“Hmm. That’s interesting. I think Feng is playing some sort of illegal game and using those two in it. We need to find Tora right away. Go back into Hakata in your ordinary clothes. You’re acting for me. Contact Lieutenant Maeda and tell him about Tora. And you might as well get his assistance checking out that well. I wouldn’t be at all surprised to find that Maeda knows about it.”
Saburo thought this last somewhat farfetched, but his lordship’s concern for Tora was infectious. He said no more and left.
*
Lieutenant Maeda was astonished to see Saburo.
“You’re very welcome,” he said with a smile, “but I expected that rascal Tora. What is he up to? Chasing more women?”
Saburo winced. “Umm. Has he been chasing anyone?”
“Not really. He did have an eye for one of our victims, though. What brings you?”
“Tora seems to have disappeared. His Excellency is concerned and asks that you and your men have a look around for him. He hasn’t been seen since he followed a suspicious character from the harbor office late yesterday.”
“What?” Maeda shook his head. “Surely the governor’s concern is premature. It’s not even been a whole day. Maybe he got lost and decided to spend the night. It’s a long way back to the tribunal. He’ll probably turn up shortly.”
“Perhaps, but I think it wouldn’t hurt if some of your constables asked some questions in the harbor area. I’ll start tracing him myself later, but there’s another matter I want to check out. The governor suggests you might give me a hand.”
Maeda hesitated. Then he said, “Of course. His Excellency has only to ask.”
Saburo thought privately that Maeda sounded reluctant. Perhaps acting independently from the tribunal was ingrained in the Hakata police. But he put a good face on it and said, “Last night I followed a carter who hid a bundle on a deserted property. It turns out that this man is the son of the murderer who hanged himself. He lives next door to Mrs. Kimura.”
This got Maeda’s interest. “That rascal Hiroshi? What made you suspicious of him?”
Saburo hesitated. He had no idea how much his master wanted the lieutenant to know. “I saw him meeting with someone in the Dragon’s Lair. Money passed hands. I decided to see where this Hiroshi was going with it.”
“Hmm. Yes.” The lieutenant frowned. He ran a hand across his chin. “I don’t trust Hiroshi. You say he hid a bundle? Where exactly was that?”
“I don’t know what you call the area. It’s pretty much deserted. Lots of dilapidated houses. He took the bundle out of his cart and into this courtyard. I couldn’t see what he did with it, but when I went back later, I almost fell into an abandoned well. I think it’s down there. We should try to take a look.” He broke off. Maeda stared at him with such an expression of shocked surprise, that he floundered to a halt.
“Abandoned well? No, it can’t be.”
“What?”
“We pulled a body from a well like that. That very pretty woman Tora had his eye on. She lived across the street from Hiroshi.”
Saburo gulped. “Let’s go! What if the bastard put Tora down there?”
Maeda was already through the door and did not answer. In the front room, lounging constables came to attention. Maeda barked orders that involved ladders, ropes, and names. Within moments, ten constables assembled outside, some carrying equipment, and the contingent started off at a lively trot, the front man shouting, “Make way!” and swinging a short whip.
Saburo hurried after Maeda. In a surprisingly short time, they arrived at the ruined courtyard. It looked different in daylight, but Saburo had no trouble recognizing it. His stomach turned at the thought of what they might find in the well.
The constables knew their way and had the wooden cover off quickly. They hung over the side, peering down.
“Is it deep?” Saburo asked Maeda. He was trying to get a look.
“Not very. People have been tossing their garbage down there for years. Dead rats, cats, dogs, and the occasional female.” He pushed two constables aside and took a look. “Well, don’t stand around,” he told his men. “Get down there and bring up what you find.”
They made faces, but one man tied a rope around his middle and started down while the others held on and shouted encouragement.
Saburo smelled it now, the familiar stench of rotting flesh. “I thought you pulled the dead woman out?” he asked Maeda.
“We did.”
Saburo thought of Tora and felt his stomach clench painfully.
But when the constable was pulled back to the surface, all he brought up was a stained and malodorous bundle.
“That it?” asked Maeda, looking at Saburo.
Saburo wrinkled his nose. “It looks like it. Is it just clothes?”
Maeda, braver than Saburo or more used to the stench of death, took the bundle from the constable and undid it. Shaking it out, he held up a blue robe, much like Saburo’s, a black sash and black pants, also much like Saburo’s. A pair of boots and a soft black cap fell to the ground. He turned pale.
Saburo swallowed and went closer. He looked at the garments, then picked up the boots and hat. “That’s what Tora wore,” he said tonelessly.
Maeda nodded. “I thought so. But where is he? And why are just his clothes here? What happened to him?”
Feeling sick, Saburo snarled, “Stupid question. Somebody got hold of him. Instead of standing around here like fools, we’ve got to find him. He told you that Hiroshi was a killer.”
Maeda recoiled.
Saburo took a deep breath. “You’ve got to arrest him. He knows what happened to Tora. You’ve got to get it out of him. And that clerk of Feng’s paid him. Arrest him, too. I don’t care what you do to them. We must find Tora. Dear heaven, he may be dead. The governor will be livid!”
“It may not mean what you think,” the lieutenant stammered without much conviction. “I can’t believe anyone would attack Tora.”
Saburo gave him a savage look. Snatching the robe from his lands, he spread it out. “There’s blood on the collar in back. It suggests an injury to the back of the head.” He took up each garment, one after the other. “The front of both the robe and the pants is dusty. I think he fell or was lying on his stomach.” He studied the dirt by lifting the fabric close to his good eye and then smelling it. “I don’t know,” he muttered. He pushed the garment under Maeda’s nose. “What do you smell?”
Maeda stepped back, then sniffed cautiously. “Just dirt and some of what must’ve seeped from the other body.”
Saburo sniffed again. “There’s something. I just can’t make it out.” He folded the robe gently and carefully, keeping the front inside. Then he studied the boots. “Look! Someone tied his legs. You can see the twists of the rope in the leather. That rope was tight.” He shook his head. “He was a prisoner, but there are no cuts or rips in the robe, so he wasn’t stabbed or shot with an arrow.”
Maeda nodded. “They knocked him out. For that matter, he may have fallen and hit his head, and some beggar liked his clothes well enough to steal them.”
Saburo gave him a disgusted look. “You mean a beggar went to all that trouble to steal his clothes, and then gave them to this Hiroshi, who promptly dropped them down a well?” His voice dripped with sarcasm.
Maeda flushed. He ran a hand over his face. “Look, I like Tora. I don’t want to think that he’s been murdered. All we know for a fact is that someone knocked him out and took his clothes.”
“So you’re not going to do anything? It’s been many hours since I followed the carter.”
Maeda had had enough. He turned and snapped to his constables, “Cover that well again, and then go to the Mitsui house to arrest Hiroshi and take him to jail.”
But Hiroshi was not home. His hard-faced wife said he had gone out, she knew not where. She seemed uninterested in his whereabouts or in the reason the police were looking for him. Maybe she was used to it by now.