I Parker - The Masuda Affair

Still, the idea of poison was troublesome. The Masuda ladies both had motives. They were the scorned wives. And Akitada had not liked the way Lady Kohime had glanced at the old lord’s dish while she had chattered about poisons. Everything about her suggested that she had been raised in the country, where they had a good knowledge of herbs and plants. The old man stood between her and her daughters and a very large fortune.

Still, if young Masuda had been poisoned, Dr Inabe would have known. He would certainly have reported a murder. Or would he? His friendship with the Masudas might have kept him silent.

The doctor’s room had contained shelves of stacked papers and books. Chances were the man had kept records of young Masuda’s illness. Perhaps he had even left notes about his postmortem findings on Peony. Akitada also wondered where the boy fitted into the tangled relationships and motives, but the child was no longer his only reason for searching for answers.

The stars were extraordinarily clear, as was the great river created by the God of the Sky to separate his daughter from her lover. What importance the Tanabata legend attached to bringing people together! He was suddenly overwhelmed by loneliness.

The stars blurred as his eyes moistened with self-pity. Ashamed, he fought the emotion. It was a long time before the hurt faded and he slept.

Akitada decided to share some of the information with the warden, but when he mentioned the servant’s story that young Masuda had been poisoned by Peony, Takechi became agitated.

‘Not a word of truth to it,’ he cried, waving his hands. ‘It’s their grief talking. That death hit them hard and so they have to blame it on someone. His Lordship went mad, and the old man is simple-minded and loyal to his master. If the old lord had not lost his mind, he’d have seen the truth in time and that tale would never have started.’

Akitada raised his brows. ‘So there’s gossip about it. I understood the servant and the second lady to say that young Masuda became ill at Peony’s house and that Dr Inabe was consulted?’

‘Young Masuda had the flux. A common enough ailment around here. People will drink or eat the wrong things.’

‘Like warabi shoots?’

‘ Warabi? The warden looked blank. ‘If it was, nobody mentioned it to me. Anyway, it wasn’t a police matter.’ They looked at each other, and the warden became anxious. ‘You don’t think this is connected to the doctor’s murder, do you?’

‘I don’t know. When you have an unexplained murder, you tend to wonder about everything. I’d like your permission to return to the doctor’s house to go through his papers in case they contain a clue to his death and young Masuda’s.’

‘Of course. Shall I send a constable along to give you a hand?’

‘Thank you, no. I think you need your men. Do you want me to reseal the place when I finish?’

‘No need for a seal. The servant’s watching.’

Akitada started to point out the need for keeping the scene of a crime secured until an investigation was complete, but thought better of it. He asked instead, ‘Who inherits the property?’

‘A nephew. We’re trying to contact him.’

‘Then he does not live here?’

‘He’s not been around for years. The servant says the young man travels a lot.’

‘Hmm.’

The warden chuckled. ‘If you’re thinking he might’ve returned to kill his uncle for the house, I doubt it. It’s practically a ruin, and there was no money apart from the little bit of silver in the trunk.’

This saintly reputation was beginning to irritate Akitada. ‘Did the neighbors see anyone?

‘Just the usual. Servants leaving and returning from shopping. A mendicant monk. A post boy with a letter for someone. A sedan chair that picked up one of the ladies for a visit to her shrine and brought her back again.’ He shuffled among his papers. And, yes, the fishmonger with a basket of fish for one of the houses.’

‘You checked them all?’

‘Yes.’ Gloom settled over the warden again. ‘I hope you turn up something.’

Warden Takechi had not bothered to leave a constable at the gate, and so Akitada wandered in uninvited. The doctor’s old servant was sweeping the courtyard.

He blinked, trying to recall Akitada’s name.

‘I’m Sugawara. The warden and I came yesterday. I have permission to look through your master’s papers.’

The servant nodded and put his broom aside. ‘The ladies asked about the funeral,’ he muttered as they walked through the tangled garden. ‘Couldn’t say. The body’s gone. Not even monks chanting. Disrespectful.’

‘The arrangements should be made by Dr Inabe’s relatives. He has a nephew, I hear.’

‘That one.’ The old man spat.

‘Wait until you hear from Warden Takechi.’ Akitada glanced around the lush wilderness. The garden was filled with sound. Birds were singing and chirping, calling out to each other and answering, challenging rivals or warning of the human presence among them. ‘The birds are doing their best to make up for the lack of chanting,’ he said with a smile.

The servant nodded. ‘They know,’ he said quite seriously. ‘Waiting to be fed. I’ll get some food.’

Akitada looked up into the dense branches. The foliage was alive. Did they know their benefactor was dead? They must have seen Inabe’s killer come with murder on his mind and watched him leave, his hands stained with the blood of their friend and that of one of their own. It was a foolish speculation, and Akitada turned to business.

The warden’s people had left the door to the studio unsealed. Muttering angrily under his breath, Akitada walked in. If anything, the stench was worse today. Like the warden, Akitada went to raise the shutters to the back garden. Light, fresh air, and birdsong poured in.

The room looked the same, except that the body was gone. The doctor’s blood still stained the floor, though, and attracted an occasional fly. More flies crawled on the dead crow. The warden had also taken the murder weapon, but the broken birdcage still lay there, and Akitada bent to pick up the pieces.

The old servant hovered at the door. He said, ‘I haven’t come in here.’ He did not explain if he feared the dead man’s spirit, thought to remain around its home for forty-nine days, or the warden’s anger.

Akitada said, ‘I’ll be working with your master’s papers. Don’t let me keep you from your chores.’

The old man looked relieved and crept away. Strange, thought Akitada, how many old men and their old servants he had met on this case. First the old lord and his servant, and now the doctor and his. Or perhaps it was not so strange. If loyalty meant anything, then master and servant would grow old together. He thought of Seimei. The bond between them was as strong as blood. The Masuda servant’s passionate hatred for Peony was due to that loyalty. But the doctor’s servant seemed more confused than grief-stricken or angry. Perhaps his claim that he had walked to his cousin’s funeral was untrue.

Enough theorizing. He needed facts.

He prowled around the room, looking at everything but the books and papers. The clothes box held plain and badly worn black robes and under robes, loin cloths, socks with holes in them, and a moldy black cap. Some of the things were good silk twill, but green with age. The dishes were a similar mix. Some were of cheap earthenware and some of fine china, but the china was cracked and chipped. Two pale rectangles on the wall suggested that paintings had hung there once. Otherwise, there was little of a personal nature in the room. No games or musical instruments. Just the broken birdcage.

It supported what he had been told of the doctor: that he had become an individual who cared nothing for personal luxuries, though once he had been well-to-do and had led a different life.