knife was covered with blood. The constable placed the killer under arrest and sent for us. We were notified two hours ago, and I was dispatched to the crime scene to interview the killer. That was when he gave your name, sir.”
“Did Tora confess to the murder?”
“No, sir. But then few killers will. At least not until they are questioned under torture.”
Akitada shuddered. “In that case,” he said, “you must not call him a killer yet. He is a suspect.”
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. I meant the suspect.”
He did not look as if he thought there was a difference but probably had not made too many arrests that did not produce a guilty plea in court. Akitada thought of Haseo. He must have pleaded guilty once. Had he been tortured, too? His back had been deeply scarred, but he had blamed that on the cruel guards in Sadoshima. A commoner like Tora would hardly be spared.
“Where is Tora now?”
“He has been taken to the Western Prison.”
The Western Prison served the disreputable right half of the capital. It was more crowded than its counterpart, and the crimes punished there tended to be more sordid. Akitada asked, “Who is in charge of the case?”
“I am, sir.”
“Ah. Very good. I want to see the crime scene. Can you take me there?”
The lieutenant looked shocked. “I am very sorry, sir, but that is not permitted. Besides, the body has been removed already.”
“When do you expect the coroner to examine it?”
“Early this morning, I think. Doctor Okubo is very punctual.”
There was an indrawn breath behind him and Akitada turned. Seimei hovered near the door, his face drawn with worry. “What time is it now, Seimei?”
“The hour of the ox is nearly over. We should hear the gong striking the hour of the tiger soon.”
Two, perhaps three hours till dawn. Akitada would not be able to see Tora or the coroner until daylight. He pulled his earlobe and considered.
“Perhaps Tora surprised the real killer,” offered Seimei. “It isn’t like him to do such a thing.” He addressed the police officer. “You see, Lieutenant, Tora would never kill a woman. It isn’t in his nature.”
The lieutenant looked embarrassed. “As you say, sir. In that case, there is nothing to worry about. The authorities will have the truth out of him soon.” To Akitada he said, with another precise bow, “If there is nothing else, sir, I shall take my leave. I only needed verification of the suspect’s identity and to find out if anyone here knows anything about the murder. I see that you had no knowledge of the incident.”
“Wait a moment,” Akitada said quickly. “I must insist on the details of the murder. Also, surely you should ask when Tora left here. For all you know, the crime happened at a time when he was with us.”
The officer flushed. “Sorry. It being the middle of the night, I did not want to make a nuisance of myself. I thought I’d come back in the morning. But if it is no imposition . . .” Pulling a sheaf of paper from his sleeve, he glanced around helplessly for writing utensils.
Akitada took pity on him. “Come,” he said, taking his arm, “we will go to my study.”
His study was in some disarray, with his bedding and some of his clothes still on the floor. Seimei bustled about, muttering nervously under his breath. He lit more candles and brought paper and brushes, inkstones and water containers. For the lieutenant he supplied a small desk and settled him in front of it. Then he busied himself with the bedding and clothes.
“Never mind those, Seimei,” Akitada said impatiently. “The servants can take care of them later.”
Actually there were few servants in the Sugawara household. Akitada customarily put away his own bedding every morning, but the lieutenant would not understand this and might be less respectful if he knew of Akitada’s modest circumstances.
When they were alone, Akitada rubbed some ink and dipped his brush in it. The lieutenant was doing the
“Did Tora confess to the murder?”
“No, sir. But then few killers will. At least not until they are questioned under torture.”
Akitada shuddered. “In that case,” he said, “you must not call him a killer yet. He is a suspect.”
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. I meant the suspect.”
He did not look as if he thought there was a difference but probably had not made too many arrests that did not produce a guilty plea in court. Akitada thought of Haseo. He must have pleaded guilty once. Had he been tortured, too? His back had been deeply scarred, but he had blamed that on the cruel guards in Sadoshima. A commoner like Tora would hardly be spared.
“Where is Tora now?”
“He has been taken to the Western Prison.”
The Western Prison served the disreputable right half of the capital. It was more crowded than its counterpart, and the crimes punished there tended to be more sordid. Akitada asked, “Who is in charge of the case?”
“I am, sir.”
“Ah. Very good. I want to see the crime scene. Can you take me there?”
The lieutenant looked shocked. “I am very sorry, sir, but that is not permitted. Besides, the body has been removed already.”
“When do you expect the coroner to examine it?”
“Early this morning, I think. Doctor Okubo is very punctual.”
There was an indrawn breath behind him and Akitada turned. Seimei hovered near the door, his face drawn with worry. “What time is it now, Seimei?”
“The hour of the ox is nearly over. We should hear the gong striking the hour of the tiger soon.”
Two, perhaps three hours till dawn. Akitada would not be able to see Tora or the coroner until daylight. He pulled his earlobe and considered.
“Perhaps Tora surprised the real killer,” offered Seimei. “It isn’t like him to do such a thing.” He addressed the police officer. “You see, Lieutenant, Tora would never kill a woman. It isn’t in his nature.”
The lieutenant looked embarrassed. “As you say, sir. In that case, there is nothing to worry about. The authorities will have the truth out of him soon.” To Akitada he said, with another precise bow, “If there is nothing else, sir, I shall take my leave. I only needed verification of the suspect’s identity and to find out if anyone here knows anything about the murder. I see that you had no knowledge of the incident.”
“Wait a moment,” Akitada said quickly. “I must insist on the details of the murder. Also, surely you should ask when Tora left here. For all you know, the crime happened at a time when he was with us.”
The officer flushed. “Sorry. It being the middle of the night, I did not want to make a nuisance of myself. I thought I’d come back in the morning. But if it is no imposition . . .” Pulling a sheaf of paper from his sleeve, he glanced around helplessly for writing utensils.
Akitada took pity on him. “Come,” he said, taking his arm, “we will go to my study.”
His study was in some disarray, with his bedding and some of his clothes still on the floor. Seimei bustled about, muttering nervously under his breath. He lit more candles and brought paper and brushes, inkstones and water containers. For the lieutenant he supplied a small desk and settled him in front of it. Then he busied himself with the bedding and clothes.
“Never mind those, Seimei,” Akitada said impatiently. “The servants can take care of them later.”
Actually there were few servants in the Sugawara household. Akitada customarily put away his own bedding every morning, but the lieutenant would not understand this and might be less respectful if he knew of Akitada’s modest circumstances.
When they were alone, Akitada rubbed some ink and dipped his brush in it. The lieutenant was doing the
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