hop. "I was hoping it would be sweet dumplings. She makes the best." He inhaled the smell ecstatically and extended the open box to Akitada. "Please, sir, will you sample one?"

"No, thank you. It is time for my midday rice. Kinsue and, er, Fumiko are quite well and wanted me tell you that they are taking good care of your home in your absence."

The youngster closed the box, blushing a little. "It is very good of them and I am glad that they are healthy and have not been dismissed. Do they need anything?"

Akitada marvelled again at the sense of responsibility this eleven-year-old felt for his people. "No," he said, "I don't believe so. They grieve, of course. For your grandfather and because you are not with them."

The boy blinked. "I am glad they are at the old place, because that is where my grandfather's spirit will be until his forty-nine days are up," he said, his voice choking a little. "Is there any news of my sister, sir?"

"None, I'm afraid. She is in the country. By the way, where is your country house?"

"Near Mount Kuriko on the Nara Highway."

"I have also spoken to your great-uncle, Bishop Sesshin. I don't suppose he has sent for you or changed your living arrangements?"

"No, sir. My great-uncle is a priest. He takes no interest in worldly things."

It was said matter-of-factly, but Akitada's heart contracted for the lonely boy. "Well," he said with a forced smile, "enjoy your dumplings!"

He was rewarded by a big grin and watched with a chuckle as the boy skipped out, clutching his precious box. It took so little to make a child happy. Even the dim memories of his own past included moments of sheer bliss.

His smile faded a moment later, when he was interrupted in his childhood reminiscences by Nishioka, who stuck his long nose in, asking, "My dear fellow, aren't you having your noon rice today? I'm on my way to my office for mine. Come, be my guest! I am anxious to share my new theory with you and give you a taste treat at the same time."

Akitada was about to decline, when he saw Hirata's gaunt face appear behind Nishioka. Sighing inwardly, Akitada accepted the invitation. Hirata nodded to both of them and withdrew again.

Nishioka chattered away as they walked together towards the Temple of Confucius. Akitada, feeling guilty about Hirata, said little. It was uncomfortably hot for the first time this year. Glancing up at the sky, Akitada thought the weather was changing. An oppressive heat haze hung over the city, and hardly a leaf stirred in the trees.

"Master Tanabe took off today on my urging," Nishioka said when they reached his room. "I'm a bit worried about him. He's getting too old for all this excitement. The sooner the police arrest the killer, the better for all of us."

Thinking of how frail and ill Hirata had looked, Akitada agreed.

Nishioka confided excitedly, "I think I have worked it out. We agreed it is all a question of the murderer's personality, and by that premise I have narrowed it down to a single person. Of course, if it were not for the fact that it takes a very strong man to tie a body the size of Oe's to that statue, the field would be much larger. But let us discuss it over our food."

They settled down on the veranda outside Nishioka's cramped and cluttered study to a meal of rice and pickled vegetables delivered from the staff kitchen. Akitada eyed the food with little interest or appetite. "A taste treat, did you say?"

Nishioka's eyes sparkled. "Later," he promised and returned to the subject of Oe's murder. "It seems to me that we should consider everybody who had a motive, eliminate those who could not have done it, and analyze the psychological traits of those remaining. Agreed?"

Clearly this would take a while. Unhappily, Akitada nodded, brushing away a few beads of perspiration from his brow. He was not particularly hungry and ate listlessly.

"Let us begin with ourselves," said Nishioka, waving his chopsticks. "No, no! Don't shake your head. We must be systematic. System is everything in scholarly research. I, Nishioka, did not like Oe. He was quite rude to me on several occasions. I also did not care for his lack of respect towards Master Tanabe. But dislike is not a strong enough motive for murder. You, unless you inform me otherwise, would not have known the man long enough even for that. Am I right?"

Akitada gave Nishioka a long look. Then he put down his chop-sticks and rice bowl and said bluntly, "You may have had a stronger motive than dislike. The police captain seems to think that Oe was threatening you over certain gambling activities."

Nishioka's jaw dropped. He turned absolutely white. "K . . . Kobe said that? How could he? What did he say?"

"Nothing specific. He picked up the information among a lot of gossip about the faculty."

Nishioka relaxed a little. "It's a silly story. Vastly exaggerated. There is really nothing to it. A couple of clerks in administration were taking bets on the outcome of the last examination and they asked me to hold the money for them. Nobody would have said anything about it, if we had not had some sore losers. You see, the favorite did not place first."

"So I gathered," Akitada said dryly. He had noted the shift in pronoun from "they" to "we," and wondered just how culpable his host had been. Everybody needed money, and assistants, as Akitada knew, were paid a pittance. He asked, "How much money was involved?"

Nishioka fidgeted. "All in all about five hundred pieces of silver."

"That much!" Akitada stared at him. "Who won?"

"There was only one winner. Ishikawa."

"Ishikawa! You don't say! If he got that much, why was he reading Oe's papers?"

Nishioka put on an irritatingly mysterious look and merely said, "Ah!"

Akitada took up his bowl and ate a bite. "Please continue your analysis of the murder," he said curtly, after he had swallowed some very dry rice.

His host, disconcerted by Akitada's tone, stammered, "Oh. Yes. Motives. Well, er, as far as your friend Hirata is concerned, he seems to get along with everybody. I could not discover a motive. Master Tanabe also was always very patient with the man. I think we can eliminate both of them. Fujiwara, on the other hand, is more complicated. He's another easygoing fellow, but Oe hated him and never missed an opportunity to malign Fujiwara publicly or privately. The incident at the poetry contest may have been the last straw for Fujiwara. A definite motive of revenge, I would say."

Akitada ran a finger between his stiff collar and his neck. Perspiration made the silk cling to his hot skin. "You are guessing," he said. "Hirata, or I for that matter, may have had a motive you know nothing of, and Fujiwara may be so easygoing that nothing will ever push him to violence."

Nishioka looked offended. He snapped, "You must remember that I know my colleagues a great deal better than you do." Gobbling a few bites of his vegetables, he muttered, "I suppose you will next defend Takahashi. That man hates everybody and does his best to make them suffer! Even you must remember that he was practically incoherent with fury after what Oe did to his precious memorial. I would call that a strong motive of revenge."

"I think," said Akitada, "that one should guard especially carefully against pinning a crime on a man one dislikes."

Nishioka put down his rice bowl with a distinct rattle. "Perhaps," he said, controlling his voice carefully, "you would honor me with your views on the others?"

Well, thought Akitada, it serves me right. Why can't I keep my temper under control and my mouth shut? There was nothing he could do, except comply and hope that Nishioka would gradually calm down. "I found Sato quite interesting," he said calmly, pretending nothing had happened. "He is outwardly quiet but has things to hide. The private lessons are against university rules, and there is gossip about scandalous affairs with women in his university quarters. I am sure that you know more about this than I."

Nishioka hesitated, but the temptation was too great. "Quite right," he said. "And he could not afford to lose his position, for he is poor and has a sizable family. Oe was about to pounce on him."

"Ah, self-preservation," Akitada said with a nod.

"Exactly! But don't forget Ono. As Oe's assistant, Ono has always hoped to succeed as head of Chinese studies some day. For that he put up with years of abuse and overwork."

"Yes, that gives him two reasons to murder: revenge and self-interest," said Akitada.

Mollified, Nishioka jumped up to fetch some wine. He filled their cups. Akitada drank thirstily with hardly a thought to this afternoon's classes. "Good," he said. "Is this the promised treat?"

Nishioka laughed. "No. Be patient! Well, what do you think of my reasoning so far?"

"It covers the faculty," said Akitada, letting Nishioka refill his cup. "But in fact, it could have been anyone else. Students, staff, visitors, friends, family."

Nishioka waved a dismissive hand. "Oe had no friends, and no close family to speak of. As for staff, they never had any particularly strong feelings about Oe, and Oe rarely ever bothered himself with them. The same is true of the students– with one notable exception: Ishikawa. Ishikawa is as poor as he is clever, and this spring he and Oe suddenly became uncharacteristically close. Ishikawa began grading papers for Oe. Very curious, that."

"Yes," said Akitada. "Particularly in view of the fact that Ishikawa had won your bets. Surely he did not need the money Oe paid him."

Nishioka dropped a piece of radish he had been raising to his mouth and flushed with irritation. "They were not my bets," he cried. "I wish you would not dwell on the matter."

"Sorry," murmured Akitada. "I think you suspect that Oe rigged the examination with the knowledge of Ishikawa."

"Of course he did. It was a clever scheme with no one the wiser about Oe's involvement. Ishikawa won the bet. But I think he turned over most of the winnings to Oe. Everybody noticed the change in Ishikawa after the examination. He became disrespectful to Oe, and Oe put up with it. There is even a rumor that Ishikawa attacked Oe. To me it smells exactly like a falling-out of conspirators." Nishioka's long nose twitched as if the bad smell had suddenly risen from his vegetables.

"Do you have any proof for that?"

"What proof? All you have to do is watch people's actions. I think Ishikawa blackmailed Oe. What do you think of that?"

Akitada had arrived at the same conviction quite a while ago. Unfortunately it did not seem to explain the murder. He said, "It was Oe who was killed, not Ishikawa. Why would Ishikawa kill the source of his income?"

"What if Oe got tired of Ishikawa's demands and was threatening him with expulsion?"

"Would he not have worried about Ishikawa revealing the whole scheme? That would have ended his university career."

"Oe had nothing to lose. He had already decided to retire."

"How do you know that?" Akitada asked, surprised.

"From what he said and how he said it. Remember, I keep my eyes and ears open all the time. Oe had the money from the bets and he detested his teaching duties. I expect he was getting ready to sell his position to the highest bidder." He paused and chuckled suddenly. "I wonder if Ono knew that. He is poor and that would certainly have given him another motive to kill Oe."

Akitada remarked, "Well, there seem to be enough choices, but hardly any facts to support your suspicions."

Nishioka nodded. "Fujiwara, Takahashi, Ono, Sato and Ishikawa. And facts are immaterial, provided you can eliminate all but one."

Akitada sighed. The vegetables had been very salty, and he drank deeply from Nishioka's wine.

Nishioka seemed inured to the food and heat. "As far as opportunity is concerned, Fujiwara certainly could have gone to the temple after the competition, and he is strong enough to lift the body, but he would have had to make an appointment with Oe beforehand. Takahashi is in the same position, and so is Sato."

"All of them could have run into Oe by accident and decided to act then," Akitada pointed out. "The university gate was neither locked nor guarded because of the holiday."

"I had thought of that, but it is not as likely. And I do not like coincidence. Ishikawa and Ono left with Oe and did not return to the contest. We have only their word that they separated at the gate. These two are the most likely for opportunity, either separately or together."

"Ono claims he returned, but go on." Akitada pushed his food away. He wished he could leave.

Nishioka rubbed his hands. "That brings me finally to our murderer's personality. Taking the less likely suspects first, Fujiwara is a talented but unconventional character. He cares nothing for appearances or personal fame and would therefore not be troubled by perceived insults. In that sense he is the exact opposite of Takahashi. Takahashi's motive becomes much stronger when you consider his vanity; however, he has an exaggerated sense of propriety which would counteract his desire for revenge. Sato, I confess, puzzles me. At times, I suspect, he has strong emotions, but at others he seems as uncaring as Fujiwara. Those two drink together quite a bit in the local wine shops, did you know?"

"The fact that a man enjoys the night life does not necessarily imply that he has no strong values." Akitada said sharply, increasingly irritated with the chatty, opinionated Nishioka and no longer intrigued by the promise of a mysterious treat.

"Very true. In any case, even given their different temperaments, none of the three has entirely satisfactory traits. Now let us move on to our prime suspects, Ono and Ishikawa. Ono is a repressed fellow who is capable of immense patience. But such men may explode when they see all their suffering wasted. Ishikawa on the other hand has a much stronger mind. He would plan, but without sacrificing face or safety. Instead of exploding, he would avert disaster by taking timely action. Either way, both Ono and Ishikawa would kill Oe. There, that ends my analysis of the case." Nishioka folded his arms with a triumphant smile.

"I thought you said you had narrowed it down to one man," Akitada protested.

"Ishikawa, of course," Nishioka cried, laughing heartily at Akitada's dismayed expression. "Don't feel bad that you did not discover the truth. Remember, I know these people and have trained myself to interpret their every action and word. You will learn."

"Thank you for the encouraging words," said Akitada stiffly, "but I suspect you blame it on Ishikawa because of his physical strength and the fact that he seems to have run off."

Nishioka chuckled. "That too. But there is a more important reason. Remember that the killer not only tied his victim to Master Kung, but took off his undergarments. Why?"