The Old Men of Omi

Chapter Twenty-Six

Akitada found Kosehira not only awake but on his veranda, stretching and peering up at the rapidly changing sky. Already the soft rosy colors of the sunrise were fading to mere brightness, and the sky was turning blue.

Akitada was only partly aware of this. His heart and mind were still filled with the golden image of Yukiko, standing there by the railing, telling him that she would marry her cousin. His idea about the Jizo killer faded in significance, and when Kosehira greeted him with a cheerful, “Akitada! What brings you so early?” he found little enthusiasm in explaining his theory.

Kosehira stared at him. “That old murder? You think an old murder is behind this? I don’t see how this could be. Not only was this-what?-at least twenty years ago, but the case was cleared up and the killer confessed. Are you suggesting that he somehow survived and returned to avenge himself?”

Akitada said stubbornly, “I’ve had a feeling all along that something happened long ago and that it involved the judge and the jailer. I just did not know how the two old peasants from Okuni fit in. Then Sukemichi, their overlord, was also killed and his father was involved in a notorious murder case. In a murder case, mind you, where he was the suspect. What more do you want?”

Kosehira sighed. “I suppose it’s the archives then. There should be documents covering any murder case important enough to involve a Taira.”

?

The archives, however, were the place where Akitada’s team had been working industriously on the legal documents involving the temples Enryaku-ji and Onjo-ji. The hall was cluttered with people and stacks of document boxes in various states of completion. In fact, Akitada’s own desk nearly sagged under towering stack of paperwork that had been gathered for his information or study.

He and Kosehira stood for a moment at the entrance, regarding the place in despair.

“I should be at work here.” Akitada stated the obvious.

“We’ll cause all sorts of confusion,” Kosehira said.

For a moment they remained undecided, then Kosehira found his archivist, who had been lending a hand to the guests, and directed him to find documents relating to trials some fifteen to twenty-five years ago.

The elderly man bowed and led them to shelving where dusty boxes had been resting in possibly permanent peace. He dusted off the first stack with an old rag he carried and remarked, “The most notorious case involved Taira Sukenori. It happened in the Echi district and …”

“That’s the one,” Kosehira and Akitada cried together.

The archivist paused and looked at them in surprise. “Just that year and none of the others?”

“Just that case,” said Akitada.

A moment later, they both sat on the floor with a single document box. As an economy, the filing system required that only the basic facts of major cases be kept. The box contained documentation for other murder trials, as well as for two cases of arson and a trial for piracy on Lake Biwa. Even so, the Taira murder consisted of an impressive number of sheets.

Kosehira read, passing each sheet to Akitada when he was done.

“Something wasn’t right with this case,” Akitada remarked. “Did you see where Hatta tried to withdraw his confession?”

“It only says that the condemned prisoner protested his sentence. So, apparently, did his son. Who was this Hatta?”

Akitada shuffled through the pages. “It says he was Sukenori’s betto.”

“Perhaps he was angry that Sukenori did not help him?”

“Hmm. The case seems clear enough. The victim, a rice merchant, was staying at the Taira manor as a guest. During a hunt, to which this Fumi Takahiro had been invited, Hatta shot him with his bow and arrow. Apparently there had been an argument over Hatta’s daughter being dishonored by Fumi the night before. He shot him close range. There was no question about this being a hunting accident.”

Kosehira frowned. “It seems straightforward enough.”

“Did you note the names of the two witnesses?”

Kosehira took another look. “They were two beaters. Oh! Juro and Wakiya. Yes. But I still don’t see it.”

“No, but there is a hint here that Hatta may not have been guilty. Add that to the rumors about Sukenori, and it looks very much as if Hatta confessed to protect his master.”

“And regretted it.”

The archivist cleared his throat. They looked at him.

“There was another case involving a Hatta, Excellency. In the following year. Shall I get that box, too?”

“By all means,” said Akitada. He turned to Kosehira and said, “I think we’ve got it. I think we’ve solved the mystery. What do you think?” He rubbed his hands in his eagerness to prove the point.

Kosehira looked happy, too. “You know, I should remember more about this story. Of course, I was preoccupied with my own affairs. Graduating from the university, trying for my first post, a new marriage. But I do recall talk about Sukenori. Something about a business quarrel over debt. You think that Sukenori bribed his way out of a murder charge? He was supposed to be in financial trouble.”

“Excellent! Now we have a motive.”

“It would take a lot of money to make another man confess to murder,” Kosehira said dubiously.

The archivist returned, blowing dust from another old box. He set it down, saying, “It involved a relative, I think. The Hattas must have been a violent family.”

Akitada reached eagerly for the box. Together with Kosehira, he scanned the content until they found the name again.

“Here it is. Hatta Takashi.” Kosehira pointed. “Must be the son. There’s not much here, is there?”

The incident that led to the arrest and conviction of Hatta Takashi was the young man’s attack on Taira Sukenori, during which Sukenori suffered a serious knife wound. Apparently Sukenori had pressed the judge (Nakano) for a quick judgment that would remove this violent youth from the area. Hatta Takashi was sent into exile and hard labor, just as his father had been the year before.”

Akitada asked the archivist, “Is there any further news of either Hatta?”

The old man shook his head. “Not to my knowledge. Perhaps their family is still in the area, though their property would have been confiscated after the murder conviction. That information would be in the land surveys. Do you want me to look?”

Yes, they did.

What they found confirmed the archivist’s assumption that the property had been confiscated. The victim’s family had been paid off and the rest, all but a small parcel, had become government property, but now belonged to Enryaku-ji.

Kosehira commented bitterly, “Soon those monks will own all of my province.”

The second case against Hatta’s son caused the confiscation of the small parcel left to the children. This property was given to Taira Sukenori as recompense for the serious wound he had suffered at the hands of the younger Hatta.

Kosehira said, “So both the father and the son were sent into exile and hard labor. After all this time, they are most likely dead. That leaves the mother and a daughter. What happened to them?”

But the archivist had no answer this time.

Akitada sighed. “We must go back and talk to the older peasants in the area. That old man serving in the stables at the Taira manor knew something he didn’t want to talk about. I bet he has the answer.”

“I cannot possibly leave again,” Kosehira said. “Work has piled up while we were hunting.”

Akitada glanced over at his desk. “Neither can I. The clerks are almost done. I need to look at their reports and then write up my own.”

There was another reason for his wish to finish his assignment. He knew he had to leave Kosehira’s house. Staying even one more day after what had passed between him and Yukiko was impossible.

They sat silently for a few moments. Then Kosehira asked, “Do you think he will kill again?”

“I don’t know. Is there anyone left alive who had a hand in the trials of the two Hattas?”

“What about the original victim. Do we know anything about him?”

They bent over the documents again. Even the archivist inserted himself to help. Akitada was amused. For once, they had managed to rouse the curiosity of a man who only cared about keeping his boxes filed in the proper order.

“There it is,” cried Kosehira, finding the page. “ ‘The Otsu merchant Fumi Takahiro, in his fortieth year.’ Fumi? Now I wonder…”

The archivist cried, “Yes, sir. There is a rice dealer near the harbor. His name is Fumi. A very wealthy man.”

“Well, he cannot be the same.” Akitada smiled. “A son perhaps?”

“I don’t know,” said the archivist. “He’s quite old, I think.”

“Hmm.” Akitada pondered for a moment. “I think I’ll pay him a visit later tonight after we deal with our duties.”

Kosehira gave a sigh of relief. “I cannot tell you how much work awaits me. I’ll have dinner here and go back late.”

Akitada was helping the archivist return the papers to their boxes. He nodded. “I’ll have a bite in the city. Don’t wait up for me. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Much better than risking another meeting with Yukiko. But he could not help the pain this thought brought with it.

?

Akitada walked to Otsu Harbor. He wished he could have told Takechi what they had discovered, but it was too late. The chief had gone home to his family.

Not having any family to go to, Akitada had a quick meal in a busy restaurant catering to travelers. The food was barely edible, but he had little appetite anyway. He paid and asked directions to the business of the rice merchant Fumi. He was told that Fumi Tokiari lived in a substantial home close to the harbor. It turned out to be one of several such properties belonging to wealthy merchants and ship owners. In this case, there was still a sort of business in the front of the large building where people could purchase rice for their households, but Akitada had been told that most of the family’s business was in shipping large amounts of rice to the capital and that part of the business operated from warehouses close to the port.

Still, given the Fumi wealth, Akitada approved of the modesty that still acknowledged humble beginnings when many another rich man had already moved to an estate in the suburbs. He passed into the shop, where he was greeted politely by two clerks, and asked to speak to Fumi Tokiari. A clerk dashed off to announce him, and a moment later a heavy-set elderly man in a sober black silk robe emerged from the back.

“I am Sugawara,” Akitada introduced himself, “and temporarily attached to the governor’s office. His Excellency has asked me to look into some troubling local crimes. You could be most helpful by giving me some information.”

Fumi looked surprised and uneasy, but he bowed deeply and led the way to the back of the house. There, in the well-furnished office where he conducted his business he offered Akitada a seat and refreshments.

“Nothing, thank you. I’m not altogether sure what your relationship to Fumi Takahiro is, but my interest concerns him rather than you.”

“He was my brother.”

Akitada thought the man’s nervousness had increased and wondered at it. “I understand he was the victim of a murder on the estate of Lord Taira Sukenori?”

Fumi compressed his lips. “Yes.”

It was clear that Akitada would have to work for his information.

“The man who confessed to the crime was Lord Taira’s betto, a man by the name of Hatta. He was sentenced to life in the mines in the north. Apparently his son later attacked Lord Taira. Do you happen to know why he should have done such a thing?”

“I know very little about the case, sir. My brother had some business with Lord Taira and, since he enjoyed hunting, he had been invited to the Taira estate. Lord Taira was a great hunter. The murder happened during a hunt. Lord Taira at first claimed it was an accident, but the arrow tip protruded from my poor brother’s back and the authorities decided he must have been shot by someone very close and facing him. This caused a lot of rumors and I pressed for an investigation. It was then that the man Hatta confessed.”

“But what was his motive?”

Fumi made a face. “The man had the nerve to claim that my brother had attacked his young daughter sexually.”

“That would constitute a strong motive. A father has a right to protect his children. You clearly did not believe this. Why wasn’t Hatta given consideration during the sentencing.?”

Fumi had reddened with anger. “Because it was a foul lie! My brother would never have laid a hand on the girl.”

“It does you credit to defend your brother,” Akitada said dubiously.

“Of course I defend my brother, but in this case there was proof that my brother was innocent.”

“How so?”

“My brother preferred men to women. He was unmarried and had never shown any interest in females.” Fumi paused. “That’s why I am his heir. He never had any children.”

“Ah!” Akitada nodded. “That is very interesting. You must have wondered at the time who would make up such stories.”

“Not at all. Hatta lied.”

“Yes, perhaps. What sort of business did your brother have with Lord Taira?”

The look of uneasiness returned to the rice merchant’s face. “My brother had advanced his lordship some funds from time to time. It was good business. The money earned a satisfactory interest. Lord Taira had a great estate to administer and a certain manner of living that required a good deal of money.”

“I see. When you came to settle your brother’s estate, had all the debts been paid?”

Fumi fidgeted. “No. And I never got the money either. Lord Taira claimed there was no debt, that he had paid my brother before his death. I tried to collect from his son after he died, but he also refused.”

“Was it a large debt?”

“Very large. I almost lost the business.”

Akitada studied the merchant with interest. Fumi certainly had no love for the Taira family, father or son. He might well have a good motive for murdering Sukemichi. Sukemichi had never fitted very well with the other victims. But after a moment, he discarded the notion, thanked Fumi, and left.

It was getting dark by then and he was tired, but instead of returning to the villa, he stayed on in the tribunal for several more hours, working on the legal documents on his desk. Only a servant was still in the archives, and he felt guilty for keeping the man from his bed. But he felt a great urgency to finish this assignment and return to the capital. The children would be disappointed that they would not attend the great shrine festival after all, but he would try to make it up to them.

When he finally closed the last document box and stretched, the servant was fast asleep leaning against a pillar. Akitada looked with satisfaction at the pile of pages that constituted his notes. Tomorrow he would draft his report, discuss it with the members of his group, and then give it the final polish. The clerks would make copies, he and the others would sign, and they would all return to their homes.

For a moment, he recalled her image as he had seen her last, a slender figure in blue surrounded by the golden light of the rising sun. He had made his farewells on that occasion, telling her that he would always remember her just like that.

He doubted it was enough to live on in the future.