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Chikao. I meant that I would report this to the magistrate.”
    Hiro found it curious that the brewer appealed to the priest.
    “Did Chikao respond to the threat?” Hiro asked.
    “No,” Ginjiro said. “What could he say? I didn’t expect to see him again for a while. Not until he raised the money to pay off Kaoru’s debt.”
    “But he returned to speak with you again when the shops were closed,” Hiro said.
    Ginjiro shook his head. “He didn’t. Well, he must have, but I didn’t know he had until this morning.”
    Five or six cages down the row, a gnarled hand extended through the bars and started waving.
    “Hiro- san ! Hiro- san ! It’s me!” Suke the monk gripped the bars and pressed his nose through the opening. “Make the police release Ginjiro. He didn’t kill Chikao.”
    “Make them release me too,” said a ragged man in a nearby cage.
    Suke turned to the speaker. “Shut up. You’re guilty. You told me so.”
    The ragged man shrugged. “It was worth a try.”
    Hiro asked Ginjiro, “Did Suke kill Chikao?”
    “I doubt it,” the brewer said.
    “Then why does he claim he’s guilty?” Father Mateo asked.
    “Who knows why Suke does anything?” Frustration crept into Ginjiro’s voice. “He’s a drunk, with a drunk’s imagination.”
    “If you know he’s a drunk, why do you serve him sake?” the Jesuit asked.
    “He wouldn’t go away if I refused,” Ginjiro said. “Besides, he doesn’t drink that much and doesn’t cause a scene.”
    Hiro redirected the conversation. “Where did Suke go last night when your brewery closed?”
    “Into the alley, as always,” Ginjiro said. “He did take one of my flasks. I saw him slip it into his sleeve. He’s done it before and always returns them. That’s why I let him think I didn’t notice.”
    “Do you let other customers take your flasks away from the shop?” Father Mateo asked.
    “No. They bring a private flask when they want to take sake home,” Ginjiro said.
    “So the broken flask in the alley was the one that Suke took?” the Jesuit asked.
    “Has to be,” Ginjiro said. “I’m not missing another.”
    “I think I’ll talk with Suke.” Hiro looked at Father Mateo. “You stay here. He’ll talk more freely if I go alone.”
    As Hiro approached, Suke’s mouth gaped open in a nearly toothless smile. Hiro wondered how the monk remained so happy with his feet sunk ankle-deep in stinking filth.
    He bent down to look Suke in the eyes. “Why do you proclaim Ginjiro’s innocence so firmly?”
    A drop of drool glistened on Suke’s lower lip.
    “Because I am guilty.” The monk raised a hand to his head. “Can you get me some sake? I have a terrible headache.”
    “You have a headache because of sake,” Hiro said.
    “Exactly,” Suke said, “because there isn’t any here!”
    Hiro couldn’t help but smile. “Why did you kill Chikao?”
    Suke straightened as much as the cage allowed. “Self-defense—he tried to steal my sake flask.”
    “You killed a man over half a flask of sake?” Hiro asked.
    “The flask was empty.” Suke’s smile disappeared. “I am a dangerous man.”
    “Apparently so,” Hiro said. “Tell me, how did you kill him?”
    “I hit him with the flask, of course.” Suke pantomimed the action. “Don’t ask how many blows it took. I did it in my sleep. When I woke up, the flask was gone and the man was already dead.”
    “That doesn’t prove you killed him,” Hiro said. “In fact, it implies you didn’t.”
    “It was me,” Suke insisted. “I am a monk but trained as a warrior. I can kill by instinct, even when sleeping.”
    “That’s some instinct,” Hiro said.
    Suke nodded solemnly. “As I told you, I’m a dangerous man.”
    Hiro raised an eyebrow. “Dangerous enough to kill a man for stealing an empty flask? I thought monks took vows to cherish life.”
    “I never claimed I was a good monk,” Suke said. “Between us—and this goes no further—I might drink more sake than I