Death on an Autumn River

Chapter Twelve

They had almost reached the restaurant where they planned to eat their evening rice, when someone hailed them. Akitada’s heart sank. It was Otomo again. He glanced at Tora. “It’s the professor I mentioned,” he said.

Tora’s eyes lit up.

No wonder, Akitada thought. A case of a drowned courtesan in Eguchi was just what Tora would like to investigate. Heaven forbid that Sadenari’s fascination with the drowned girl should be reborn in Tora. He could not afford to have another assistant take off and possibly disappear. “Let’s hope he won’t detain us,” he added.

Otomo made his bow and Akitada made introductions.

Tora said immediately, “My master told me the story of the drowned girl, sir. I think we should investigate, find out who she is, and who killed her.”

Otomo blinked at so much enthusiasm. “Your honored master thinks it was an ordinary suicide,” he said cautiously. “I agree. The brothel keeper is married to the local warden. That explains why they don’t want to talk about it. It’s bad for business to have too many suicides.”

Tora said darkly, “I bet that female’s up to no good. I can see it now. Young girls are stolen and forced to work in brothels, and the law does nothing about it because the warden is in the business, too. It’s the perfect set-up. For all we know, there may be hundreds of young women like that in the other towns just like Eguchi. And what happens if the girls don’t obey? Most likely they’re killed. There’s nobody to ask questions because their families don’t know what happened to them.”

Akitada cleared his throat. “We don’t know that, Tora. What we have is one drowning victim and rumors of two or three girls that may have come from Koryo.”

Otomo hung his head and said, “I cannot help feeling a sense of responsibility, but perhaps I have become too involved. Please forget what I said before.”

Akitada could not allow anything to detract him from his assignment, but Tora’s theory had sounded reasonable. He wished he could ask questions about the mansion on the river and about the drowned girl, but he must not encourage Tora and Otomo. He said, “It does you credit that you care, Professor, but as you know, we’re here on duty.”

Otomo nodded. “Yes, of course. Tora’s interest somehow gave me the notion that you would be looking into the case after all. Please don’t concern yourself. I blush to think that you should feel the least obligation. No, no. We shall say no more about it. May I look forward to sharing my evening rice with both of you?”

Akitada thanked him but claimed business. He thought Otomo looked relieved.

Later, over a leisurely dinner at the restaurant, Akitada filled Tora in on all that had happened. He proposed that they work separately to start with.

“While you’re still a stranger here, you can move about and ask your questions without making people suspicious. And you’re more likely to get answers than I.”

Tora had a faraway look on his face. “That goes for Eguchi, too. Someone there knows about those girls. It’s the sort of investigation I’m good at.”

Akitada snapped, “Absolutely not. I have an assignment, and finding Sadenari is more important than enjoying yourself among the harlots of Eguchi. Besides, a drowning in Eguchi is none of our business. I want you here or in Kawajiri. Start at the post station. Ask if they remember Sadenari. He may have arranged to take a boat to Kawajiri. Perhaps he wasn’t alone. If you cannot follow up on that trail, go on to Kawajiri, to the Hostel of the Flying Cranes. It’s the last place where Sadenari was seen and a likely hide-out for pirates.”

After their meal, they walked back to the government hostel to arrange for Tora’s lodging. The fat man raised no objections.

Later, Tora asked Akitada, “Doesn’t that fat bastard feed his daughter? I’ve seen healthier kids among the beggars in the capital.”

“It worries me, too. He makes her work, carrying heavy bags for guests and then, I think, he collects her tips. Poor child.”

“Hah! I’ll see about that while I’m here.”

“No, Tora. Get some sleep and then look into Sadenari’s whereabouts. Besides, we cannot interfere between a parent and child.”

Tora nodded, but he had his familiar stubborn look that told Akitada that he would find ways to do both.

*

Early the following morning, Akitada went to speak to Nakahara again. Apparently, apart from removing the confiscated goods from Nakahara’s office, business was conducted in the same casual manner. No one stopped him, and he walked in unannounced.

Nakahara was dictating. Typically, it was Tameaki who sat beside him, taking down the letter while Nariyuki lounged nearby, looking bored.

Nakahara started up like a frightened rabbit. “You’re back,” he gasped, flinging out an arm that upset Tameaki’s ink stone and scattered papers.

Akitada eyed him suspiciously. “Yes, I’m back. Sorry to interrupt, but as you know, I’m under orders from the Minister of the Right. I keep hoping you’ll take his Excellency’s instructions to heart. Dismiss your clerks.”

Tameaki and Nariyuki left with bows to Akitada. As Akitada sat down on a cushion, Nariyuki’s voice could be heard from the corridor, proposing a quick visit to the market for a bowl of noodles.

Nakahara’s hands were shaking.

Good, thought Akitada. He deserves to tremble. That is what happens to officials who shift their allegiance to local strong men and ignore the wishes of the court. He looked into the other man’s face, saw the flush of shame, the tightening of the lips and said, “I have made my report to His Excellency. He will be displeased that I met with obstruction from you and the local officials when I attempted to carry out my orders.”

Nakahara made a jerky gesture of entreaty. “You must understand that I find myself in a difficult situation here. The court is a good distance away. Different rules apply.”

Akitada snapped, “For a loyal servant of His Majesty only His rules apply. How dare you tell me that you work for another master?”

Nakahara cried, “You misunderstood. I would never serve anyone but His Majesty. I only meant that things work differently here. This is not the capital, and I have no resources to fight crime or even to protect confiscated goods. I have nothing. So I must call on the prefect and the governor whenever there’s a need for assistance. I have no choice but to work with them.”

“That is not at all the same thing as opposing an imperial investigator sent here specifically to check into irregularities because the investigation may prove uncomfortable for Oga and his lapdog Munata. Both officials have gained nothing from their behavior but my suspicion that their hands are dirty. And mind you, that was not what I expected when I first arrived. At that time, I considered all of you innocent. But I found that you, Nakahara, have either been following their orders by choice, or they are holding something over you that allows them to dictate your actions.”

“No, oh no! Nothing of the sort.” Near tears, Nakahara waved his hands again. “You’re wrong about them, about me. It’s just . . . a matter of friendship. Of loyalty. Nothing more. We are congenial. My son works in the provincial administration, and Governor Oga has been very kind to him.” Nakahara paused, then confided, “His Honor has even mentioned that one of his daughters is coming of age, and that he might not be averse to a connection between the families. That would indeed be a great honor and a blessing for a man of my lowly status. I’m not what you would call a successful man.” He paused, then added, “And I’m a father.” He heaved a sigh and added in an aggrieved tone, “My poverty is proof enough that I haven’t enriched myself in my post.”

The situation was a common enough. Provincial lords and court appointees tried to obligate local officials and wealthy landowners by offering favors and forming alliances through marriage. It was a dangerous practice. No one in the central government knew precisely who owed what to whom and what obligations would be called in when a local lord decided to rebel. Nakahara’s situation smacked of conspiracy, but it did not constitute criminal behavior.

“What do you propose to do to clear yourself of the suspicion that has fallen on you?”

Nakahara looked at Akitada dumbly and shook his head.

They were wasting time. Akitada rose. “From what I have seen, the paperwork of your office has been careless. Put your clerks to work-both of them-getting documents in order. I shall examine them again before I return to the capital. Now I’m going to call on the governor and the prefect to see what they have to say to the matter. Where exactly is Munata’s residence?”

Nakahara looked relieved that nothing worse had happened. “Munata has a manor outside the city. It’s on one of the smaller arms of the river. He has rice lands there and also works fields belonging to the governor’s family. But the governor is not there any longer. His Honor has returned to the provincial capital.”

Akitada muttered, “Inconvenient,” and decided to call in at the prefecture. As he rose, Nakahara said. “Oh, this came for you during the night.” He held out a letter. “By special courier.”

Akitada recognized Tamako’s elegant, spidery hand.. He snatched it from Nakahara’s hand, muttered a “Thanks,” and rushed out. At the door, he almost collided with Tameaki carrying a huge stack of documents.

He tore open the folded letter in the hallway.

It was trouble.