Текст книги "Rashomon Gate "

Автор книги: Ingrid J. Parker

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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 25 страниц)

"A gesture of defiance?"

"More than that. An arrogant thumbing of the nose at the entire university and what it stands for. Ono is quite incapable of such a thing, not when this institution is his whole life and he hoped to be promoted to senior professor. Ishikawa, on the other hand, was always making cynical comments. It is exactly like him to flaunt his disdain for the establishment and for Oe as its representative in that fashion."

Akitada said stubbornly, "You may be right about that, but it hardly proves he killed him."

"Oh, well," said Nishioka, "it is enough to send the police after him. As for me, I've had my eye on someone else . . . which should prove amusing while we await Ishikawa's arrest." His eye fell on their bowls, his own empty and Akitada's abandoned long ago, and he recalled belatedly his duties as host. "You did not enjoy your food," he said. "Never mind. I have saved the best for last."

He jumped up and ran inside to rummage among his books. "Ah. Here they are!" he cried, coming back with a small wooden box which he carried tenderly in both hands. He lifted the lid and held it out to Akitada with a proud smile. The box was completely empty. They realized the fact simultaneously. Nishioka gaped at the box. "What . . . ? I cannot imagine . . ." He shook the box and held it upside down in the irrational hope that the contents would materialize after all. "They are gone!" he said in a stunned tone. "I could have sworn the box was half full last night. Well, it can't be helped. I was going to offer you some of my special walnuts to round out the meal. I know an old woman who makes them to perfection. It's a special recipe; she roasts them after they've been boiled in saltwater. They are my one weakness." He closed the box and tossed it carelessly back into his room. "I'll have to get a new supply and then you shall taste them."

Akitada expressed polite gratification.

Nishioka nodded. "Anyway, I intend to lay my deductions before Kobe this afternoon. It will take his mind off that silly gossip about the bets. Would you like to come along?"

Akitada shook his head and rose. "I have another class and a meeting," he said vaguely. Thanking Nishioka for his lunch, he walked back lost in thought.

Nishioka's summation of the case had not been without interest after all. Though Akitada had not agreed with Nishioka's interpretation, his own suspicion did not fit the facts too well either. However he certainly believed with Nishioka that Ishikawa was involved and had to be found.

When Akitada entered his classroom, he found a neatly tied package on his desk. It was addressed to him in Seimei's hand, and Akitada undid it eagerly. Inside was the list of merchants who had supplied goods for the poetry contest and a thick stack of papers concerned with the extensive Minamoto properties. A brief note by Seimei prefaced the latter. Young Sadamu was the principal heir. Seimei had not found any evidence of malfeasance, but many of the recent financial transactions bore the mark and seal of Sakanoue. Akitada put the Minamoto papers aside for later study and picked up the list of merchants.

Running his finger down the list, he found the name he had expected to see.

Seventeen

The Brocade Sash

During the afternoon lessons, Akitada's mind kept drifting off to the three cases. Having seen Seimei's list, he was now anxious to get Tora's report to confirm the identity of Omaki's killer. Moreover, Nishioka's passionate pursuit of clues in Oe's murder caused in him a vague uneasiness which he could not explain, though he went over their conversation again and again. And every time he glanced at the bowed heads of his students, laboring mightily over a short essay, his eyes went to the little lord and he thought of the Yoakira puzzle. Why had Sakanoue ridden a strange horse?

When the big bell sounded the end of classes, the boys greeted its deep voice as eagerly as he. He watched them as they scrambled up, sketched their bows and rushed from the room.

Akitada straightened their desks and then his own papers. He was about to start home when Tora walked in.

"I was beginning to get worried," Akitada said, looking him over anxiously. "Are you feeling all right? And did you get the names of the merchants?"

Tora flopped down. "Yes, on both accounts," he said. "I gave your message to one of the constables at the gate and took off, figuring that they'd keep me there if I told the captain what happened in Rashomon. I don't trust those bastards. They would've wanted to know all about Hitomaro, the Monk and the other two. And you know I gave my word not to turn them in."

"Yes." Akitada frowned. "Are you afraid those hoodlums will come after you?"

"Them?" Tora looked shocked. "Never! They're all right. No, it's your law-abiding keepers of peace and order that scare the wits out of me. When they don't get the answers they want, they take it out of your hide."

Remembering the whippings the beggar Umakai had suffered, Akitada shuddered. "Surely not in your case," he said. "I would not permit it."

Tora guffawed. "And what could you do after they got through with me? Kobe'd tell you he was sorry his men made a mistake and got carried away a bit. Then he'd let you take me home for Seimei to put his salves on my raw backside. No thanks, I'm keeping my distance."

A brief silence fell. Akitada knew too well that the law practically obligated the police to use force during interrogations. Kobe was less cruel than most of his calling, but he prided himself on his effectiveness. He had ordered the bamboo to be used in questioning the senile beggar, and he would hardly hesitate to do the same with a young healthy fellow like Tora.

Tora took up his story again. "Anyway, after calling on the police, I went to the wine shop Hitomaro mentioned. Hitomaro and the Monk were sitting around looking hungry. I ordered some food and wine, and we had a nice little chat. I really like those guys. Especially Hitomaro. I figure he must be an ex-soldier like me. Or maybe even an officer, seeing he's got some class and book learning." Tora frowned. "Wonder what would make an officer quit the army. I asked him about that, but he got sort of cold and distant. Told me it was none of my business what they did."

Akitada said, "That was hardly polite when you were paying for their food and drink. I thought you'd have better sense. Clearly they are criminals hiding some unsavory activities. I wish you would stay away from them in the future."

Tora shook his head stubbornly. "No, sir, you're wrong about that. They're my kind of people. Hitomaro is a very superior sort of person and Monk, well, he's really kindhearted. I grant you, what Hitomaro said made me wonder if Monk was really a monk, but I'd rather he weren't. You should see him, sir! He's got some huge muscles in his shoulders and arms. The old woman who runs the place needed to shift a stack of rice sacks. The Monk picked them up four at a time and carried them under each arm like they were puppies. She says he's always real helpful like that."

"Well, I suspect they are fugitives. But enough of that. What about the merchants near the canal?"

Tora took a crumpled piece of paper from his sleeve, flattened it out and laid it on Akitada's desk. "I went to the warden for this. He's the same guy that pulled poor old Umakai from the canal and certified it as an accidental drowning. At first the lazy bastard refused to help me, but I told him it was official business and we were checking into his handling of the drowning victim. He folded like a wet paper fan. Couldn't write the information down fast enough."

"You did not tell him you were with the police, did you?"

"Of course not. Ministry of Justice."

Akitada choked down a laugh and reached for the paper. The warden had drawn a rough diagram of the streets, the canal, and the rectangular business properties backing up to the canal. Each rectangle was marked with its owner's name. Fortunately the warden's writing was better than Tora's. Akitada's finger went to one of the larger rectangles. "Look!"

Tora peered and blinked; his reading skills were still very elementary. "I can't quite make it out."

"Kurata."

"Kurata? Holy Kwannon! Can it be? Oh!" Tora straightened up and hit his head with a fist. "I'm so stupid!" he cried. "I was in his shop myself! And I never recognized the place from the canal side. You mean it was him?"

Akitada nodded.

"He's the one that choked Omaki to death with her own sash?"

Akitada nodded again.

"The bastard! I suppose he took the sash away so nobody would trace it to his shop?"

"I believe so."

"But he gave it to Umakai. Why'd he do that? He's not the type who'd spare a thin copper for a starving man."

"He had to get rid of it quickly and made the fatal mistake of thinking that giving it to a beggar was the most efficient way of doing that."

Tora's face broke into a broad grin. "Blessed be the name of the Buddha! It served the devil right!" Then his eyes widened. "And what's more," he cried, "it was me that told you about him in the first place."

Akitada laughed. "It was indeed, Tora. I would have got nowhere without you. Come, mark the spot where the warden pulled the body from the canal, and then we'll take your information to Kobe."

Tora reached for his master's brush, licked it, and then touched it to a bit of drying ink. He carefully put an X in the canal behind Kurata's shop, and they smiled at each other with satisfaction.

The captain was pacing up and down in his office when Akitada and Tora were shown in. His eyes passed over Akitada and went to Tora. "Are you the one who left the message about the beggar's body? Where the devil have you been?" he snarled.

Tora looked to Akitada who raised his brows and said, "He has been running an errand for me."

Kobe glared. "And I suppose you've come to gloat."

"Not at all. But I did wonder if you had any news."

"We dug him up. The coroner says it was murder. Someone strangled him, just like the girl. He was already dead when he was dumped into the canal. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"It is what I expected to hear," Akitada corrected him. "I am sorry it happened, but at least it helped Tora solve both murders."

Kobe stared at Tora and then back at Akitada. "You're joking. He solved the murders?"

"Why not?" They locked eyes. Kobe looked down first, and Akitada continued, "Since I was busy at the university, Tora has been working on the investigation. He has talked with Omaki's parents and her fellow entertainers in the Willow Quarter. Yesterday he went into the city to look for Umakai. He found him too late, but the old man did not die in vain. His murder finally proved who killed Omaki."

Kobe's fists clenched. "I'd like to know why your servant did not come here to report? If he found out anything about the girl's associates, he should have told us. Today we spent hours looking for him to ask him how he found the body."

Akitada said firmly, "As I said, I sent him for more information and he has just returned. We came as soon as we had anything useful to report. Now will you pay attention or are we going to waste more time?"

Kobe glared and growled, "What new information?"

Akitada spread out the warden's map on the desk and pointed to Tora's mark. "I believe this is where the beggar's body was recovered by the warden of the quarter?"

Kobe leaned over to look and nodded. "Yes. Just about there. Why?"

"Note the name of the adjoining property owner." Akitada placed Seimei's list of merchants next to the map. "And then take a look at this! These are the merchants who delivered goods for the poetry contest to the park the afternoon the girl Omaki died. The same name appears again."

Kobe picked up the list and scanned it. "Kurata." He glanced at the map. "You think one of his employees did it?"

"No. We think that Kurata killed the girl because she was expecting his child and demanded marriage, and that he killed the beggar Umakai because he could identify Kurata as the man who gave him Omaki's brocade sash."

Kobe laughed out loud. "Impossible! Kurata owns the best silk shop in the capital. Big merchants like him send their shop assistants and porters with the stuff. He'd hardly have carried it himself."

"I believe he went himself and even carried some of the silk cushions. It was an important order. Besides he had made a deadly appointment with the girl, and the porter's role was a good disguise."

"You are guessing."

"No. It is the only solution that fits all the facts. Omaki knew all about the park closing, but entered anyway. The guard saw her arriving, but forgot all about her because later he was kept busy admitting deliveries. You asked him about other visitors, and he only mentioned Tora and me. It never occurred to the man to include the deliveries. As far as he was concerned, they had legitimate business there. It follows that Omaki must have made an appointment with someone who was making a delivery."

Kobe thought about it and nodded. "I suppose that's possible."

Akitada continued, "When Tora visited the dead girl's family, he ascertained that she not only owned the costly brocade sash with which the murderer strangled her– a nasty touch, that– but also other gifts from his shop."

Kobe glanced at Tora. "But a man like that? A respected citizen? How would he meet someone like her?"

"Oh, he's a regular at the Willow," volunteered Tora. "The auntie there knows all about him. The Willow is the restaurant where Omaki played the lute."

Kobe stared at Tora, then turned back to Akitada. "So what if he did get her pregnant? Why didn't he buy her off? He's said to be wealthy."

Tora said, "Because his old lady frowns on his skirt chasing. And it's really her business."

"What?" Kobe started pacing again. "I suppose it could have happened that way," he muttered after a few moments. He went back to study the map and nodded. "So Umakai did see the killer after all," he said. "Why didn't the old fool tell us? He'd be alive today."

Akitada said, "He did."

Kobe straightened up and looked at Akitada. "He did not. All he gabbled about was Jizo. You heard him yourself."

"Precisely. The statues of the god Jizo traditionally wear red caps, because mothers make them as gifts when they are asking the god to protect their sons. Bearers also cover their heads with a piece of cloth when they carry heavy loads on their shoulders and heads. I think you will find that Kurata's people have red caps."

Kobe looked furious. "Have you known this all along?"

"No. But I believed that Umakai had seen something. I tried to find a connection between the Jizo story and the murderer. The deliveries to the park reminded me of the fact that bearers commonly wear some sort of cap. After that it was easy to guess what must have happened."

Kobe bit his lip. He grunted. "So you think the old man really recognized Kurata? Do you think he went to blackmail him?"

"No, I think Umakai must have glanced into Kurata's shop and recognized a manifestation of Jizo. I doubt he realized what he was up against. He probably told Kurata how he lost his gift. Perhaps he asked for another brocade sash. Of course Kurata could not let him live after that."

Kobe stared at Akitada for a long time. Then he cursed and sat down abruptly, putting his head in his hands and muttering, to Akitada's surprise, "So that heartless bastard killed an old man who thought he was Jizo! Damn it! It fits, and I should have seen it!" He jumped up again and pointed an accusing finger at Akitada. "But you and your servant should have reported sooner what you knew! If you had not been trying to be clever, we could have questioned Kurata days ago."

Akitada, stung by the accusation, said angrily, "Frankly, after you had failed to beat the truth out of Umakai, I had little faith in your methods."

Kobe flushed. "My methods are the only ones that get confessions," he shouted, "and without a confession the guilty go free. You had better leave the real work to the police in the future!"

Akitada retaliated with, "I cannot imagine that you are getting much help from honest citizens with that attitude."

Kobe glowered. "We manage," he snapped. "As for Kurata, we could check the man's whereabouts on the two days, and maybe we'd get results. But my way is to confront him now. A coward like that will confess soon enough, and if your servant is right about the wife, she'll be eager to help convict him when she hears the story."

"Good," said Akitada through clenched teeth. "Then we will leave the matter in your capable hands and be on our way."

But Kobe was not listening. The suggestion of a smile twitched at the corners of his lips. "We got the bastard," he said. "It's poetic justice really. We could never have convinced a judge using Umakai's testimony about the god Jizo giving him a brocade sash."

"Perhaps not," Akitada said over his shoulder as he was heading for the door. "But it is too bad he had to pay with his life to lead us to the killer."

"Not even you could have solved the case otherwise," Kobe said with a snort. His anger was gone, and he looked excited. "Where are you going? Let's go arrest the bastard!"

Akitada stopped. "You want us to go with you? Is that really necessary?"

Kobe had already taken his bow and quiver from the hook on the wall and flung them over his shoulder. "Probably not," he said with a grin, "but I want you to see how I work." Before Akitada could protest, he had flung open the door and was shouting out the names of five police constables who came up at a run, red-faced and adjusting their robes and paraphernalia.

"Fall in behind!" Kobe ordered, running a sharp eye over them. "We're on our way to Kurata's silk shop for an arrest." Turning to Akitada and Tora, he waved a peremptory hand for them to join him and then strode out.

Akitada sighed and said to Tora, "I suppose we had better go."

In spite of the evening heat which produced a general lassitude among the people in the streets, Kobe walked at such a pace that Akitada and Tora stayed a few strides behind. Their group attracted curious stares. Since Akitada and Tora were trying to keep up with Kobe and were themselves followed by five trotting constables, they looked like a pair of criminals being conducted to their well-deserved punishment. Akitada's upper class clothing caused particular interest, and by the time they reached Kurata's establishment, they had a following of about fifty people of all ages and types.

Kobe ignored them and strode into the shop, glanced around at the customers– staring open-mouthed at the sudden invasion of the red coats– and shouted, "Everyone out but the shopkeeper and staff!"

The customers scrambled up and ran, practically falling over each other in their haste to leave. Only Kurata remained, along with two shop assistants and a boy who had been carrying stacks of fabric and dropped them at Kobe's words, and a middle-aged woman who had been working with account books and an abacus in the rear. They stood or sat frozen, staring white-faced at the police.

The reputation of the municipal police force was such that anyone who found himself the focus of their interest immediately assumed that he or she had committed, however unintentionally, some terrible offense. Thus the boy burst into noisy tears, crying, "I didn't do it!" Of the two assistants, one attempted to slip away, while the other one was trembling so much that his teeth chattered.

Kurata, sleek in his silk robe, stood in the middle of the floor, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. Only the woman with the abacus seemed in reasonable control of herself. She stood up, brushing down the black silk of her severe gown, and checked Kobe's rank insignia.

"What is your business here, Captain?" she asked in a harsh voice. At that moment, one of the constables made a sudden dash and tackled the fleeing assistant, throwing him to the ground and sitting on his back. Kobe watched this expressionlessly before answering the woman's question.

"I am investigating a murder that was committed in this neighborhood two nights ago," he said. "Everyone in this house will be interrogated. Who are you?"

The woman bowed. "I am Mrs. Kurata, the owner." Casting a glance out to the street at the gaping crowd, she said, "Perhaps we had better talk inside," and pointed to a door in the rear wall.

Kobe nodded. "Lead the way."

"Someone will have to close the shutters or thieves will take the stock," she said.

Kobe snapped, "Don't be a fool, woman. No one is going to steal anything with my men on the premises."

She turned to lead them into the living quarters behind the shop. With the exception of two constables, who remained behind to keep the curious outside, they all followed her. Kobe seated himself on one of the cushions and invited Akitada to do the same. Kurata and his wife were going to follow suit, but Kobe snapped, "You stand!" On a sign from him, the three constables took up their positions behind the Kuratas. The shop assistants huddled together in a corner.

Kurata finally found his voice to make a protest. "What is this all about, Captain? This is my house and I am a respected– I may even say highly respected– citizen. I do business with the palace and the best people are my valued customers. Any number of them will testify to my good character."

Kobe looked at the sleek Kurata much like a cat studying the antics of a mouse, secure in the knowledge that there was plenty of time. His eyes went briefly to Mrs. Kurata, flicked over her bony physique, dwelt briefly on the sharp nose, the small, mean eyes, the thin lips and the gray-streaked, thinning hair before returning to Kurata. "Did you make a delivery to the Spring Garden the afternoon before the poetry contest last week?" he barked.

Kurata opened his mouth and closed it again. The question had clearly been unexpected. Kobe had announced that he was investigating a murder in the neighborhood, and Kurata had expected to be questioned about the beggar. He hesitated, then glanced at his two assistants for a moment, before admitting that he had. Akitada silently applauded Kobe. He had made it impossible for the man to lie or prepare an evasive answer in the presence of his employees.

"You were acquainted with the girl Omaki, a lute player who entertained in the Willow Quarter?" Kobe demanded.

Pearls of perspiration appeared on the man's face. Mrs. Kurata was standing quite still, looking strangely at her husband.

"I . . . I may have met her," Kurata stammered. "Why are you asking about . . . what does that have to do with—"

"Answer the questions!" snapped Kobe. "I don't have time for chitchat. Is it true that this Omaki was your mistress and that she was expecting your child?"

Mrs. Kurata made a hissing sound and clenched her hands in front of her stomach.

Kurata cried, "No! Of course not! I'm a married man and I have no other women. Someone is telling slanderous tales."

His wife asked Kobe abruptly, "This Omaki, is she the girl that was found strangled in the Spring Garden?"

Kobe looked at her. "Yes," he said. "I regret to inform you that your husband is a regular customer in a number of establishments of the Willow Quarter."

She nodded, and her eyes, inscrutable in their expression, fixed on her husband again. "What business did you have with that beggar two nights ago?" she asked him.

Kurata turned as white as bleached silk. "Wh . . . at b–beggar?" he quavered. "I saw no beggar. There was no beggar." His voice rose in panic.

His wife turned back to Kobe. Taking a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders, brushed her black silk gown down again with her hands, and said in a toneless voice, "Someone came late in the evening. I was in my room and heard my husband let him in. Naturally I got up to see who it was. I saw an old and ragged man talking with my husband. They were in the corridor. I think the man was asking for red silk. My husband promised to give him some, and they went out the back way. A little later my husband came back. Alone."

Kurata wailed, "Don't believe her!" He fell to his knees, sobbing with fear. "She lies! She's angry because I had other women. That's why she's making up stories."

Kobe smiled. Again Akitada was reminded of a cat licking its whiskers in anticipation of a juicy meal. "Why the fuss?" he asked Kurata. "So you talked to a beggar. Is that any reason to start crying like a baby?"

Kurata wiped at his wet cheeks with a sleeve. "I . . . I don't know. All this is very upsetting . . . ."He staggered to his feet.

Kobe's smile widened. "I can see how it would be upsetting, when you are the one who strangled that beggar to keep him from talking."

"No, I—"

"Because that beggar," Kobe shouted suddenly, leaning forward to fix Kurata with his eyes, "was the one who saw you in the park the day you murdered the girl."

Kurata's eyes were wide with fear. He seemed incapable of looking anywhere but at Kobe. "No, no, I didn't . . . he didn't . . ."

"The girl Omaki. The one you gave the brocade sash to. Red figured brocade, remember! A pretty present for a pretty mistress. She wore it because you had given it to her. And you used it to strangle her."

Kurata's knees buckled and he collapsed on the floor, wailing, "No, no, no, no."

His wife looked down at him dispassionately. "You have dishonored the name my father gave you," she said loudly. "I shall petition the family council to rescind the adoption and expunge you from the family register. I also divorce you." Turning away from the moaning creature on the floor, she looked around the room. "You are all my witnesses."

Akitada was familiar with the legal terms of divorce and adoption; Mrs. Kurata evidently was also. She had, at this moment and in front of witnesses, divorced her husband and taken back the family name. That she had done so without hesitation or show of emotion, without any explanations, shocked him profoundly. He had believed women to be softer, more emotional, less coldly practical. Even years of grief from a faithless husband should not end like this, with a wiping out of every bond as if it had never existed.

Tora bent down to Akitada and whispered, "What a she-devil! I could almost pity that bastard."

Kobe was watching Kurata, who was Kurata no more, but a nonperson at the mercy of the law, even less likely to escape its full cruelty than the beggar Umakai.

Belatedly, the man became aware of his change in status and its implications. He raised himself to his knees and crept towards Mrs. Kurata, whimpering, "Take it back! Please, my treasure, do not do this dreadful thing! Remember our vows! Remember my years of hard work in the business! I have been unjustly accused."

She watched him approach until he came to a halt before her and touched the hem of her silk gown. Then she kicked his hand away and spat in his face.

Kurata recoiled. "My wife," he cried hoarsely, the tears running down his face mingling with her saliva, "I did it for you, for us. That girl, she was going to make trouble and come between us. I didn't want that to happen. And that old tramp, he saw me closing the shutters and started jabbering about Jizo and the park. I had to shut him up. You can see that, can't you?" He started towards her again, extending a hand pleadingly.

Mrs. Kurata had listened, stone-faced. Now she turned to Kobe. "Captain," she said, "you have your confession. Please remove this person from the premises. The sooner I can get back to work, the better. I have customers waiting outside. As a single woman, I cannot afford to alienate them. Kurata's has a reputation to maintain."

Even Kobe looked stunned at her words, but he nodded and clapped his hands. The constables surrounded Kurata and jerked him to his feet. "Chain him and take him away!" Kobe ordered.

Kurata started screaming. He was bound and dragged away, still screaming, and the sound receded slowly in the distance.

They waited silently. Then Kobe turned to look at Akitada. "Unpleasant," he said, "but I thought you should see how it's done by us. Shall we go?"