I. Parker - Death of a Doll Maker

“Yes, your Honor,” Mitsui croaked.

“And you have confessed to killing her on the fifteenth day of this month?”

“Yes, your Honor.”

“Why did you do this?”

His hands being bound behind his back, Mitsui wiped his nose on the shoulder of his shirt. “I got home late from a delivery in Hakozaki. She called me names and cursed me for being late. She said I was no good and I made her work too hard and she knew someone who would treat her better.”

The crowd muttered, and the judge rapped his baton. “Go on. What happened next?”

“There was no food. I complained, but she laughed in my face and told me to do my own cooking. So I got out a knife to slice a radish. Then she showed me some gold coins. She said she got them from her lover and he would give her more. And then she said she was going to get her clothes and leave me that very night.”

More muttering from the crowd. Someone shouted, “The bitch deserved what she got.”

The baton rapped again.

When silence had been restored, the judge said, “So she left the kitchen. What did you do?”

“I was angry and followed her.”

“With the knife still in your hand?”

“Yes. She was upstairs throwing clothes into a large square of cloth. She had a new dress. A green silk dress. She held it up for me to see. ‘See, what nice things he gives me?’ she said. That’s when I went mad and went for her. She dropped the dress and backed away. I pushed her down on the bedding. She spat at me and called me names, and I lost it completely. I stabbed her and kept stabbing until she stopped moving. That’s all.”

The judge consulted some papers. “Hmm. It seems to fit the coroner’s report. The police never found the knife. Or the gold. What happened to those?”

“I threw the knife in the river and kept the gold.”

“Attacking your wife of many years, the mother of your children, so violently is a heinous act. How could you do such a thing?”

Mitsui looked down. “She was always a bad wife. It just got too much for me when she was gloating. I wanted her to stop.”

“You did not report your wife’s death until the next morning. And then you claimed you’d found her already dead. Why was that?”

“I thought I could get away with it.”

The judge nodded. “Yes. It certainly sounds like the truth. Very well. Since you have confessed freely to the brutal murder of your wife during a jealous rage, and since there is evidence that you have had prior fits of anger during which you hit her, I find you guilty of aggravated murder. You will serve out your remaining years at hard labor for the government in Tsushima.”

Mitsui cried out at this sentence, but the crowd applauded. The guards pushed the prisoner down again, then jerked him to his feet. They dragged him out between them, and the judge rapped his baton and declared the court session closed.

Outside Tora asked Maeda, “What did you make of it?”

“I expected it. He did confess before.”

“I still don’t like it. What if he was lying?”

Maeda sighed. “Then he must be either abysmally stupid or mad, as the case may be. We can’t be held responsible for people’s stupidity.”

They stopped for a bowl of noodles in the market, and then went on to the Kuroki house. Tora was curious about what could have happened to that luscious bit Yoko. He had ignored her open invitation so far, thinking piously of his sweet Hanae at home, but he was glad his master did not know about Yoko’s reputation.

Two constables lounged outside the house; they straightened up when they saw Maeda. Inside Yoko’s husband was sitting in the main room, looking distraught. He was a fat man with a large belly and was mopping his red face with a tissue held in one pudgy hand. He stared at them with swollen eyes. Maeda made the introductions.

“I don’t understand it,” Kuroki complained. “Such a thing has never happened. She wouldn’t just stay out all night. You must search for her, Sergeant.”

Maeda eyed him and looked around the room. “Perhaps your wife has left you,” he said bluntly.

“No,” squeaked the husband, waving his hands about. “No, she wouldn’t just leave me. She’s a devoted wife.”

Tora almost laughed. “How long has she been gone?” he asked.

“Since yesterday.”

Tora raised a brow. “You found her gone when you got home from work?”

“No. She was here then. We had dinner together. A very nice fish stew. I’m fond of ayu and managed to get some very fresh ones the day before. She cooked it with a little ginger, just the way I like it.” He heaved a heavy sigh. “This has never happened before. What shall I do?”

Maeda asked, “What happened after the fish dinner? Did you have an argument?”

“Oh, no. We never argue.”

“You’d better tell us what you both did.” Maeda looked disgusted.

“Well, we ate. Then she put away the dishes and said she had used all the ginger in the fish stew and if I wanted some in my morning gruel, she’d have to run to the market. I do like ginger in my gruel, and a bit of honey. I reminded her of the honey and gave her a piece of silver. I thought maybe she’d find some sweet bean paste and candied chestnuts.” He looked at them earnestly. “I have a taste for those.”

“So she left to go to the market?”

“We left together.”

Tora and Maeda exchanged a glance, and Maeda asked, “You went to the market together?”

“No. She went to the market. I went to the bath house. It was my regular night for a moxa treatment. I had my bath and a shave as usual, and then I had a massage and the moxa treatment.” He made a face and lifted his round shoulders. “It’s a bit painful, but so good for the intestines and it regulates the breath. I have a sensitive stomach.”

Maeda bit his lip. “Go on. Was she home when you returned?”

“I didn’t see her, but the honey and ginger were in the kitchen, so she must have come back.”

“What do you mean, you didn’t see her?” asked Tora.

“Well, after a moxa treatment I’m always quite exhausted. I unrolled some bedding and went to sleep here. I thought she was sleeping in the other room.”

Tora and Maeda exchanged another glance. Maeda said, “But you don’t know for a fact she spent the night here?”

Kuroki shook his head. “When I got up this morning, she was gone. The ginger and honey were still there, but no gruel.” He sounded aggrieved.

“And no message?”

He shook his head again. “She can’t write.”

Silence fell.

Tora said, “Did you look at her clothes? We need to know what she was wearing.”

“Why?”

Maeda said, “She could have had an accident.”

“Oh, I hope not. Surely she’d tell people who she was?”

Tora sighed. “Not if she was unconscious.”

Kuroki started weeping. “You think she’s dead.” He made it sound like an accusation.

Tora snapped, “Go check her clothes. She could have decided to walk out on you.”

The fat man staggered to his feet and waddled to a door. “She’d never …,” he mumbled on his way out.

“What do you think?” asked Maeda.

Tora snorted. “If you were Yoko, would you stay with him if you could find another man? He certainly wasn’t her idea of a good husband. She said as much to me.”

“Really? And what did you say?”

Kuroki came back in. “Only the gown she wore is gone, and her new quilt. The gown was blue with a small white pattern of shells. The quilt was light green with a pattern of cherry blossoms. She loved it, so I bought it for her.” He shook his head. “What could have happened?”

Maeda asked, “Could she have gone to visit a friend?”