The Hell Screen (58 page)

Pushing people out of his way, dodging the hooves of oxen, and squeezing between two carriages barely in time before one of the large wheels almost caught him again, Akitada managed finally to reach his family. To his relief, Tamako and Yoshiko huddled together on a bench, their arms around each other and Yori. Kojiro stood over them, his face flushed and an ugly bruise marring one cheek.

They all looked at a pile of overturned seats where Miss Plumblossom sat among the broken boards and splintered bench legs. She had lost her wig, and her bald scalp shone in the torchlight. Her gown was ripped down the front, and a broad streak of mud decorated her ruddy face. But she looked triumphant.

“Miss Plumblossom,” gasped Akitada, sliding to a halt, “are you hurt?”

Groping for her wig with its red ribbons, she grinned. “Not a bit, sir. Look, I caught me the head goblin himself. If that isn’t good luck, I don’t know what is.”

Seimei staggered over, rubbing his shoulder and holding his head. “Thank heaven you’ve returned, sir. This madman attacked Mr. Kojiro and then ran into the ladies’ enclosure. But fleeing from the tiger’s den, he ran into the dragon. If it hadn’t been for Miss Plumblossom, I don’t know what we should have done.”

Akitada stepped closer. On the ground, pinned between Miss Plumblossom’s massive haunches, lay a figure dressed in orange and red silk. Danjuro was on his back, his eyes closed and his face contorted with pain. Miss Plumblossom chuckled and stuck her wig on his head. The actor jerked away and started bucking and moaning. His struggle had perversely sexual overtones. Dressed in his orange finery, with the wig on his head, and straddled by a bald Miss Plumblossom, he resembled the female partner of a lecherous priest.

The resemblance had not escaped Miss Plumblossom. She giggled and bounced. “Come on, lover,” she cooed. “Get it up. I’ve got you right where I want you. If you were a bit more of a man, I think I’d take you home with me.”

Seimei gasped.

Danjuro stopped struggling and moaned again. Akitada shot a glance at his wife and sister and said sternly, “Miss Plumblossom, get up! There are ladies watching.”

Miss Plumblossom made no move to obey. “Time they learned the way to please a man, if they haven’t by now. I don’t mind giving them pointers while Goblin here is twitching between my thighs, but the poor creature’s rod is a limp noodle. I wonder what all those girls have been seeing in him.”

Seimei gave a choking cry and clutched at Akitada’s arm. He looked so profoundly shocked that Akitada thought he was about to faint.

* * * *

The Twofold Truth

The night between the old year and the new was long. Akitada did not return to his home and bed until just before dawn, to the cheerful noise from the Imperial Palace, where the members of the Imperial Guard were twanging their bows and officials were ringing bells to mark the new beginning.

After the capture of Danjuro in the Spring Garden, Akitada sent his family home and arranged to have Miss Plumblossom escorted by Tora and Genba. The tumult of the demon chase died down gradually, as Kobe and Akitada accompanied the prisoners to jail.

Kobe insisted on interrogating Danjuro and Nobuko immediately and separately. He commandeered the prison director’s office and sent the sleepy constables and guards rushing about, carrying messages and summons to clerks, physicians, and the women’s prison matron. Danjuro was dragged in first. Someone had decided that he was not injured badly enough to rate a litter. Danjuro did not agree and refused to cooperate. The two burly guards had to grip him under the arms and drag him in between them. They expressed their frustration by handling him as roughly as they could, and Danjuro cursed and screamed.

“Put him down!” shouted Kobe over the din. “Why is he screaming like that?”

They dropped him like a load of firewood. One guard grinned. “Broken rib, sir.”

“Oh.” Kobe eyed the whimpering prisoner on the floor. “Well, he’s calmed down,” he said carelessly. “The doctor can take a look at him later. But you shouldn’t have roughed him up before I had a chance to talk to him.”

“We didn’t,” protested the men. “That rib was already broken.”

Kobe turned to Akitada. “Did you have trouble with the bastard?”

“No. But Miss Plumblossom did.”

Kobe’s eyes widened. “Not that woman again? She’s better than any of my men. I may have to give her a job.” He chuckled. “That would stop her from criticizing the police. I could make her a warden of her quarter, maybe?”

“I should think she would like that very much,” Akitada said with a laugh.

Danjuro cursed again. One of the guards unhooked his two-pronged metal
jitte
from his belt and gave him a sharp prod with it.

“Sit up, you!” Kobe snapped.

“I can’t. She broke my back,” whined Danjuro. “She finished me. I’ll never act again. I want compensation.”

“You what?” Kobe guffawed. “Don’t worry! You’ll be compensated. And if you don’t sit up, I’ll make certain you cannot lie down for weeks.”

Danjuro bestirred himself weakly and with many moans and cries. His face was wet with sweat and tears when he finally faced them.

Kobe burst into another shout of laughter. “Behold the fierce demon king! You look more like an old woman without your mask. What a crybaby! How can someone like you play famous heroes and gods? You’re an insult to men everywhere.”

Danjuro shot him a malevolent glance and sniffled. “I’m an actor,” he said with an attempt at dignity, “not a crude soldier or constable. Besides, I’ve been viciously attacked and injured. Imagine finding yourself pushed into an enclosure where some man starts hitting you! I was defending myself as best I could when that female monster joined in and tried to kill me. You’d do better to arrest that pair than to torture me. Tomorrow I shall lay charges before a judge against my attackers and all of you. Now I demand to be treated by a physician.” He snapped his mouth shut and glared.

The guard jabbed Danjuro again with his
jitte
while his partner reached for his whip, but Kobe shook his head. “It is late, and I am tired,” he said, “so we’ll dispense with your amusing pretense of innocence. You are charged with murdering three people, specifically the actress Ohisa, the antiquarian Nagaoka, and the retired professor Yasaburo.”

“Ridiculous,” said Danjuro, feeling his ribs.

“Not at all. The actress Ohisa was a member of your troupe and one of your women. You strangled her during a stay at the Eastern Mountain Temple because you had tired of her, and had a new lover. Her murder may have been instigated by your new lover, Nagaoka’s wife. We know she helped you contrive an elaborate plot in which Ohisa’s body would be disguised as hers so that the murder could be pinned on Nagaoka’s brother.”

“Lies,” cried Danjuro. “Ohisa left to go home to her parents.”

“That will be easy enough to disprove,” Kobe said coldly. “Your next murder, that of your paramour’s husband, happened at Kohata in the home of her father. After extracting a fortune in blood money from him, you poisoned him and dumped him by the side of the highway, hoping we would blame it on robbers.”

Danjuro looked at the ceiling. “I know nothing of the man. Total stranger!”

“Then there is murder number three, also by poison. I suppose you found it worked very well the last time, or you had a supply left over. In any case, you entered the eastern jail disguised as a Buddhist monk and asked to see Yasaburo. When you were admitted to his cell, you passed him the poison in a gift of food and departed.”

“What a fantastic tale!” scoffed Danjuro. “Just because I’m an actor and you’ve seen me play a priest, you accuse me of murder. Why would I do such a thing?”

“Because you were afraid that Yasaburo would identify his daughter and because he knew or suspected that you killed Nagaoka. Believe me, Danjuro, your game is up. You can save yourself some pain by confessing now.”

“You can’t scare me. I’m innocent,” Danjuro blustered.

“Don’t forget,” said Kobe, smiling ferociously, “we have your lover in custody. She will talk soon enough once the guards take the bamboo whips to her pretty backside. And she’ll blame it all on you.”

Danjuro sagged. Like a cornered animal’s, his eyes moved frantically this way and that, “Then she’ll be lying,” he muttered.

He was taken away to the doctor, and Nobuko was brought in. She was in tears, but had washed the makeup off her face and managed to rearrange her hair and fairy princess gown. She knelt without urging and bowed deeply to Kobe and Akitada.

“This insignificant person is the actress Yugao, daughter of Yasaburo Seijiro and wife of the actor Danjuro. I humbly ask your honors’ explanation of the charges brought against me.”

Kobe regarded her bowed figure with contempt. “You can stop acting now, Mrs. Nagaoka. We know who you are and what you and your current husband have done. It is in your interest to confess quickly and completely to your involvement in the triple murder of the girl Ohisa, your husband Nagaoka, and your father Yasaburo.”

Her eyes widened. She opened her mouth, then raised a hand to it and bit her knuckles. “Oh,” she wailed, “that you should think I could lay a hand on my own father for whom I grieve day and night. I have not always been a dutiful daughter to him and the guilt weighs heavily on me. May the gods of heaven and earth forgive me!”

Akitada thought it a fine performance, though perhaps just a little overdone. That last phrase especially sounded quaint, like some ancient Shinto prayer.

“Guards!” shouted Kobe. Two uniformed constables entered and stood to attention. “Bamboo whips!” Kobe ordered.

The prisoner dropped her pose, her beautiful face suddenly a mask of fear. “No, please not that,” she cried. “Ask me anything! I shall answer.”

Kobe dismissed the constables and glowered at the prisoner. “Did you join Uemon’s troupe on the sixth day of the Frost Month on the occasion of a pilgrimage to the Eastern Mountain Temple?”

“Yes. I had always aspired to be an actress, and our father encouraged us to participate in private performances. Theater was his passion. When I heard some actresses in the temple’s visitors’ quarters talking about one of their troupe having deserted them, I acted on impulse and offered to take; her place. It was to be for only one performance, but I fell in love with Danjuro and stayed.”

Regardless of what she called herself, this woman was not only beautiful and self-possessed but very clever. The story hung together. Both her father and Harada had spoken of performances with visiting actors, and Nagaoka and Kojiro had mentioned her talents in singing and dancing. A lonely middle-aged bachelor like Nagaoka would have been enchanted by her. Even now her manner was consciously flirtatious, the lips full and moist, every movement of her body provocative. Such a woman would hardly settle for the quiet devotion of a reserved, older husband, but would try to seduce the stolid Kojiro. Danjuro, a dashing ladies’ man and part-time hero onstage, would have been irresistible to her. Akitada leaned toward Kobe and whispered.

Kobe nodded. He asked the woman, “Did Uemon’s Players ever perform at your father’s house while you lived there?”

The question made her pause. “I... I can’t remember. They may have. It was such a long time ago.”

Kobe leaned forward. “We have a witness who says you met Danjuro there and later had an affair with him.”

She flushed. Kobe smiled triumphantly. Then she lowered her eyes. “Yes. It’s quite true. I was ashamed to admit it. It is the reason my father and I quarreled. He was terribly angry when he found out. I wanted to leave with Danjuro, but he forbade it.”

Kobe and Akitada looked at each other. What was this? A confession wrapped into the old story of the maiden seduced and ruined by the villain?

Kobe muttered to Akitada, “That old man may have dug his own grave when he raised his daughter to associate with such riffraff.”

Akitada murmured back, “In this case, I suspect the woman corrupted the man.”