Lord Tachibana had asked him to come—asked him with both urgency and secrecy—and someone had killed him the same night. Why? Had Tachibana been killed to prevent his meeting with Akitada? Because he knew something that could not be passed on to the inspector? That something could only relate to the tax shipments. So far, so good! But there was more. Only someone who had overheard Tachibana’s words could have killed him so promptly. Akitada tried to think of the men who were closest to them at that moment. Motosuke must have been nearby, for courtesy demanded that he accompany his highest-ranking guests. But who else? Yukinari? Ikeda? Joto? For the life of him he could not recall.

He decided not to force it and turned his mind instead to the Tachibana residence. It was the home of a wealthy and cultured man. The buildings, for all their simplicity, were large and beautifully designed and constructed. The furnishings and objects in the studio had been of the finest materials and craftsmanship. Akitada considered their owner. The fact that the ex-governor had spent his retirement compiling a history of his province proved he was a man who took his duties to posterity seriously. But he was also someone who loved gardening. A man of great seriousness and high moral purpose, but also of a spirituality that sought peace and happiness in the creation of beauty. In other words, a man of honor. Such a man would have abhorred the crimes against his emperor. Apparently he had waited for Akitada to arrive before speaking out. Had he also possessed wisdom? Perhaps not. For how could this aged man have taken to wife that beautiful girl-child who had stood so timidly on the threshold of that scholar’s room, her eyes swimming with tears and her trembling lips so soft and moist... ?

A hand seized his shoulder and shook him, and his eyes flew open.

“You’ll drown if you go to sleep,” growled Tora. “Come on. Let’s get out. I want to hear all about the murder.”

They sat with Seimei around the sunken brazier in Akitada’s room. A servant had brought the noon meal and they helped themselves to bowls of rice and pickled vegetables. Tora poured wine.

As soon as the servant had gone, Akitada told them about the events at the Tachibana mansion and passed around the green shard he had found in the dead man’s hair. “He was murdered,” he said flatly. “The body was too carefully arranged, and the murderer made a mistake when he moved the desk. Also, the head wound was on top of the head, not on the side or back, where it would have been if he had hit the corner of the desk in falling. Ikeda tried to explain that away by pointing to the document boxes. He insisted that one of them must have struck his head and knocked him out. But in that case the box would have been stained, not the desk. Besides, the boxes were not heavy enough to inflict a fatal wound. The top of Tachibana’s skull was crushed. Ikeda seemed strangely eager to pronounce the death accidental.”

Tora snorted. “An official! What do you expect? He’s probably involved. That explains why the bastard showed up himself. Probably just sitting there in his office, waiting for the summons. That’d give him a chance to fix up any mistakes, too. He sure didn’t expect you to show up.”

Seimei bristled. “The great sage,” he announced stiffly, “said that serving one’s prince is the highest calling in the land. Those who serve in official positions do so because they have acquired an education. He also said that it is the lowest class that toils without ever managing to learn. You are a member of that class, and therefore know nothing and should keep your mouth shut when your betters converse.”

Tora flushed with anger. But, to Akitada’s surprise, he said only, “Let’s hear your views then, so that I may learn and become a better person.”

Seimei nodded graciously. “Very well. It strikes me, sir, that the prefect may be merely incompetent. Provincial officials,” he explained to Tora, “are poorly trained in the investigation of crimes and he was filling in for the absent magistrate. What about the time of death, sir?”

Akitada nodded. “Yes. That may be important, and I wish I could be more certain. My guess is that Tachibana was not dead more than two or three hours when I arrived. And that, of course, means that he could not have gone to his studio upon his return from the dinner. He had changed his clothes. Also, there was no candle, and the room was without a brazier. He could not have been working on his papers when he was killed.”

“But you said the body was stiffening,” protested Seimei. “It must have been there all night.”

“It was bitterly cold. That may have accelerated the stiffening. But whatever the time of death, I don’t think Tachibana died in his studio. The murder happened elsewhere, and the body was carried to the studio to stage the accidental fall. His clogs were outside the door, but they were dry and clean. Besides, and this did not occur to me until I was about to leave, someone swept the path between the main house and the studio. The servants did not do it, so it must have been done by the murderer to remove footprints in the newly fallen snow. I wonder when it started to snow.” Akitada looked at Tora.

“I think,” said Tora, feeling invited to express an opinion, “that the murderer must be a strong man to have struck the old man over the head and then carried him across the garden. I hate to say it, but that prefect isn’t much of a man from what I hear. Perhaps it was the captain after all. He’s young and a soldier.”

Akitada said, “Yes, and that reminds me. Yukinari also showed up and tried to get into the studio. And I thought he behaved very strangely when I suggested he might offer his assistance to the widow instead. Whatever happened, we forced someone’s hand and that should bring us closer to the answer, but I feel as though I am groping in a fog. I know the road is there and I’m walking in the right direction, but I can’t see my way.”

“I can see it,” cried Tora. “Remember the widow! She’s young, isn’t she?”

Akitada frowned. “Very young.”

“And pretty?”

Akitada fidgeted. “Yes, you could call her quite beautiful.”

“There,” said Tora, clapping his hands, “is your motive. The handsome captain seduces the young bride. When the old man finds out the captain is mining for his treasure, having the better tools, so to speak, there’s a quarrel and the captain hits him over the head.”

“Nonsense!” Akitada jumped up, glaring at Tora. “Seimei is right. Your foolish tongue runs away with your dirty mind.”

Seimei stared up at Akitada. “Oh,” he remarked, “the boy may have a point, sir, though he puts it crudely. Not all married women are wives, you know. Such a great discrepancy in age creates disharmony in a household. But it will be easy to discover the truth from the servants. They say only a husband does not know what is going on. Women are creatures without morals.”

Akitada snapped, “Enough! We are not getting anywhere on the tax thefts. Tora, you have been on your own this past week. While Seimei and I were going through the governor’s accounts, you were supposed to talk to the local people. What do you have to report?”