I. Parker: Death on an Autumn River

“It’s not a coin,” said Akitada. “It’s a Buddhist amulet, but not made in this country, I think. See.” He showed the ornamentation to the warden.

“Doesn’t matter,” said the man said. “It’s worth something. She got it from a customer, I expect. We get travelers from Korea and China. Even their monks have stopped in Eguchi.” He chortled and gave Akitada a sly look. “You’d be surprised what monks can get up to, sir.”

Akitada would not, but he tried to look disapproving. “I suppose it will go toward the young woman’s funeral?”

“Right, sir.” The warden held out his hand.

Akitada gazed at the medal. “Look here,” he said, “it’s a curious piece. I’ve a friend who would like it. What if I made a suitable donation, enough to cover the young woman’s funeral, in exchange for this.”

The warden frowned. “I don’t know. It’s evidence. How much did you have in mind, sir?”

Akitada reached into his sash and brought out a piece of gold. “Gold for silver?” He held both items up before the warden’s greedy eyes. The gold piece was larger and shone in the setting sun. The amulet, its silver darkened by time, looked dull by comparison.

The warden reached for the gold. “Done, sir. And the poor girl will thank you from the other world.” He caught Akitada’s watchful eye as he stuffed the gold into his belt. “I’ll see it gets to the monks, sir.”

Akitada nodded and started for the town. Sadenari hung back, watching the warden and his men taking away the body of the drowned girl. Then he hurried after Akitada. “That was kind, sir,” he said, when he caught up, “but do you trust that warden? He looked like a thief to me.”

“No doubt he is,” said Akitada dryly. He glanced up and down the street of shops and eating places, all decorated with banners and paper lanterns. “I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry. How about sampling the local food?”

*

They ate in a small place where they were unlikely to be bothered by women soliciting their business. Gauging Akitada’s status nicely, an elderly waiter had bowed them to a recess where a few cushions rested on a raised section. They took off their shoes, sat down, and ordered food and wine.

The old waiter announced, “We have octopus balls,” awaiting their reaction with a twinkle in his eyes.

Akitada chuckled dutifully. “By all means, bring us your balls, and whatever else you can recommend.” The waiter wheezed with laughter and hobbled off.

It had been a juvenile bit of humor, but to Akitada’s surprise, Sadenari had not even cracked a smile. He was subdued and silent. Akitada left him to his thoughts and looked around. Not all the guests were soberly dressed and quiet men, traveling on business and not for pleasure. There were also some of those who had clearly stopped in Eguchi for the courtesans and entertainers.

The wine arrived and was excellent. The waiter’s hands trembled like Seimei’s as he poured, and Akitada felt a pang of guilt. Seimei had become very frail. Recently, he had expressed a wish to visit his home village and worship at the family shrine. It seemed that his old friend was preparing to join his ancestors. He could not rid himself of uneasiness.

Sadenari broke into his thoughts. “You could have insisted on an investigation, sir,” he said, looking at him fixedly. It sounded like a reproof.

“What?”

“That warden. He’ll keep your gold and get rid of her body.”

Akitada was irritated. “What is it to you?”

“I bet she was murdered. It isn’t right. And you with your reputation for looking out for poor people.” Sadenari seemed clearly upset. He gulped his wine – his second or third cup?

Before Akitada could respond, the waiter arrived with the food. The dishes looked and smelled appetizing. The octopus balls turned out to be fried rice cakes stuffed with octopus meat. Grilled eel and a stew of sea bream and vegetables made up the rest of the meal.

When they were alone again, Akitada said mildly, “What makes you think she was murdered?”

“She had a bruise, just here.” Sadenari touched his hand to the left side of his face. “I have good eyes. Someone killed her and then threw her into the water.”

Akitada sighed. “The bruise, if it was a bruise, was very recent. Most likely it happened after she was in the river.” He sampled one of the octopus balls. “Or,” he said, “it was an accident. She fell overboard and hit her head. But you heard the boat’s master and the warden. The women who work in these river towns often end their miserable lives in the river. Now eat, before the food gets cold.” Akitada served himself some of the sea bream.

“It may be as you say, but she didn’t look like a prostitute. She looked . . . innocent.”

Akitada laughed. “Come on, Sadenari, not even you could have fallen in love with a drowned woman you’d never met.”

The young man jumped up, knocking over his flask of wine. “Go ahead and have your little joke, sir. That girl was murdered, and nobody cares.” To Akitada’s embarrassment, the youngster’s voice broke. “I was so proud of serving under you, but you’re just like all the rest. You can’t be bothered with a poor young woman’s death, and you think I’m a fool.”

It got quiet in the restaurant; eyes turned their way. The old waiter hobbled over with a cloth to mop up the wine.

“Sit down, Sadenari,” said Akitada through clenched teeth. “You’re making a scene.” Louder, he added, “Come, let’s eat this excellent food and then get a good night’s rest. Tomorrow will be a busy day.”

Sadenari looked around, flushed, and sat. The waiter cleaned up the wine and removed the empty flask. The other guests returned to their meals.

Akitada said, “I apologize for what I said. It was unkind and uncalled for. I don’t think you a fool. In fact, it was perceptive of you to notice the bruise and to question the warden’s verdict. You may be right, but we can’t do anything about it.”

Sadenari raised his head. There were tears of shame in his eyes, but his voice was steady again. “I don’t understand.”

“I suppose I owe you an explanation.” Akitada lowered his voice. “You’ve been told that we’re taking documents from the ministry to the trade office in Naniwa. What you don’t know is that I’m seeking information concerning pirate attacks on private ships traveling between the Dazaifu and the capital. These ships carried priceless treasures in tribute gifts meant for the emperor. It may be that someone either in Naniwa or at the Dazaifu has been working with the pirates. Under the circumstances, we cannot get involved in local problems. It would attract undesirable attention.”

Sadenari gaped. “You mean an official is involved? But that’s a crime against the emperor.” He brightened. “Oh, but it is exciting, sir! Thank you for bringing me along. I swear I’ll be the soul of discretion. Just call on me for anything. I don’t care how dangerous it is. I’d really like to get my hands on that traitor. And on those pirates, too.” He flexed his hands.

“Thank you,” Akitada said dryly. “I know I can count on you, but you mustn’t tell anyone.”

“Of course not. And I can see now our assignment is vastly more important than a case of drowning. I’ll be more circumspect in the future.”

“Good. Now let’s eat.”

Sadenari obeyed and Akitada had almost regained his good humor, when Sadenari remarked, “I really think I can be useful, sir. Please allow me to carry out the more dangerous parts of the investigation. I’ve had some training in wrestling and I’m very strong.”

Akitada nearly choked on his last octopus ball. Clearly Sadenari thought him well past his prime. He swallowed, managed a “Thank you. I’ll keep it in mind,” and was preserved from further humiliations by a squabble breaking out in another part of the room.