I Parker - The Masuda Affair

Tora saw disaster coming and froze in place.

The rocks began to slide towards the edge – slowly at first, then faster – taking Ishikawa with them.

Ishikawa let go of his sword and scrabbled for something, anything, to hold on to. There was nothing. Tora flung himself down and stretched out an arm. Terror in his rolling eyes, Ishikawa reached for it, but the distance was too great. He made a desperate effort and loosened more stones beneath him, slipping downward towards the edge of the cliff. An ominous rumble began and gained in volume. The rock slide gathered momentum, and Tora flattened himself against the hillside.

He lay still and prayed. Through the rumbling, he heard Ishikawa scream once, shrilly, as he plunged over the edge. His wail faded away among the boiling mists of the gorge. The shifting stones slowed to a trickle. Then all was silent.

Tora raised his head. He was alone. Cautiously, he crept back up the hill until he reached the corner support of the platform. He was shaking so badly that he could not pull himself up right away.

Slowly, his relief at being alive gave way to the realization that his master would not approve of this night’s work.

Nori seemed to enjoy the trip. There was no cormorant fishing in the daytime, but they stopped to see the birds and boats and all the paraphernalia that were used for it.

This pleasant mood changed abruptly when they reached Lady Saisho’s. Akitada halted when he saw the gates standing wide open. He passed the child to Tamako, told her to wait outside, then drew his sword and rode in.

The corpse of a broken man lay in the middle of the yard in a puddle of blood and water, and Tora stepped down from the veranda where he had been sitting. Akitada heaved a sigh of relief, put away his sword, and looked at the body more closely.

‘Ishikawa,’ said Tora unnecessarily. ‘We fished him out of the river after sunrise.’

‘What happened?’

Tora gave him a brief outline of the night’s events.

‘And the women?’

‘His mother’s hurt. He caught her with his sword.’

Tamako, with Nori, came up to the gate and peered in. Akitada went back to explain. She nodded. ‘Don’t look, Nori,’ she said to the boy. ‘There has been an accident, but it does not concern us.’

Akitada said nothing; the ‘Accident’ concerned the child very much indeed. He wondered what new complications the unexpected death of their prime suspect would bring to the case.

They dismounted at the steps to the villa. Akitada led them up and into the reception area, where he clapped his hands and shouted for the servant.

A pale-faced Seijiro appeared and bowed. ‘My lady expects you, sir.’ He led them to the same pavilion where Lady Saisho had received them the day before. Lady Saisho herself slid the door back.

Akitada’s eyes scanned the room. The torn blind to the outside was lowered. Filtered sunlight fell on a floor that still showed traces of bloodstains. In a corner lay a swaddled shape under a layer of quilts. The boy clutched Akitada’s hand.

‘Thank heaven you are in time,’ Lady Saisho said. ‘She is very weak.’ Her eyes went to the child. ‘Oh, he is a handsome child. Are you sure he cannot speak?’

Akitada nodded.

‘Well,’ said Lady Saisho, ‘we shall know more in a moment. Come.’ She led them to the swaddled shape and lifted a corner of the quilt. Mrs Ishikawa lay on her back with her head supported by a wooden neck rest. Only her face and her hands showed. They were almost as white as snow, and her skin seemed transparent. Though her eyes were closed, Akitada guessed from the set of her lips that she was conscious and in pain.

Tamako came to kneel beside her. ‘Mrs Ishikawa?’ she asked, reaching for a frail hand. ‘Can you hear me?’ There was no response, and Tamako looked up at Lady Saisho. ‘Has a physician been called?’

‘Yes, but… she lost so much blood. She is very weak. Look.’ Lady Saisho moved forward. For a moment the two women bent over Mrs Ishikawa and Akitada could see nothing. They lifted the quilt, looked, and then replaced it.

When Lady Saisho stepped aside, Akitada saw that Tamako was very pale. She glanced up at him and shook her head slightly.

Feeling bitterly disappointed, Akitada turned to take the boy away. Once again, he had come too late.

But Lady Saisho said, ‘Wait.’ She bent over Mrs Ishikawa again. ‘Listen to me,’ she said quite sternly. ‘You are dying. I’m very sorry for it, but you must be told. You have a chance to make good an evil that will otherwise destroy you and your son in the other world.’

Tamako bit her lip, and Akitada felt slightly sickened, though he knew the need for the speech. He took the boy back to the dying woman.

Lady Saisho commanded, ‘Open your eyes and look at this child.’

The thin lids fluttered and Mrs Ishikawa looked up at her. ‘My son?’ she whispered, and tears seeped from the corners of her eyes.

‘He is dead. What you say cannot hurt him any longer.’ Lady Saisho was matter-of-fact. ‘Look at this boy, and tell me if he is the child of the woman Peony.’

‘I must not tell.’

Lady Saisho gripped the other woman’s shoulder. ‘You must. There is no more time.’

Tamako half rose and protested, Oh, please don’t.’

Mrs Ishikawa’s eyes flicked to her. Then she turned her head slightly, letting her eyes pass over Akitada to the boy. She looked at him for a long moment. Then she turned her head away and nodded. ‘Yes. That is Peony’s son.’

‘Ah.’ Lady Saisho rose, her face alight with triumph.

Akitada passed the boy to Tamako, who took him from the room. He said, ‘It proves only that the child’s mother was Peony.’

Mrs Ishikawa was on the point of death. Her breath rattled ominously. Akitada bent over her. ‘Mrs Ishikawa,’ he said, ‘forgive me for troubling you, but did you take some food, gruel perhaps, to Peony’s house when young Lord Masuda was ill?’

The rattling in her throat stopped. She opened her eyes and raised her head. ‘I didn’t know,’ she gasped. ‘The gruel. I didn’t know.’ Her black eyes bored into his.

Akitada nodded. ‘Yes, I’m afraid it was poisoned.’

‘Oh!’ She wailed and flung her head back so violently that the wooden neck rest tipped and her head hit the floor.

Lady Saisho cried, ‘What are you doing? She has said all that matters.’

‘There is still the matter of murder,’ Akitada said. ‘Young Masuda died of poison, and Mrs Ishikawa took it to him.’ He knelt and lifted the dying woman’s head on his knee.

Lady Saisho gasped. ‘She murdered him?’

‘No, I think her son used her.’

Mrs Ishikawa flailed weakly. The awful rattling began again. Her convulsion must have opened her wound because fresh blood was seeping from beneath the quilt. But she lay still now, her head on Akitada’s knee, tears welling from her eyes.

‘It was your son who sent you with the gruel, wasn’t it?’ Akitada asked softly.

She looked up at him and opened her mouth, perhaps to answer or to wail again, but all she managed was a harsh gurgle. Her stare became fixed and her jaw sagged. A thin trickle of saliva seeped from the corner of her mouth.

Akitada felt her neck and found no pulse. He placed her head back on the floor and got up. ‘She is dead,’ he said.

‘Why do you look at me that way?’ demanded Lady Saisho. ‘It is not my fault she died. Her own son killed her.’

‘I was told it was an accident.’

‘You were not here. The man was deranged. He broke into my quarters and attacked both of us. He tried to kill your man, but he wounded his mother instead. We are well rid of such a man.’

Akitada controlled himself and said, ‘We shall leave now. I regret extremely this upsetting experience for the child. Unfortunately, it was necessary.’