Becoming irritated, Akitada said, “He isn’t suffering for you but for himself. He’s responsible for what happened. Besides, he won’t be suffering. He’s not the one in jail, and he’s a very clever fellow. Too clever for our staid household.”

Genba hung his head. “Maybe so, but if he isn’t good enough, then neither am I, sir. Besides, there’s Ohiro now. I have to look after her. Maybe we’ll go to the country where no one knows about her past. Yes, that’s what we’ll do.”

“Did I hear you correctly?” Akitada stared at the big wrestler, who had grown gray and fat in his service. “You cannot be threatening to leave my service?”

Genba looked up and flushed. “Not threatening, sir. Just going away so I won’t cause more trouble to you and your lady. And the little ones.” Tears rose to his eyes and spilled over. “I shall miss them.” He heaved a sigh. “And you, sir.”

Akitada was speechless.

And angry.

Very angry.

And hurt.

So much for loyalty and friendship. They had been together for more than thirteen years, and Genba was throwing all of it away. For what? For a woman from a brothel and a former spy who had been with them a comparatively short while.

He turned on his heel and stormed out of Genba’s cell.

Akitada regretted his anger at Genba almost immediately. It was really all Saburo’s fault. Why had he taken the man on when he had known his background? Honesty reminded him he had also taken on Tora and Genba, and their past offenses had been more serious than Saburo’s. Having proven himself wrong did nothing for his temper, but it did send him to the amusement quarter in the vague hope he might learn something there that would free Genba and his “bride” from jail. He would deal with the Saburo situation later.

By asking questions, he found Tokuzo’s brothel quite easily. The exterior looked neither impressive nor clean. It was clearly just a low dive. He saw the building consisted of two parts, a lower floor that dispensed wine, and an upper floor where the harlots plied their trade, having a ready access to drunken men from below.

He grimaced. Genba’s woman had worked there.

When he walked into the large room, groups of men sat around, laborers or those who worked in the markets and businesses of the capital. They were drinking and talking, when they should have been at work. A slatternly female with a flat face and small eyes approached him, staring with surprise at his formal robe and cap.

“May I be of service?” she asked, bowing deeply.

Young but not particularly attractive, thought Akitada. And certainly not clean. Still, she probably was tempting enough to the men in this room.

“I want to speak to the owner.” Akitada glanced around. It had become silent, and he saw stares. “In another room.”

The waitress looked confused, then bowed again. “This way, Your Honor.” Swinging ample hips, she led him through the room of drinkers, down a dark hall and into a small backroom. “His Honor wishes to speak to you, Mistress,” she announced, and left, closing the door behind her.

Akitada looked down at an old woman who was bent over a big ledger. Her white hair was getting thin on top. She raised her head, her mouth opening with surprise. When she began to struggle to her feet, he snapped, “Don’t trouble, woman. Are you the mother of the late Tokuzo?”

She bowed several times. “Yes, Your Honor. This miserable old woman has lost the best son in the world. Oh, what will become of me?” She dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve, peering expectantly up at him.

Akitada hated officials who bullied the common people, but in this case he decided to put some fear into this woman. She was engaged in a dirty business, her son had abused the women who worked for him, and she had helped pin the murder and theft on Genba. Neither her appearance—she had sharp little eyes like black beads and a nose like beak—nor her sly manner impressed him favorably. He put on his most ferocious face.

“I’m Lord Sugawara,” he informed her. “How dare you accuse my retainer of stealing?”

He saw the fear in her eyes. She collapsed to her knees and knocked her head on the desk before her. “This humble widow did not do so, your Honor.”

“You lie. The police say you blamed him.”

“We only told them what happened. The truth. Only the truth.”

“Lies! You claimed he stole your gold, but there are witnesses who saw you and your son carrying the money away in a bag.”

Her voice quavered. “Only a few coins.”

“I don’t believe you. As for the contracts, Genba had no reason to steal them. He had the money to buy the girl out.”

She raised her head at this, bobbing another bow. “Oh. That’s quite another matter then. If he wishes to buy her out, we can come to an agreement. And we’ll let the police know we made a mistake.” With an ingratiating smile, she added, “There. That should solve the problem. I’m so happy to be of service to your lordship.”

Akitada kept his frown in place. “It doesn’t excuse the false charges. As for buying the girl out, you claim you no longer have the contract.”

Her expression changed to a look of cunning. “The thief took the contracts, but I can easily look up the information,” she said. “We could draw up a new contract this moment.” One claw like hand opened and closed in anticipation of the pay-out.

It was indeed possible, since such information was kept on file in the city offices, but Akitada balked. “You would need to prove you are your son’s heir.”

She blinked. “I’m his mother. He left the business to me and my other son. My other son isn’t interested in the business, so I’m taking care of things.”

“Hmm.” Akitada looked about and frowned. “You and your son may have had good reason to wish Tokuzo dead.”

She paled visibly. “Oh never! He was my son. And Kotaro loved his brother. We’re grieving his death.” She sobbed. “A terrible thing! Aiih.”

Akitada said nothing.

Controlling her grief quickly, she returned to business. “Ohiro’s a valuable girl. She’s very attractive to customers. That’s why Tokuzo paid fifty pieces of silver for her. And she did a fine business, so there’s that to be considered, too.”

Akitada glared at her. “I hear he beat the girl black and blue. How valuable does that make her?”

She bristled. “Ohiro stole his money, that’s why. The girls will keep back earnings they’re supposed to turn in. It’s stealing, that’s what it is.”

“Such beatings apparently were a frequent occurrence.”

“Not really, but some girls are greedy. There’s a great temptation to do business on the side and tuck the money away or give it to a lover. Tokuzo was a businessman. You can’t blame him for looking after his money.”

“Someone clearly blamed him. It seems to me you should be trying to find your son’s murderer quickly. If you decide to enforce the girls’ contracts, you may well be next.”

She gulped. “The police—”

Akitada snapped, “They think they’ve found their man and will do nothing. Perhaps you’d better think who else may have had a reason to hate your son.”

She looked frightened now. “He was a good man,” she protested. “A good son and a hard worker. This is a hard business. The girls lie and cheat, and the customers get drunk and break the dishes and furnishings. One set fire to a room. Another threw a girl from a window. My son had to pay for the doctor. He paid every time one of the girls got a bruise or a bloody nose. He took good care of them. They ought to be grateful.”

“Spare me. We know he beat them. This murder was violent enough to suggest a man is the killer. Who might have wanted your son dead?”

“The girls have boyfriends, and a couple are married, though it’s against the rules. They may have lied about the way they were treated.”

Akitada glared at her. “Names.”

“You said your man couldn’t have done it. Ohiro’s one who might have told stories.”