The Case of the Sharaku Murders (4 page)

From the inside pocket of his jacket, Inspector Onodera removed a folded piece of paper and handed it to his two companions. “Here's a copy of the ad Fujimura ran in
Japanese Antique Book News
.
Frankly, it doesn't strike me it would do the trick. But Fujimura seemed confident the thief would see it.”

The ad gave the name of Mr. Fujimura's shop and the titles of the two missing volumes. It didn't mention they had been stolen, just that he was looking for them.

“And?” Yosuke looked uneasily at the detective. “You think Mr. Saga saw this ad?”

“It's possible,” replied Onodera, nodding his head. “Saga stole the books, then when he saw the ad, he had a pang of conscience. It fits, doesn't it?”

“But in that case,” Ryohei countered, “why not just return the books and keep quiet? Why go to the trouble of writing his name on the back of the parcel?”

“You got me there,” said the detective with a puzzled look, refolding the piece of paper and slipping it back into his pocket.

“Maybe it
was
a suicide note after all…” mumbled Yosuke.

The other two men caught their breath.

“Everyone knew Mr. Saga was collecting Koetsu's Noh plays,” Yosuke went on. “It's possible he showed the two stolen volumes to someone. Maybe they were even among the ones
I
saw. You see, collectors are a bit like children: they love to show off their toys. They can't help it—it's something about the way their brains are hard wired. He probably showed them to any number of people. Of course, these are books after all. It's not like there couldn't be others exactly the same, so having them wouldn't necessarily make him a thief. But looking at it from his point of view, he might have thought someone would see the ad and turn him in. He was a man of very high principles, so I think he would have taken his own life sooner than suffer public humiliation. Writing his name like that on the back of the parcel must have been his way of taking responsibility.”

When Yosuke had finished, Onodera nodded. “Sure is a shame to take your life over a book,” the detective said pensively.

“I don't think Mr. Saga would have been troubled by it if he hadn't felt his position in the art world carried a great deal of responsibility. It wasn't something he could sweep under the rug. If the theft had come to light it would have been a huge scandal, bringing discredit not only on himself but anyone associated with him. I think writing his name on the parcel was his way of saying, ‘I'm paying with my life for what I did, so please don't pursue this any further.'”

“Spoken like a true samurai,” muttered Onodera. “Not that I'd ever condone stealing, but I understand where you're coming from. As a policeman, though, it's hard to go against one's gut instinct. To an extent, I could accept Saga had committed suicide over stealing the books, but the question of why his name was on the parcel was still nagging at me. That's why I came for the funeral—to verify it was really his handwriting. I showed the package to Mizuno Keiji, Saga's brother-in-law. He confirmed it beyond any possible doubt… So I guess that settles it. If the verdict is suicide, so be it. It's a bit late to quibble over Saga's motives. I'll ring up Fujimura and ask him to overlook the theft of the books. No need to go stirring up more trouble.”

Yosuke bowed to the detective and thanked him.

“So was that what you wanted to ask us?” prompted Ryohei.

“What? Oh, no, actually it was something else. But it doesn't matter. I don't think it's relevant any longer.”

“Not relevant?”

“It's nothing really. Just an odd remark I overheard at the temple while I was talking to Mizuno which bothered me a bit…”

“What sort of remark?”

“That Professor Nishijima is responsible for Saga's death.”

At the mention of Nishijima's name Ryohei and Yosuke gave a start.

“Don't worry. I'm sure it's just malicious gossip,” the detective hastened to add, seeing the looks on their faces. “There's no evidence to suggest anything of the kind. People are just saying if Saga's death would make anyone to be happy, it's the professor. Mizuno dismissed the idea as ridiculous. Still, it bothered me, so I asked around at the funeral to see if anyone might know something. That's how I learned about you two and well, here we are. But now I know for sure the writing on the parcel does belong to Saga, so it doesn't matter anymore. Anyway, tailing you wasn't a
complete
waste of time—I got a good drink out of it!”

With a chuckle the detective tossed back another shot of whisky. Watching, Yosuke and Ryohei at last began to relax.

“Boy, am I going to sleep well tonight,” said Onodera, gazing fondly into his empty glass.

2

A Tantalizing Discovery

O
ctober
23
      IT WAS SATURDAY, one week after his meeting with Yosuke and Ryohei was walking down the long hill from Surugadai in Kanda toward Ogawamachi. He was on his way to the Tokyo Antique Book Association's exhibition hall at the bottom of the hill.

That Friday and Saturday the Association was holding its weekly rare book fair. Ryohei had learned that Kojima Usui's
Late Edo Ukiyo-e
—
his personal Holy Grail of rare books—was to be offered up for sale, at an unbelievably low price, no less.

A catalogue had come in the mail. At first, when Ryohei saw the title of the book with the asking price next to it, he thought it must be a mistake. There was no way it could be so cheap. Someone must have left off a zero. But the more he thought about it, the more he began to think it might
not
be a mistake. A multi-volume anthology of Kojima's work was currently in press. Ryohei had learned that
Late Edo Ukiyo-e
was among the titles chosen for inclusion in the forthcoming volume. As soon as it was published, the value of the original edition would plummet. If someone wanted to unload it, now was the time. When looked at this way, the price was not so incredible. Ryohei's pulse quickened.

Once he had calmed down a bit, Ryohei managed to run his eyes up and down the page. He noticed a number of other titles relating to ukiyo-e, all of them rare editions which hardly ever came up for sale. He could barely contain his excitement. They were all offered at knockdown prices. Some collector must have died and his entire collection fallen into the hands of a rare book dealer. Ryohei checked to see who the seller was. He knew most of the dealers specializing in books on ukiyo-e. Catalogues from rare bookshops were always coming to the professor's office. Whenever there was something of interest, it was Ryohei's job to go and take a look, so he had come to know many of the shop owners personally. But this was someone he had never heard of. Seeing as the prices of the books were less than half what he estimated their current market value to be, perhaps this particular dealer didn't know much about ukiyo-e. Ryohei had filled out the reply postcard provided, indicating the book he was interested in buying and dropped it in a mailbox later that day.

If no one else requested the same book, it would automatically go to Ryohei. But if the seller received multiple requests, a lottery would be held to choose the purchaser.

For Ryohei, Friday could not arrive soon enough.

When it finally did, he put in a call to the Association from Professor Nishijima's office. As he had expected, there had been a drawing. By a stroke of luck, his postcard had been chosen from among the many received, which was music to Ryohei's ears. Now he could relax.

Promising to come one Saturday afternoon and purchase the book, Ryohei hung up.

The exhibition hall was crowded, though not, as one might expect, with students, as the Association rarely sold comic books. Ryohei made a beeline for the checkout counter. He could see that the books placed on reserve had been stacked on shelves behind the counter. The book dealers sponsoring the event were standing in front of the shelves whispering among themselves. Ryohei knew one of them well. Catching his eye, Ryohei greeted him.

“Hey, if it isn't young Tsuda! How's the professor these days?” A slightly built man in his fifties, the book dealer smiled affably at Ryohei from behind thick glasses and led him behind the counter. Ryohei bowed to the other men.

“Now here's a real bookworm for you,” the first man said, introducing Ryohei to his colleagues. Ryohei suddenly felt very small. “So, what brings you here today? University business?”

“Actually, I came to buy a book I requested. My name was chosen…”

“Oh, really? What's the title of the book?”

“Kojima's
Late Edo Ukiyo-e
.
”

“Oh, that was
you
,
was it? Aren't you the lucky one!” the man said as he ran his eyes over the shelves, piled high with books. “Now, where did I put that?”

“In the back and to the right,” answered one of the other book dealers, a young man. The first man shifted his gaze and quickly pulled a book from the shelf. A slip of paper with Ryohei's name on it was attached to the book with a rubber band. Checking the name was correct, the man handed the book to Ryohei.

“The books Mr. Mizuno sent us this time have been a big hit.
A Social History of Edo Colored Woodblock Prints
alone got over forty requests! Thanks to him the book fair's been a huge success. We're thrilled.”

“Where is Mr. Mizuno's bookshop?” Ryohei asked as he handed the man his money.

“Oh, he doesn't have a shop. He only sells through book fairs like this one,” the man replied, putting the money Ryohei had given him into a moneybox. “He takes part in ours once a month. Say, why don't I introduce you? He's in the back right now restocking the shelves.”

The man whispered something to the woman at the reception desk and she quickly disappeared into the back. Soon, a well-built man emerged and walked over to the counter. Though he only looked to be about forty, Ryohei surmised he was actually somewhat older. He wore a somber blue suit with silver pinstripes and had impressive features—not at all one's typical image of a rare book dealer. Ryohei had the feeling he had seen Mizuno somewhere before, but try as he might, he could not place him.

Then, once the introductions were over, Mizuno smiled at Ryohei and said, “It was nice of you to come all the way to Hachioji the other day.”

Suddenly, Ryohei remembered. Of course, Mr. Saga's brother-in-law!

Mizuno thanked Ryohei at some length for taking the trouble to attend Saga's funeral. For his part, Ryohei apologized for not having recognized his name.

“Saga Atsushi was my late sister's husband.”

Ryohei nodded and proceeded to tell Mizuno about his and Yosuke's recent encounter with Onodera. Mizuno looked surprised.

“So that detective actually tracked Yosuke down? Now that's what I call persistence!”

“But now he seems convinced it was suicide. By the way, how did you know that Mr. Saga had gone to Cape Kitayama that day?”

“Didn't Yosuke tell you? That morning Atsushi placed two calls, one to me and one to the Fuchu Public Library. He didn't seem his usual self—a bit down in the dumps. It sounded like he was calling from a train platform. Later, when I inquired at the library, the man there said the same thing. Fortunately, while he was speaking to Atsushi, he happened to overhear a station announcement for Hachinohe. That's when it hit me—Atsushi must have been heading for his cottage on Cape Kitayama. He would have had to change trains at Hachinohe to get to Fudai.”

“But why did Mr. Saga place a call to the library?”

“The Bibliophilic Society was due to meet at the library that day, you see. Atsushi called to tell them he wouldn't be able to make it. I just happened to remember they were supposed to have a meeting that day. I'm glad I did. Otherwise, who knows how long it would have been before I found out that Atsushi had been in Hachinohe? That's why Yosuke and I drove up to Iwate.” Mizuno proceeded to give Ryohei an amusing account of his trip with Yosuke.

When he was finished, Ryohei decided to change the subject.

“By the way, Mr. Mizuno, I take it you don't usually handle books about ukiyo-e.” The fact was that Ryohei still couldn't get over how cheap the book he had purchased had been—he would have expected Mizuno, as Saga Atsushi's brother-in-law, to be more familiar with the ukiyo-e market.

“As a matter of fact, I do. But before, whenever I found something good I always took it straight to Atsushi. He knew a lot of people in the art world, so it was simpler than selling it through the Association.”

“I see… Only, it's unheard of for so many ukiyo-e books to go on sale like this all at once. I could hardly believe it.”

Mizuno laughed. “Is that so? Well, the people in the Bibliophilic Society know me pretty well. As for Professor Nishijima, on the other hand, I can't say I've had any dealings with
him
in the past.”

Ryohei nodded.
What a shame
,
he thought. To Mizuno he said, “By the way, it's a bit late to be saying this after I've paid and all, but I hope you made some profit on this book.”

“That's alright,” Mizuno replied. “You just let me worry about that.”

“I mean, I'm happy to have gotten it so cheap but…”

“To tell the truth, I'm planning to get out of the market for ukiyo-e books after this. I was mainly buying them at Atsushi's urging. But now he's gone and… well, to be honest, there's not much profit in it for me. As a matter of fact, many of the books I put up for sale here this weekend were his.”

“Ah, that explains it,” said Ryohei. “Some of these titles are really quite rare.”

“If I were more altruistic I would have donated them to a library somewhere. But I'm a businessman, and anyway, I like to think I'm honoring Atsushi's memory more by selling them at cut-rate prices to young scholars like you. But I guess that's just a rationalization. He's probably rolling over in his grave right now!”

The men behind the counter all burst out laughing. At this unexpected cacophony, everyone in the hall turned and looked in their direction, curious about what had happened.

“Your shelves seem to be getting pretty empty, Mr. Mizuno,” the first man said as he surveyed the room.

“You're right. I forgot all about them.” As though suddenly remembering something, Mizuno disappeared into the back and returned shortly with an armful of books.

“Here, let me help,” Ryohei said, taking half of the pile from him.

“I guess people really know a bargain when they see one. This is the third time today I've had to restock,” Mizuno said with a satisfied smile as he placed the books on the shelves. Nodding, Ryohei handed the books he was holding to Mizuno. “Say—” Mizuno said abruptly, “Kiyochika also spent time up in Northern Japan, didn't he?”

“You mean Kobayashi Kiyochika? Yeah, I think he spent about a year in Tohoku toward the end of his life traveling from town to town exhibiting his work.”

Kobayashi Kiyochika—as everyone familiar with ukiyo-e knows—was among the best artists of his generation and is considered one of the last great ukiyo-e masters of the second half of the nineteenth century. He produced much of his best work in the late 1870s and early 1880s, taking over where Utagawa Hiroshige left off, injecting a new sense of realism into Japanese landscape painting. Sometimes called “the master of light and shadow,” Kiyochika was way ahead of his time in his skillful use of shading. Tradition has it that his fortunes—along with ukiyoe's popularity—declined during his later years, but even today he enjoys considerable fame in some parts of Japan. “Not much research has been done on Kiyochika's life,” explained Ryohei, “but it appears he spent about ten months——from July 1906 through May 1907 touring Tohoku while based in Hirosaki in Aomori Prefecture. Hence previously unknown paintings of his still pop up from time to time in that part of the country. But why do you ask?”

“Oh, it's just that I came across a book you might be interested in. The paintings in it aren't especially good, but I noticed Kiyochika had written the introduction,” Mizuno replied as he rummaged through the pile of books he was holding. He pulled out a large but not very thick folio-sized volume. It had a stitched Japanese binding and appeared to be quite old. A white strip of paper had been wrapped around the cover and on it someone—presumably Mizuno—had written,
Painting catalogue with preface by Kiyochika
.

“Well, they're not ukiyo-e, that's for sure,” said Ryohei, flipping through the pages. If Kiyochika had written the preface, he assumed the book dated to the Meiji period—that is, sometime between 1868 and 1912.

A photographic plate had been pasted onto each page. The paintings were done in the Naturalist style imported from the West; even though the plates were in black-and-white, Ryohei could tell the artist's use of shading was quite good. But despite the skillful use of Western techniques, the paintings had an old-fashioned Japanese quality to them.
How strange
,
he thought.

“I think they're what are called Akita School paintings,” Mizuno said matter-of-factly.

Ah, no wonder they look old-fashioned
,
thought Ryohei. Based in Akita Prefecture in Northern Japan, the Akita School of Dutch (which meant Western) Painting
—
Akita ranga
in Japanese—had flourished in the 1770s, around the same time the pioneering ukiyo-e artist Torii Kiyonaga had been active in Edo two hundred years ago. As an art historian, Ryohei felt he should have been able to identify the paintings on his own just by looking at them. But his attention had been focused on Kiyochika, who, as far as he knew, had no connection to the Akita School.

“Anyway, I didn't buy the book for the pictures,” Mizuno went on. “If they'd been by Shozan or Naotake instead of some unknown artist that'd be different. It was only Kiyochika's preface that piqued my interest.”