“Did either of you know that Soga was ill?” Akitada asked, looking at the clerks sharply.
They shook their heads. Nakatoshi said, “You may recall, sir, that they refused to receive our messenger. I thought it very strange since his Excellency had demanded daily reports. I think he must have become ill very shortly after leaving here.”
Sakae was smiling to himself. Akitada cleared his throat pointedly, and his clerk adopted a mournful look. “We wondered,” he said, “if the Great Council has been notified. Now that you are here perhaps I could carry your message to them?” When Akitada looked at him in astonishment, Sakae added, “To save you changing into proper attire, I mean.”
Akitada glanced down at his old robe. He had neither slept nor shaved, and his clothes were by now dirty. He could hardly make an appearance in the highest office of the government looking like this. No doubt Sakae also had ulterior motives: It could not hurt one’s career to make oneself known to the chancellor and his staff. Akitada had intended to send Nakatoshi, but he could spare Sakae more easily. He had to see Kobe to tell him that Tora had returned, and he wanted to begin a search of the archives. So he nodded and sat down to write the short cover letter, impressed his seal, enclosed the abbot’s note, and handed the whole to Sakae.
Nakatoshi looked after Sakae and sighed.
“I would have sent you, but I need you to be here this morning,” said Akitada by way of an apology. “I have some urgent business to attend to.”
Nakatoshi’s eyes flicked over Akitada’s rumpled appearance and stopped at the sword that lay across the late Soga’s desk. “But,” he stammered, “the death of the minister… how shall I manage, sir?”
Akitada knew that his behavior was eccentric and inappropriate, but he was thoroughly tired of more problems. He had spent a night being attacked, had dealt with a hysterical wife and unexpected house guests with assorted wounds, and had tried to make sense of all the startling and puzzling revelations about Haseo and the villain Matsue. At the moment his duties at the ministry-and there could not be many while the epidemic raged in the city-were the least of his worries. He snapped, “What you have done all along. Receive messages and relay them to me. Don’t tell me that Soga’s death will change the routine. Sakae was eager enough to step into my shoes. Perhaps you can cover for the late minister for an hour or so.”
Nakatoshi turned red. “Yes, sir. Only, what will happen to us? Will they send someone else to take the minister’s place?”
“No doubt in time.”
Nakatoshi hung his head. “Yes, sir. I wish it could be you, sir.”
Akitada gave a sharp laugh. “Good heavens, what an idea! Ministers hold at least the senior fourth rank. I’m not likely to achieve that illustrious status in my lifetime.” He saw Nakatoshi’s dejected face and said more kindly, “Thank you for your high opinion. For a moment there I was afraid I’d lost it. I’m not exactly my usual self today because I’ve had no sleep. In fact, there was no time for a shave or to change my robe before coming here.”
“I hope all is well at your home, sir?”
“Yes, so far. Tora got into some more trouble. I’m on my way now to speak to Superintendent Kobe. I assume there’s no urgent business here?”
There was not, and Akitada left for police headquarters. But Kobe was not in. He had gone to supervise the rice distribution in the market. Since the markets had closed, the people in the capital, many of whom lived from day to day on food purchased in the market, were starving. Akitada felt a pang of guilt. Kobe was dedicated to his official duties, while he was occupied with a private matter. Even Nakatoshi disapproved, and Soga would have enjoyed proving his senior secretary unfit. Soga’s death meant a reprieve for Akitada, but how long before Soga’s successor would take exception to Akitada’s unorthodox behavior? Akitada left a note for Kobe, telling him that Tora had returned after doing battle with several gang members in Chikamura’s house. That should send some constables there who could deal with the bodies and secure the property. Then he returned to the ministry.
Two of the scribes had shown up late and were listening openmouthed to Nakatoshi’s explanations about Soga’s sudden death. When they saw Akitada, they fell to their knees. He scowled at them. How quickly people learned to abase themselves when they feared a new boss!
Brushing past them, Akitada went straight to the archives. It was a familiar and hated place. He had spent years here, condemned to doing worthless research in semidarkness among thousands of old records of legal cases, because Soga wished to humiliate him or punish him for having once again “disobeyed” by solving a murder in the city. But Soga was no longer alive. And Akitada would not have to resign.
The dreary work of the past paid off in one respect. He knew exactly where the records of criminal cases were and located instantly the shelf which held those from five years ago. Taking down the boxes one by one, he lined them up on a low table, and began to sift through them.
Halfway along, he found the case against Tomonari Haseo. It had been tried in the capital, because the crimes had taken place in the same province and were of such a heinous nature that the government had taken an interest in their disposition. Frowning with impatience at the vague comments, Akitada leafed quickly through the fat bundle of documents, looking for a description of the crime.
When he found it, he had to read the charges twice, so shocking were the murders and so solid the evidence against his dead friend.
One summer day, after a violent argument over control of the family estate, Haseo had slaughtered both his parents in the main hall of their mansion, and the deed had been witnessed by his own nurse.
CHAPTER TWENTY
As Akitada read the trial records, he felt the cold finger of death touching the back of his neck. Haseo’s fate was sealed from the start. He never had a chance at escape. The evidence against him looked unshakable.
The nurse, Yasura, testified that a quarrel had taken place between father and son, one of many, because the elder Tomonari had forbidden his only son Haseo to leave for the capital. The son had become angry and demanded control of the estate. Outraged, the father had berated the son, who had then drawn his sword and killed the father.
The noise of the quarrel had brought Haseo’s mother to the scene, and when she screamed and cursed him, he had killed her also. At this point, the nurse fled in fear for her life.
Akitada raised his eyes from the crabby script of the court clerk to stare at the shelves of documents. To his shame, he knew only too well that a son could come to hate a parent so bitterly that he wished him-or her-to die. But to make the leap from wish to deed a man would need not only anger but such self-importance that all other considerations vanished. The man he had met five years ago in Sadoshima was nothing like that. In fact, it seemed as if two different characters were involved, one the man in Sadoshima, the other a stranger in Tsuzuki.
The only way to get at the truth was to proceed from the assumption of Haseo’s innocence and refute or discredit every piece of testimony that had led to his being found guilty. The nurse must have lied. At least, Akitada thought, she had lied about witnessing the quarrel. It was unlikely that she, as a female servant, was present during a private meeting between father and son. More probably she had arrived with Haseo’s mother at a later time. Why had she lied?
Whatever had caused her to accuse Haseo of such a crime must have been a matter of vital consequence to the woman. Normally the bond between master and servant was a strong and mutual one. In the case of a nurse, maternal feeling and a desire to protect her charge would make that bond even closer. It was precisely this relationship that had made her testimony so devastating.