Death of a Doll Maker

13

Temptation can be a powerful force for change.

Akitada brooded for days about the way he had reacted to Fragrant Orchid. Her presence had distracted him from asking more questions about conditions in Hakata and the province; he had felt so strong a physical response to her that he was now filled with shame.

His letter to Tamako and the dolls were dispatched for home, along with letters from Tora and Saburo and other small gifts. They all missed their families. The difference for Akitada was that Tamako was in the last weeks of her pregnancy.

He threw himself into administrative work. Apart from dealing with the two homeless children, Tora and Saburo stayed at the tribunal. Tora was training his guards while Saburo saw to the smooth running of the household.

In Hakata, Mitsui had confessed and now awaited trial.

Akitada began the process of removing Captain Okata from office. This was by no means simple. The odd arrangement by which such appointments had been handled by the governor general’s office meant he had to make a case against Okata. He had to gather evidence and prove Okata was unfit for his position. This he hoped to achieve by posting notices in Hakata asking people to report police brutality or malfeasance to the provincial tribunal.

Okata responded with a formal protest to the vice governor general. He, in turn, asked for a written explanation from Akitada. Akitada replied that he hoped to improve law enforcement in the port city, an important first step to dealing with smuggling and treasonable contacts between China and their own country. A populace intimidated by its police was not likely to cooperate with it. Unpleasant though all of this was, a number of serious complaints had already been filed.

Saburo’s report about Hayashi’s activities was a disappointment. It had not revealed any illegalities. While a long meeting with Feng and the shrine priest Kuroda might be suggestive, it could also be perfectly harmless. He did not send Saburo back for another look at the guild master.

The only bright spot was that the attack on the two children had led to their finding a home. Tora had mentioned their plight to Sergeant Maeda, who had the bright idea to take them to Mrs. Kimura, the old lady who grew the tiny trees. Now the children’s birds and her miniature forest coexisted happily in her garden, and the children were company for her.

There was, however, also good news of another kind. A ship finally brought long-awaited letters from the capital. Akitada broke open his packet immediately, scanned the contents, and found Tamako’s thick sheaf of pages. She had done what he did, written a little every day about the events of the day, giving him news of the children and the household. She apologized that her news was so trivial, but Akitada devoured every line joyously. Most important was the fact that they were all well. He began to relax. The child would be born in its time, and Tamako would recover as she had before. She was healthy woman.

The two weeks after the banquet passed with only one puzzling piece of news. Among the paperwork sent to Akitada from the Governor General’s Office in Dazaifu was a brief note from Fujiwara Korenori to the effect that a strange report had reached his office.

It appeared the former governor had not been seen or heard of for over a month now. He had been expected to touch land in two provinces on his journey home. The ship with his possessions and retainers had arrived and left as scheduled, but there had been no sign of their master.

This was not Akitada’s business, but it troubled him. Something had happened to the man, and the peculiar way in which his departure had been handled, meant that no one in Kyushu had missed him. As far as was known, he had left Hakata, and presumably Kyushu, two weeks before Akitada had arrived. He had disappeared somewhere between Hakata and his scheduled first stop.

Akitada and Mori were checking tax reports in hopes of collecting delinquent taxes and shoring up the treasury when Tora walked into the office.

“Maeda sent for me, sir,” he said, nodding to Mori. “He says Mrs. Kuroki’s disappeared.”

“Who is Mrs. Kuroki?”

“She’s the Mitsuis’ neighbor across the street. It may have something to do with the case.”

“I thought the man had confessed and was going to trial.”

“Yes. The trial’s tomorrow. But I think he made a false confession.”

Akitada stared at Tora. “Because of beatings?”

“Maybe, though Maeda hasn’t allowed any more mistreatment. People do foolish things.”

“True, but you can hardly base an argument on this assertion. I hope this isn’t an excuse to spend all your time in Hakata.”

Tora was offended. “I haven’t started kidnapping women, if that’s what you’re implying, sir.”

Mori looked shocked at such impudence, but Akitada said only, “I think it will be best if you attend the trial. I’d like to know how they are handled in Hakata. Afterward you can see what Maeda is doing about the missing female. I hope he isn’t about to make a mistake. The paperwork is almost complete for dismissing Okata, and the vice governor general is not about to overlook irregularities.”

The Hakata court sessions were held in an annex to the jail. The courtroom was modest in size, but the murder of Mrs. Mitsui had attracted an interested crowd which spilled over into the courtyard outside.

Tora and Maeda pushed through and into the courtroom. Maeda usually attended the trials of his own arrests. Technically, Mitsui was Okata’s arrest, but Okata could not be bothered with token appearances.

The judge, an elderly man with a sparse beard and a tired expression, was already in his place on the dais. A scribe sat to one side, and four constables were lined up below and on either side of him. When the judge rapped his baton, two jailers brought in Mitsui. He was in chains, and they pushed him down in front of the judge. When the dazed-looking doll maker did not immediately bow to the judge, one of them kicked him forward making his face hit the floor.

Mitsui looked pitiful. The beating he had received had left his face badly discolored. At least they had given him a clean shirt and pants for his trial, and washed the blood off him. He looked at the judge, the constables, and the crowd pressing in all around him, and his face puckered up.

“Why does the prisoner’s face look like that?” demanded the judge.

“He resisted the police who arrested him and the guards in jail,” asserted one of his guards.

“Hah! Another one of those?” The judge shook his head. “You seem to have trouble controlling your prisoners.”

“Not me, your Honor.” The jailer grinned and snapped the short whip he carried in the air. The crowd laughed, and Mitsui shrank into himself.

The judge leaned forward and fixed his eyes on Mitsui. “You are the doll maker Mitsui, husband of the dead woman Mei?”

“Yes, your Honor,” Mitsui croaked.

“And you have confessed to killing her on the fifteenth day of this month?”

“Yes, your Honor.”

“Why did you do this?”

His hands being bound behind his back, Mitsui wiped his nose on the shoulder of his shirt. “I got home late from a delivery in Hakozaki. She called me names and cursed me for being late. She said I was no good and I made her work too hard and she knew someone who would treat her better.”

The crowd muttered, and the judge rapped his baton. “Go on. What happened next?”

“There was no food. I complained, but she laughed in my face and told me to do my own cooking. So I got out a knife to slice a radish. Then she showed me some gold coins. She said she got them from her lover and he would give her more. And then she said she was going to get her clothes and leave me that very night.”

More muttering from the crowd. Someone shouted, “The bitch deserved what she got.”

The baton rapped again.

When silence had been restored, the judge said, “So she left the kitchen. What did you do?”

“I was angry and followed her.”

“With the knife still in your hand?”

“Yes. She was upstairs throwing clothes into a large square of cloth. She had a new dress. A green silk dress. She held it up for me to see. ‘See, what nice things he gives me?’ she said. That’s when I went mad and went for her. She dropped the dress and backed away. I pushed her down on the bedding. She spat at me and called me names, and I lost it completely. I stabbed her and kept stabbing until she stopped moving. That’s all.”

The judge consulted some papers. “Hmm. It seems to fit the coroner’s report. The police never found the knife. Or the gold. What happened to those?”

“I threw the knife in the river and kept the gold.”

“Attacking your wife of many years, the mother of your children, so violently is a heinous act. How could you do such a thing?”

Mitsui looked down. “She was always a bad wife. It just got too much for me when she was gloating. I wanted her to stop.”

“You did not report your wife’s death until the next morning. And then you claimed you’d found her already dead. Why was that?”

“I thought I could get away with it.”

The judge nodded. “Yes. It certainly sounds like the truth. Very well. Since you have confessed freely to the brutal murder of your wife during a jealous rage, and since there is evidence that you have had prior fits of anger during which you hit her, I find you guilty of aggravated murder. You will serve out your remaining years at hard labor for the government in Tsushima.”

Mitsui cried out at this sentence, but the crowd applauded. The guards pushed the prisoner down again, then jerked him to his feet. They dragged him out between them, and the judge rapped his baton and declared the court session closed.

Outside Tora asked Maeda, “What did you make of it?”

“I expected it. He did confess before.”

“I still don’t like it. What if he was lying?”

Maeda sighed. “Then he must be either abysmally stupid or mad, as the case may be. We can’t be held responsible for people’s stupidity.”

They stopped for a bowl of noodles in the market, and then went on to the Kuroki house. Tora was curious about what could have happened to that luscious bit Yoko. He had ignored her open invitation so far, thinking piously of his sweet Hanae at home, but he was glad his master did not know about Yoko’s reputation.

Two constables lounged outside the house; they straightened up when they saw Maeda. Inside Yoko’s husband was sitting in the main room, looking distraught. He was a fat man with a large belly and was mopping his red face with a tissue held in one pudgy hand. He stared at them with swollen eyes. Maeda made the introductions.

“I don’t understand it,” Kuroki complained. “Such a thing has never happened. She wouldn’t just stay out all night. You must search for her, Sergeant.”

Maeda eyed him and looked around the room. “Perhaps your wife has left you,” he said bluntly.

“No,” squeaked the husband, waving his hands about. “No, she wouldn’t just leave me. She’s a devoted wife.”

Tora almost laughed. “How long has she been gone?” he asked.

“Since yesterday.”

Tora raised a brow. “You found her gone when you got home from work?”

“No. She was here then. We had dinner together. A very nice fish stew. I’m fond of ayu and managed to get some very fresh ones the day before. She cooked it with a little ginger, just the way I like it.” He heaved a heavy sigh. “This has never happened before. What shall I do?”

Maeda asked, “What happened after the fish dinner? Did you have an argument?”

“Oh, no. We never argue.”

“You’d better tell us what you both did.” Maeda looked disgusted.

“Well, we ate. Then she put away the dishes and said she had used all the ginger in the fish stew and if I wanted some in my morning gruel, she’d have to run to the market. I do like ginger in my gruel, and a bit of honey. I reminded her of the honey and gave her a piece of silver. I thought maybe she’d find some sweet bean paste and candied chestnuts.” He looked at them earnestly. “I have a taste for those.”

“So she left to go to the market?”

“We left together.”

Tora and Maeda exchanged a glance, and Maeda asked, “You went to the market together?”

“No. She went to the market. I went to the bath house. It was my regular night for a moxa treatment. I had my bath and a shave as usual, and then I had a massage and the moxa treatment.” He made a face and lifted his round shoulders. “It’s a bit painful, but so good for the intestines and it regulates the breath. I have a sensitive stomach.”

Maeda bit his lip. “Go on. Was she home when you returned?”

“I didn’t see her, but the honey and ginger were in the kitchen, so she must have come back.”

“What do you mean, you didn’t see her?” asked Tora.

“Well, after a moxa treatment I’m always quite exhausted. I unrolled some bedding and went to sleep here. I thought she was sleeping in the other room.”

Tora and Maeda exchanged another glance. Maeda said, “But you don’t know for a fact she spent the night here?”

Kuroki shook his head. “When I got up this morning, she was gone. The ginger and honey were still there, but no gruel.” He sounded aggrieved.

“And no message?”

He shook his head again. “She can’t write.”

Silence fell.

Tora said, “Did you look at her clothes? We need to know what she was wearing.”

“Why?”

Maeda said, “She could have had an accident.”

“Oh, I hope not. Surely she’d tell people who she was?”

Tora sighed. “Not if she was unconscious.”

Kuroki started weeping. “You think she’s dead.” He made it sound like an accusation.

Tora snapped, “Go check her clothes. She could have decided to walk out on you.”

The fat man staggered to his feet and waddled to a door. “She’d never …,” he mumbled on his way out.

“What do you think?” asked Maeda.

Tora snorted. “If you were Yoko, would you stay with him if you could find another man? He certainly wasn’t her idea of a good husband. She said as much to me.”

“Really? And what did you say?”

Kuroki came back in. “Only the gown she wore is gone, and her new quilt. The gown was blue with a small white pattern of shells. The quilt was light green with a pattern of cherry blossoms. She loved it, so I bought it for her.” He shook his head. “What could have happened?”

Maeda asked, “Could she have gone to visit a friend?”

“No. She had no friends. Or family either.” He started blubbering again and wrung his fat hands. “I told you, she was a devoted wife. She had me, and I had her. We were like the two halves of a clam.”

Tora looked at him. He was a singularly unattractive man. No wonder his wife invited men into her house.

Maeda got up. “Well, we’ll ask around, Mr. Kuroki. You do the same. If you can think of anything, let us know.”

Outside, he said to Tora, “She’s gone off with a lover. Taking her favorite quilt.”

Tora thought it likely, but something nagged at him.

Across the street, Mitsui’s son was loading his father’s handcart. Now that old Mitsui had been sentenced, the son was in a hurry to sell his property.

Tora said as much, and Maeda nodded. “May he choke on the money,” he growled.

They crossed the street to Mrs. Kimura’s house. They could hear the children’s voices and laughter. When Maeda shouted a greeting, the children came running, smiles on their faces. Kichiro’s eye had healed, but he still had an ugly scab on his cheekbone.

“You look like a man who’s been in a fight,” Tora said, grinning.

Kichiro laughed. “I was. It was nothing. They ran.”

The girl, suddenly shy, said, “Kichiro, that isn’t true. Saburo made them run.”

“Saburo sends his regrets, being busy with work,” Tora said. “He may stop by some evening.” Saburo wanted to visit them, but the children only knew the bearded man, and he could not wear his facial hair during the day without someone becoming suspicious.

Mrs. Kimura welcomed them and offered fruit juice on her veranda. The garden was filled with bird song coming from the many cages hanging from trees.

“The children are such a blessing to me,” she said, watching them fondly as they tended to the birds. “I’m still afraid to let them go out, but they want to sell the birds in the market.”

Maeda said, “It should be safe enough, provided they only go there and come straight back, and never after dark. We stopped by on another matter. Mrs. Kuroki, your neighbor across the street, seems to have disappeared and her husband is very worried. Would you happen to know anything about her activities yesterday?”

Mrs. Kimura’s eyes widened. “Yoko? Disappeared? So she finally had enough.” She giggled, then covered her mouth. “Shame on me. The poor man.” But she spoiled it with another giggle. “I’m sorry. He’s been so silly about her, and she hates that so much. Some people should never get married.” She nodded toward the Mitsui house. “There’s proof for you. I hear Mitsui confessed to killing Mei?”

“He did. That case is closed. Now we’re looking for Yoko. You don’t think Kuroki killed her?”

She laughed. “Oh, no. He doesn’t have the strength for anything as strenuous as murder. I expect she’s gone off with someone.”

“Who?”

“A man. She used to have them coming around pretending to make deliveries. They went inside, stayed a while and came back out whistling.” She smiled.

“Can you describe them?” Tora asked.

They got descriptions of several young men, younger than either Tora or Maeda. They had other features in common. They were handsome and well-built. They wore short pants and colorful shirts and sandals on their feet. “Ordinary market porters,” she said, “but young and good-looking. Yoko had good taste. I used to wish them joy. Yoko and those young men were positively bubbling with hunger for each other.” She laughed.

Maeda was shocked. “How do you get such ideas? Surely it’s not proper to spy on a neighbor having an affair with a market boy.”

Tora chortled. She said, “Maeda, you have a lot to learn about women, especially old, lonely ones. Those children are a blessing for me. You’re right. Loneliness makes people nosy.”

“And where would the police be without nosy people,” Tora said.

Maeda grinned sheepishly. “I’m turning into a prude. The other day I thought Tora was Yoko’s latest victim.”

Tora blushed. “Prey maybe, but not victim. Though she’s a pretty woman and doesn’t deserve a husband like that. Do we look for one of her lovers now?”

Maeda frowned. “I don’t know. She has a right to leave her husband. Besides, I don’t want to tell the poor besotted bastard where we found her. Assuming we do.”

And that was the end of that. On the way back, they stopped to speak to Hiroshi, who glared at them as he flung a last bundle into his handcart. “What now?” he growled.

“Nothing to do with you or your father,” said Maeda. “I just wondered if you were here yesterday.”

“What if I was?”

“Well, did you happen to see the woman across the street?”

“No.”

“Or any visitors to her house?”

“No. Are you after that poor bitch now? What’s she supposed to have done, killed her husband?”

Maeda clenched his hands. Tora said quickly, “Nothing of the sort. What are you up to?”

Hiroshi transferred his glare to him. “None of your business, but if you must know, I’m selling some stuff. My father has no need for it now, and my wife and children are hungry.”

They walked away, shaking their heads.