The Case of the Sharaku Murders (19 page)

“Try coming here in the springtime. This street will be chockablock with tourists.”

“Cherry-blossom viewing?”

“Yes, it's incredible. Like a tunnel of pink-and-white blossoms.”

Saeko nodded.

Dubbed the “Little Kyoto of the North,” Kakunodate is now a popular tourist destination, but until a few years ago it was little more than a sleepy rural town. Then in 1976, NHK chose it as the setting for its latest serialized television novel,
Carpet of Clouds
.
Tourists began arriving in droves. Such fads usually fizzle out after two or three years, but Kakunodate proved to have considerable staying power. Though there was little to recommend the town apart from its old samurai houses, it succeeded in marketing that period charm for all it was worth. The town council put great effort into preserving not only the old houses themselves but also their natural surroundings. New buildings had to be designed so as not to clash with the town's carefully cultivated image.

Unlike Morioka—another, much larger, old castle town—where one occasionally runs across a historic building buried amidst urban sprawl, modern Kakunodate has grown up around its well-preserved old quarter. Everyone who visits goes away vowing to return. It is one of the rare Japanese cities that has that effect on people.

The folklore museum though of recent construction, had been designed to blend harmoniously with the samurai houses surrounding it. With attractive features such as a traditional hip-and-gable roof on the main building and an adjoining earthen-walled storehouse housing a small archive, the museum had a relaxed sort of beauty. Inside one could see exhibits and watch demonstrations of the local craft of fashioning wooden containers out of cherry bark, known as
kaba-zaiku
.
But while it had plenty to offer the casual tourist, unfortunately, the museum was less of interest to the historian. Despite Kakunodate's being the birthplace of the Akita School, the museum had virtually nothing related to Western-style painting.

Having visited the folklore museum several times before, Ryohei knew all this. He had already decided that, for research purposes, it was not worth another visit. But as soon as they reached Kakunodate he changed his mind. Inside the museum there was a large souvenir shop. Ryohei realized he had been keeping Saeko's nose pressed to the grindstone, preventing her from indulging her taste for such pleasures. His instinct was confirmed as he watched Saeko happily browsing the merchandise on offer. Soon she had selected a number of kaba-zaiku pendants and key chains, presumably as gifts for her friends and colleagues.

Telling Saeko he would meet her in half an hour in the café on the second floor, Ryohei made his way to the staff office. As long as he was in Kakunodate he thought he might as well try to see where Odano Naotake was buried. Opening the door, he found a clerk in his forties seated alone at a desk, hard at work. In a few words, Ryohei stated his business, whereupon the man politely took out a map and explained what Ryohei wanted to know.

“On the way here I passed a house with a plaque by the entrance that said, ‘Odano residence.' Is that where Naotake was born, by any chance?” Ryohei asked.

“No, that house belonged to one of his relatives,” the man replied.

“So where would I find Naotake's birthplace?”

“The house where he was born was not located on the main street. It doesn't exist any longer, I'm afraid.”

Ryohei nodded.

“But if you're interested in Akita School painters, have you been to the municipal art museum?”

Ryohei shook his head.

“Right now it's got something else showing, but in the past there have been a number of exhibits on the Akita School. Just a moment…” Turning, the man pulled a catalogue off the bookcase behind him and handed it to Ryohei.

According to the cover, the catalogue was published in 1980 to mark the fifth anniversary of the opening of the Kakunodate Museum of Art. Flipping through it, Ryohei saw it contained many deluxe color plates, among which he recognized several works by Naotake. Towards the back of the catalogue there was a list of all the exhibits held at the museum during those five years, including the titles of all the works exhibited. It even went so far as to provide the date and dimensions of each painting and a brief profile of the artist. Three of the exhibits had been on Western-style painting.

“What a beautiful catalogue,” said Ryohei. He really meant it.

Ryohei was sitting in the café perusing the catalogue. The clerk had let him borrow it, saying he could return it on his way out.

“Have you been waiting long?”

Holding a shopping bag in her hand, Saeko sat down across from him.

“I don't mind waiting if you want to do some more shopping,” replied Ryohei.

“I think I've got everything I need,” Saeko said, smiling as she tapped the side of the paper bag. “What're you looking at?”

“This—” Ryohei said, handing her the catalogue. “I borrowed it from the office downstairs. It's a catalogue from the local art museum. They've done several exhibits on the Akita School.”

“You're right. Here's a painting by Naotake,” said Saeko, looking through the catalogue.

“I thought we might head over and have a look.”

“Do they have an exhibit right now?”

“Not at the moment. But the clerk downstairs says he'll introduce me to one of the curators there. I thought he might know something.”

The waitress came over to take Saeko's order. She pondered for a moment and then asked for tea with lemon.

“Kakunodate really takes its culture pretty seriously, doesn't it?” remarked Saeko. “Not many towns of this size have their own art museum. And I have to say, I'm very taken with this folklore museum. I'm seeing Kakunodate in a whole new light.”

“Hey, did you read this?” asked Saeko, looking up from the catalogue. “This part about Satake Yoshimi…”

“No. What does it say?”

“It says he was a protégé of Tani Sogai.”

“What! Yoshimi? Really?” Ryohei hurriedly scanned the page Saeko was pointing to with her finger. It was part of the section at the back that provided profiles of the various artists in the catalogue.

Satake Yoshimi—1749–1800. Head of the northern branch of the Satake clan and thirteenth lord of Kakunodate Castle. Born Yoshihiro. Sobriquets: Koshosanjin, Sessho, Ikkentei. Studied painting from Naotake. Protégé of Sogai. Also known as a poet of linked verse in the Edo Danrin style.

“Could it be a coincidence?”

“Well, Sogai
did
count many daimyo among his students, so it wouldn't be all that surprising. But both Shoei and Naotake started out as vassals of Yoshimi, so it would be a bit strange if Yoshimi turned out to be a protégé of Sogai's.”

“You mean because of that fan painting?”

“Uh-huh. It means we can link Shoei to that as well. We still don't know exactly what the painting means, but the old man pictured in it might well be Sogai. This is evidence that Shoei must have known Sogai. By the way, I didn't mention this before, but there's another interesting theory about who that old man might be.”

“You mean besides Tsutaya or Toyokuni?”

“Yes… Shiba Kokan!”

“Really?”

“It bears a close resemblance to Kokan's self-portrait. The age is not quite right, but there's anecdotal evidence Kokan shaved his head to make himself appear older than he really was.”

“Hmm. Sogai or Kokan? Both of them—”

“Were connected to Shoei,” Ryohei said slowly, finishing her sentence.

LEAVING THE TOWN behind, Ryohei and Saeko's taxi sped over a large bridge and emerged into the suburbs of Kakunodate. After they had gone some distance, a large building appeared ahead of them.

“That's the art museum. It used to be a bowling alley,” the driver explained with a smile. The taxi pulled up and stopped in front of a large entranceway.

“Wow—this place is enormous!” Saeko exclaimed once they were inside.

The museum was indeed enormous. It seemed all the more so for, having once been a bowling alley, there was not a single pillar anywhere to be seen. It was well-lit and had an immaculate look to it.

“Ah, yes. We were told to expect you.” When Ryohei presented himself at the information desk, the receptionist immediately recognized his name and ushered him and Saeko through a door to a small waiting room. Within a few minutes a man appeared. He was about thirty and smartly dressed in a suit and tie. A number of veins stood out on his forehead, giving him an intense look, but he proved quite affable. He bowed politely and presented his card to Ryohei. The name “Konno” was printed on it.

“So I hear you're doing research on the Akita School?”

Ryohei nodded and asked if he could see some paintings.

“We have photographs of every work that's been exhibited here at the museum. I'll go get them,” Konno said as he left the room. When he returned, his arms were full of almost more photo albums than he could carry.

Ryohei and Saeko began going through the albums one by one looking for Akita School paintings. They found forty or fifty, but none signed by Shoei. Nor did they see a single one that looked like it might be a painting of his that had been altered.

Ryohei was disappointed but also somewhat relieved.

“Shoei? Can't say I've ever heard of him.” Konno, who had been listening to their conversation, had a dubious look on his face.

Ryohei explained.

“You say he's listed in
Painters and Calligraphers of Akita
?
” Konno left the room and returned shortly carrying the book in question.

“Ah, here he is. But it doesn't say anything about him being part of the Akita School.”

Ryohei told Konno about finding Sato's catalogue. Of course, he left out the part about Sharaku.

“He painted
that
many works, did he? Living in Kakunodate, I really should have heard of him before,” said Konno with a self-deprecating smile.

Ryohei questioned Konno about the profile of Yoshimi printed in the museum catalogue.

“Yes, I wrote that. Most of the information about Akita-related painters in the catalogue comes from this book,” he replied, indicating
Painters and Calligraphers of Akita
.
“It contains all the major cultural figures of the time. It's been tremendously useful to me.”

“Besides Yoshimi, were there other apprentices of Sogai here in Akita?” Ryohei asked.

“Oh, yes, many. During Lord Shozan and Lord Yoshimi's time—the 1770s and
'
80s—the arts flourished throughout Akita. People were into everything; not just Western-style painting but also comic
kyoka
poetry, haiku, linked verse… you name it. But Shozan and Yoshimi don't deserve all the credit. The Akita clan was struggling to get back on its feet financially in the 1790s, and the chamberlains in charge of running the clan's Edo estate—men like Sato Bantoku and Tegara Okamochi—were great connoisseurs. That rubbed off on Shozan and Yoshimi.”

“Tegara Okamochi—as in Hoseido Kisanji, the writer?”

“Yes. That was his penname.”

This piece of information surprised Ryohei. Kisanji had been one of the brains behind Tsutaya's success. Tsutaya had published several of his books.

“Bantoku isn't as famous as Okamochi,” continued Konno, “but he was a real
bon vivant
—
so much so it was said under his administration much of the clan's business was conducted in the Yoshiwara, the red-light district in Edo. He also wrote fiction and composed poetry. He even taught Sakai Hoitsu how to write haiku and was best friends with Tani Sogai. In terms of the scale of his activities, Okamochi didn't even come close.”

Ryohei was speechless.

In modern terms, a clan chamberlain was akin to a foreign minister or secretary of state. In feudal times, every fief ran its own independent economy, and the chamberlain in Edo was responsible for representing the daimyo in business dealings with the central government and the private sector. Shozan was daimyo of Akita during the administration of Tanuma Okitsugu, which was infamous for its corrupt practices. Every ten years or so, the shogun undertook a major renovation of Edo Castle. The work—performing maintenance and repairs to the castle, rebuilding bridges, and so on—was divided up among the various clans. It was possible for a skillful chamberlain to negotiate an assignment that did not place a heavy financial burden on the clan. In this sense, having a chamberlain such as Bantoku or Okamochi, who knew how to game the system, was essential to the clan's long-term survival.

Of course, the Akita clan! Now why didn't I
…

So caught up had Ryohei been in his pursuit of Akita School painters that he had failed to consider the context of the times. Ryohei felt like kicking himself for his obtuseness. At the same time he couldn't suppress a feeling of astonishment at the huge cultural influence the Akita clan had exerted in the late eighteenth-century.