“You never liked Oigimi,” Lady Yoshiko accused him with a charming pout. She turned to Akitada. “He always thought the poor little sweet thing would disturb his papers.” Her eyes fell on the desk, and she saw the incense tag with the words Transcendent Life. “Oh,” she said, “I shall ask Sakanoue,” and left.
An uncomfortable silence fell, then Akitada asked, “Who is Sakanoue?”
“A friend. A distant relation who amuses Yoshiko. But to get back to my problem. What will you do? Remember, the killer may try again.”
“Is there someone in your household who would want to kill you?”
Koremori threw up his hands. “How should I know? I treat my servants well.”
“What about your friends? Specifically the participants in the incense party?”
“Quite impossible! And don’t ask for their names. They are far too important to be troubled with questions.”
Akitada raised his brows. “You are not making this easy. Who would benefit from your death?”
Koremori’s mouth twitched. “Apart from some small bequests for the servants, my property will go to your mother.”
Akitada felt trapped. “Very well. If you can get permission from the minister, I’ll look into it.” He picked up the tag. “The handwriting is elegant. Do you recognize it?”
“It’s vaguely familiar, but I can’t say.”
Since further conversation seemed unprofitable, Akitada rose to leave.
* * * *
As he had suspected, his mother took an avid interest in the news about Koremori’s will. “Very proper,” she concluded. “I daresay Koremori exaggerates his danger, but it is good to know that his affairs are in order. There is still the young woman. Of course the affair may not last, but meanwhile you must spare no effort to ingratiate yourself. Make yourself indispensable. Exaggerate the danger. Convince him that but for you he might die. In short, act like his son Akemori would have acted under the circumstances.”
The thought was revolting, but Akitada said, “Yes, Mother.”
* * * *
A messenger arrived early the next morning with a note from Koremori: “I have spoken to Soga. Come.”
Reluctantly—it was amazing that even a dull day in the archives seemed preferable—Akitada returned to his cousin’s house to question Koremori’s majordomo.
He found Kenzo, a small, thin, middle-aged man of neat appearance, in the ancestral shrine, instructing the youngster who had removed the kitten from Koremori’s room in the proper polishing of the floor.
“A terrible thing,” Kenzo said. He shook his neatly coiffed head. Every strand of his hair had been pulled back sharply, wound about with a black silk cord, and tied at the precise apex into a smooth loop. As a result of this extreme hairstyle, his thin eyebrows were permanently raised, as if in astonishment at the oddities of life. “Tomoe—she was the dead woman—asked me for incense that morning. I went immediately to the storehouse, but the supply was gone. I think the maids must have helped themselves. I suggested she skip the incense just once, but she refused quite rudely. She should never have taken the master’s incense, but she always thought of herself as belonging to her dead mistress and her son.” He shook his head again and adjusted the black sash that held the stiffly starched blue cotton robe at his neat waist.
“It’s surely unusual for an experienced servant to disobey in this manner,” Akitada suggested.
Kenzo agreed. “Tomoe has always been difficult. She came here as her late ladyship’s nurse and took orders from no one but her mistress. It was very frustrating. All the other servants disliked her.”
“Why was that?”
Echoing Koremori, Kenzo said evasively, “She was an unpleasant person.” When Akitada raised his brows, he added, “It’s true. Even the master had trouble with her. Only the day before she died, I heard them shouting at each other in the master’s study. Imagine a servant shouting at the master of the house! A very unpleasant woman.”
At this point, the boy looked up from his chore and said, “Tomoe took money and things from people. I told the maid not to give the old demon her best sash, but she slapped my face and said to keep my mouth shut.”
“And very good advice too,” said Kenzo. “Nobody asked you.” He apologized to Akitada. “He’s only a silly boy and not very bright, as you can see, sir.”
“Not at all,” said Akitada, smiling at the boy. “I am sure he is quite clever.”
The boy nodded. “I watch everything and I remember. You were visiting the master yesterday and the day before that. Go ahead, ask me about the master and Tomoe.”
“Enough, Jiro!” snapped Kenzo.
But Jiro had something to prove. “I heard them. The master was going to send Tomoe away, but she talked about her mistress and Master Akemori, and the master got really quiet, and when she came out, she looked very pleased.”
Kenzo lost his temper. “Leave the room this instance, Jiro. You’re as foolish as a monkey.”
Jiro gave Akitada an impudent grin, dropped his oily rag, and scampered off.
Akitada did not agree with Kenzo’s estimate of Jiro, but he said nothing. Instead he asked, “Were any of Lord Koremori’s guests regular visitors in this house?”
“Ah, you mean the incense party. Only Lord Sakanoue. He’s related to the young lady, I believe, and visits her quite often. The other gentlemen only attend for the incense guessing.”
Koremori had refused to give Akitada the names of the contestants, but Kenzo had no such reservations. When Akitada asked, he listed them. “In addition to Lord Sakanoue, there was the senior secretary of the imperial household office, the captain of the inner palace guards, the recorder in the ministry of popular affairs, the abbot of the Ninna Temple, and Professor Tachibana from the university.”
It was as he had thought. They were men above and beyond reproach and incapable of concocting poisonous substances in order to do away with Koremori. Akitada thanked Kenzo for this very precise and useful information and asked to speak to some of the other servants.
This effort also produced little that was new. They had not liked Tomoe and had hoped the master would dismiss her. They denied taking or hiding the incense stores. They refused—quite properly—to comment on the new mistress or her relative, though Akitada caught a smirk or two from the maids. The general feeling was that Tomoe had died from old age and poor health and that they were not particularly sorry.
Akitada thanked them and went to find his cousin.
“Well,” Koremori greeted him, “have you learned anything yet?”
“Yes,” Akitada said grimly. “You were not the intended victim.”
Koremori’s jaw dropped. “But...”
“The nurse was meant to die.”
Koremori sneered at that. “Don’t be ridiculous. Who would go to such lengths to get rid of an old woman?”
“She was blackmailing the people in this household. I think she blackmailed you.”