Akiko opened her mouth to protest, then changed her mind. She greeted the tutor politely, instructed her three, two boys and a girl, to behave themselves and be quiet, and then left with Akitada.

“Well,” she said as they walked along the gallery, “that was a very rude greeting when I’m doing my best to help your children cope. And I find you making things worse for them. The loss of their mother is much too recent to start their lessons again. You have always been too strict in that regard. I hope you aren’t making another mistake.”

Akitada stopped. His sister’s lackadaisical attitude toward her own brood inspired no confidence in him. On the other hand, she had touched a very painful memory. Just before his firstborn, Yori, fell ill with smallpox, he and Tamako had had a serious disagreement over his excessive strictness with the boy’s studies. This had added to his guilt after the child died. Now it also added to his grief of having lost the boy’s mother.

Akiko’s eyes widened when she saw his face.

He said in an unsteady voice, “You’ve been very kind to look after the children so far. I am grateful. Now I’m trying to do my best to take over. Perhaps it’s too soon, but Kobe didn’t think so. You must let me do the best I can, Akiko. Believe me, I’d much rather leave all of this—he gestured vaguely around—to you and others.”

His sister reached for his hand. “I know,” she said, her voice soft. “I’ve been worried about you. You must not give in.” She squeezed his hand. “Never give in, Akitada. She would not have wished it.”

He felt the tears well up and turned away to walk to his room, her hand still in his.

It had started to rain. In the courtyard below, a woman passed, Genba’s wife Ohiro, with one hand resting protectively on her belly while the other pulled her skirt over her head. He had noticed that she was pregnant, but neither Genba nor Ohiro had come to tell him. They were probably afraid to share their happiness while he was grieving for Tamako.

The tides of life, he thought. Death and birth, an end and a new beginning. It went on and on. He was so weary of the struggle.

And outside the rain fell as if the heavens grieved the coming death of the year.

10

The Moneylenders

The next day, Saburo found the Nakamura house easily. It shared a street with similar merchants’ houses, ample in size and well-kept, with shops in front and living quarters in back and above. In this case, the shop was closed. No wonder, since the family had just been informed of the owner’s murder.

Saburo went closer and peered through the shutters at a dim interior. He made out shelves with assorted objects, many of them ceramics and wooden boxes. He decided to pound on the shop door. Nothing happened, and he pounded again.

Finally, he heard a voice. “Go away! We’re closed.”

He shouted, “I take it, the police have informed you. I have some additional information about Nakamura-san’s death.”

After a moment, he heard a rattle, and then the door opened a crack. A young man with somewhat bulbous eyes and a mustache peered out. “Who are you?”

“Saburo. I’m an investigator and work for Secretary Sugawara of the Ministry of Justice. I was in the Daikoku-yu after your father’s murder and questioned people. You can’t always take the word of a constable for what happened.”

The bulbous eyes narrowed, and the door opened far enough to admit him.

“It was a terrible shock,” the young man said mournfully. “You cannot imagine. Come back with me. My sister and my father’s partner are at wits’ ends.”

They passed through the dim shop. Saburo glanced at it. It struck him that the shelves held only a small selection of objects, though these might, of course, be very rare and expensive. Still, it confirmed his impression that the curio shop was merely a front for a thriving money-lending business, which Nakamura had carried out not here but on his daily visits to the business and amusement quarters.

The main room behind the shop was hardly luxurious. Perhaps the son and daughter lived elsewhere. As it turned out, this was the case.

Nakamura’s daughter was a hard-featured, silent woman with the same protruding eyes as her brother. She barely nodded to Saburo. He was more interested in the partner who turned out to be a grossly fat man with the name Yasohachi Saito.

After explaining Saburo’s presence and asking him to sit down, the son said, “My uncle has met us here because we’re trying to go through my father’s accounts. It has all been very upsetting, as you may guess.”

“Your uncle?” Saburo asked, eyeing the fat man.

“My grandfather adopted him. He prefers to use his own name. What is it exactly that you can tell us?”

“As I said, I’m an investigator and happened to be in the Daikoku-yu just after Nakamura-san was found dead. Perhaps you have been told that your father was killed by a blind shampoo girl?”

They all nodded, looking at him intently.

“Well, there’s quite a bit of doubt about that. Nobody saw what happened, and the blind woman says she found him dead. It struck me that in such a case the victim’s family might be anxious to make certain that the real killer isn’t still free. Of course, I have no idea what your involvement in Nakamura-san’s business may have been, but if someone had a grudge against him …”

He let this sink in. Their expressions ranged from looking startled to becoming positively alarmed.

“Well,” he went on, “you see my reasoning. It occurred to me that you might like to have someone take a closer look to make sure that you are quite safe.”

The word “safe” caused some additional panic.

“What do you mean?” cried the daughter.

“What are you talking about?” growled the fat Saito. “Why should we worry? The woman has been arrested.”

Saburo pursed his lips. “The money-lending business is difficult. People are your friend when they want you to lend them your gold, but when you ask for its return along with your fees, they suddenly hate you. Isn’t that right?”

They looked at each other. The son spoke first. “You think that someone hated my father enough to kill him and may do the same to us?” His sister cried out in alarm and clutched his arm.

Saito snapped, “That’s nonsense. This is a business like any other.”

“I assume you know your creditors and whether any among them are desperate enough to cancel a debt by murder?” Saburo asked him.

Saito fixed Saburo with a cold eye. “I’m not directly involved in my brother’s business. Manjiro handles the books. But I think what you say is ridiculous. In my opinion, you just want to make money from our loss. Seeing that my brother’s children are still dealing with their grief, I consider that despicable. If this were my house, I’d throw you out.”

The son gasped and got to his feet. “Is that right?” he asked Saburo. “Are you selling us some sort of service?”

“No. You haven’t been listening. I work for Lord Sugawara. You don’t owe me anything. But I see that you don’t want my help.” He sighed and got to his feet. “Sooner or later the police will come and check your books to find out who could have killed your father.”

Manjiro’s jaw dropped. “The police will look at our books?”

“They can’t do that,” Saito said, but he sounded uncertain.

Saburo turned away. “I can find my way out. Good luck!”

Nakamura’s daughter cried, “Wait. Perhaps we should listen. He doesn’t want any money. It couldn’t hurt to listen.”

Saburo decided that all three were equally greedy, though the son was perhaps a little less so. He had guessed correctly that an investigation of their business would reveal unsavory details. He really liked them for suspects in this murder and wondered how to discover if any of them had been to the bathhouse that morning. But instead of irritating them further, he asked, “Can you give me the names of people who owed your father money and either couldn’t pay or bore him a grudge because of his business practices?”