I Parker - The Masuda Affair

Tora growled, ‘Amida, his head’s a mess.’

They looked at the corpse. The warden brushed away the flies. They rose sluggishly, drunk and heavy from their meal, and revealed the wound, a mass of congealed blood mixed with hair, bone splinters, and brain matter. More blood had puddled, dark and viscous, under the head. The doctor’s black silk cap lay nearby. Half under his upper body was a crushed bamboo birdcage.

The dead man had been tall and thin, his hair white until someone had turned it this unnatural shade of rust brown. The topknot had come undone under the force of the blow that shattered his skull. Death must have been instantaneous.

Warden Takechi muttered something, then became businesslike. He peered at the wound, touched the dead man’s skin, glanced about the room, and turned to the servant who cowered at the door, his face white and his body trembling. ‘Your master’s been dead a while. How is it that you just now report this?’

The man bowed. ‘Wasn’t here. Just got back. Cousin’s funeral. More death.’ He shook his head. ‘Found the master and went for help. A neighbor. My legs are no good.’ He wrung his hands and shivered.

The warden growled, ‘We’ll check your story. When did you last see the doctor?’

‘Two days ago. In the morning. Eating his gruel. Feeding the birds. He said not to worry. He could manage.’ The old man stopped as if exhausted by so many words.

‘Your cousin’s funeral was not in Otsu?’

‘In Ohara. I walked. Gone two days.’

‘I see. Did your master expect visitors while you were away?’

‘No.’

Akitada thought again of his own childless state. It seemed to be what lay in store for old men who had no families and only lived on to do their jobs. Or, like the old Masuda lord, they went quietly mad and left their affairs to women. The doctor had become a recluse. He had subsisted here, in this one room, served by another old man, puttering about among his books and medicines or in his overgrown garden unless he was called out on a case. A dreary, hopeless condition.

Tora went to peer at the body. ‘Nasty blow,’ he said.

The warden looked glum. ‘He’s been our coroner for thirty years or more. It’s a disaster. Now who’ll tell me when he died?’

‘Well,’ said Akitada, ‘I can give you my opinion for what it’s worth, but you’d better appoint some other medical man until you can hire a suitable replacement. If nobody is available, send to the capital for Dr Masayoshi.’ He bent to scrutinize the corpse, then felt the dead man’s neck. It was cold, dry, and a little stiff to the touch. The dead are no longer quite human.

Outside, a cicada struck up its strident song again and put him in mind of the Buddhist image of the empty cicada shell. Man shed his body to become reincarnated. That fly returning to the wound was another image of the shortness of human life and of rebirth. Soon that wound would crawl with maggots. In fact, he could see a scattering of their eggs and some slight movement in one of the clusters of pale grains. They had already begun their cycle of destruction and renewal, the bond that tied man to the smallest living creature. What karma would bring a man back as a maggot?

‘He’s been dead a while, I think,’ Warden Takechi said again.

‘So has his bird.’ Tora went across the room and bent to pick up a large black crow by one stiff leg. ‘It had something wrong with its wing.’

The servant piped up from the doorway, ‘Master put on a splint.’

‘Well, somebody bounced it off the wall.’ Tora dropped the bird. ‘I hate bastards who do things like that to helpless creatures.’ He drifted off to inspect the rest of the room.

Akitada said, ‘The doctor died some time before yesterday, I think. The wound was caused by a single massive blow from behind. He fell forward, was probably dead before he hit the floor.’

The warden came closer and looked.

Akitada gestured at the wound from several angles. ‘See here? That cut is quite deep. Bone splinters protrude. It took great force to make that wound. And it slants. He was hit with something heavy and round, a cudgel perhaps, and by someone a little taller than he is.’ ‘Why taller?’ asked the warden.

Akitada straightened up, his eyes searching the room. Tora was at the door, his eyes on the doctor’s staff. It was a long one, made of thick bamboo, and resembled those that itinerant monks carried. Theirs had metal rings at the top, which jingled as they walked, but this one was plain and lacquered black. When Tora picked it up and hefted it, the old servant said helpfully, ‘The master’s staff. Calls it his friend. Because he leans on it.’

‘Well, his friend turned on him,’ said Tora, holding it out to show what he meant. The servant backed away with a whimper. ‘At least the bastard that killed him is a neat fellow. Puts things back after using them.’

Warden Takechi took the staff. ‘He’s right,’ he said. ‘There’s blood and hair on it.’

Akitada nodded and turned to the body again. He lifted one shoulder to get a look at the dead man’s face. More fat flies rose from his nostrils and mouth and from the open, glazed eyes. Dr Inabe’s face had probably been narrow and scholarly and showed his age. Now it was puffy and one cheek was suffused with the blood which had gathered under the skin after death. There was a greenish tinge to it. Akitada sniffed. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘As I thought. A noticeable smell.’ He lowered the body again. ‘I would say he’s been dead for at least a day and a night. The murder happened the day before yesterday, and most likely it was still daytime. The neighbors may have seen something. The killer was a tall man and strong, because it takes strength to kill another man with only one blow. You asked why I thought he was taller than his victim? The position of the wound shows that. He had to strike almost horizontally because the ceiling is too low to swing the staff downward.’

The warden, looking a little dazed, nodded and barked out orders. The two constables disappeared.

Akitada inspected the dead bird, then looked around the room. He turned to the servant. ‘I wonder,’ he asked, ‘if your master was likely to receive strangers in here?’

The old man shook his head. ‘Never. People ring the bell. I go and tell the master. He packs his medicines and goes with them.’

Akitada said to the warden, ‘You see what that means, don’t you?’

Warden Takechi blinked. ‘A thief? Someone climbing the wall to rob him? Yes, I guess that’s what happened.’

‘Not likely,’ said Tora.

The warden frowned. Tora grinned back impudently. ‘Can you see a common thief being tidy? Or taking the time to play kickball with a bird?’

‘Hmm,’ said Akitada. He turned to the warden. ‘The doctor’s servant can check if anything is missing, but I suspect that the doctor admitted his killer himself. I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you until you get more information.’ He paused. ‘Now I would really like to go and visit the boy. Suppose we stop by your office later?’

Takechi looked unhappy, but nodded.

When they were outside, Akitada said to Tora, ‘You really should not volunteer your opinions. Even when you are right. The warden was getting irritated. Remember, he can still lock you up.’

Tora grinned. ‘Sorry.’

‘This murder is very inconvenient. Inabe must have been the coroner in Peony’s drowning.’

‘Hah! You think someone killed him because of her?’

‘No. I just wanted to speak to the man about that drowning, and now he is dead.’

Tora was not listening. ‘Murdered! Both of them! And that means… What does it mean?’

‘Nothing. Come on, let’s go and visit the boy.’