Takechi shook his head. “It’s something to do with the imperial pheasant preserve. I couldn’t make it out. The two servants can’t read, but they thought he was writing down a record of his cases. Reminiscing, you know.”

Akitada nodded. Old men were prone to doing that. He’d found himself remembering events of the past since Lady Yukiko had asked him to tell her about them. It was strange, this connection between past and future. The young wanted stories, and the old spent their declining years telling them. And so the past was likely to color how the next generation would think and act.

Suddenly depressed, he put such reflections from his mind and admired the fine writing utensils, picking them up one by one and turning them in his hands to study the decorations. Among them was a small wooden carving, a contrast to the delicate workmanship of the other items. It appeared to be a figure of Jizo, the Buddhist divinity who was variously the protector of children, women, and travelers. Such figures, carved from wood or stone, abounded in the land, being found along roadways everywhere. More than any other divine representation of the Buddhist faith, Jizo seemed to belong to the people.

This figure was roughly made. Unlike the stone statues beside the roads, it was small enough to hold easily in one’s hand.

No doubt it had had some special meaning for the judge or he would not have kept it on his desk beside the pretty objects. He replaced it and turned to look about the room but saw nothing else of interest. “Have you spoken to the servants?”

“Yes. If you’ve seen enough here, perhaps you’d like to talk to them yourself, sir?”

As it turned out, the young couple occupied roomy quarters in the former stable. The judge had evidently no longer any need for horses. They were greeted by the wife, who was holding a baby and trying to control a half-naked toddler at the same time. She bobbed several bows, looking distracted and gesturing for them to come in.

Akitada saw that they were quite poor. The room was bare except for some worn bedding, a few chipped utensils, and an iron cooking pot over a meager fire.

They remained standing. Though the floor had been swept, there were no cushions or reed mats to sit on. Such abject poverty was unusual for a couple who clearly served as the main servants in a large household.

The chief smiled at the frightened-looking woman and tickled the toddler’s neck. He asked, “Where is your husband, Tatsuko?”

She looked vaguely guilty. “Kiyoshi went to the harbor looking for work. We have no money and no food.”

“Ah,” said Takechi, “the judge forgot to pay you?”

A glint of anger appeared in her eyes. “He’s always slow, and then he takes back some of our earnings for rent. There’s two more of us now.” She nodded toward the children. “What will happen? He owed us wages. I don’t even have enough for the children to watch a puppet play.”

“I don’t know.” Takechi glanced at Akitada, who was already searching his sash for some money to give her.

Akitada said, “I take it Nakano was a tightwad. I will never understand how anyone can treat his people this way. I expect they worked hard for what he paid them.” He passed several silver coins to the young woman. “Here, this should help for a while. Do you know who inherits?”

She shook her head. “He never married.” She was staring at the silver in her hand, then looked up. “Thank you, your honor,” she cried and fell to her knees, bowing so deeply that the child at her breast sent up a loud squalling.

“Never mind.” Akitada gave her a hand to help her up. “Did you or your husband hear anything last night?” he asked.

“Nothing. We’re too far from the house and sleep soundly. Did he cry out or something?”

Akitada said, “We don’t know. I wondered if you might have heard a visitor come or leave.”

She gazed at him, shaking her head. “A visitor? He had no visitors. He had no friends either. I don’t think anyone liked him, and he didn’t like people.”

The loneliness of old age. Neither family nor friends. But in this case, Akitada could not dredge up much pity.

Takechi said, “There’s a cousin in the capital and a niece or two in Nara, daughters of a sister he lost touch with. I assume one or the other will claim the property.”

“What will become of us?” she asked again, holding the child more closely.

Takechi patted her shoulder. “I’ll keep you in mind and will try to get you your pay, but I think your husband had better look for other work. And a place to stay.”

She nodded and started to cry.

Chapter Eight

Dead Men Don’t Speak

They returned to police headquarters and the adjoining jail. This jail was very different from the one Akitada remembered, where he had occupied the single cell in the old office. Now he found a separate building with an astonishing ten cells and assorted other rooms. Eight of the cells were occupied.

“Do you have this much crime in Otsu now?” he asked Takechi.

“This time of year we have more transients than at other times, and outlying districts send us their most serious criminals. Three judges reside in Otsu now, and our provincial headquarters can handle crimes much more efficiently than in the past. It’s a good thing, but it means more work for me.”

He headed for a door at the very back and opened it. Within lay a simple room, well lit by several open shutters to the outside. The floor was scrubbed wood, and rolls of bamboo mats were stacked against a wall.

But Akitada’s eyes fell on two men crouching over a body that rested on one of the mats near the opened shutters. One was young with a slender body and an intent expression on his face. He looked up with a frown at the interruption. Then his face cleared. “Ah, it’s you, Chief.”

The other was elderly and apparently an assistant or servant of the younger.

Takechi made the introduction. “This is Doctor Kimura, our coroner. Kimura, I brought Lord Sugawara along in hopes of clearing up this case quickly.”

Kimura stood and bowed. “An unexpected pleasure, my Lord. And an honor to meet the famous solver of crimes.”

Akitada said drily, “Thank you, but my interest isn’t personal. I’m here on behalf of the governor who could not come himself. I’m merely to report. Have you finished your examination?”

“All but the study of the dead man’s organs, sir.”

Akitada eyed him with considerable respect. Few coroners bothered to cut bodies open. “Does that mean you cannot tell how he died?”

The young coroner smiled. “Not with certainty. Though I should warn you that his organs may not offer much information either. Still, one must be thorough, right?”

“Right.” Akitada approached the corpse to peer more closely. The judge was not a pleasant sight. Naked and considerably aged since they had met ten years before, he was no longer merely well-nourished; he was fat, and the fat hung off his bones in ugly rolls. His skin was mottled, though Akitada saw no wounds of any sort. His face, marred by jowls and deep lines running from below his eyes to his chin, resembled that of a demon. The white hair was thin and showed the scalp underneath. His topknot, tight though it was, failed at keeping his features in place. Akitada straightened and asked, “What can you tell us so far?”

“As you can see, there are no obvious wounds to the front of his body. The back is similarly unmarked. Except for this.” He bent to raise the dead man’s head by the topknot and gestured to its back. “Feel just here.”

Both Akitada and Takechi felt. Akitada detected a slight swelling.

Takechi said, “It isn’t much. Did it bleed?”

“No. The skin isn’t broken.”

“Hardly a fatal wound then?” Akitada asked.