The Hell Screen (37 page)

“We came to report, sir,” announced Tora stiffly.

“Oh, yes, the actors. Did you find them?”

“Yes, sir,” they answered in unison. Genba added, “They use a riverside training hall to practice. I was lucky enough to meet the lady proprietor in one of the restaurants.”

Tora made an impolite noise. “Never mind that obnoxious moon cake of a female! She knows nothing, but one of Uemon’s girls has promised to meet me tonight.”Tora smiled, stroking his mustache. “I’ll try to get the goods on their lead actor Danjuro. He’s a very suspicious character.”

Akitada’s eyes had moved from one to the other, trying to make sense of their words. Slowly he realized that something was wrong. They pointedly avoided looking at each other. Tora and Genba had always been on the easiest, friendliest terms with each other. What could have happened? He saw Tora looking at him expectantly and tried to recall his words. “Er, what do you mean, ‘suspicious’?”

Tora gave a succinct account of events as they led up to and followed his clash with Danjuro, skipping only over his stick-fighting ordeal and the cuddle in the alley. “So you see,” he summed up, “they all turned into clams when I tried to ask questions. And all because he thought I was a constable. Which naturally made
me
think he’s got something to hide.”

Akitada stared at him. “He thought you were a constable? Whatever gave him that idea?”

Tora reddened. “Can’t imagine. Must’ve been something I said.”

“What?” Akitada persisted.

“Well, he
was
giving himself airs about being the great Danjuro and told me that I was some lowlife who had insulted his lady wife.”

Genba muttered, “Which naturally he had.”

“Shut up, you,” snarled Tora. “You weren’t there. You were too busy ogling that fat cow to keep your mind on work.”

Genba glared. “I found the place first. And I get results without getting into fights and quarrels and abusing every poor girl in sight.”

Akitada had enough. “Stop this ridiculous bickering this instant! You can settle your differences later. What facts have either of you found out that links these people to the murder of Mrs. Nagaoka?”

They shook their heads.

“Nothing at all?”

“Well,” said Tora, “they were at the temple, and Danjuro is afraid of the police. Surely that—”

Akitada snapped, “You wasted my time for that? Actors do not have to be involved in a murder to fear the police.”

“Hah,” cried Tora triumphantly. “That’s exactly what I told the fellow! With my experience as an investigator, I told him, I know better than to believe actors and acrobats are law-abiding citizens. Nine out of ten times they’re nothing but thieves and harlots.”

Genba growled, “That’s a lie! And you’re a fool to give yourself away like that! Of course they wouldn’t talk to you after that. I’ve lived longer than you and met more entertainers. They don’t like the police because they’re harassed by them. Most of them are as decent as you and me. No, more decent than you, for most of them would never look down on a man just because he’s only a peasant or a sandal maker. Miss Plumblossom didn’t look down on you for being a deserter. She knew that the minute you opened your big mouth and told her you used to be a soldier like that fellow who sent you there. Only a low-class person mocks his fellow beings, and Miss Plumblossom is not a low-class person.”

Tora sneered. “Because she once slept with some fat bastard with a title? So have half the sluts in the Willow Quarter. Besides, the woman probably lies. Look at her! Who’d want to sleep with that? She’s as big as a bear and as bald as an egg. A man would be afraid she’d smother him if she got on top for the rain and the clouds.”

Akitada had raised both hands to his head, which pounded viciously, and covered his ears.

“You filthy-mouthed bastard!” Genba shouted, purple with fury. He rose with clenched fists.

Tora shot up and bared his teeth in a snarl. “You call me that again and you’re a dead man.”

“Enough!” roared Akitada, stepping between them. He winced at an excruciating stab of pain, closed his eyes, and waited until the throbbing abated. When he opened them, he saw Tora and Genba staring at him openmouthed. He said more quietly, “Sit down, both of you!” and gingerly returned to his cushion.

They obeyed, and after regarding them bleakly, he said, “Tora, if your manners are as bad in public as they were here today, you are useless to me. Worse than useless, for your behavior reflects on me.”

Tora blanched.

“And you, Genba, seem to have allowed a casual acquaintance with a female of dubious background to get in the way of an investigation.”

Genba flushed and hung his head.

“Since neither of you can be trusted any longer, you will henceforth confine yourselves to duties around the house.”

“Sir!” they both protested.

“Please, sir. I promised to meet the little acrobat tonight,” Tora added.

It was the last straw. “Get out!” Akitada ground out between clenched teeth, fixing Tora with such a look that he flinched back. “Get out of my sight! All you’re good for is chasing women. Go clean the stable. Perhaps that will remind you of your place in this household.”

They trooped out with hanging heads, and Akitada sagged on his cushion, staring at his clenched hands. He slowly opened them and watched his fingers tremble. His heart pounded, and every heartbeat throbbed in his skull. He had lost control. The fact that he had passed a miserable day was no excuse.

Reaching for some paperwork, long postponed, he tried to distract himself with figures and accounts, but he could not shed his sense of failure.

Tora’s disparagement of actors resembled his own disdain for merchants and their kin. Tora’s attitude had severed the bond of friendship between himself and Genba, as he, Akitada, had destroyed the affection his younger sister had for him. The silent, pale young woman who had submitted to his commands today no longer looked at him with trust and fondness. He had seen resignation and fear in her eyes.

The hours passed. Seimei crept in with the evening rice and replenished the coals in the brazier. But neither warmth nor food cheered Akitada. He pushed his tray aside untouched, unrolled his bedding, and tried to forget the onerous and painful responsibilities of being a husband and family head.

* * * *

The Empty Storehouse

Akitada woke up feeling exhausted and depressed. Nothing in his household seemed to be going right. They had barely returned from the long assignment up north when the very foundations of his life started crumbling. First Yoshiko got entangled with a commoner who was in jail on a murder charge. Then she rebelled against her brother’s authority and caused Tamako to take her side, the first rift in Akitada’s marriage. And now the quarrel between Genba and Tora further destroyed the peace and harmony he had hoped to feel after years of struggle and hardship.

Akitada knew he had been too harsh with Tora and Genba. How could he expect them to be all business on their first night out in the capital? So what if after years of near abstinence, Genba had been attracted to a woman who, from all accounts, combined feminine wiles with an interest in competitive sports? Such a thing was natural and human. And Tora had pursued every available light-skirt in town because that was
his
nature. The quarrel had been provoked by the actor Danjuro, not Tora. A man like Tora could not tolerate insults; his respectability had been too hard-won. No, the fault for all this trouble lay with himself, with his cursed temper. Instead of dealing calmly with the strain produced by recent events, he had flared up and become judgmental and punitive.

With a sigh, Akitada got up, folded his bedding, put it away, and started dressing. He felt old and tired. Apparently neither age nor experience had corrected his character flaws.

He thought about the Nagaoka case, where he had made no progress whatsoever because of all the family distractions. The wretched prisoner remained in custody and at the mercy of the brutal guards and their bamboo whips. The man had not fit the image Akitada had formed of him, that of an upstart commoner who seduces unprotected daughters of the aristocracy in hopes of bettering himself, and so he had made a poor job of questioning him. The truth of it was that Akitada could not even dislike this Kojiro who had caused all the trouble in his home. The man had behaved with unexpected dignity and courage. And Nagaoka had proved to be a man of culture, well-read and knowledgeable. This did not, of course, clear him of suspicion in his wife’s murder.

Akitada paced, considering the case against Nagaoka. Nagaoka took an interest in the theater, and actors stayed at the temple on the night of the murder. Nagaoka could have hired one of them to kill his wife when he discovered her infidelity. Tora, for all his prejudices, had been quite right about actors. An acting job, particularly with a traveling troupe, was often a cover for all sorts of criminals on the run from the authorities. What better place to find a killer for hire?

It had been foolish to dismiss Genba and Tora before they had had time for a full report, and even more foolish to prevent Tora from getting information from the girl acrobat.

Still feeling languid and vaguely ill, though the headache was much better, Akitada thought some tea might help. It was early and Seimei was probably still asleep. Making his way to the kitchen, where the sleepy-eyed maid Kumoi was just starting the water for the morning rice gruel, he made himself a pot of tea and took it back to his room.

Sipping on the veranda outside his study, he looked at his garden. It was barely dawn, but the clouds seemed to be clearing. In the pine, some sparrows rustled, chirping softly. The fish were sluggish. He must get them some food.

Seimei appeared suddenly. He glanced at the teacup in Akitada’s hand and apologized for having overslept, adding, “Genba is outside, sir. He begs for a moment of your time.”

“Good! Ask him to come!”

Genba came to him hesitantly, head still hanging low. He stood for a moment, awkwardly clenching and unclenching his big fists, then said hoarsely, “We are very sorry, sir.”

“Sit down, Genba.” Akitada made his tone friendly. “I have been too harsh and forgot that neither you nor Tora have had any leisure since our return. You have both served faithfully during the long years of hardship up north and on the strenuous journey back. Then you got back and had to deal with ruined stables and a funeral. I should have been more appreciative. Instead I lost my temper. Please forgive me, and take the rest of the day and the night off. Tomorrow we will discuss your new assignments.”

Genba’s face broke into a wide grin. “Whew!” he cried fervently. “Thank you, sir. But you were quite right. We shouldn’t have quarreled. Well, I came to tell you, we’ve made up. Tora’s been worried because you wouldn’t let him go see the little acrobat. He told her to meet him in the Willow Quarter, which is not a good place to send a nice young girl on her own.”

“I am sure she came to no harm.” Akitada wondered why Tora should be concerned about the reputation of a girl who had agreed so readily to sleep with him on first acquaintance. “You said very little yesterday. Do you have anything to add to Tora’s report?”

Genba scratched his head. His once-shaven pate was once again covered with a thick brush of hair not yet long enough to twist on top. Genba attempted to make it lie down flat by wetting it periodically and plastering it as close to his skull as he could. But as it dried, stubborn sections of hair popped up again. Having disturbed the careful arrangement, he quickly patted it back down. Watching him, Akitada noticed for the first time that Genba was turning gray. He had never asked his age but guessed that Genba must be well into his forties.

“About Tora’s worries, sir. Miss Plumblossom, the lady who runs the training hall, is very concerned about some villain who’s been going around slashing prostitutes. Her maid’s one of the bastard’s victims. She must’ve been good-looking until she lost her nose and part of her upper lip. Her whole face is a mess, what with all the knife scars. Being disfigured like that, she couldn’t work anymore and was starving. She was going through the refuse behind the training hall when Miss Plumblossom found her.”