I. Parker - The Crane Pavillion

The other two laughed at this suggestion.

Saburo asked the elderly man, “Did you see anyone you recognized in the crowd?”

“Several of the regulars. Mind you, I don’t know their names. I thought I saw one of the courtesans, though.” He chuckled and waggled his gray eyebrows at his companions. “I was wishing she’d jumped out of the bath wearing nothing but water. No such luck! She was in full costume, scarlet silk and dark green brocade. Probably drumming up custom for her house. The working girls come here a lot.”

“She sounds like a choja ,” said one of the others. “Don’t they normally send someone else to do that?”

“Who knows? She was something, though. I was trying to get quite close.”

Saburo wanted to get the subject back to the murder. “A friend of mine was here that day. His name’s Matsuoka. Did you see him?”

The elderly man shook his head. “Don’t know him.”

“What about Harada or Kato?”

“Nope. Wait a minute, I did see a couple of regulars earlier. Ozaki was just leaving. He’s a tailor and always comes early to get back to his shop for opening time. And the man who owns the paper shop was here. I don’t know his name.” He frowned. “That reminds me. I’ve got to get to work.”

Not surprisingly, the other two also discovered they had places to be and scrambled out. The steaming vat was temporarily left to Tora and Saburo.

“So,” said Saburo with satisfaction, “we have two names. Both Matsuoka and Ozaki are on the list of debtors, and they were here that morning.”

Tora climbed out. “It’s something,” he said, toweling himself dry. “But it could still be anybody. Or at least anybody who was here. It needn’t be a regular customer either, just someone who owed Nakamura money.”

Saburo joined him. “In that case, we’re nowhere. So much for taking a bath we don’t need,” he said angrily. “I thought you’d be better at this. You used to want to be like the master. And now that you have a murder to work on, you lose interest.”

Tora headed for the dressing area. “You’re too impatient, Saburo. In a case like this, little bits of information come your way gradually. In the end you just put them all together. If you rush, you end up making bad mistakes.” He stepped into his trousers and added, “Like the police did when they arrested Sachi.”

“It’s not like you to advise patience,” Saburo grumbled. He hurried into his clothes.

“Even I can see that we cannot check out all these people.” Tora waved the list at Saburo. “That’s for the police to do. We must find another way.”

They were walking out of the bathhouse when Jinzaemon hurried up, smiling broadly.

Saburo muttered, “Don’t give that bastard any more money. We don’t have any to spare.”

Jinzaemon bowed. “A pleasant bath, gentlemen? I pride myself on having the roomiest tubs and the hottest water. And it’s always clean. Kamo river water from above the shrine, where it comes from the sacred mountains.”

“It was all right,” Tora remarked. “We had a chat with some of your customers.”

Jinzaemon looked anxious. “You didn’t trouble them, I hope?”

“Oh, no. They wanted to talk about the murder. That’s what brought them here. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you arranged the crime yourself to drum up some business.”

“Don’t make jokes like that!” cried Jinzaemon.

“Well, the police will be around. If I were you, I’d watch my step. From what I’ve seen and learned here, you act as a pimp, selling the favors of the neighborhood whores and forcing decent women to service your customers on the premises.”

The bathhouse owner paled. “That’s a lie!”

“No, it isn’t. Sachi’s talking to the police! And furthermore, you allow swindlers like Nakamura to come here to sell their services to poor people. Did he pay you for pointing out clients? Maybe you quarreled over the arrangement? Yes, you’d better watch it, Jinzaemon. The truth will out!” With that, he and Saburo left to a volley of curses from the owner.

Outside, the icy wind made short work of the pleasant warmth left by the bath.

The Office of Central Affairs, or Nakatsukasa-sho, was not far from the Justice Ministry, but Akitada’s feet became heavy as he made his way there. The Nakatsukasa-sho was the most powerful ministry of the government, but its enclosure was deceptively modest. Akitada passed under a simple gate into a small graveled courtyard. Nobody stopped him. A few clerks walked quickly between halls, and two senior officials stood chatting. He climbed the steps to the main hall, his feet like lead. Inside the building, a servant finally approached and asked his business.

“My name is Sugawara. I came to make my report. Will you please advise His Excellency’s secretary?”

The servant bowed and disappeared. Akitada stood, gathering his courage. Within the next half hour he might be ruined. Actually, he might be ruined already and merely have come to get confirmation of the fact. He thought what he would do in that case and came up with nothing.

A clerk in a black silk robe appeared. He bowed. “May I confirm that you are Lord Sugawara Akitada, governor of Chikuzen province?”

“I resigned that post, but yes.”

The clerk’s brows shot up. “Resigned?” he asked. But he corrected himself quickly. “If you will please follow me.”

So the news of his resignation had not reached the Office of Central Affairs. This would be awkward. Akitada’s heart started to beat unpleasantly fast. He tried to calm himself by breathing deeply as he followed the clerk.

He was led into a large office, furnished plainly with a desk and some cushions, as well as the customary assortment of books on a stand. Three men stood in its center, looking curiously at him. He saw by the rank ribbons on their hats that all three outranked him by several steps, and one held the lesser third rank. He did not know any of them but bowed deeply.

The oldest man, gray-haired and smooth-shaven, was the highest ranking official. He had tired eyes that studied Akitada morosely as if he wondered who had saddled him with this new nuisance.

The next in rank was middle-aged and portly. The last was a young man, only in his early twenties. He had a stylish mustache as many young sparks did these days. He smiled, but not in a friendly manner. He seemed to be enjoying the coming confrontation.

The elderly man said, “I’m His Excellency’s senior secretary, Soga. His Excellency is unavailable. Did I understand the servant to say that you wished to report?”

Akitada bowed again. Another Soga? He still chafed under the memory of the late Minister Soga, his superior and Kaneie’s predecessor. It was unlikely that this man would treat him more fairly. “Yes, your Excellency. I had the honor to serve briefly as governor of Chikuzen province while certain crimes were committed there, and these led me to look into treasonable activities between Hakata businesses and China.”

The three men looked at each other. Secretary Soga said, “The Grand Minister has received a report from the Assistant Governor General at Dazaifu. It does not explain what you are doing here.”

Akitada swallowed. “Sir, I resigned my post when I received news of my wife’s death. I came home to look after my family.”

The portly man harrumphed. “You cannot resign. I assume you took unauthorized leave,” he said.

The young man’s grin broadened. It struck Akitada that they knew already what he had done and had merely waited for him to show up. That he had walked in on their meeting must give them great satisfaction.