I Parker - The Masuda Affair

Though filled with anger and guilt at the child’s condition, Akitada was also deeply content. He talked to the boy about Yori, about the home they were going to, about Tora, and Seimei, Genba and the cook and maid. And also – a little uncertainly – about Tamako. The child watched his lips with wide eyes and smiled a little now and then, and soon fell asleep. Akitada covered him with a blanket.

Tora arrived shortly after. They moved away from the sleeping child and talked softly, for Akitada was becoming more and more convinced that the boy could hear at least some sounds. Tora reported that the horse was having a poultice applied to the injured leg and that the groom was hopeful that the swelling would recede by morning.

He looked at the boy, shook his head, and muttered, ‘That female! She isn’t human. She’s an animal. No. Wild animals wouldn’t do that to their young. How is he, sir?’

‘As you see. When we get him home, he will be fine.’

‘You said you’d tell me about him.’

Akitada did. Tora became excited when he heard about the cat, the deserted villa, and the toy sword. ‘It was your karma, sir, and his,’ he said. ‘All of it. You finding the boy. The boy finding the cat. The cat taking you to the house. Maybe his poor mother’s ghost turned into that cat, looking for her child. And what about the little sword being like the one you bought for Yori? The gods have a hand in this.’ He paused, looking a little embarrassed. ‘I had something to tell you. About the courtesan Peony. At least – it’s about a courtesan with the same name. But now I think it must be your Peony’ He gestured to the boy. ‘That poor little fellow’s mother.’

Akitada had made some of the same assumptions, but suddenly there were too many coincidences, too much supernatural manipulation of human affairs. A man like Tora would believe there was a spiritual link between the boy, the cat, and a dead woman, but then Tora was absurdly gullible when it came to ghostly phenomena.

No, the boy probably belonged to the Mimuras, or at least he was an abandoned child who had become a burden to some starving peasant woman or streetwalker. It was better that way. If he belonged to someone who wanted him back, he would lose him again. That cat had been one of thousands of feral cats, finding shelter wherever it could. And the broken toy sword meant nothing. There were plenty of those about, too. But Tora had got over his sullenness, so Akitada nodded and said, ‘What about the courtesan Peony?’

‘Hanae says about six or seven years ago a choja vanished from the capital. She left a debt of a hundred gold bars.’ He paused for effect. ‘Her professional name was Peony.’

Akitada shook his head. ‘A dubious tale, Tora. A hundred bars of gold is a great fortune. What did she need the money for? Who would lend that much to a courtesan? If she was indeed so deeply indebted, her creditor would have demanded a thorough investigation. This has all the earmarks of legend. No, a hundred bars of gold is quite an outrageous value to put on a prostitute. Besides, if she was indeed famous, she could not have disappeared without a trace. Her new lover would have bragged, her former lovers would have discovered her whereabouts, and then her creditors would have taken the case to court.’

Tora’s face fell a little, but he was not giving up so easily. ‘I think it could be the same woman, all the same. A hundred bars of gold is not so much when you think of their expenses. They invest a fortune in their gowns alone. And then there’s jewelry, cosmetics, scents, and servants. A high-ranking courtesan has a maid to carry her things and a man servant to hold her large umbrella. And if she sings and dances, she’ll have to pay the musicians. And what of her house? Courtesans don’t live in tenements or rent rooms over shops. Besides, she may have taken up the life because of her parents’ debt.’

Akitada raised his brows. ‘You’re extremely well informed about loose women. Perhaps it would be better if you looked into the cost of lumber and found the name of a good carpenter.’

Tora flushed. ‘We were trying to help. Hanae’s promised to ask around for you. She knows people in the quarter. There must be someone who knew this Peony. She’ll find out for us.’

‘Who is this Hanae? As if I couldn’t guess.’

Tora bristled. ‘Hanae is a dancer, a very good one. She’s no courtesan, but her work takes her places where the best courtesans go. That’s why I know a little about that life. As soon as we get home, I’ll talk to her again.’

‘Spare me. You’ve spent most of your waking hours with such women. We just discussed your regrettable habits this very morning. No, I think you’ll be better employed working at home for a while.’

‘Sir, I can’t,’ Tora cried in alarm. ‘I promised.’

Akitada glanced at the sleeping child. ‘Shh! What do you mean?’

‘I’m worried about her. I meant to speak to you…’

Akitada had had enough. ‘Not another word. You will, for once, make yourself useful. As long as we’re here, you can talk to the neighbors of the dead woman and report back to me tonight. But when we get back to the capital, I absolutely forbid another visit to your paramour until all the chores around the house are done. That should occupy your time for the next month or two.’

Tora stood up, stared at Akitada for a moment, then left.

Akitada thought, he no longer even bothers to bow when he is sulking. Then he lay down beside the boy. Like Yori, this child had a fragile, helpless beauty in his sleep, which made one want to protect and shelter him. Half afraid of the future, he listened to the child’s soft breathing and stared at the ceiling, wondering how to patch up his marriage, his household, and his relationship with Tora.

Eventually, he must have dozed off, because a noise at the door startled him into wakefulness. Someone was whispering. Tora had closed the door, but now it was open by just a crack, and he thought he saw an eye peering in. He was about to get up and confront those outside, when the door flew back and several people poured over the threshold.

‘There!’ cried Mrs Mimura, pointing a triumphant finger at him. Beside her stood the solid figure of the local warden. The innkeeper and Mr Mimura peered over their shoulders, and several others, constables and assorted strangers, pressed in behind them, trying to catch a glimpse of the room. Their expressions ranged from avid interest to disapproval, shock, and anger.

Outrage seized Akitada. He felt the frightened boy creeping into his arms and responded by pulling him close. Someone snickered. ‘What is the meaning of this?’ he demanded.

Warden Takechi looked embarrassed. He glanced down at Mrs Mimura, who looked more repulsive than ever with her swollen nose and mouth. ‘Er, this woman has laid charges against you and your servant, sir.’

Akitada bit his lip. Of course. The miserable creature was vengeful and greedy enough to make trouble. He should have known. If it had not been for his foolish haste, they would be well away from Otsu by now, perhaps even at home in the capital. The child in his arms trembled. Akitada patted his thin back and said, ‘Don’t be afraid. I shall take care of this,’ before putting him back on his blanket and standing up. The child instantly clasped his leg and began to sob.

‘Warden,’ Akitada said, ‘I can explain, but these people are frightening the boy. Make them wait outside and close the door.’

‘Oh, no, you don’t,’ Mimura cried, pushing his wife aside and stepping forward. ‘I’m his father and I want to hear what’s being said. There won’t be any deals this time. We can all see what’s going on here. If the so-called ‘good people’ think they can go to an honest working man’s house, beat up his wife, and steal his son for their foul pleasures, it’s time we stood up for ourselves. No, Warden, this time I’m laying charges against him. I demand that he’s arrested, along with his servant, and put in jail until we can get a hearing before a proper judge.’