The kitten snagged the card and withdrew with it under the desk.
Akitada said politely, “Your expertise in that field is well known, Cousin. Under the circumstances, I won’t take up more of your time...”
But Koremori had heard the rustling of paper and peered under the desk. He roared, “Kenzo!”
A young boy ran in. His black hair was tied into two fat brushes over each ear, and his bright eyes took in Akitada in a single measuring glance before he told Koremori, “Kenzo’s busy, Master. Will I do?”
“Why is this cursed cat running loose in my room?” Koremori pointed under the desk. “Take it back to its mistress this instant! If I ever find it here again, I’ll have you whipped.”
The boy got to his knees and scooped out the kitten, detaching Akitada’s card from its teeth and putting it back on the desk. “Come, little tiger,” he crooned, “let’s go into the garden and watch the goldfish.”
Koremori glowered after them. “Did you see that? Not so much as a bow!”
Akitada got to his feet. “I shall give Mother your message, Cousin,” he said.
Koremori nodded. “I wish I had more time to chat,” he said grudgingly. “My household has been standing on its head all day.”
As if on cue, the door flew open again, and a very beautiful young woman swept into the room, silk gowns fluttering and long hair trailing on the floor behind her. Her clothes were exquisite, the short sleeves of her embroidered Chinese coat revealing many layers of harmoniously hued robes of the thinnest silk.
“Oh, darling,” she cried, “have you seen my kitten?” She stopped abruptly and looked in consternation at Akitada.
Koremori had turned a deep red. He cleared his throat. “Forgive the interruption, Akitada. This is Yoshiko. Yoshiko, my dear, do not worry. No harm is done. Akitada is only a cousin and he is leaving.”
Akitada bowed to the young woman. He wondered what his mother would make of the news that Koremori had a mistress.
The pretty Yoshiko blushed, fluttered her lashes at him, then sank gracefully on a cushion. “Cousin Akitada,” she murmured. “How very pleasant to meet you.”
“He is leaving,” snapped Koremori.
Akitada bowed again, to both this time, and departed.
* * * *
When he made his report to his mother, she sat bolt upright. “Who is she?” she demanded.
“I don’t know, Mother. Just a pretty young woman. I thought she might be his mistress.”
Lady Sugawara hissed. “Mistress. Or concubine? And you say this so calmly? What if she gives him a child? What then?”
Akitada did not care, but he said, “He is no longer young and not at all handsome.”
“Fool! What difference does that make? He is wealthy and she is beautiful. You did say she was beautiful?”
Lady Yoshiko was indubitably beautiful. Akitada nodded.
“Hmm. This is not good.” Lady Sugawara stared through her son, deep in thought. “Of course it may not last,” she finally said, “but meanwhile you must double your efforts to ingratiate yourself. Make yourself indispensable. Remind him that blood ties outweigh all other bonds in importance. Show a loving concern for his health by mentioning the risk of exertion at his age.”
Akitada sighed inwardly. “I’ll try, Mother.”
The following morning the weather had cleared a little and Seimei, who had been his late father’s secretary and now served as general factotum in the Sugawara household, brought in Akitada’s rice gruel and another urgent summons from his mother. Akitada gulped down his food and hurried to his mother’s room.
She looked excited. “Quick!” she said when she saw him. “Run over to Cousin Koremori’s right away. He needs your help.”
Akitada shook his head. “I am due at the Ministry, Mother.”
“It cannot wait,” she snapped. “Someone is trying to kill him.”
Surprised by his mother’s concern, which was so exactly contrary to her hopes, Akitada asked, “Should we interfere?”
Lady Sugawara stared at him. “What do you mean?”
“Sorry. I meant, how do you know?”
“Never mind. Hurry up and go over there. He will explain. And remember what we talked about. Here is your opportunity to demonstrate your devotion.”
“Yes, Mother.”
Akitada bowed and went to work as usual.
* * * *
When he arrived at his cousin’s house that evening, he found the police there and wondered if Koremori’s fears had been real after all. The servant who met him reassured him. It was not his cousin who had died, but an elderly maid.
As they passed Koremori’s ancestral shrine, the door opened and a constable stepped out. He recognized Akitada, who had spent too much time at court hearings and murder investigations—thereby irritating the police captain, Kobe, and his superior, the minister of justice.
The constable grinned. “Is it you again, sir? It must be murder for sure then.”
Akitada grinned back and stopped. “Not guilty this time. I’m just paying a visit to a family member. What happened?”
“Lord Koremori sent for us. He found his wife’s nurse dead on the floor in here.” The constable gestured at the shrine.
Akitada peered past him. The tiny room was exquisitely furnished. On its walls were paintings of famous incidents involving O-tomo forebears, and on the altar table a finely carved and gilded statue of the Buddha presided over the name tablets of the deceased, prominently among them that of Koremori’s son.
In front of the altar, an old woman lay on the floor, her body twisted, her hands clutching at her throat, and her tongue protruding from a blue-tinged face. The footed bowls with offerings of food and money, the incense burners, and the candlesticks that had stood on the altar lay scattered across the floor. Oranges, coins, ashes, and a number of dead flies and moths were among the utensils on the polished boards. It looked as if the poor woman had done the damage before dying in painful convulsions. Her fingers had left fumbling traces in the ashes from the incense burners. A heavy, acrid smell hung in the air.
“Was it murder?” Akitada asked, stepping inside and bending over the corpse. There were no obvious signs of an attack.
The constable shook his head. “I doubt it. No wounds. No contusions. No signs of strangulation. She was an old woman with a weak heart. The captain didn’t see anything wrong either, but Lord Koremori kept insisting that she was poisoned by the incense and that the poison had been meant for him. The smell’s still pretty strong, but I ask you, who would die from sniffing incense? His Lordship got quite rude when we didn’t agree with him.” He gave Akitada another grin. “Maybe you can get this straightened out, sir.”
Akitada had a sinking feeling that he should not have come at all. Kobe would find out that he had been here and complain to the minister again. He shook his head at the constable’s suggestion and followed the servant to his cousin’s study.
Today Koremori looked ill. He sat behind his desk chewing his fingernails. “Where have you been?” he demanded. “I sent for you this morning.”