I. Parker - The Crane Pavillion

The nun had returned.

Akitada went to the steps leading up to the small dwelling and bowed. “Forgive me for interrupting your peaceful life. I’m Sugawara Akitada and heard you were a friend to the poor lady who took her life here recently.”

She spoke quite sharply for such a slight person. “Sadako did not kill herself. And I know your name. I heard you were here asking questions. It’s about time someone looked into this.”

Akitada was taken aback by this forthright speech from a Buddhist nun who had, presumably, forsworn the concerns of the world around her. “You surprise me,” he said. “Do you have reasons to suspect something else?”

She compressed her lips. “You are here, aren’t you? Isn’t that reason enough?”

Akitada gestured to the narrow veranda. “May I sit down and talk to you?”

Aware of having neglected the most basic of courtesies, her pale face reddened. “Yes, of course. I’m called Seikan. Forgive me, but I’ve been distraught. Would you rather come inside?”

“No, thank you. It’s pleasant here.” Akitada went to perch on the veranda, but she stopped him. “Your robe. Wait while I get a cushion.”

He waited and she returned and placed a plain cushion made from woven grass for him, then sat down herself. Her gray robe apparently did not require much protection from dust.

Akitada asked, “What really made you think that your friend’s death may not have been her own choice?”

“Because she was content. After much suffering, she was finally at peace. She had no reason to wish for death.”

“The others, your neighbors here, call her Lady Ogata. Was that her real name?”

She waved a slender hand. “What are names? Since she has lived here, she has called herself the ‘lady of the crane pavilion.’ She said she had no past. Like the blessed in paradise, she lived from day to day in quiet joy.”

Akitada raised his brows at this. Nobody lived that way, particularly not someone who had exchanged a worldly life for this lonely existence. He said, “We cannot forget the past and must prepare for the future. That is our karma . For some, this is a heavy burden; for others it’s easier to bear; but none of us are without pain.”

She said nothing.

“What happened to the lady in her past life?”

Silence.

“What was her relationship with Abbot Genshin? Was she his lover?”

To his surprise, she turned to him with a little laugh. “You are a very silly man. Why is it that people always assume there must be a man in the case when a woman turns her back on the world?”

This startled him. Women who turned their backs on the world as a rule became nuns. And Seikan was a nun, but the dead woman had not chosen such a way. Irritated by her words, he said, “Because in many cases women do turn to the religious life because a lover deserted them or they suffered rejection by the men they fell in love with. Men, especially young men, are not considerate of the feelings of the females they bed. And Abbot Genshin was, to my personal knowledge, a rake in his younger years.”

She surprised him again by chuckling. “Quite right. Forgive me. But the answer to your question is no. Sadako never knew His Reverence until she came here to live and she was not his lover.”

“But why did she come here? What caused him to offer her refuge here? And what was she running away from?”

She shook her head. “I will not talk about her past, and know little enough as it is.”

“But you think someone killed her?”

“I don’t want to think so. It could have been an accident.”

Akitada thought of the scene that had been described to him and shook his head. “Hardly.”

The nun shuddered. “Then it was an evil act.”

“Evil acts are committed for a reason. The motive for murder often lies in a person’s past. If you want the murderer found, you should tell all you know.”

“What I know will not help you,” she said, looking away. “I may grieve my friend’s passing, but that does not mean I want to stir up things that are best forgotten. The past is past. Leave it undisturbed.”

Akitada gritted his teeth. “You knew who I was when I came here this morning. You knew quite well that I would not leave a murderer to go free. Why did you agree to talk to me if you have no intention of helping?”

She moved restlessly, then got to her feet. “You will find the truth yourself. I cannot help you. It is time for my devotions. Forgive me.” And she walked back into her hermitage, closing the door behind her.

Saburo watched Tora melt into the darkness, then crept around the house where the gambler had taken refuge. He felt certain that people were watching because Tora had made such a racket pounding on their door.

The houses in the amusement quarter were built close together. Many were two stories tall. Unlike the shops and homes of merchants, they had few storage yards behind them. What there was opened to alleys where refuse was collected. At this hour, the brothels and wine shops were still busy. Many lights shone from upper and lower windows and doorways.

But the house that interested Saburo remained dark. It was a home, not a business. That did not mean that there were no watchers inside, peering out through chinks in the shutters. Saburo regretted that he was not wearing his black clothes, so much more suitable for surreptitious excursions. He moved cautiously from shadow to shadow, with the unconscious grace of a cat on the prowl, sliding around objects, dimly seen in the inadequate moonlight. When he reached the area behind the house, it lay in utter darkness and silence. The indistinct noise he heard came from the rest of the quarter.

Once he reached the back wall of the house, Saburo crawled along it, bent low beneath the few windows on this side. Behind one of the windows he suddenly saw a faint strip of light appear, and knew he had been right. People had been watching from the dark house and had decided that the troublemakers had finally left.

Unfortunately Saburo could not see inside. But the house was raised a few feet above ground level, and he found a gaping hole in the boards that allowed access to the space beneath. Crawling in, he got on his hands and knees and made his way cautiously through the dark in the general direction of the room where he had seen the light. It was dirty and smelled unpleasant, but it was warmer than it had been outside.

He soon heard indistinct voices and wriggled forward until he was directly beneath the room where the men were talking.

He recognized the voice of the monkey. The other voice was soft and silky but something about it sent a shiver down Saburo’s spine.

The monkey was making excuses. He sounded desperate.

The silky voice told him, “This is not the first time,” adding, “You’re useless scum!” The monkey tried again, his voice becoming shrill. The silky voice asked, “Why should I care?” The monkey pleaded. The silky voice lost some of its softness: “Enough. I’m at the end of my patience with you.”

It sounded very much as though the monkey had been working for the silky voice. Saburo began to suspect that the silly bastard had made the mistake of leading them straight to the home of his boss, Kanemoto. If so, he had every reason to be afraid.

As if to confirm this, the silky voice suddenly snapped, “Shut up, you dog! It’s not enough that you’re so bad at your game that a complete amateur caught you. You then allow yourself to be chased, and come straight here. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have opened my door to you. Do you know what will happen if anyone saw you come in?”

The monkey could be heard mumbling frantic apologies.