I. Parker - The Crane Pavillion

Saburo had a low opinion of men who would lend money to the poor at very high interest. He considered them excessively greedy and assumed that their relatives were not much better.

Having paid for his food and wine, he set out briskly for the Daikoku-yu. By now it was the middle of the day, the slackest time for bathhouses and people who did not work. He was not surprised to see Jinzaemon standing outside, chatting with a couple. His expressions and gestures showed that the subject was the bloody murder committed on his premises.

Gossips gather at more places than wells, Saburo thought, and they were not all women. In this case, they were an old man and a middle-aged housewife. He sidled up and listened.

“Four years she’s worked here off and on,” Jinzaemon said to the old man who was leaning on his stick, listening avidly. “Four years I let her make money from my customers, and this is what she does to me? Nakamura was one of my best customers, regular like clockwork every morning for his shave and shampoo, and regular every night for his bath. Not many men take such good care of themselves.”

“I bet he came to ogle the women,” said the woman, who was quite fat and unattractive. “Some men cannot get enough. And that blind girl was young.”

The old man chortled. “And couldn’t see what an ugly bastard he was.”

Jinzaemon frowned at this. “Now hold it right there. There was never anything like that between them. I keep a decent place.”

His listeners burst out laughing. Even Saburo laughed. This caused Jinzaemon to notice him.

“You’re back again?” he said sourly but decided he now had a witness to the damage he had suffered. He told his listeners, “This man was here this morning when the police came. He saw Nakamura’s body and what the room looked like. We scrubbed for hours to get it looking halfway decent again.” He pulled Saburo forward. “Tell Genzo and Mrs. Ozaki about all the blood. Tell them what that stupid girl did. They won’t believe me.”

The old man and the fat woman looked at Saburo expectantly.

“There was a lot of blood,” Saburo acknowledged, “but the blind girl said she didn’t kill him. I’m for keeping an open mind. What do you think happened?”

Jinzaemon snorted his disgust, but the woman had thought the matter over. “You’re right. Sachi’s a slight little thing. No meat on her bones. Not much strength either. I don’t see her killing him. A woman needs strength to deal with men.”

The old man cackled. “What’s she need strength for? She had a sharp knife in her hand and her hand on his neck.”

She rounded on him. “Why would the blind girl ruin herself by killing a customer?”

He said, “ Nakamura’s a man and he’s got eyes. And hands. And something else. He could see she was young and pretty. A girl doesn’t need eyes to make love. Most of you wait until it’s dark anyway. A man can always find what he’s looking for. Even in a dark garden, the jade warrior can find the cinnabar cave, right?” The old man winked at Saburo.

The woman gave him a push that sent him stumbling. “You’ve got a dirty mouth, Genzo. Maybe that Sachi’s a good girl. She didn’t want to sell herself.”

Jinzaemon snorted. “A good girl, you say? She thought she was too good for a man like Nakamura-san. Maybe he tried to get a little feel, and she cut him? Has that occurred to you?”

The woman blinked, and Saburo seized the opening. “So this Nakamura chased the girls? Did he make a point of asking for Sachi?”

Jinzaemon flushed. “Nothing of the sort. He’d heard she was good at massaging the scalp and wanted to try her.”

The old man guffawed. “His scalp? Is that what they call it now?” He skipped aside when the woman slapped at him.

The bathhouse owner glared. “What if Nakamura did have an eye for girls? What if he wanted something extra now and then? He always tipped the girls. They were glad enough to make themselves pleasant. But not this one. Oh, no!”

“I take it,” said Saburo, “that it was the first time Sachi … er … waited on him?”

Jinzaemon chewed his lip. “I wish I’d sent for someone else, but I thought she could use a bit extra. Who would think that a blind shampoo girl would kill a grown man?”

“So did this Nakamura expect special services from the shampoo girl?”

“Of course, he did,” cried the old man gleefully. “That one never missed a chance. In the quarter, they call him a champion. He’s a real bull, that man.”

That meant Nakamura was a steady and well-known customer in the amusement quarter. Apparently, his interest in women carried over to bathhouses.

The fat woman gave the old man another push. “Men are all alike,” she said, making a face. “Their minds are always in the gutter. A real bull? That skinny runt wasn’t young enough to get it up, let alone get a reputation.”

Her companion rubbed his arm. “What do you know, woman? Do you spend time in the quarter? Do you listen to the women talking? I tell you, he was always there. Every day! He has his favorites and goes regularly to some of the houses. He’s got the money. Why shouldn’t he?”

The conversation was getting away from Sachi. Saburo said, “Come on, Jinzaemon. You haven’t answered. Did Nakamura ask for Sachi because he wanted her to perform sexual services?”

The bathhouse owner said sullenly, “He asked for her. I don’t know what he wanted. I told you, I run a decent establishment.”

The other two promptly giggled again. The old man told Saburo, “Jinzaemon has an arrangement with some of the women from the quarter. If one of his customers asks for something special-he waggled his eyebrows-he sends for them and puts them in a private room. The girls share their fees with him, and the customers tip him generously.”

Jinzaemon flushed with anger. “That’s a lie, Genzo! Don’t you go about telling such tales, you sorry piece of shit!”

He started for the old man, but Saburo caught his arm. “Hold on. Jinzaemon. You don’t need any more trouble today.”

Jinzaemon glared, muttered something, and went back into his place of business. The old man and the woman looked pleased with themselves. They had come for a gossip and had enjoyed it. No doubt, they would carry the information with them to entertain friends and neighbors. And gradually the story would become ever more outrageous. Saburo almost felt sorry for Jinzaemon.

Still, those two had little to fill their days. The old man could not work any longer and spent his time talking to the women in the amusement quarter, no doubt a vicarious pleasure at his age. And the woman probably had a daughter-in-law or two at home and could leave the housework to them. It is said, if you gossip about a person, his shadow will appear. In this case, they knew a good deal about the victim, and Saburo wanted information about Nakamura. He asked, “Where did this Nakamura live?”

“Above his shop on Gojo-Bomon,” the woman said promptly. “He’s a curio dealer, but that’s mostly just for show. Why do you want to know?”

Saburo saw rekindled interest in her eyes and laughed. “Maybe I just want to see where the famous bull resided. Or maybe I want to pick up some tips on getting women.”

They chuckled. Genzo said slyly, “My throat got dry from all this talking on a hot day. What say we have a cup of wine?”

Saburo agreed eagerly. “I’m pretty dry myself. Allow me to invite both of you.”

They looked at each other and grinned. The threesome walked to the same wine shop where Saburo has eaten and sat down outside on one of the benches.

They proved how parched they were from all the talking by consuming three flasks of strong sake each, but the wine oiled their tongues amazingly. Putting aside their squabbles, they took pleasure in regaling Saburo with Nakamura’s habits, background, family, and business methods.