The Case of the Sharaku Murders (27 page)

“Yoshimura?”

“The president of the university was at the memorial service—apparently he formally extended an offer which Yoshimura eagerly accepted. Isn't that a laugh?”

“What about his job at the museum?” asked Ryohei.

“The teaching position's only part-time, for now he'll get to keep his fingers in both pies. He'll be taking over the professor's classes.”

“Really?”

“Is that all you can say?” asked Iwakoshi. “Aren't you mad? I mean, what are we, chopped liver? We've been his teaching assistants all these years. Yoshimura's perfectly aware of how we'd feel about this. Just because the president of the university asked him personally doesn't mean he had to go and accept the offer right off bat. He should have talked to us first. That's common sense.”

All the others nodded in agreement. Most of them were undergraduates in the professor's seminar and knew Iwakoshi and Ryohei much better than Yoshimura.

“That snake!” continued Iwakoshi. “Who would've thought he had designs on becoming a professor?”

“It seems he's the
only
one who's benefitted from the professor's death,” said Yumi. Her words took everyone by surprise.

“Now that you mention it,” said Iwakoshi angrily, “it looks like he's getting ready to take over the professor's research on Shoei.”

“That reminds me, Ryohei,” said Yumi. “A man named Mizuno was looking for you a little while ago.”

“Is that so?” Ryohei replied nonchalantly.

“He asked if you wouldn't mind calling him tomorrow at this number.” She reached into her pocket, took out a piece of notepaper and handed it to Ryohei.

I bet he's annoyed at me—I haven't seen him since he gave me the catalogue
.

The day had been one long ordeal.

Thanking Yumi, Ryohei sank deep into thought.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN you're quitting? You can't just give up on ukiyo-e!” exclaimed Yosuke, staring at Ryohei in utter disbelief.

The two friends were seated in a sushi restaurant in Jimbocho in downtown Tokyo. After the funeral Ryohei had called Yosuke at his office and suggested they get together for a drink.

“I've had enough. I'm fed up,” complained Ryohei, looking serious. “The professor's dead, and now there's talk of Yoshimura coming to Musashino this spring to teach. Suddenly I feel like I don't have the strength to go on.”

“But what about Boston?” asked Yosuke.

“That probably won't happen now. The ministry's request was actually made to the EAA, not the professor, so now that he's gone…”

“I see… What a mess!”

“It's my own fault. I was too easy-going. I should have listened to you in the beginning and stuck up for myself more.”

Yosuke was silent for a while. At last he asked, “So what do you plan to do after you quit?”

“I haven't figured that out yet. I guess I'll go back to Morioka and talk it over with my parents. I'll probably look for a job there. Anyway, I have a while to think things over. I have to stay at the university until the end of March to teach the professor's class.”

“So now
you're
throwing in the towel, too?” Yosuke muttered sadly. “It looks like the only person to come out of all this smelling like roses is Yoshimura. So he fancies himself a professor, does he? What cheek!”

Ryohei was in a dilemma. Should he tell Yosuke what Inspector Onodera had said to him? He still hadn't made up his mind.

Yosuke continued: “I was furious when I saw that article on Shoei in the newspaper. But now the professor's dead, it all seems so silly. At least he was a worthy opponent, but Yoshimura!” He smiled ruefully. “As a matter of fact,” he added, “I went to see the professor the night he died…”

A shiver ran down Ryohei's spine.

“I must not have been thinking straight,” Yosuke went on. “I got off the train and walked all the way to his house before I remembered the professor always goes to Hakone right after New Year's, so I turned around and went home. I was shocked when I heard about his death on the news the next morning. To think he'd been home after all! I have to admit, I couldn't help feeling sad. I mean, I'd known the guy for over ten years—ever since I was in college. It hit me like a ton of bricks.”

Ryohei breathed a sigh of relief. Now he could tell Yosuke what Onodera had said. He proceeded to do so, leaving out the part about the cloud of suspicion hanging over his friend's head.

“Arson! You're kidding!” exclaimed Yosuke, his eyes growing wide.

“But Onodera himself says he thinks it was an accident,” added Ryohei.

“Hmm… I wonder. Why do you someone would want to kill the professor?”

“A random act of violence perhaps?”

“Now
that's
farfetched. If it
was
arson, it can't be a coincidence. No, someone wanted the professor dead. So who benefits? Yoshimura for one, but I don't think he's got the guts to pull it off. So far he's been lucky things have gone his way, but I don't think he could have seen this far ahead. Anyway, he still needed the professor. That leaves only one logical conclusion: the only people who had a motive for wanting the professor out of the way are you and me.”

Ryohei was flabbergasted.

“As soon as the police start digging around for anything that suggests arson,” continued Yosuke, “Yoshimura and the others are bound to point them in our direction. After all, they know we both had an axe to grind with the professor… Oh, wait a minute… You don't need to worry after all.”

“Why's that?” asked Ryohei.

“Because Yoshimura won't dare drag you into it. If he mentions his suspicions of you to the police he'll first have to admit he stole your research. He'd be digging his own grave. I'm the one who's going to bear the brunt of their attack.”

“C'mon. You're being paranoid.”

“Not at all. I wouldn't be surprised if Yoshimura's already talked to the police about me. Perhaps that's the reason for Onodera's visit to Tokyo.”

Ryohei said nothing.

“In which case,” Yosuke went on, “my little visit to the professor's house that night could prove a tad inconvenient…”

Yosuke gave Ryohei a wry smile.

January 8

THE NEXT DAY, Ryohei dialed the number Onodera had given him and asked to speak to the detective.

“Is that right?” Onodera said cheerfully when Ryohei was done speaking. “So he realized the professor wasn't there and went home? I figured as much.”

“He mentioned this without any prompting from me, you understand,” Ryohei hastened to explain. “It just came out naturally when we were talking about the professor. I'm positive he's telling the truth.”

When he had finished speaking to Onodera, Ryohei gave Mizuno a call. It was a call he dreaded making. He had no one to blame for that but himself.

Mizuno answered the phone right away.

“Nice to hear from you. I'm sorry I missed you yesterday,” he said in a surprisingly cheerful voice. Ryohei breathed a sigh of relief.

“I'm very sorry about the painting catalogue,” Ryohei said, beginning with an apology.

“Huh? Oh, there's no need to apologize,” responded Mizuno. “I gave it to you with no strings attached. I was only hoping it might be of some use to you.”

Mizuno laughed.

“I must admit,” he went on. “I was pretty surprised when I saw that newspaper article. Sharaku—imagine! I have to hand it to you art historians. That's a fine bit of research.”

Ryohei was at a loss for what to say.

“So anyway, where are you now?” asked Mizuno.

Ryohei arranged to meet Mizuno in a café near the west exit of Shinjuku Station. He said he had a favor to ask Ryohei and there was someone he wanted him to meet. He didn't give a name. As Ryohei couldn't very well refuse, he set out for Shinjuku. He arrived at the café a little past the specified time. Mizuno was already seated inside, engrossed in conversation with another man.

“Ah, there you are.”

Smiling, Mizuno beckoned Ryohei to sit beside him. Ryohei and the other man exchanged greetings.

He looks vaguely familiar
.

The man was perhaps a little over forty. He wore thick glasses and had flecks of gray, but his long hair and stylish jacket made him appear considerably younger.

“This is Minegishi Takashi,” said Mizuno.

Of course
…

Minegishi was a leading member of the Ukiyo-e Connoisseurship Society. He was especially close to the late Saga Atsushi. Though he hadn't officially been Saga's protégé, everyone treated him as such. Mizuno must have thought Ryohei might not want to meet Minegishi if he mentioned his name. Ryohei had seen Minegishi's photograph several times in magazines but never met him.

“Takashi has been very eager to meet you,” said Mizuno, looking somewhat at a loss for how to explain the reason for the introduction.

“The truth is,” volunteered Minegishi, “Keiji here was telling me how he'd given you that painting catalogue. That's when I started pestering him to introduce us.”

“He seems interested in finding out something,” said Mizuno smiling. “He has a bee in his bonnet when it comes to Kiyochika.”

Ryohei finally put two and two together.

Ah, that's right. Minegishi's an expert on Kiyochika
.

“You see, I've been out of the country since last fall,” explained Minegishi. “So I only just found out about the catalogue.”

“Yes. Now, if you'd been
here
I'd have shown it to you straight away,” said Mizuno defensively. “Bad timing, that's all.”

Minegishi looked at Mizuno and scowled. How could you give a perfect stranger a book you knew I'd kill to get my hands on, his look seemed to say.

Minegishi was a professional photographer, specializing mostly in nature photography—landscapes and that sort of thing. That was how he had become interested in ukiyo-e. He had even written an article on the use of light in Kiyochika's woodblock prints. One could argue he was Japan's foremost expert on Kiyochika's work.

“And now Professor Nishijima is dead… Is it true Sato's catalogue was destroyed in the fire?” Minegishi asked Ryohei.

“I'm afraid so,” answered Ryohei. “I'm very sorry.”

“Now, about that,” chimed in Mizuno. “You didn't happen to make a copy, did you? The newspaper mentioned Kiyochika's preface in the article but it didn't quote any of it. I
told
Takashi there was nothing interesting in it, but he wouldn't give up… he kept harping on about how he wanted to see it for himself. By accident I went and mentioned you might have a copy, and this is what happened!”

Mizuno gave a quizzical smile and looked at Minegishi.

“I know it's probably nothing, but I just can't stop thinking about it. I'm sorry for being so pushy,” Minegishi apologized.

“As a matter of fact, I do have a copy,” replied Ryohei. “It's not here with me in Tokyo but I can bring it next time if you like.”

“You can?” exclaimed Mizuno. “Thank goodness! Now I can get him off my back.”

“So what was it about Kiyochika that you were most interested in finding out?” Ryohei asked Minegishi.

“Well, I just happen to be in the process of writing a chronology of Kiyochika's life, and I haven't been able to find out very much about the period he spent in Tohoku. I wondered if he mentioned anything about it in his preface to Sato's catalogue.”

Ryohei nodded. He knew exactly how Minegishi felt.

“The problem is, Mr. Mizuno is right—the preface is just a
fomulaic
sort of thing. It really says very little,” said Ryohei.

“I see…”

Minegishi looked disappointed.

“I suppose the only piece of information it contains is the date he visited Kosaka.”

“Really? It gives a date?”

“Yes. Sometime in late November 1906, if I'm not mistaken.”

“Is that right? Even that much is a great help,” replied Minegishi delightedly.

“But if your copy's not here in Tokyo then where is it?” asked Mizuno, as though struck by a sudden thought.

“At my parents' place in Morioka.”

“Morioka? I go there all the time,” said Minegishi. “For work, usually, but I also go twice a year to trace the route Kiyochika walked on his way to Tohoku: Sendai, Morioka, Aomori, Hirosaki…”

“Now that you mention it, Kiyochika
did
spend quite a bit of time in Morioka,” said Ryohei.

“A lot of his nikuhitsu-ga are still floating around up there,” said Minegishi. “Whenever I go I always stop at the antiques shops and ask them to keep an eye open for his paintings and give me a call if anything turns up.”