Fujisawa was a sizable and bustling town with its own post station and small police force. It was a major port for boats sailing across Sagami Bay, and on the nearby island of Enoshima was a famous shrine.

As soon as they entered the town, Tora left to find a room in an inn, while Akitada and Seimei continued to the post station to return the horses. Progress through Fujisawa’s narrow streets was difficult on horseback. Because of the drizzle, shoppers carried oilpaper umbrellas, and the horses shied, while the Fujisawans cursed or screamed.

The post station was near the harbor. At its gate stood the usual roofed notice board. This one carried one very large and official-looking proclamation that, unlike the rest of the messages, was yellowed and torn. The writing had faded almost into illegibility, but there were faint traces of a red government seal, and Akitada went to read it. As far as he could make out, it requested information about robberies of government shipments and offered a substantial reward. The seal was that of the governor of Kazusa. Clearly no one had applied for the reward for many months, and the offer had not been renewed.

Akitada returned to Seimei. “An old posting about the lost taxes. This is looking worse by the minute for the governor. He is not even making a token effort to investigate the loss. How can we accept the man’s hospitality when he is our prime suspect?”

Seimei sneezed. “I don’t know, sir,” he croaked dismally, his teeth chattering.

Akitada searched the old man’s face. He looked unnaturally flushed and huddled in his saddle. “Are you feeling all right, old fellow?” he asked with sudden concern.

Seimei shivered and coughed. “Just a little cold. I’ll be better once I’m off this horse and can stretch my legs a bit.”

They turned the horses over to the post station’s grooms and left their saddlebags in the office after removing their valuables.

The rain had stopped, but it was quickly turning dark because of the overcast sky. Everywhere lanterns were being lit, and fires and candles glowed from the many places of business catering to visitors. Mouthwatering smells of hot foods filled the streets. Akitada and Seimei made their way slowly through the crowds, stopping from time to time at inns to ask for Tora.

But it was as if the rain had swallowed him up.

In an unsavory and nearly deserted part of town, Akitada became aware of Seimei’s lagging steps. He stopped. “Seimei,” he said, “we have spent an hour searching. It is time we went back to an inn, got a room, and rested. You need a hot bath, some warm wine, and dry bedding.”

To his astonishment, Seimei objected. “Please, sir,” he quavered through chattering teeth, “couldn’t we just try a bit longer? I have a very uneasy feeling about this. It isn’t like Tora.”

“Nonsense. He is young and strong. Perhaps he simply got tired of our company and took off.”

“Oh,” Seimei cried, wringing his hands, “I hope not. Oh, dear. It is all my fault.”

“Why your fault?”

“It is said ‘Cold weather and cold rice may be endured, but not cold looks and words.’“ The old man hung his head. “I have been very unkind to that boy.”

“Nonsense!” Akitada repeated, somewhat absently. He peered down a dark alley. At its end torches flickered and he could hear excited voices. “Something is wrong down there.”

“If there are people, let’s go ask one more time.”

“Very well. But after that we get some rest.”

When they reached the torch-lit scene, they found that a crowd had gathered because of a crime in a dilapidated two-story house with the ill-written sign “Fragrant Bower of Beauty” dangling lopsidedly from a single nail. A red-coated police constable stood guard at the doorway, glaring impartially at a knot of poorly dressed people clustered before him.

Akitada pushed through the curious and demanded, “What happened here?” Just then the door opened and two more constables appeared, bearing a body on a stretcher. It was covered by a woman’s bloodstained gown.

The constable, seeing a tall, official-sounding stranger before him, puffed himself up. “A vagrant slashed a whore’s throat,” he barked. Then he grinned, baring crooked yellow teeth. “But he didn’t get very far, and there’s plenty of women left inside, so help yourself, sir.” He winked, stepped aside, and strode off after his colleagues.

Seimei stumbled after him. “Constable! Wait!” he croaked hoarsely through another bout of coughing. The constable did not hear him, and Seimei returned to seize Akitada’s sleeve, his face flushed and tense. “You must follow, sir. It’s a murder. You know all about murder, and I have a feeling it has something to do with Tora.”

“Nonsense. You are ill and exhausted, and I cannot get involved in a murder investigation here. I am on assignment to Kazusa.”

“Please, sir. At least we could ask about him at the police station. It would make me feel better.”

With a sigh, Akitada gave in. The police station was near the center of Fujisawa, its entrance marked by a large paper lantern bearing the characters “Police.” Inside they found a lieutenant and two clerks occupied with questioning a fat man in a greasy blue cotton robe.

“I admit I was wrong about the color of his jacket, Officer,” the obese man was saying, spreading small hands with fingers like fat slugs. “But you couldn’t miss the scar on his face. I swear it’s the same man. Poor Violet! She was just building a nice clientele, too. A big loss, that, Officer. And who will indemnify me? I paid six rolls of the best silk for that girl four years ago. I fed her, trained her, and was just realizing a small profit when . . . poof...” His hands flew into the air, encircling emptiness, when his eyes took in the weary, travel-worn figures of Akitada and Seimei. “It is really too bad how much riffraff is allowed to travel the great Eastern Road nowadays. An honest businessman is no longer safe in this town.”

The police lieutenant turned. “What do you want?” he asked peevishly. “Can’t you see I’m busy? If it’s about travel permits or directions, you’ll have to come back in the morning.”

Akitada was tired and frustrated. He knew Seimei was feeling worse, and he had no intention of wasting any more time. “Pass the man my papers, Seimei,” he snapped, and watched impatiently as the lieutenant unrolled them and paled as he read the imperial instructions to give the bearer all possible assistance. After raising the document reverently to his brow, he fell to his knees and apologized.

“Get up!” said Akitada wearily. “We sent our servant Tora ahead to arrange for lodging. He seems to have disappeared. I wish him found immediately.”

The lieutenant jumped up and asked for particulars. When Akitada gave a description of Tora, his face grew longer and longer. The fat man cried out in astonishment also, and the clerks sat watching with round eyes.