Death on an Autumn River (23 page)

The professor shook his head with a sad smile.  “No, no.  I’m glad you came.  It’s too beautiful here to have sad thoughts.  They say, you cannot stop the birds of sorrow, but you can prevent them from building nests in your hair.”  He chuckled weakly.

Akitada looked away from Otomo’s reddened eyes and at the river, gilded by the setting sun.  The ducks bobbed on the water of the cove, and pines grew close and dipped their branches into the stream.  On the opposite shore, the trees wore their autumn colors: shades of green and gold, copper and flame against the fading blue of the sky, more exquisite than the many-layered sleeves of court ladies at an imperial progress.  He wondered what troubled Otomo but dared not probe his grief.

He said instead, “You’re to be envied for this place.  It is indeed like a small corner of paradise.  But since you don’t mind, I do have a question.  When I called on the prefect, I met the governor’s son.  I think you mentioned that he was your pupil at one time?”

Otomo nodded.
“Toshiyo?
  Yes, I taught him.  A very bright
boy,
and a nice one.  I had no need to lie to his father.  I hear he did very well at the university.”

“I’m sure he’s a credit to you, but Munata seems to think the young man is about to do harm to himself or to someone else. What do you think?  Is he the type?”

Otomo stared at him.  His lips worked, but he said nothing for a moment.  Then he shook his head.
“Oh, dear!
  That doesn’t sound at all like Toshiyo.  What can have happened?  He was always a happy boy when I knew him.  Perhaps Munata exaggerates?”

“Perhaps.
  I hoped you could throw some light on it.”

Otomo turned away to look out over the water.  His voice sounded strained.  “I wish I could.  I’m fond of him.  It’s true that Yoshiyo was always a very sensitive child.  Sometimes I think he has too soft a heart for someone of his birth.  Young people are so easily hurt.”  He sighed deeply, and murmured, “And we are helpless to protect them.”

“So you think the young man has committed some offense?”

Otomo’s head came up.  “Oh, no, I don’t believe that.  I was speaking in general terms only.”

His comments had lacked the detachment of someone speaking in general terms, and he seemed near tears again.  Akitada decided to let it go and changed the subject.  They chatted about the ducks and fishermen, about the tastiest fish found locally and how to prepare them, but the professor’s mind seemed to be on something else.

On an impulse, Akitada said, “I find I have a little time on my hands, and it occurs to me that I might spend it looking into your mystery of the Korean girls.  If you like, we could go to Eguchi tomorrow and ask a few questions.  I’ve been feeling guilty about that poor young girl with the amulet.”

Otomo gasped,
then
he shook his head violently.  
“Oh, no.
  No, that isn’t at all necessary.  It was a mere whim of mine.  I shouldn’t have troubled you.  You were quite right.  It was all my imagination.  I would not dream of troubling you.”

“Nonsense,” said Akitada, astonished by this sudden about-face.  “I may pick up some information about piracy while we’re there.”

Otomo became more agitated.  Wringing his hands, he said, “Better not, sir.  You never know what trouble may ensue.  Please do not pursue this matter.”

“Why not?
  What has happened to change your mind?”  Akitada was becoming irritated.

“Nothing.
 
Nothing at all.
  I’m just . . . this is all becoming too much . . . please excuse me.”  He turned away, his shoulders shaking.

Akitada said nothing for a while.  When Otomo did not seem to gain control again, he spoke more gently.  “Well, never mind.  We can talk about it tomorrow.  I’m a little tired and will say ‘Good night’ for now.”

*

Back at the hostel, he lay awake for a long time wondering about the puzzling behavior of the people he had dealt with that day.  The most perplexing had been the professor.  Something must have happened to change his mind and upset him to such a degree.  He had decided not to give him the amulet just yet. 

And what had the governor’s son done to send the father after him in such a rush?  Or was the son merely a
pretext,
and Oga was in the capital, busily causing trouble for Akitada?

He finally fell asleep and slept well. 

When he returned to the Otomos the next morning, dressed for the trip to Eguchi, the professor’s wife received him.  Her eyes were reddened and her hands shook as she apologized for Otomo’s absence, saying, “My husband is distressed that he cannot see you today.  He became quite ill last night and keeps to his bed.”

“I’m sorry to hear it,” said Akitada.  “Is it serious?  Should I go for a doctor? Please tell me how I can be useful.”

She bowed.  “You’re very kind, sir, but it is merely some trouble with his belly.  Something he ate, he says.  He took a laxative.”  She blushed.  “I hope Your Excellency is not inconvenienced?”

Akitada looked at her.  She seemed more upset than her words suggested. 
“Not at all.
  I trust your husband will soon be better.  Please tell him that my business will take me out of town, but I should be back tonight or tomorrow.”

*

Akitada did not believe that the professor suffered from an upset stomach.  Most likely, he wanted to avoid going to Eguchi with him.  This sudden change of mind was extremely irritating, and Akitada thought he deserved a dose of laxatives.

He returned to the harbor and purchased passage on one of the regular boats between the river towns.  The weather was still clear, but there was a new chill in the air, and the cries of flying geese overhead told of the coming cold season.  Akitada was glad that the oppressive heat of the last weeks had gone.  The cool air seemed to give him new energy.

Even at this relatively early hour, Eguchi’s main street was already busy.  Akitada tried in vain to suppress his distaste for this particular crowd.  Slatternly older women swept before the doors of the brothels, while the younger inhabitants emerged to trip off to the temple up the street.  The religious fervor of females in this profession was legendary.  They were superstitious, worshipped phallic gods, prayed to the Buddha to cleanse them of their sins and send them wealthy patrons, and lived forever in the hope of miracles.  The wine shops were mostly still closed, but a few drunks still lay around in doorways, snoring or eyeing the day blearily.  Food vendors did a good business, shouting out their dumplings and noodles and greeting the passing harlots with obscene comments.

Somehow all this did not match up with his image of the young, beautiful, and very dead girl.  Shaking his head, he turned his steps toward the bamboo grove and the shack of Furuda and Harima.

He heard the clucking of chickens before he got to it, and when he emerged from the bamboo thicket, he saw that there were many more fowl than last time.  The garden, too, had doubled in size.  A new section was freshly dug, and already some young plants were growing in rows.

 “Harima,” he called out, and she came to the door of the shack.  Her face broke into a smile, quickly hidden behind a hand as she came to greet him.  He admired again that inimitably graceful, swaying walk of the great courtesan.  “I came for a little visit,” he greeted her. 

She bowed deeply.  “Welcome, my Lord.  Oh, how I wish Furuda were here!  He’s delivering melons and vegetables in town.  Oh, sir, you were so right.  We are doing a lot of business with our garden.  Did you see the new garden with the little cabbages and radishes and turnips?  Please
come
sit under the tree.  I’ll fetch a cushion, and if you’ll stay a little while, Furuda may return.”

Akitada laughed.  His heart warmed to this old couple all over again.  “I’m very happy to hear you’re both well.  By chance, might there be a melon left?”

“For you, of course.
  Oh, sir, we owe it all to you.”  Her eyes shone and she forgot to cover her mouth as she smiled at him. 
“A moment, sir.”
  Hurrying back to the shack, she returned with a cushion for him and went to cut a melon. 

Akitada sat under the tree, watched the chickens scurry out of her way, noted that the shack had a new roof and a door, brushed aside a late bee, and felt cheerful.

The melon was as sweet as last time.  He asked her to share it with him, but she shook her head.  “It would not be seemly.  May I offer you something else?  We have no wine here, I’m afraid.  Furuda has sworn off it.  But I could run to town and be back very shortly.”

He could not imagine making someone of her age run such an errand for him. She was in her seventies, surely, and while she was still slender and moved with great grace, she also moved slowly.  He thought of Seimei and how painful had been his final years because of the many chores he had insisted on performing to the end.  Tears rose to his eyes.  “Thank you,” he said, “but I don’t drink wine this early and I don’t want you to deprive me of your charming company.”

She smiled at him with her eyes and acknowledged the compliment with a little bow, still so practiced that he felt subtly flattered.
by
her attention.  She had moved close to him to serve him bites of melon.  It was ridiculous to feel attracted to a woman old enough to be his mother, or even grandmother, but so it was.

Putting his mind firmly to the purpose of his visit, he said, “You’re very kind, Harima.  That’s why I came to ask you a favor.”

“If it is in my power, sir, I shall do it.”

“I need some information.  Your past life has given you knowledge about the way the local brothels are run.”

She flushed and turned her head away.  “It has been a very long time since I was a part of that, but please ask your questions,” she said.

Inwardly cursing his blunt language, he said, “The day before I came here the first time, a young girl had drowned in the river.  Do you remember?”

She
nodded,
her face sad.  “Yes.  She was very young.  It can be a difficult life for the young ones.  I grieved to hear of it.”

She seemed calm, but he noticed her hands, folded now, pressing against her waist.  Even work-roughened and twisted by age, they were still graceful and expressive.  The gesture suggested grief, pain, and pity for the dead girl.

“I was told that she was not Japanese, that she had been brought here from Koryo,” he said. 

“That must be a false rumor, sir.  There are no foreign girls in Eguchi.  Unless . . .”
  She
paused, frowning.

“Unless what?”

“We have many sailors here.  One of them may have brought a woman from that far place, but I never heard about it.”

“The rumor also maintained that not just the one, but a number of young women— mere children—had been taken from Koryo and sold into the trade here because there was a special demand for them.”

Now her eyes widened in alarm. 
“Oh, no.
  That would be a very cruel thing to do.”

“Yes.But you must know that there are men who find children, both boys and girls, attractive in that way.  The dead girl I saw looked as young as thirteen.”

She shook her head.  “I have known of such men, but not recently.  This particular girl was young, but not quite so young.  And she was one of our people.”

This
was
news!  Akitada took the amulet from his sash.  “She was wearing this around her neck when she was found.  It’s Korean workmanship.”

She looked at it and shook her head.  “I don’t know where she got this, but she was not from Koryo.”

“Then you knew her?  Or knew of her?”

She said simply, “I was a choja once.  Some of the girls still visit me sometimes to ask my advice.  They tell me about their hopes and fears and about their hardships and jealousies.  She was never here, but several others talked about her.”  She sighed.  “You must understand that women compete with each other, and since they pin all of their hopes on finding a generous client who will buy them out, they often blame each other when they fail.”

That raised an interesting point.  “Then do you think she was driven to commit suicide, or . . . could she have been murdered by a rival?”

Spreading her expressive hands, she said, “I don’t know how she died, and neither do my young friends.  There’s gossip, of course, but I don’t want to spread lies.  I’ve found that you cannot always believe what these young women say.”  She smiled a little sadly.

“Nevertheless, will you trust me?”

She hesitated,
then
nodded.  “The dead girl was a
shinju
, that is, she was still in training.  Her name was Akogi.  She lived in the Hananoya, the House of Blossoms.  The Hananoya is the biggest of the Eguchi houses.” She twisted her hands in her lap.  “It’s an unhappy house, I think, and yes, there was jealousy there, but I don’t think it led to murder.  More likely, she found her life too hard.  It cannot have been a happy one for her.  The others thought she had gone into the river herself.”

And that proved once and for all that Professor Otomo, that nice and caring man, had lied to him. 
Had lied to him repeatedly with his stories about the kidnapped and possibly murdered Korean girls.
  The only conceivable reason he could have had for such an elaborate fabrication was to send him away from Naniwa and from his investigation into piracy.  It made perfect sense.  First they had distracted him with the disappearance of Sadenari, then they had tried to send him on a wild goose chase after kidnapped Korean girls, and finally, when all that had not worked, they had attacked his family in the capital.