Read Online The Crane Pavilion by I. J. Parker - Free Book Online

the others about Lady Ogata’s death.”
    Koshiro blinked, then opened the door wider and invited them in. “We’ve told the police everything we know,” he said with a glance at the painter who followed, smiling and nodding.
    Koshiro’s quarters were simple but clean. To Akitada’s surprise, the man owned a number of books. Caretakers were not usually literate. They derived their appointments from the fact that they were trusted family servants, but here was an educated man, someone who could earn a good deal more by using his skills elsewhere or in another capacity. In the capital, there was always a great demand for scribes and men who could manage bureaus, offices, archives, and documents.
    Koshiro brought some rush mats for them to sit on, then sat down himself. The painter looked around for the wine, but decided to wait.
    Akitada began by asking the question that had just occurred to him. “How did you come to take on this work?”
    Koshiro met his eyes briefly and looked away. He will lie, thought Akitada, fascinated.
    “His Reverence needed someone to look after the place,” the caretaker said, “and I needed a place to live. I’m alone in the world and like the arrangement.”
    Ah. Not a lie perhaps, but certainly not an answer that contained any information. How did the two men meet? Why was Koshiro alone in the world? Why would he accept such a lowly position? And finally, perhaps most intriguingly, what was it about his life here that was so attractive?
    Akitada did not get to ask those questions, because the painter said cheerfully, “We all like it here. It’s peaceful, and we’re peaceful people.”
    Akitada eyed him without pleasure. “You almost make it sound as if the residents are hiding from someone or something.”
    Koshiro made a sudden movement, and the painter said quickly, “People. We hide from people. I have my work and hate interruptions; the student has his studies, the nun lives like hermit and does her devotions, and Koshiro’s shy.”
    Akitada eyed the caretaker. “Shy?” The caretaker did not seem shy. He seemed very uncomfortable. “And Lady Ogata?”
    “Well,” said the painter with a laugh, “women without families must find refuge someplace, right?”
    “So she had no family? How did that come about?”
    “How should I know? I don’t ask questions. It was enough to see her sometimes.” The painter’s eyes closed, and he smiled. “An exquisite beauty! A man could go mad with desire for such a one.”
    Koshiro snapped, “Shame on you, Yoshizane! You’re disrespectful of the dead.”
    The painter opened his eyes and grinned. “No offense, Koshiro. I’m an artist after all. My eyes are always searching out the most memorable and revealing features of the world around me.”
    These words must have carried some secret meaning, for Koshiro now looked at the painter with a murderous expression. Akitada became convinced that the men who lived here had not been indifferent to the beautiful woman among them. He had already noted that the student, though younger than the dead woman, had been enamored of her. Such passions could create jealousies and bitter resentments, and these frequently led to murder.
    But he said nothing of this. Instead he changed the subject to Abbot Genshin’s charity. “How is it that all the residents live here by Abbot Genshin’s generosity?”
    Koshiro said quickly, “I work here. I’m the caretaker of the property. This small house is part of my pay.”
    The painter smirked. “Not that his work is very heavy, considering there are always people from the outside coming in to sweep and rake, to trim and tidy up. As for me? Yes, I have use of some space in one of the wings. I do my painting there and pay for its use by donating some of my work to the abbot’s temple.”
    Koshiro snorted.
    By now both men glared at each other, and Akitada decided to change the subject again. “Tell me what you know about Lady Ogata.”
    The painter said,