“Not much, but it’s still early. What made you think Tomoe would leave the door ajar for you last night?”

Tora hung his head and heaved a big sigh. “When I left her in the market, I told her I’d try to walk her home. But I didn’t get to. I guessed she thought I’d come later. I’ve been sitting here, blaming myself. For not walking her home, and for making her leave her door unlatched when there was a killer lying in wait outside.”

“Nobody could have known,” Akitada said, uneasily aware that he had some responsibility in the matter also.

Tora looked around the room. “I feel like a trapped beast in here. Any chance of getting me out?”

“I’ll speak to Superintendent Kobe today, but the best we can hope for is a transfer across town. The case against you is strong, and it’s the only one they have. The landlady says that you had threatened to kill Tomoe.”

Tora stared. “That’s a lie.”

“You didn’t quarrel the night before?”

“Maybe I raised my voice a little. Trying to get her to give me some information. She was stubborn.” He buried his head in his hands and muttered, “Amida, I should have stayed with her. I should never have let her out of my sight.”

Akitada bit his lip. “Tora,” he asked, “were you Tomoe’s lover?”

Tora lowered his hands. “No.” But he looked confused, puzzled, and Akitada waited. “There was something about her. I thought a man would be very lucky to have a woman like her. I really don’t know how I felt.” Then, to Akitada’s dismay, Tora’s eyes filled with tears. “I wish she were still alive,” he said brokenly.

“Tell me about her.”

But Tora glanced at the guard, saw the man’s avid interest, and reddened. “I really didn’t know her very well,” he said.

Akitada gave an inward sigh. Whatever else Tora might have said about his relationship with the dead woman would not be said here and now. “Did she have any family?”

“No. I asked her that. She said they were all dead.”

“What about her customers? Could there have been a man?”

“I don’t think so. Sometimes she didn’t seem to like men at all. There was a lot she was keeping quiet. I know she went to a private house sometimes to sing to the noble ladies there. She looked forward to that. They paid well and were very kind to her, she said. I told you she was respectable. They wouldn’t have had her there if she wasn’t. And she was saving her money so she could stop working in the market.” He paused and frowned.

Akitada considered the noble family. Tora had a point. No loose woman would be admitted to the private quarters of respectable ladies. “Did she mention the family’s name?”

“No. She was funny about names.”

“She was certainly a baffling woman. I found a lacquer cosmetics box and some silver in her trunk. Do you know anything about that?”

Tora looked astonished. “What would she want with cosmetics? She couldn’t see her face.”

“I know. That’s why I asked.”

Tora thought. “Do you suppose one of those noble ladies . . . ? No. Why would they? But the silver she must’ve been saving. You could see she bought nothing for herself.”

“What was she saving it for? There was not enough to retire on.”

Tora shook his head.

“Did she ever mention someone called Nobunari?”

Tora stared at Akitada. “No. I would’ve remembered. That’s a gentleman’s name.”

“What about Nobuko?”

“That might’ve been one of the ladies. But I told you, she never talked about them. What’s going on?”

“It may mean nothing, but the silver was wrapped in a piece of paper. Someone had scrawled the names on it with a piece of charcoal. Could Tomoe write?”

“Write? She was blind.”

Silence fell. Tomoe’s secrecy intrigued Akitada. “Who do you think killed her?” he finally asked.

“I’m betting on the gangsters.” Tora clenched his fists in helpless anger. “The silly fool! I asked her to tell me. I told her they were dangerous and wouldn’t think twice about slitting her throat to make sure she didn’t talk.”

Akitada pondered this. With Soga breathing down his back, he was in no position to investigate gang activities. “What about the person who followed her? You said she could smell him.”

“They say blind people have a sharper sense of smell and hearing.”

“Did she say what sort of smell?”

“Bad. She called it—what was that word—yes, pungent. Whatever that means. She used strange words sometimes.”

“It means ‘strong’ or ‘sharp.’ Not very helpful. Sometimes people may carry the smell of a particular job. Like a rice wine brewer, for example. Or a dumpling baker.”

“Nothing like that, I think. She would have said so.”

Silence fell again. Akitada sighed. “Well, that’s all I can think of. I must hurry back to work. Soga is expected. If I can’t get you transferred today, I shall be back after work.”

Tora looked contrite. “I’m very sorry, sir,” he said with unaccustomed humility, “if I have caused trouble for you at your work.”

Akitada smiled and touched his shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault. And you’re more important to me.”

Tora’s eyes moistened. Keeping his head down, he nodded and rose to let the guard take him back to his cell.

“Oh,” said Akitada, “I almost forgot. Do you recall if she was wearing shoes when you found her?”

Tora thought. “Not sure, sir. I think so, but I wasn’t really looking at her feet.”

“No, I suppose not. Never mind. Don’t worry.”

Akitada watched him walk away. He knew about being in chains and about the willpower it took to walk upright and square-shouldered when you had recently received a flogging. He felt helpless and frustrated. Because of a superior he heartily dis respected, he had to postpone the more urgent need of Tora. He seemed forever caught in conflicts of duty, private and public.

Outside, a wind had sprung up. In the palace grounds it stirred dust clouds from the dry streets and whipped up the gowns of officials hurrying between buildings. Clutching his hat, Akitada bent his head into it and tried to subdue his flapping skirts and full trousers. Dust particles stung his face and got into his eyes. In the distance, thunder rumbled.

Of course Soga had already arrived. Impossible to slip quietly into his office, pretending that he had been there all along. Soga was still in the main hall, glowering at the clerks, who were blank-faced. He must have delivered himself of some tirade, because the heads of scribes could be seen, peering curiously around corners and over transoms.

Soga turned on Akitada with an avidity that meant he had been the cause of his anger. “In my office,” he snapped without a greeting.

Akitada bowed and said pointedly, “Good morning, sir. I trust you return safe and well from your trip?”

Soga did not respond. He marched into his private office and took his seat behind the desk. Akitada followed and turned to close the door.

“I want the two clerks in here,” snapped Soga.

Tasting the familiar sour bile of helpless anger rising in his throat, Akitada opened the door again for Nakatoshi and Sakae. The three of them gathered around Soga’s desk.

Soga did not invite them to sit. His round face was still suffused with color and his pudgy hands clutched the edge of the desk. He seemed to be trying to control his wrath. Akitada swallowed nervously, wondering what Soga had shouted in the hearing of the ministry’s staff. That it concerned him he did not doubt. Well, he had tried to return to his duty, but fate had once again interceded. Perhaps this was the end of his career. The thought that he would no longer have to bow his neck under the yoke imposed upon it by his bitter enemy should have cheered him, but the faces of his wife and his son, of old Seimei and the others rose before his eyes. What was to become of them all? Tora in jail on a murder charge, his house filled with dependents, a son to raise and see secure in some official position, perhaps other children in the future, and he had no funds to fall back on, no outside income except for a rather poor farm in the country.