I. Parker - Death of a Doll Maker

“We’ve gone over the events of that day and night again,” Maeda said. “Mitsui hasn’t changed his story. I told him his son couldn’t account for the extra hours Mitsui claims he spent in Hakozaki. He has no explanation except to say he had other business to attend to.”

“What kind of business?” Tora asked the prisoner.

Mitsui peered up at him. “Talking to people about selling my dolls. I don’t know who they were. Ships come and go in Hakozaki.”

Maeda frowned. “You see the problem, Mitsui, don’t you? You can’t account for your time. And you didn’t report your wife’s murder until the next morning. She was killed at least eight hours earlier. You claim you got home shortly after the evening rice. You must have found her dead.”

Mitsui looked away. “It may have been later. It was dark already. And I didn’t bother to light a lamp; I went to our room, lay down, and went to sleep.”

“You slept next to your dead wife? In her blood?” Tora’s disbelief was palpable.

Mitsui’s face crumpled. “I can’t help it,” he cried. “I didn’t know she was dead.” Tears appeared in his red-rimmed eyes.

“You must have been blind drunk.” Tora snarled.

Mitsui stopped bawling and hiccupped. “I did stop for a cup or two on the way,” he muttered.

Maeda moved impatiently. “What happened to the knife? We looked. There was no such knife in your house or outside it.”

Mitsui’s eyes went around the cell as if he could make the knife reappear. “They must’ve taken it. I don’t know where it is.”

Tora said, “Your wife Mei had received five pieces of gold the day before she died. What happened to the money?”

Mitsui stared at him. “Five pieces of gold? That’s crazy. She got twenty coppers a month for cleaning the Hayashis’ house. I told her they’d pay more if she wasn’t such a lazy cow.”

“Nice!” muttered Tora in disgust, and turned away.

“We’ll be back, Mitsui,” said Maeda. “You’d better think long and hard about what you did, or the guards will use the whips again.”

Mitsui moaned.

Outside, Maeda said, “I’m sorry you had to see the jail. As for Mitsui, I suspect he’s stubborn rather than confused about that day.”

“He’s a bastard of a husband. I wouldn’t put murder past him. Are we going to talk to the neighbors now?”

“Yes. We’ll see the ones we didn’t get a chance to question.” Maeda sighed. “It’s about as stubborn a case as I’ve ever seen. We have nothing so far.”

They returned to the street where the murder had occurred, but this time Maeda pounded on a gate directly across from the Mitsuis.

Nothing happened for a long time, then a woman’s voice asked from the other side, “What do you want?”

“Police. Open up.”

There was a short delay, then the bar scraped back and the gate opened, revealing a young woman’s face with bright black eyes, red cheeks, and two glossy wings of hair framing it. She smiled at Maeda, and dimples appeared in her cheeks.

Tora gave a silent whistle and grinned. So this was the slut.

Her eyes went to him and widened a little. “How nice!” she said softly, looking from one to the other. “I’ve been wishing for company. Come in, my dears, come in.” She took Maeda’s sleeve and pulled him inside. Tora followed eagerly. She slammed the gate shut. “That’ll make the old hags happy,” she said with a giggle. “They’ll talk about it for weeks.”

Maeda cleared his throat. “I’m here on police business.”

She cocked her head and put her hands at her small waist. “Of course you are, my dear, but they don’t know that. They’d much rather think something else.”

Maeda shook his head and sighed. “You’ll be the death of me yet, Yoko. I’m a married man and a public servant. All right, let’s go inside. I want to know what you can tell me about the Mitsuis across the street.”

She glanced at Tora. “Who’s your friend? Is he a public servant, too?”

Tora bowed. “I’m Tora and always at the service of beautiful ladies.”

“He works for the governor and he’s married, too,” Maeda said with a reproving glance.

She laughed. “Well, so am I. Come in, you two. You’ll be safe enough.”

Tora doubted it very much as he walked behind her, watching her shapely bottom wiggle on the way into the house. “Where’s your husband?” he asked.

She cast a look at him over her shoulder. “At work. All day, every day. He’s a city clerk. They keep him busy, and he likes shuffling papers and wielding his brush. I swear the smell of ink turns the man on. The gods know I don’t.”

Given Yoko’s reputation, the large room she took them to was a surprise in its cleanliness. She placed some colorful cushions and brought wine and three cups.

“Not for me,” said Maeda stiffly.

“Thanks,” said Tora, giving her his widest grin. She rewarded him with a full cup and lingering smile.

Maeda cleared his throat. “About the Mitsuis. I suppose you heard the wife was murdered?”

“Oh, yes.” She detached her eyes reluctantly from Tora’s. “Your constable told me. He also took some liberties.” She put a hand to her bosom and blushed. Both Tora and Maeda looked at her firm, round breasts.

Maeda flushed and looked away quickly, but Tora grinned and let his eyes drift from the breasts to the small waist and the round hips and thighs.

Without looking at her, Maeda asked, “Did you see anyone go into the Mitsuis’ house between the hours of the horse and the boar?”

“I don’t watch my neighbors,” she said. “I did hear Mitsui’s cart, I think. It must’ve been about the hour of the boar. And I heard a door slam earlier. The next morning, all hell broke loose on the street. Constables everywhere.”

“Thank you.” Maeda was on his feet. “Unless you have any other pertinent information, we’ll be on our way.”

Tora cleared his throat. “We barely got here, Maeda. I haven’t had a chance to question this important witness.”

Maeda frowned, but he sat back down.

Yoko giggled. She refilled Tora’s cup. “I can see you’re much more dedicated to your work than the sergeant,” she purred, handing it to him with another melting glance.

Tora returned the glance with interest. “Thank you, but I’m still a stranger. I have to ask more questions than the sergeant. So tell me, what were the Mitsuis like?”

She pursed her lips. “They were dull and crabby. Most people around here are.”

“It must be hard for a young, fun-loving girl like you.”

“You have no idea how lonely it is for me, Tora.”

Maeda jumped up again. “I’ve got to get back to the station. See you later, Tora. Or tomorrow, as the case may be.” And he was gone, slamming the front gate behind him.

“The poor man’s henpecked,” Yoko said with a giggle. “By his wife and by his captain.”

“Gossip can hurt a policeman’s career. I don’t have such worries.” Tora emptied his cup and extended it.

“I’m glad.” She poured and raised the cup to her lips before passing it to him.

“Ah,” he said, his eyes on her moist lips. “Lucky cup.”

A short silence fell as they gazed deeply into each other’s eyes. She reached across to touch his cheek. “I like you. I want you to come back, but today’s not a good day.”

Tora set down the wine untasted. “Do you want me to leave?”

“In a little. I’m truly sorry, Tora.”

She looked sorry, and Tora was satisfied she had given the gossips cause for their name-calling. But he had a soft spot for sluts and was by no means averse to returning another day. So he nodded and said, “I’d better ask the rest of my questions quickly. What about the Mitsui children?”