I. Parker - Death of a Doll Maker

Tora eyed the slut’s house with interest, but Sergeant Maeda said firmly, “There has been a murder. It’s your duty to answer questions.”

She glared at him. “The constables took old Mitsui away. You’ve got your killer. So why bother me? Mind you, I could have told you as much a long time ago.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because they were always fighting, that’s why.”

Tora did not like the woman. He said, “Mitsui claims he was away making deliveries and found her dead.”

She snorted.

Maeda said, “Did you see Mitsui yesterday?”

She shrank away from him. “Well, he left in the morning with his cart packed high. But he could have come back. When was she killed?”

“Late yesterday. Did you hear any noise from next door?”

“No. I went to bed early and I sleep like the dead.” She gave an awkward laugh. “I mean, you know, real deep.”

Tora asked, “What about your husband?”

“Him?” She snorted again. “He came home drunk. Passed out before me. I had to shake him awake this morning. If Mitsui didn’t do it, who was it? It’s getting so a person isn’t safe in their own house. The police are useless.”

The sergeant glowered at her, but something had occurred to her. “Maybe it was one of her own people,” she said. “They are violent by nature, as we all know. They don’t believe in the teachings of the Buddha.”

Tora asked, “Her own people?”

Before she could answer, Sergeant Maeda growled, “If that’s the best you can do, Mrs. Kubota, we’ll be on our way.”

Outside he said, “Mrs. Mitsui was his second wife. She was Chinese. There’s a large Chinese ward, Daito-gai, in Hakata. It’s pretty old and they speak our language, but some people still don’t accept the Chinese. Mostly, they keep to themselves, but some like old Mitsui have married Chinese women. Personally, I’ve never seen much difference between the Chinese and us. We’re all doing the best we can for our own.”

Tora decided he liked Maeda.

The sergeant headed for the door of the neighbor on the other side. “A friend of mine lives here,” he said and called out, “Lady Kimura, my pretty! Are you home? It’s me.”

From inside came a soft cry and a giggle. Then the door curtain parted and a tiny, ancient woman peered out. “Is it you, Love?” she asked, bright black button eyes moving from Maeda to Tora. “And you’ve brought me a gorgeous youngster. Bless you, you generous man.”

Maeda laughed and drew Tora forward. “This is Sashima Kamatari, known as Tora. He’s fresh from the capital. Feast your eyes, my dove!” Tora grinned and made her a bow. “Mrs. Kimura practically raised me when I first came here as a raw youngster and took a room in her house. How are you, my dear?” he asked the tiny woman.

“Good as ever. I’ve been working outside. Come on back, both of you.”

They followed her through the little house and out onto a narrow veranda overlooking a tiny garden filled with miniature trees in all sorts of containers. Tora had seen such things before, but in the capital these little marvels, trained painstakingly for years to remain as small as a child’s toy, belonged to the wealthy.

She perched herself on the edge of the veranda and they joined her.

“You admire my little trees, Tora? It gives me something to do,” she said. “Before my husband and the children died, I never had the time for gardening. Now I have too much time, but most of my strength is gone. Sergeant Maeda looks after me like a son.”

The sergeant blushed. “You’re no trouble, Love. But I’m here on business today. Mrs. Mitsui is dead. Stabbed. We think it must have happened last night.”

“Oh no!” The bright eyes widened with shock. “Oh, poor Mei! Someone stabbed her? How terrible!” She twisted her hands together. “Mei never had any luck. That grumpy husband and those unpleasant children, and now this.” She sighed deeply. “I wish I’d known. Perhaps I could have helped her.”

Maeda looked at her affectionately. “I take it you heard or saw nothing. I’m glad you didn’t tangle with a killer. When I heard about a murder in your street, I was afraid for you. You shouldn’t live alone. At least when I was here there was a man in the house.”

She gave him a sad smile. “The men aren’t exactly looking for old ladies like me.”

Tora thought about women alone. The murdered woman next door had also been alone, though not as frail and ancient as this one. “Have there been attacks on women around here?” he asked. “Do you think it could have been a thief? Perhaps she had money in the house?”

Mrs. Kimura thought about it. “No, this is a very safe neighborhood. I’m not a bit afraid.” She gave Maeda a sidelong glance. “I don’t know if they kept money in their house. Poor Mei.” She sighed again. “Her name means beautiful plum, you know. She told me that, chatting over the fence. I think she was pretty once. She said her husband had become unkind, though she was a very hard worker. It was her business, too, you know. He makes the dolls’ bodies, and she painted them and dressed them. Even so, they were very poor. Their children moved away and hardly ever visit. When the doll business was bad, Mei had to go clean the Hayashis’ house.”

Maeda said, “Mitsui left yesterday to take an order of dolls to Hakozaki. Maybe his business was getting better?”

She looked surprised. “I didn’t know. I really don’t pay much attention.”

“You didn’t see him come back by any chance? It would have been after dark.”

She shook her head.

Tora asked, “What sort of person was she?”

“I liked her, but we didn’t talk much. She kept to herself and was always busy. She didn’t have any friends. People are sometimes unkind to those who are different. I think she gave up trying to be nice to people, but she was always pleasant to me.”

“Was it a bad marriage?”

“Ordinary, from what saw. There was an age difference, but Mei was no longer young when Mitsui took her as his second wife after the first died. As I said, she was a hard worker. I expect he liked that.” She said this a little tartly, as if her sympathies were with his wife.

Maeda got up with a sigh. “I wish we could stay, Love, but Okata will be chewing his mustache if we spend too much time on this. He thinks her old man did it.”

She grimaced. “It’s foolish to kill your best ox.”

“Yes, but people aren’t wise when they’re in a temper.”

She nodded. “True enough. Come back, both of you. A lonely old woman gets bored, you know.”

Outside, Tora said, “Nice lady. She’s fond of you.”

Maeda nodded. “She won’t let me do much for her. She sells the little trees and lives on what she earns. She gets good money for them, but it takes such a long time to grow them.”

Tora glanced up and down the street. “Seems strange not more people saw Mitsui or anyone else go in or out of the house.”

“One person saw him leave early in the morning. There was another who thought Mitsui and his cart had passed him on the main road coming back at night just after the watchman had called the hour of the rat, but he’d been drinking and wasn’t sure about it. Besides, that sighting doesn’t help him. He could still have done it. It’s his word against all the blood on him … plus the very suspicious fact he didn’t report her dead until daylight.”

Tora nodded somberly. “Are you giving up?”

Sergeant Maeda shot him a look. “Not yet. I’ll talk to her children next. They have to be told anyway.”

“I need to get back to the tribunal. Since Okata won’t help, there will be a lot of work.”

Maeda slapped his back. “Thanks for your help, Tora. Come back anytime. Oh, and don’t worry about your thieves. I’ll have a word with some people I know.”