Akitada said, “Let’s have a word with that very observant neighbor of the jailer. If she saw him, she may remember another detail. And if the people in the Echi district also report seeing a puppet man near the murder scenes, you will have enough for an arrest.”
Takechi nodded. “We’ll have to be careful, or he’ll smell what’s afoot.”
Tokuno’s neighbor welcomed them eagerly. “Any news?” she asked. “Have you got him yet? Everybody’s afraid around here. Some people barricade their doors and won’t come out.”
She was evidently made of stronger stuff because a mere knock brought her to the door. Takechi asked his question, and she said immediately, “The puppet man? You mean he’s the one that killed Tokuno and that merchant? And the judge?” She put a hand to her head. “Amida! He might’ve killed me. I talked to him.” She swayed a little, and Takechi caught her arm.
“He wanted Tokuno, not you,” he told her. “And you can tell people they are perfectly safe. Now tell us about him.”
She told, eagerly and with great detail. He had walked down the street, looking at the houses on either side while she had been outside sweeping the path to her door. He had stopped and asked her where the jailer Tokuno lived. “Of course, Tokuno wasn’t a jailer anymore. I told him so. He was just a sweeper now. He seemed pleased by this. I pointed out Tokuno’s house.” She raised a hand to her mouth. “Oh, merciful Kannon! I sent the murderer to Tokuno.”
“He would have found the house without you,” Akitada said. “Can you describe him?”
“Oh, he was a tall man. Gray hair. It was long and he tied it in back. And he was really sun burnt, like he’d been traveling. I asked him what he had in his box, but he wouldn’t tell me and walked away.”
“Was he limping?”
“Yes. I guessed it was from all that walking they do. And I knew very well he was a puppeteer even if he wouldn’t say.”
And that was that.
Akitada and Takechi parted, Takechi to organize his search, and Akitada to return to the tribunal to report and to await news from Echi.
Chapter Thirty-Three
The Grand Shrine Festival
Word from Echi district arrived late that night. The news was mixed. No puppet man had been seen near the Taira manor at any time, but the fair attended by Wakiya and Juro had indeed had a puppet player on both days of the fair.
“It doesn’t matter about Sukemichi’s death,” Akitada said to Kosehira. “I myself passed a sizable fair within walking distance from the manor. Hatta was there, I’d swear on it.”
They had taken to referring to the puppet man as Hatta, assuming he was Hatta Takashi, the son of the Taira betto Hatta Hiroshi, who had confessed to killing the rice merchant Fumi Takahiro and had died in exile. The son had attacked Sukemichi’s father and had also been sent to work in the mines in the north. They had no proof that he had escaped and become a puppeteer to avenge his father’s death and his family’s ruin, but no other explanation would account for all victims. They hoped that, once arrested, the puppet man would confirm their assumptions.
But in spite of the most thorough searches of every hostelry in Otsu and the surrounding countryside, the puppet man had not been found.
Kosehira grumbled, “It may all have been in vain. He could have left right after killing Fumi Tokiari. His work was done and he went home, wherever home may be. We’ll never solve the murders, and the people will call us inept.”
Akitada, who was also worried, pointed out that the Grand Shrine Festival was the next day, and that Hatta would not miss such an excellent chance to earn enough money for his journey back.
Kosehira grimaced. “Can you imagine what will happen when the constables try to arrest him in the middle of the event?”
Akitada could imagine it, but he preferred to remain hopeful. “The fair grounds are not part of the procession route, and you can position constables in ordinary clothes there to keep a look-out for him.”
Kosehira brightened. “Hmm. Yes. That may work.”
Toward evening, Tora arrived with Akitada’s children and his son Yuki. Akitada greeted them nervously, having no idea how they had reacted to the news of his remarriage. He should have gone home to tell them himself, but that could not be helped now. The children had come on their own horses, smaller versions of Tora’s mount. It gave Akitada considerable pride to see that they could ride so well.
When Yoshi saw him, he cried “Father! Father!” and slid unaided from the back of his little horse to run to him. Akitada swept him up and swung him around, laughing out loud. “Welcome, my son! What a very fine horseman you’ve become!”
“I came all the way on my horse,” Yoshi informed him. “Tora said I was doing very well!”
Akitada put Yoshi down and went to help Yasuko. His little lady also sat her horse well but evidently felt it was appropriate that she should be assisted. She was smiling. Akitada muttered a prayer of thanks to the gods. The children were not angry with him for taking a wife.
Yasuko let him lift her down, arranged her gown, and straightened her straw hat.
“Welcome, my daughter,” he said with a smile. “How very ladylike you look!”
“Thank you.” She peered up at him. “Where is your new lady, Father? I want to see her. Tora says she’s very beautiful.”
He glanced across at Tora and Yuki, who grinned back. “Yuki,” said Akitada, “I’m very glad to see you, too. Come join us while your father takes the horses away.”
Yuki obeyed and came shyly, handing Akitada a letter. Tora gathered the reins of the children’s horses and took them to the stables.
The letter was from Akiko. Akitada tucked it away for later. “Come,” he said to the children. “You shall see my wife. Her name is Yukiko, and she is indeed very beautiful.”
A little later, he gave another prayer of thanks, because Yukiko and the children seemed to like each other. He waited on her veranda while she introduced them to her brothers and sisters.
Tonight would be their third night together, the night that sealed the marriage contract. Of course, he had never had an option in the matter, but neither had he wanted to escape. He put aside any quibbling doubts about this match and reminded himself that he was a man in love. Now, if they could only find the killer, he would be a completely happy man.
Then he opened Akiko’s letter.
It was worse than he had expected. “You sly fox, you,” she wrote. “Here I was worried about finding you another wife, and you engage yourself to the daughter of a high-ranking Fujiwara! I’m making all the preparations here. You need not worry about anything. Oh, what a time we’ll have, your little bride and I. And you are set on a great career. Well done, Brother!”
∞
The morning after the third night broke with the noise of festive preparations all around them. Akitada had been awake for a while, watching the sun gradually make its way through the slats of their closed shutters. Yukiko beside him slept in a tangle of quilts and disordered undergown that revealed a smooth thigh and leg. He caressed this limb with his eyes and debated whether to wake her. Her long hair partially covered her face. It struck him that she slept as deeply as a child, and once again he felt that terrible tenderness for his young wife.
He had lost Tamako to childbirth, and for all he knew his new bride, this lovely young creature beside him, was already embarked on that same final journey.
In the corridor outside Yukiko’s room there was a rustling sound followed by whispers and a giggle. Yukiko stirred, stretched like a kitten, yawned, and then turned to smile up at him.