“I came as soon as I heard, Excellency,” he said, running up the steps purposefully. “It’s truly terrible news.”

Akitada thought Yukinari looked pale under his tan and that his eyes had a tired, haunted look. Was it grief for Lord Tachibana? Surely not. They could not have been very close. There was the difference in their ages, plus the fact that Yukinari had only been in Kazusa since summer. Yet he looked as if he had not slept at all. Akitada said noncommittally, “Yes, indeed, Captain. But what brings you here?”

Yukinari flushed. “I had business at the prefecture when Sato brought the news. Forgive the rude question, Excellency, but how is it that you are involved in this?”

“I was paying a courtesy call and found the body.”

Yukinari came closer, but Akitada made no move to invite him in.

“He fell, I was told,” Yukinari said, trying to peer over Akitada’s shoulder. “I have asked him many times to be careful. He was becoming quite frail. You know perhaps that he had passed his sixtieth year? A very great age, that.”

This made Akitada think of the beautiful young girl he had held in his arms and he was inclined to agree. He said, “You must have known him then. He did not look particularly infirm to me. Such thin, ascetic-looking people often live much longer than their more well-fed contemporaries.”

The captain seemed at a loss for words. He looked nervously down the path and scratched his chin. “Ikeda is on his way. He’s coming himself. If you have more important business elsewhere, Excellency, I could stay here. I daresay you would just as soon not be bothered with this matter.” His eye fell on Junjiro, who was hovering nearby, listening avidly to every word. He frowned at him.

“Thank you, but no,” said Akitada, pretending shock. “I feel it is my civic duty. You, on the other hand, are not at all involved, are you? Though, of course, you may wish to offer your support to Lady Tachibana.”

Yukinari’s head jerked around. He stared at Akitada, opened his mouth, closed it again, then bowed and strode away rapidly. Akitada watched him turn toward the gate. He was puzzled. This was the second time in as many days that Yukinari had betrayed some strong emotion.

Akitada was still pondering the meaning of Yukinari’s behavior when Ikeda and his people, led by old Sato, appeared around the corner. Ikeda wore the same dark blue silk robe from the evening before, making Akitada wonder if anyone had slept the night before. With him were two minor officials and two constables in red coats, bearing the bows and quivers of their office.

When Ikeda saw Akitada, he made a formal deep bow. The others, looking confused, followed suit.

“What an unexpected honor,” Ikeda murmured, coming up the steps. “The servant told me that Your Excellency had the unpleasant experience of finding the body. An extraordinary coincidence.” He managed to make the last sound like a question, as if Akitada’s presence were somehow suspicious.

“No more extraordinary than your presence, Prefect,” Akitada said. “Do you always investigate accidental deaths personally? Surely this is the duty of the local magistrate.”

Ikeda’s gray skin took on an unhealthy flush. “Our magistrate is visiting a neighboring district,” he said stiffly. “Besides, for Lord Tachibana I would have come myself in any case. Out of respect.” He paused, then added, “Not that we were at all close. His lordship did not encourage familiarity from subordinates.”

“Oh, you served as prefect under him?”

A strange expression passed over Ikeda’s face. Bitterness and resentment were there, but also a sly satisfaction. “I did,” he said, then gestured to his companions. “Allow me to present my secretary, Oga, and the coroner, Dr. Atsushige.” They exchanged bows, and the prefect, all smiles again, said, “Perhaps Your Excellency would share some estimable insights into this matter while my people have a look at the body?”

Akitada nodded and stepped aside. Ikeda and his team removed their footgear and entered the studio.

Akitada described his arrival, keeping strictly to matters of time, condition and position of the body, and the general appearance of the room. Ikeda looked and listened politely, then excused himself to join the coroner, who was examining the body. The secretary knelt near them taking notes. The coroner finished very quickly, but there was a lengthy whispered exchange between him and Ikeda before the latter nodded and returned to Akitada.

“Pretty clear case, as I am sure you saw, Excellency.” Ikeda rubbed his hands, a gesture that irritated Akitada. “Poor old fellow was working late, climbed on that stool, lost his balance, slipped, hit his head on the corner of that desk, and died. The stool, the scattered documents, the position of the body, and the traces of blood and hair on the desk all support that. It probably happened late last night. However, my poor provincial skills are hardly a match for Your Excellency’s vastly superior training. I humbly beg your views.”

Akitada hesitated, then said, “It is winter and the early morning hours are chilly. Death could have occurred much later during the night or even early this morning. And the wound in the skull suggests a heavy blow to the top of the head, I think.”

“Ah, just as I said.” Ikeda nodded. “The servant told me his master often works quite late. The evidence speaks for itself. The old gentleman comes home from our little dinner, perhaps a bit dizzy from all the food and wine. He works awhile. Then, sleepy or light-headed, he climbs on the stool to get some documents. They fall on his head, stun him, and he slips. Nothing could be clearer. I am certainly grateful for Your Excellency’s observation. Now we shall finish our paperwork, and I need detain Your Excellency no further.”

Akitada glanced once more at the body, nodded to Ikeda and his staff, and left the studio. Outside the sun had finally come out. He put on his shoes, passed the two constables, and walked up to Sato and Junjiro, who still stood on the path.

“I must be on my way,” he said to Sato, “but I hope you will see to it that none of the papers in the studio are disturbed. The prefect has decided that your master’s death was due to an accidental fall. He and his staff are finishing up now and should not have any need for the documents. I should prefer it if you would not mention my interest in your master’s papers to anyone.”

The old man bowed. Junjiro offered eagerly, “I’ll stay right on the veranda and watch day and night.”

Akitada smiled. “That is not at all necessary. I expect you will all be very busy during the next few days.”

“Oh, heavens, yes,” said Sato. “You haven’t even finished sweeping the paths yet, Junjiro. Run, get your broom. I can’t think how I could have forgotten. What a day!” He shook his head.

“Wait.” Akitada looked at the path. “Junjiro, did you sweep here after it stopped snowing?”