I. Parker - Black Arrow

“Not quite without reason,” Akitada said dryly. “You spent the night in a place where a murder was committed, left under cover of dark with two companions, one of whom was found in possession of the murder weapon, and you carried on your person a share of the gold taken from the victim.”

“Oh!” Okano’s eyes filled with tears again. “But I explained that. The two pieces of gold I had with me are mine, a farewell gift from a fan.” “

Akitada pursed his lips. “A rich tip indeed! What is this benefactor’s name and where does he live?”

The actor drew himself up proudly. “I cannot tell. It is a matter of honor.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Akitada said coldly. “If it was a legitimate gift, there can be no harm in your telling me his name.”

“No! Never! Such a thing is never done. It is not possible between gentlemen. Here! You may torture me again, but I will not reveal my friend’s name.” He pulled open his robe and slipped it off his round pale shoulders. Angry red welts caked with blood marked his chubby chest. “Go ahead,” he wept. “Kill me!”

Akitada felt nauseated by the sight and the weeping. He snapped, “Stop making scenes and put your clothes back on!”

Okano obeyed, casting a glance over his shoulder at Hitomaro, who looked away quickly.

“Why did you confess, if you did not do it?” Akitada demanded.

“I was afraid they would kill me.”

“You arrived very late during the night before the murder?”

“Yes. Some gentlemen in a wine house asked me to perform the dance of the River Fairy, and my effort was so well received that I ended up entertaining a crowd.” He smirked.

Tora made an uncouth noise, and Hitomaro coughed. Akitada frowned at them and asked, “Why did you not continue your journey the next day?”

“It turned cold and I had no warm clothes. Since my audience was generous the night before, I decided to do some shopping and continue the day after. I bought a lovely quilted jacket. A very becoming color and pattern. White cherry blossoms on blue waves. But those animals took it away along with my gold.”

“Did you see the innkeeper while you were at the inn?”

“Only the wife, in the morning. She was leaving for a trip to the country. Just like a woman. Her husband’s ill, and she’s off.” He turned down the corners of his mouth and shook his head.

“What did you think of Umehara and Takagi?”

“Not my types. The old fellow was already asleep when I arrived, and he left before I got up. The farmer came after I went out. I didn’t really talk to them till evening.”

“Don’t evade the question! Did you trust them? Do you think them capable of murder?”

“How would I know? They seemed all right, a bit rough, especially that farmer.” Okano gave an exaggerated shudder.

“Would you have noticed, if one of your companions got up during the night? Perhaps to relieve himself?”

“Oh yes. I don’t sleep well, and the maid was snoring in her cubicle. They didn’t get up. It is too dreadful that we were the only guests. Someone arrived in the afternoon just after I got back from my shopping. I was having my bath. They made a great clatter in the entry, but I expect whoever it was didn’t like the place and left again.”

“Very well. You may go. If you recall anything useful, get word to Lieutenant Hitomaro.”

“With the greatest pleasure.” Okano rolled his eyes at the muscular Hitomaro and tittered. On the way out, he made a show of stumbling and grasped Hitomaro’s arm, but he found his hand quickly removed.

When the door had closed behind them, Tora burst out laughing. “Hitomaro’s finally made a conquest.” He swished across the room and fluted in falsetto, “‘With the greatest pleasure.’”

Akitada watched him sourly. “Okano’s another one who worries more about trivia than his life. But his accounting for the gold is as unbelievable as Umehara’s trust in total strangers.”

Tora stopped prancing. “Maybe not. In the capital, rich men take actors for lovers, and when they get tired of them, they pay them off. If they don’t, the bum-boys haunt their doorstep. Okano’s getting a bit past it as a pretty boy, so he could be telling the truth.”

“He is thirty-one according to the record, Excellency,” offered Hamaya. “And he is, of course, an outcast. By law, he was not permitted, to sleep at the inn. I expect that’s why they shaved his head.”

“They shaved his head? I suppose that explains the red scarf,” Akitada said. “Make a note to look into the matter. I do not approve of wanton cruelty toward those who cannot defend themselves.”

Hitomaro returned with the last man, the young farmer who had carried the bloodstained murder weapon among his belongings.

Unlike the other two, he walked in with a firm step, wearing nothing but a loincloth and a shirt of rough hemp which left bare his thick muscular thighs and legs and revealed a good deal of barrellike chest. With his low forehead and vacant look he reminded Akitada more of a docile beast than a man. Hitomaro had to push him down into a kneeling position, where it became obvious that the back of his shirt was soaked in fresh blood.

“Takagi, sir,” said Hitomaro. “Son of the headman of Matsuhama village in the mountains.”

The young man grinned and nodded.

“Let me see his back,” Akitada said.

Tora and Hitomaro turned the prisoner around and lifted the crimson cloth. Akitada recoiled. This man’s back was one huge open wound. It seemed impossible that a mere flogging could have done so much damage. Or that he should still be able to walk upright or kneel.

“Has he been seen by a doctor?”

Hitomaro answered. “No. They just got through with him an hour ago. He never confessed, but they ran out of bamboo canes and complained of muscle cramps. Chobei told them to take a rest and continue later.”

“Tell them I forbid it. And have a doctor sent for.”

They repositioned Takagi and covered his back again. The peasant submitted passively, staring around the room with a vacant expression.

Akitada leaned forward. “Takagi, look at me. Where did you get the gold you had?”

“Three pieces of gold.” Takagi nodded proudly, holding up three fingers. “The soldiers took the gold. I got to have it back. It belongs to the village.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s for the bowls and the oxen. My father said, ‘Takagi, go sell our bowls in the markets of Shinano province where they have much gold, and sell the oxen, too. Then we don’t have to feed them in the winter when they are no good to us.’ And so I go and I bring home three gold pieces.” He held up the three fingers again.

Akitada nodded. “A good plan. How many oxen did you take?”

“Two. To carry the bowls.”

“So you were on your way home. Why did you stop at the inn so early in the day?”

“Tired. I walk and walk, and then I rest and walk again. Sometimes I rest at night, sometimes in the day.”

“So you went to sleep at the inn as soon as you got there? Did you sleep all day?”

Takagi looked puzzled. “I wake up hungry. I ask for food, but no food. The girl is with the mistress. So I go to the market and buy noodles. For a copper. The coppers are mine to keep. The gold belongs to the village. Will you give it back? I have to go home.”

“What time was it when you saw the mistress?”

He leaned his head back and studied the ceiling. His plain face contorted with the effort, but he finally said, “Don’t know.”

“Where was her husband?”

The face became blank. “Husband?”

“How did you get the knife?”

He began to frown deeply again, then smiled. “I know. The knife was from the kitchen.”