The Old Men of Omi (13 page)

With a glance at Hanae, he went on, “Tora did not reach me yesterday. Saburo and I think he ran into some problem on Mount Hiei. Saburo knows the area well and will look for him. I have to return to Otsu.”

A troubled silence fell. The children looked upset. In an effort to lift their spirits, Akitada reminded them of the Sanno festival. That brought smiles, and in the end, everyone bowed and left except for Hanae.

She asked, “Is my husband in some kind of trouble? Has he been foolish or disobedient?”

Probably both, Akitada thought, but he shook his head. “He is looking into some business connected with my work. I expect he got side-tracked. Saburo is going to find him.”

Hanae bit her lip and gave him a searching look. “Be safe, both of you.”

It was difficult to fool women.

On the way to Otsu, Akitada and Saburo exchanged whatever information they had that would help track down Tora. Saburo also spoke briefly of his past and his upbringing. He apologized again for not having shared his background.

Akitada blamed himself. He had treated Saburo from the start with suspicion and told him frankly that he had no respect for “spies” and very little respect for monks. As a result, Saburo had kept his past to himself as much as possible. And since he had cut all ties with his family, he had seen no need to mention them either.

Saburo’s mother created a problem Akitada had not desired, but his obligation to his retainers implied that he look after them and their families as if they were his on flesh and blood. Mrs. Kuruda would remain a fixture in his household until she died—or until she decided to return to her daughter’s house.

But as they talked, Akitada became increasingly uneasy about letting Saburo search for Tora. In the end, he said, “Saburo, I think it will be better if I go to speak to the abbot and see if I can get them to release Tora.”

Saburo glanced at him. “He will deny any knowledge of him, sir.”

“Probably, but perhaps I can make him uneasy enough to let him go anyway. I’m in charge of a legal case that’s been brought against the temple.”

Saburo was silent for a moment. Then he said, “Will they ask you to exchange favors?”

Akitada grimaced. “Probably. It is a hateful thought, but Tora is more important to me than either temple.”

“In that case, sir, would it not be better if you had proof that Tora is there?”

“Yes, but we cannot wish for the impossible.”

“Let me take a look. I may find something. I know the place very well.” He added more softly, “To my regret.”

Akitada stared at him aghast. “Are you saying that what happened to you, to your face, happened there? Monks did that? On the holy mountain? They did this in the Buddha’s name?”

Saburo looked away. “They were
sohei
. The warrior monks are mostly lay people. And they are no better than criminals. Many of them were criminals at one time. All of them are very tough fighters. I was never a fighter, just a spy. They needed to find out who had sent me.”

“Dear gods! Under no circumstances will you return to that place. You should have told me.”

Saburo shook his head. “I’ve learned my lesson and will be more careful this time. Besides, I feel responsible. I shouldn’t have let Tora go by himself.”

“No. I won’t allow it.”

Saburo said nothing. They rode silently side by side, both thinking about the problem.

Finally Saburo said, “I have an idea, sir. And it’s perfectly safe.”

“Yes?”

“I expect Tora rode up the mountain. He must have left his horse somewhere. If it’s in the temple’s visitor stables, we will know that he is still there.”

Akitada reigned in his horse. “Yes, of course. You propose to check the stables and come back to Otsu?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you’ll do nothing else?”

“I promise.”

“Very well. Report to provincial headquarters.”

They parted company on the outskirts of Otsu, Saburo to take a road up the mountain to the temple, and Akitada to ride into town.

After looking in on Kosehira to report on Tora’s likely whereabouts, Akitada went to see Chief Takechi.

Takechi greeted him eagerly. “Thank you for coming, sir. Frankly, this is quite beyond me. Kimura says it’s the same thing all over again. A bump on the back of the head that wouldn’t kill a child, and then the same signs of suffocation.”

“The spots on the whites of the eyes?”

“Yes.” Takechi ran a hand over his face in a distracted manner. “I suppose it’s murder. Unless some sort of new disease is going around.”

“Who is the victim?”

“An old fellow by the name of Tokuno. A street sweeper.”

“Where is the body?”

“Back in the jail. Kimura’s finished with it. It will soon be released for the funeral.”

“Shall we take a look?”

Takechi made a face. “If you insist. I must warn you. Kimura’s cut him up pretty badly.”

Akitada smiled briefly. “I think I can bear the sight. Lead the way.”

When they reached the room where Akitada had viewed Judge Nakano’s body, Kimura was still there. He stood frowning down at the corpse of an old man whose age-ravaged body had been further damaged by the cuts made by the coroner. Most of these had been sewn back up somewhat carelessly, but the body nevertheless presented a shocking sight. Akitada had seen men disemboweled, trampled by horses, and beheaded. All of these methods of killing humans had involved a lot of blood. This corpse was quite pale and bloodless and far more shocking.

Kimura bowed.

Akitada said, “The same as Nakano’s case?”

Kimura nodded. “I still don’t believe it. It must be murder. The only way it could have happened is that the murderer stuffed something in the man’s mouth and then held his nose.”

“Ah.” Akitada nodded. “It could have happened that way. Any proof?”

“No.”

“No bruising around the mouth and nose?”

“Not really. But if the victim was unconscious, it would not take much force. They were both old men.”

“What about that bruise on Nakano’s head. Did you find the same thing here?”

“Yes, sir. Though it’s nothing I could be sure about.”

Takechi cleared his throat. “There was one thing though, sir.” They both looked at him. Takechi reached into his sleeve and handed Akitada the small carved figure of Jizo. “This was lying on top of him when he was found.”

The small figure looked identical to the one they had found in Judge Nakano’s study and to all the other little figures sold at the shrine fair. Akitada felt a small shiver run down his back and glanced at Takechi. “Surely,” he said, “this is extraordinary.”

Takechi nodded. “If it’s murder, sir, it would seem that both men were killed by the same person.”

“What do we know about the dead man?’

“Not much. Tokuno lived alone, earning a few coppers by sweeping the roads and carrying away refuse and night soil. The night soil he sold to farmers. He owned nothing but the clothes on his back and a decrepit handcart.”

“An outcast?”

“No. Just a poor old man.”

“Still, someone who had nothing in common with the judge.” Akitada turned the small figure in his hand. Takechi’s murders were becoming more puzzling by the moment.

The chief said, “Exactly. It makes no sense. Perhaps a madman is at work.”

Akitada nodded slowly. “Such things have happened. And the fact that he left behind this very odd token of his visit may prove that he isn’t in his right mind.”

The coroner had listened with raised brows. “May I have a look, sir?” he asked.

Akitada passed over the carving.

Doctor Kimura said, “It’s a Jizo. They sell those at all the fairs. There must be hundreds about. Travelers and pilgrims buy them for protection.”

Akitada nodded. “Yes. I saw them for sale at a shrine fair. But why leave such a thing behind after a murder?”

Kimura frowned. “Perhaps it’s a message.”

The chief was unconvinced. “A message for whom? It’s not as if either old man had a large family.”

Akitada said, “And what does it mean? Why would a killer want us to know that it was his work.”

“Well, if he’s mad, he doesn’t need a reason,” the coroner offered.

Akitada frowned. “I don’t think he’s mad in that sense. You said, people buy these for protection if they are on a journey? Perhaps he is a pilgrim.”

Kimura said, “Women might do so because they’ve lost a child at birth. Jizo protects the children who had no chance to follow the Buddha. In fact, he helps all those suffering in hell.”

Takechi scratched his head. “That covers a lot of ground.”

Kimura asked, “Have there been other cases like this here or elsewhere?”

The chief and Akitada exchanged a glance. Takechi said, “Heaven forbid. I haven’t heard of any. Are you suggesting that this person travels about killing people?”

“I don’t know,” Kimura said with a smile. “I’m just the coroner.”

Takechi gave him a look and said again, “It makes no sense. What does he get out of it?”

Silence fell. They stood looking down at the pitiful thing on the mat. The first flies were gathering. Akitada hoped that the corpse had given up its story completely, for they could not keep him around much longer.

Takechi had the same thought. “I suppose we’d better release him for burial if you’re done, doctor.”

“I’m done.”

As they left the jail building, Akitada said, “I’d like to talk to the man’s neighbors. Do you mind? I have a very unpleasant feeling about this.”

Takechi did not mind. They walked through town and into the modest neighborhood where Tokuno had lived. Takechi stopped in front of small house that looked as though it needed a few repairs. The roof was missing boards and the door hung crookedly in its opening.

“The neighbor says the door had been like this for years,” Takechi said.” The killer didn’t force it.”

“The sweeper lived in a house? Did he rent this place?”

“No. It belonged to him. I know it looks in bad shape, but he got too old to take care of things.”

“Still, a sweeper usually doesn’t own a house.”

Takechi nodded. “This one was poor enough in spite of it,” he said, looking up at the house.

Next door, a woman came out to peer at them. She shaded her eyes against the sun, then approached, bowing. “I’m Mrs. Kagemasa. Can I be of service?”

Akitada thought her well-spoken and polite and smiled at her. “We are here because your neighbor has died,” he said. “I’m Lord Sugawara and this is Chief Takechi.”

She bowed again. “I recognized the chief. Is something wrong with Tokuno’s death? The constables didn’t say.”

Takechi said, “He may have been murdered. Were you home the night he died?”

“Oh, no,” she murmured. “Murdered! Oh, the poor man. These days, what with all the fairs, there’s so much riffraff about. We were home but asleep. We heard nothing. I blamed myself for not looking in on him the day before. I thought he got sick. He was an old man after all.”

It sounded much like the comments about the judge. He, too, was thought to have died of old age. Akitada asked, “Being a neighbor, you probably knew Tokuno for a long time. Has he always been this poor and lived alone here?”

“Oh, no. Tokuno used to work at the tribunal. He was a jailer. He had a family, but they all died, even his son. His son had an accident ten years ago. He fell off a boat and drowned. After that Tokuno wasn’t the same man anymore.”

Takechi and Akitada looked at each other. “When did he stop working at the jail?” Takechi asked.

“Oh, years ago. It must be nearly twenty years now.”

“Before my time,” Takechi said to Akitada.

“How did he manage to support himself all those years?” Akitada asked the woman.

“At first the son was still alive. He was a fisherman. After he drowned, Tokuno became a porter for a while until the work got too heavy for him. He was getting to the point where he couldn’t do much anymore. The neighbors would sometimes bring him food. But his health was so bad we thought we’d have to ask the monks to take him in.”

“Onjo-ji monks?” Takechi asked.

She nodded. “They’ll look after poor old people. Besides, he still had the house to pay for his keep.”

Akitada suppressed a snort. No doubt, houses paid off handsomely. The temple could sell or rent them, and the old people by that time did not have long to live.

They thanked the woman and went into Tokuno’s house. It revealed not only careless housekeeping, since there was no woman to look after it, but also great poverty. There was little food in the dirty kitchen area, and that was mostly cheap millet and a few wilted leaves of vegetables that had probably been given away by a market woman at the end of the day. Tokuno’s clothes were mere rags, but among them they found something interesting. Hanging from one of the hooks that held clothes were also a leather whip and a rusty chain and manacles. The whip was old and stained, and Akitada shuddered at the thought that they had once bitten deeply into prisoners’ backs and legs.

He pointed them out to Takechi who merely nodded. “He was proud of his former job, I guess.”

“He was the sort of brute who enjoyed hurting people, I think.”

“That, too. Very common among jailers.”

“Not such a nice man, then. And we know that Nakano was no saint either. Perhaps the killer had a reason to kill these two.”

Takechi paused in his rummaging in an old trunk and looked at Akitada. “An old grudge?” he asked uncertainly. “I don’t know. Most people who end up in court or jail wouldn’t dare raise a hand against those in charge.”

“I hope things have become better in Otsu.”

This met with silence, and Akitada flushed. “Sorry. Of course, they have. I wasn’t thinking. I know neither you nor the governor would employ men like these two.”

Takechi smiled. “Never mind. I get angry myself when I think about the way things used to be done.”

They were soon finished and had not found anything helpful. Takechi said, “I’ll have my constables talk to all the neighbors in case someone saw something, but I have no great hopes. Mrs. Kagemasa next door will have talked to them already. Now that she knows it was murder, she’ll be making the rounds again. Shall we go back?”