The Crane Pavillion

18

Saburo watched Tora melt into the darkness, then crept around the house where the gambler had taken refuge. He felt certain that people were watching because Tora had made such a racket pounding on their door.

The houses in the amusement quarter were built close together. Many were two stories tall. Unlike the shops and homes of merchants, they had few storage yards behind them. What there was opened to alleys where refuse was collected. At this hour, the brothels and wine shops were still busy. Many lights shone from upper and lower windows and doorways.

But the house that interested Saburo remained dark. It was a home, not a business. That did not mean that there were no watchers inside, peering out through chinks in the shutters. Saburo regretted that he was not wearing his black clothes, so much more suitable for surreptitious excursions. He moved cautiously from shadow to shadow, with the unconscious grace of a cat on the prowl, sliding around objects, dimly seen in the inadequate moonlight. When he reached the area behind the house, it lay in utter darkness and silence. The indistinct noise he heard came from the rest of the quarter.

Once he reached the back wall of the house, Saburo crawled along it, bent low beneath the few windows on this side. Behind one of the windows he suddenly saw a faint strip of light appear, and knew he had been right. People had been watching from the dark house and had decided that the troublemakers had finally left.

Unfortunately Saburo could not see inside. But the house was raised a few feet above ground level, and he found a gaping hole in the boards that allowed access to the space beneath. Crawling in, he got on his hands and knees and made his way cautiously through the dark in the general direction of the room where he had seen the light. It was dirty and smelled unpleasant, but it was warmer than it had been outside.

He soon heard indistinct voices and wriggled forward until he was directly beneath the room where the men were talking.

He recognized the voice of the monkey. The other voice was soft and silky but something about it sent a shiver down Saburo’s spine.

The monkey was making excuses. He sounded desperate.

The silky voice told him, “This is not the first time,” adding, “You’re useless scum!” The monkey tried again, his voice becoming shrill. The silky voice asked, “Why should I care?” The monkey pleaded. The silky voice lost some of its softness: “Enough. I’m at the end of my patience with you.”

It sounded very much as though the monkey had been working for the silky voice. Saburo began to suspect that the silly bastard had made the mistake of leading them straight to the home of his boss, Kanemoto. If so, he had every reason to be afraid.

As if to confirm this, the silky voice suddenly snapped, “Shut up, you dog! It’s not enough that you’re so bad at your game that a complete amateur caught you. You then allow yourself to be chased, and come straight here. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have opened my door to you. Do you know what will happen if anyone saw you come in?”

The monkey could be heard mumbling frantic apologies.

Saburo was beginning to enjoy himself. Any moment now, the monkey would say the other man’s name, confirming that silky voice was indeed Kanemoto. Tora could take this information to the police.

There was a loud crash above, and then the weasel screamed shrilly. This was followed by more crashes and the sound of blows. The screams went on, interspersed with “Shut up, you piece of dung. You’re not going to forget this.”

Saburo’s pleasure faded. Listening to another human being beaten to a pulp brought back bad memories. He was tempted to cover his ears but did not want to miss some crucial information.

The monkey shrieked, “Stop hitting me or I’ll …”

The blows ceased.

“You’ll do what?”

The monkey sobbed, “Nothing. I meant nothing, Kanemoto-sama.”

“Are you threatening me with the police? And what would happen to you then, scum?” asked the voice, silky once again.

Sounding desperate now, the monkey said, “I’ll go to jail rather than be beaten to death by you.”

Saburo almost applauded.

He did not hear the gangster’s response, because a woman’s voice called out, “What’s going on, Kanemoto? What’s all the screaming?”

Her refined nasal, singsong intonation marked her as a courtesan, one of the women in the quarter who had climbed to the top of their trade.

Kanemoto, finally identified, said, “It’s nothing, my love. Go back to bed. Just some business I have to take care of.”

He sounded different now. His voice was soft and the tone almost pleading. Saburo was not surprised when the woman did not obey. He heard the sound of a door sliding open and an exclamation of disgust. “Ugh! Who’s that? He’s been bleeding all over your gown and the floor.”

Before Kanemoto could react, the pathetic monkey made his next move. He wailed, “Lady Suzaku, dearest, kindest lady, most beautiful lady of the willow quarter! Please help me. I’ve done nothing.”

She squealed, “Don’t touch me, you filthy animal.”

There was the sound of another blow, followed by a groan, and Kanemoto snapped, “Stay away from her, you hear?” Then he added to the woman, “The bastard let himself be caught cheating at dice. Someone chased him, and the stupid fool led them straight to my house.”

The woman sucked in her breath sharply. “He’ll go to the warden, or even the police. They’ll come here. I’m leaving. I should never have come. You’re poison, Kanemoto.”

Kanemoto cried, “Don’t go, dearest. Nobody will come, and if they do, they’ll find nothing. Sweetheart, I’ll pay your debts.”

Below, in the darkness, Saburo shook his head. Even gangsters were fools about women.

She said, “I can’t come here again, but if I had a little place of my own, you could come to me. Away from the quarter. Someplace we can be together safely.”

Kanemoto pleaded, “I’ll find it. Only don’t leave me.”

“You must make sure he doesn’t talk. If he talks …”

They fell silent, but suddenly the monkey started sobbing and pleading again, his voice indistinct with panic.

Then Saburo heard a gurgling sound and the wild tapping of feet on the floor above, then a heavy thud and silence.

For a moment, he was unsure what had happened.

The woman said, “Pah! He pissed all over the floor. It’s disgusting. You could have waited until I’d gone.”

Kanemoto, panting slightly, replied, “Come, my dear. Surely you’re used to watching men die in your arms. Love and death, it’s all much the same.”

Saburo felt nausea rising. They’d killed the poor bastard! He heard the rustling of a gown, a door slid open above, and she was gone. Kanemoto muttered. A scraping, sliding noise followed. The gangster was moving the monkey’s body.

Saburo was still sickened by what he had heard, but he waited, curious to see how a gangster disposed of inconvenient corpses.

When the sounds above faded, Saburo crept back to the opening. It showed as a paler rectangle in the darkness and he hurried. Halfway there, he touched something warm and lashed out. Some creature spat, hissed, and attacked. Suddenly claws were imbedded in his face. The shock and pain almost made him cry out, but if Kanemoto found him, he would surely get rid of him also. So he fought silently, grasping the furry beast and pulling it from his head. It resisted viciously. In his distress and in the dark, it seemed to be a tiger. Eventually, he got his hands around the animal’s throat and squeezed. Before it went limp, its four claws tore at his face and arms. He flung the body aside and found that he was bleeding from his face, scalp, and both hands and arms.

Worse was about to come!

The paler square of the opening disappeared. For a moment, Saburo was disoriented and moved frantically this way and that in the darkness. Reason returned and, feeling about above himself, he managed to guess from the direction of the overhead beams where he was and started crawling again. On his way, he encountered the corpse of the animal and decided it was only a cat after all, though a rather large one.

But then a new noise reached his ears. Someone was hammering. He followed the sound, and when he reached the outer wall, he felt along it. The hammering stopped.

Alas, the opening was gone. Something soft and yielding blocked it. He felt it, touched clothing and hair, and realized he had been joined by the corpse of the gambler.

With some difficulty in the confined space he moved the gambler aside. The hole through which he had entered, and through which Kanemoto had shoved the body, was now closed off. He was trapped under the gangster chief’s house with the body of a murdered man.