Tora dealt with them by grinning and joking with the women, claiming that his wife would beat him if he succumbed to their charms. This sort of thing was clearly mutually enjoyable, and Saburo thought bitterly that he just did not have the knack for attracting women.

The Bamboo Grove still existed. It was now a wine shop catering to working men and small tradesmen, but it was still as lively as Tora remembered, and in the back room a noisy game of dice was being played.

Tora said wistfully, “I wish we had some funds. All I have is a string of coppers and one piece of silver. What about you?”

Saburo made a face. “I don’t think we should waste any more funds, and certainly not on gambling,” he said primly.

Tora eyed him askance. “I told you you’ve got to pay for information. I don’t think buying a cup of wine will get us what we want.”

Saburo felt in his sash. “Half a string and three pieces of silver.” He added accusingly, “I’d meant to give the silver to the schoolmaster.”

“Hmm. Use the coppers and one piece of silver, and play cautiously.” Tora strode into the backroom, eyed the gamblers, and cried, “Can I trust my eyes? Gengyo, is that you, you thieving rascal?”

Gengyo looked up from his pile of winnings. His face broke into a gap-toothed grin. “Tora, you randy dog! What, you’re chasing the whores again? I knew that marriage wouldn’t last.” He jumped up and embraced Tora, both laughing out loud and slapping each other’s backs. Saburo scowled.

“You’re wrong,” said Tora. “I’m still a dutiful married man and father. But I thought I might try my luck tonight. I brought my friend Saburo. Saburo, meet the sharpest dicer in the willow quarter. Can we sit in?”

Of course they could. Introductions were made and Tora decided that the clientele of the Bamboo Grove had declined a little. The one called Hankei looked like the sort of man they needed. But if he was a gangster, they would have to tread carefully. He hoped Saburo would not make any mistakes.

When told about the stakes, Tora grimaced. “We’re poor, guys. Can you take it down a bit?”

Hankei, who resembled a small monkey, objected. He already had a neat pile of winnings and claimed that any change might break his streak of luck. “If you run out of money,” he offered generously, “I’ll stake you. And the wine’s on me.”

Tora nodded. “Well, maybe your luck will rub off.” Making loans during games was one way unscrupulous moneylenders preyed on the poor and stupid. They settled down, put their money in and awaited their turn with the dice.

Tora watched Hankei rattle the dice in a cup and upend it on the floor, hiding the dice inside. They made their guesses, even or odd, and Hankei’s neighbor lifted the cup. Saburo had guessed correctly and received a share of the pot. Tora had lost.

The payout being settled, and the wine cups refilled, Tora asked, “Did you hear about Nakamura’s murder?”

They had all heard about it and expressed shock that a blind girl should go so far as to slash a man’s throat.

“Though mind you,” said one of the players, “he was known to abuse women. Some of the houses stopped admitting him. But the girls and their aunties are pretty desperate for money, and so he still had plenty of entertainment.”

“Yeah,” said Gengyo, “these days the whores gamble just as much as their clients. The one they call Phoenix owed Nakamura one thousand pieces of gold.”

Shouts of derision greeted this figure. “You must be crazy. Even in silver, that’s more money than anyone in the quarter has, let alone a whore.”

Gengyo defended himself. “The Phoenix is a choja. She makes a lot of money for her house. Her clothes alone are worth a fortune.”

They squabbled over it until Hankei, the monkey, said impatiently, “Come on! Let’s play. I came for a good game.” He pushed the cup and the dice toward his neighbor, who obediently picked them up and rattled the cup. Bets were made. More wine was dispensed and drunk. Money was added to the diminished pile, and the game went on. Tora won a few times, but Saburo only once.

Saburo asked, “Did this Nakamura gamble?”

“Never,” said one of the players. “But he’d ask enough questions about big losers.” He laughed. “Always on the look-out for people needing a loan, that one. No, he was much too smart or too tight to risk his own money.”

“He was a bastard,” one of the others commented. The monkey growled, and the game continued.

Saburo ran out of money and dropped out. The monkey grinned and held up five pieces of silver. “Here! Just give me a piece of paper that you’re good for it.”

Saburo refused. “I’ll watch.”

Tora was down to his last piece of silver. The monkey proposed raising the bets to that amount. With an inward sigh, Tora submitted, placing his coin with the other bets. “Anybody here know Kanemoto?” he asked. “He’s supposed to live in the quarter.”

Silence fell. Then Gengyo asked, “What do you want with him, Tora? He’s got a reputation for being a very unfriendly man.”

“He’s a gangster boss, you mean,” said Tora. “I know. I’ve never met him and thought it would be useful to make his acquaintance.”

Gengyo shook his head. “Don’t be a fool. He doesn’t want people to know him and makes sure he’s left alone. And working for Lord Sugawara isn’t going to protect you, if you make him nervous.”

“Game!” snapped the monkey, rattling the cup. They returned to the dice, placed their bets, and watched as the next man lifted the cup. A rapid calculation, and a general moan went up. Most had opted for “even” and the result was “odd.”

The monkey grinned and reached for the pile of coins, a clear winner.

That was when Saburo’s hand shot forward and seized the dice. Lifting them to his good eye, he scowled. “Look! The bastard used crooked dice!”

Shocked outcries ensued. The monkey jumped up and backed away. “That’s a lie!” he shouted, but the truth was on his face, and in the dice that bore only uneven numbers of pips.

The monkey ran, and Tora shot after him. Saburo only paused to collect Tora’s share of the money, then followed.

Outside, the streets were still filled with drunks and merry-makers. The monkey had disappeared, but Saburo saw Tora’s tall back in its green and yellow shirt disappearing at the end of the street. He dashed after, dodging people, and turned the corner where Tora had disappeared. He was in a darker, smaller, and less crowded street and caught up with Tora in front of a plain two-story house. Only the moonlight illuminated the scene. Tora was pounding on the door.

Saburo faded into the shadow and watched.

After more pounding and Tora’s shouts to let him in, the door opened. A burly, bearded man wearing nothing but his loincloth glared out. “What the flaming hell and all its devils do you want?” he roared.

“A thief just went into your house. I saw him.”

“Nobody came in. Who are you?”

“None of your business. I saw him with my own eyes. He must live here.”

“Nobody lives here but me and my old mother. And I’ve been asleep.”

“Then he must be visiting her,” Tora sneered. “I saw him and I’ll have the constables here if you don’t get him.”

The bearded man laughed. “Go ahead and call them. See if I care.” And with that he slammed the door and shot a bolt.

Tora gave it a kick, shouted, “I’ll be back,” and walked away. When he drew level with him, Saburo hissed. Tora jumped and cursed. “Don’t startle a man like that,” he snapped. “The little bastard’s inside that house. The guy who lives there lied about it. I didn’t think it was a good idea to push my way in.”

“A wise decision. Go home. It’s my turn. I’ll find another way in.”

“If you can’t get him, at least find out who the house belongs to.”

17

The Nun