I. Parker - The Old Men of Omi

“But surely that’s not necessary. Your wives and children are well provided for.”

“Yes, they are. I want to see my children, but my wives have made that impossible.”

Akitada pressed no further. He was appalled. Had Kobe been such an ogre in his household, or had he married three ogres?

“How is Sachi?”

Kobe’s tired face broke into a smile. “She’s expecting our child. I cannot tell you how much joy she has given me.”

“I’m very glad. Congratulations! How soon will you be a father again?”

“Three more months.” Kobe paused, then asked, “When will you marry again, Akitada?”

His heart twisting, Akitada said, “I don’t know. I miss Tamako. And I’m not sure it would be fair to bring another woman into my settled family life.”

“You’ve always been good at it. Marriage, I mean. Tamako was a great wife. I was half in love with her myself. I think you should take another wife. Children need mothers.”

Akitada thought of Yukiko, nineteen years old and not long past childhood herself. She had been very good with her younger siblings, but would she have taken to his own, much quieter household? Would the children have taken to her?

Such thoughts led nowhere. Fleetingly he remembered that other woman he had loved deeply. She was closer to his own age and had children of her own, but she had rejected his offer. Should he seek her out and ask her again?

There was an interruption at this point. Tora brought in a letter.

“A messenger from Otsu, sir. It’s from Chief Takechi. I thought you might want to see it right away.”

Apologizing to Kobe, who looked interested, Akitada opened the letter.

Takechi reported that the merchant Fumi Tokiari had been found bludgeoned to death. A small Jizo had rested on his chest.

Takechi had not requested his help, but Kosehira did in short order. He sounded upset in the letter delivered by an official messenger from the tribunal. Phrases like “shocking murder of an important businessman,” “rumors abound that a killer is loose,” and “the shrine festival is in two days” suggested that he was at wits’ end and in need of help.

With the free weekend ahead, Akitada had his horse saddled and, taking Tora with him, set out for Otsu again.

One benefit of his stay in Otsu had been a marked improvement in his physical health. He was no longer tired out by long rides and felt stronger in every way. But his conscience troubled him again. Another man had died because he had not stopped a killer. He had liked the merchant Fumi, a modest, unassuming man who was soft-spoken and quiet until roused to anger by a foul accusation against his brother. And now he was dead also. Akitada could not grasp the reason for this killing and wracked his brain all the way to Otsu.

Perhaps there was no reason any longer. Perhaps the killer had learned to enjoy killing. They said there were such men, men who were not by nature brutal but who got a thrill from the fact that they had killed and got away with it. Murder made them feel invulnerable, almost godlike in their powers over life and death. Akitada noted that Fumi and Sukemichi, unlike the other victims, had not been bad men. Surely their only offense had been that they were loosely connected to the fate of Hatta Hiroshi, the Taira betto .

A very dangerous man, this killer.

In front of the tribunal he found an unruly crowd. The big gates were closed and guarded by a contingent of armed soldiers. Akitada made his way through, hearing to his dismay shouts of “There goes another one,” “Got the killer yet?” and “Lazy officials!”

Fear will make people believe all sorts of tales. No wonder, Kosehira had sounded concerned in his letter.

Admitted to the tribunal, Akitada turned his tired horse over to a groom and walked up to the main hall. Kosehira was in his office, dictating to a clerk. Other clerks were wielding their brushes, making copies.

“Akitada!” cried the governor, jumping to his feet. “You made very good time. Thank you for coming. You saw the state of affairs?”

“Yes. It seems rather sudden. Could the rumors have been started by someone in order to make trouble?”

Kosehira looked astonished. “But who would do this?” He paused. “You don’t mean that this is Enryaku-ji’s revenge?”

“Perhaps not. That would have been directed against me. It just seems strange that the rumors spread so fast. Unless you have other plans, I think I’ll go talk to Takechi and have a look at the body.”

“Yes, that might be useful. Not much doubt who did it, is there?”

“No. Though I don’t understand why. But clearly we must find him fast.”

“Yes. The festival is in two days. Any disturbance then would bring the entire court down on me.”

Akitada nodded.

“You will stay tonight?”

“If it becomes necessary. Thank you, Kosehira.”

?

Takechi received him with similar relief. Akitada wished people did not place so much confidence in him. Disappointment was sure to follow.

Takechi outlined what he had learned. Fumi Tokiari had been alone in the house, his family and the servants all having gone to a neighborhood shrine at the end of the street. The merchant had stayed behind to work on his books, but had promised to join them later. When he did not show up after quite a while, his son sent a servant who found his master dead in his office.

“With a Jizo,” Takechi added dryly.

“Yes. And I take it there was another shrine fair.”

Takechi nodded. “Just a very small one, but it was their family shrine.”

Let’s have a look at the body.”

Fumi Tokiari had been brought to police headquarters for the coroner to have a look at it. They found Doctor Kimura washing his hands after his examination.

“Same as the others,” he said when he saw them. “Knocked unconscious, fairly violently, and strangled. He managed to break the neck this time. I’d say the attacks are becoming more severe.”

Akitada nodded. Another hint that the killings were no longer just personal and that the killer was changing. The crowds outside the tribunal and Takechi’s office were not far wrong in their fear.

They left police headquarters-to more jeering shouts-and walked to the merchant’s house. On the way, they passed the small shrine at the corner where remnants of the fair still littered the street. Torn paper flags, bits of rice straw, discarded fans, and a few paper umbrellas, broken and left behind, gave a colorful impression of the activities that had distracted everyone’s attention from an old man being murdered a few houses up the street.

Takechi confirmed this. His constables had interviewed all the neighbors and servants and none had seen or heard anything.

They were admitted to the merchant’s house by a servant in the hemp clothing of a family in mourning. The shop part of the building was shuttered. Inside it was dim and silent, but when they had followed the servant to the back of the house, they could hear children’s voices.

The Fumi family were all together in the large room. A middle-aged man Akitada did not know rose to bow them to pillows that a woman placed for them. Takechi introduced him as Fumi Tabito, the son of Fumi Tokiari. The woman was his wife. There was also another, younger, woman with two small children. These were the daughter and grandchildren of the couple and had come to support the family.

Akitada expressed his condolences. They received his words with polite bows. The daughter hurried to bring wine and refreshments, while her mother gathered the two little ones to her. It was a typical, peaceful family of industrious and well-to-do people, and Akitada regretted their loss again.