I. Parker: Death of a Doll Maker

“I shall manage. When you’re not here, we live very simply and rarely have guests. Besides there’s your sister. Their household is quite large. They will surely spare me some servants if I need them.”

“Yes. That’s good. She’ll be by your side when the child is born.” He had turned away from her because grief had seized him for a moment, grief that he would not see the newborn, or worse, that he would lose Tamako.

Even here and now, on the hard floor in this godforsaken tribunal, his eyes filled with tears and he wept at his loss, real and imaginary.

Tamako had put her hand on his arm. “My poor husband,” she had said half-teasingly. “I’m making this very hard for you. We must be patient about the things we cannot change, and good may come of this in time. Have faith in yourself and in me.”

Overcome with love, he had held her for a moment, then left to talk to the others.

And so the matter was settled, and their lives had changed forever.

Akitada slept quite well in the end and woke refreshed. It was another clear spring day. The doors to the outside opened onto a small graveled courtyard. From the narrow veranda, he could see over the tribunal roofs to mountains where the dark green of evergreens mingled with the fresh, bright foliage of new leaves.

His new post no longer seemed quite so discouraging. He was filled with a great energy to get to the bottom of the mystery and set things in order. He would be as good a governor as he could be.

Both Tora and Saburo were gone, and he went looking for them. Tora stood in front of the residence, talking with a messenger. He sounded angry, and the messenger threw up his hands, jumped on his horse and rode off. Tora cursed loudly and volubly after him. In the light of the sunny morning, Akitada was amused.

“What’s the matter, Tora?” he called out.

Tora turned, his white teeth flashing in his handsome face. “Oh, good morning, sir,” he shouted back. “Just a cursed messenger from that police chief in Hakata. Really, someone needs to teach those yokels who has the authority here.”

“Ssh! Not so loud. No need to make enemies before we get started.”

Tora loped over. “This reminds me of Echigo, sir. They don’t want us here.”

“Hmm.”

Tora had a point. Echigo had been the province where governors had taken to their heels in a shower of arrows dispatched by the local warlord. Akitada had arrived as a young vice governor and faced incredible difficulties. There like here, he had been without funds, living quarters, staff, or cooperation. But he was older now and more experienced. Besides this was Kyushu. There were no warlords here. He explained this to Tora, then asked, “What did the messenger want?”

“Okata can’t be bothered to find the thieves who stripped this place. It seems he’s got a murder to investigate.” Tora’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

“Really? Hmm. While I’m paying my respects to the Assistant Governor General, you ride into Hakata and give the police chief a hand with his murder. I bet you’ll get some cooperation from him then.”

Tora left Saburo in charge and took one of the horses they had come on. In Hakata, he asked directions to police headquarters. He found them to be nearly the size of the provincial tribunal, well staffed, and busy. The constables eyed him suspiciously when he asked for Captain Okata.

“Not here,” snapped the constable at the door. “What do you want?”

The man sat at a writing desk, where he had been making notes.

Tora looked down at him. “You heard me. Captain Okata.”

The man flushed, got to his feet, and came to face Tora. Putting his face next to Tora’s, he snarled, “Don’t mess with me, bastard.”

Tora grabbed him by the collar and gave him a sharp push. The man stumbled back and sat down. “Who are you calling a bastard, you dog?” Tora asked. “You are to treat people with courtesy, you hear? Even those who aren’t your superiors. Now get up and tell me what I want to know.”

The constable shook with fury but he decided to play it safe and called for support. An older policeman, a sergeant to judge by his hat, joined them and stared at Tora.

“He attacked me, Sarge,” the constable whined.

“Don’t lie,” the sergeant told the constable mildly. “Aren’t you with the new governor?” he asked Tora.

Tora nodded. “Finally an observant public servant. Greetings, Sergeant. I’m Sashima Kamatari, but you can call me Tora. Senior retainer and inspector to your governor.”

The sergeant nodded. “An important man. Did you hear that, Goto? Well met, Tora. I’m Maeda. What can I do for you, or for his Excellency, as the case may be?”

“Well, since we have no staff, there’s nothing for me to do, and the governor sent me to help when he heard you’re hard pressed working a murder.”

The sergeant laughed. “Hard pressed? That’s a good one. Though it’s true the captain doesn’t care much for blood. Or maggots, as the case may be.”

“Really?” Tora grinned. “I take your point, Sergeant. Well, I don’t mind them. What I can’t abide is killers running loose, thumbing their noses at us.”

“Or robbers, as the case may be.” The sergeant chuckled and studied Tora. “You’ve been a policeman, then?”

“No, but the master and I have investigated some tricky murders in our day. Anyway, here I am. Where’s the body?”

Sergeant Maeda laughed. “Well, let’s go see how the captain is managing.”

When they stepped outside, the sergeant looked at Tora’s horse. “One of ours?”

“I’ll need it for a while longer. They took the tribunal’s horses, too.”

The sergeant stopped. “Not one horse left? Can you be serious?”

“No horse, no ox, no food, no bed, and no staff. The place is empty except for a half-witted boy and an old geezer.”

Sergeant Maeda shook his head in amazement. “That would be old Mori. Trust him to stay when the rest took off.”

Tora growled, “My master will catch the stealing bastards. They took what belongs to the emperor. Actually, he’d hoped Captain Okata would lend a hand.”

The sergeant chuckled and started walking again. “Not a chance.”

Tora decided not to pursue the subject. “Tell me about the murder.”

“An old woman was stabbed in the merchants’ quarter. They say her husband did it.”

“He confessed?”

“Not right away. The captain’s still questioning him.”

They turned down a narrow street of cramped wooden houses. Two red-coated constables lounged around in front of one of the houses, but straightened up and stood stiffly to attention when they saw them coming.

“Lazy lot,” muttered the sergeant.

One shouted, “The captain’s inside. He’s been waiting for you.”

The sergeant did not bother to reply. “What do the neighbors say?”

The constable looked at his partner and said, “Not much.”

“What do you mean?”

“They heard nothing and they saw nobody.”

“You’re telling me they were all home and awake during the night?”

The second constable giggled. His partner flushed. “Well no. They were home, but while they were awake they saw and heard nothing.” He added lamely, “A bunch of old people.”

“So she didn’t scream or call for help?”

Both shook their heads.

Have you found the weapon?”

They shook their heads again.

“You did look?”

“The captain made us search the house.”

“But not outside?” They shook their heads in unison. “Well, get started. First the garden and then up and down the street. Look over fences and into weeds. Pretend you’re a killer and need to get rid of a bloody knife where it can’t be found.”