Heads turned to stare.

Tokuzo’s bully recognized him. He called out, “It’s you again! You were here last night.” He turned to a policeman. “He made threats against my master. He said he wanted to see him in hell.”

The policeman approached. “You were making threats? What’s your name?” He raised himself almost on tiptoe in an effort to look the huge Genba in the eye.

Genba glanced down at him. “What happened?”

The watchers now gathered around them. One said, “Tokuzo’s been murdered. It’s a blood bath in there.”

“Murdered?” Genba’s jaw sagged. He looked across at the gaudy flags and curtains decorated with bamboo and the name Sasaya. His first thought was one of gratitude to the killer. He had done to Tokuzo what should have been done long ago. Men who abused women and forced them to work for them like slaves did not deserve to live. He breathed, “May the Buddha be praised! So that bastard is finally dead.”

“And you’re pretty happy about that, are you?” demanded the policeman, his voice becoming shrill with excitement. He grabbed Genba’s arm, then realized he was hardly the man to hold on to it and called to his colleagues, “Over here! I’ve got a suspect. Quick!”

They were quick, five of them. Two redcoats and three neighborhood constables. The bruiser volunteered his assistance, too. Genba was too surprised to make a move. He looked blankly at the men who had taken hold of him and then back at the Sasaya. “When did it happen?” he asked. His interest in the answer was not great, but it seemed the right thing to say. Part of his mind was busy working out who would now claim ownership of Ohiro’s contract, and whether they might be inclined to take less gold for it.

Tora walked over. “You’re making a mistake, fellows,” he said, flashing his big smile. “Genba’s my friend, and we just got here. I’m Tora, in case you’ve forgotten my handsome face and charming manners.”

“I remember you.” The policeman looked sour, perhaps having less than pleasant memories of his run-in with Tora. “Your friend’s been recognized by a witness as having been here last night near the time of the murder. He was making threats against the victim. And just now he admitted it. He’s under arrest.”

Genba said, “But I didn’t see Tokuzo last night. I was just passing. Besides, if you ask around, most people in the quarter hated that bastard. He was not a good man, officer. He beat and raped the women who worked for him.”

“So?” The policeman looked unimpressed. “That’s true of about half the brothel owners in the quarter, the male ones anyway. Though the aunties have been known to enjoy their girls also.” He gave a hoot of laughter. “Who knows what goes on after the customers leave, eh? A girl has a contract, she works it out any way she can. And most of them cheat their aunties and uncles at a horrible rate. What would you do if you’re a businessman and your employee sells your goods on the side and pockets the money?”

Genba opened his mouth to argue, but Tora put his hand on his arm. “Look,” he said to the policeman, “we both belong to Lord Sugawara’s household. You’ve heard about him, I’m sure. Let Genba go in peace. He’s got the marketing to do, and you can always find him when you want him. As he says, this Tokuzo’s got enemies and you may be missing the real suspect if you don’t keep looking.”

There was a pause, during which the policeman glanced at Genba’s empty marketing basket and his round, friendly face. Then he relented. “All right. Since I know your names and where to find you, you can go, but make sure he’s available or you’ll be sorry.”

Tora and Genba departed speedily around the next corner and stopped.

“Where’s Saburo?” Tora asked, looking around. “Let’s wait to give him a chance to catch up.”

Genba was lost in thought. What about Ohiro? Would she be suspected? “What do you suppose happened to Tokuzo?” he asked. “The policeman said he was killed last night when I was there.”

“He was lying to scare you. Still, I wish we could have hung about to find out a little more.”

Saburo appeared so suddenly between them that they jumped apart. Tora said irritably, “I wish you wouldn’t do that. It’s spooky. If you have to walk silently, at least clear your throat.”

“Sorry.” Saburo took each of them by an elbow and pulled them away. “No sense in staying here. That policeman may regret letting you get away so easily. As for finding out more, Tokuzo’s had his throat slit. He’d gone to bed, because they found him in it this morning. The bedding was soaked in blood. No sign of the knife, but it must’ve been a sharp one. The doctor they called said it was a clean, deep cut. It isn’t easy cutting a throat. You need a very sharp blade.”

Genba shook his head in wonder. “Who could have done it? A woman, do you think?”

Saburo pursed his lips. “Not very likely. As I said, it isn’t easy. Not when it’s a deep cut. And he was lying down, remember? The killer must’ve been covered with blood.”

“How do you know so much about cutting throats?” Tora asked suspiciously.

Saburo gave him another of his quelling looks. “Don’t ask stupid questions, Tora.”

“Amida!” breathed Tora. “You must’ve led quite a life. Does the master know? I’m not sure we’re safe in our beds at night.”

Saburo stopped, his face working. “Tora,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion, “I’ve never killed an honest man or woman, and the master has a better opinion of me than you do. That’s because he’s a good man who still believes in the goodness of others. You, I don’t know about.”

Genba said quickly, “Tora didn’t mean it. He jokes sometimes. You’ve been with us long enough to know that.”

Saburo looked at Tora, clearly trying to decide if he should be offended. The struggle did not last.

Tora grinned. “You’ll learn in time.” He slapped the bony back of the ugly man. “Didn’t mean to offend you, Saburo. It’s just that your mysterious past makes me curious. You can understand that.”

Saburo nodded. “Maybe I’ll tell you things some day, but give me time. My memories are very bad, and I don’t like being reminded.”

Genba would have enjoyed his peace-making role—he was by nature a man who abhorred arguments and confrontations—but his mind was again on his own problem. “Do you think the police will tell the master about the murder?” he asked anxiously. “Do you think he’ll tell me to leave this time?”

Tora snorted. “You know better than that. After all these years, he’d never show so little faith in you. Besides, you didn’t kill the bastard. If things turn really bad, the master will step in and solve the crime. That’s what he’ll do.”

Genba sighed. There was still Ohiro to be considered. He was impatient to see her and to warn her about talking to the police. She needed to stay home and keep away from prying eyes. “Well, there’s no point in you tagging along with me. Why don’t you go back home. I can go to the market by myself.”

They nodded. There were chores waiting.

Genba walked on and quickly made his purchases at the market. Avoiding the lengthy contest with women bargaining shrilly for their purchases, he made no effort to find the freshest fish or the largest cabbages. He even ignored the mouth-watering smells of fried foods and the sounds of slurping and lip-smacking from the noodle soup vendor’s customers. Cook would complain about his purchases and call him a big ox, but she did so anyway. From the market, he went on to Ohiro’s tenement.

To his relief, she was still home and had heard the news.

“Oh, Genba,” she cried, flinging her arms around him. “I’ve been so worried. Shokichi’s been to the Sasaya. She said Tokuzo’s been murdered and the police think you did it.”

“They made a mistake, love. But it’s best that you stay away as long as your face looks like that. If someone asks, say you’re sick. And if someone sees you, tell them you fell in the dark.”