“They could and they have done it before. See, that’s what I mean. You don’t know what’s going on and you make no effort to learn.” She heaved a deep sigh. “If only Toshikage had more influence, but he isn’t much better than you.”

This went too far. Akitada, in his present mood, accepted blame for his own failures, but he was genuinely fond of his brother-in-law who was a generous and doting husband and the sort of cheerful person who saw only the best in everyone and everything. Akitada snapped, “Enough! I will not have you worry Toshikage with this. Let’s face it. There’s nothing to be done until they send for me. I’ve decided that I will not sit here, waiting. I’m going to look into this murder. If she is indeed Soga’s daughter and this displeases her father, so be it. Keep in mind that he may also be grateful that someone cared enough.”

Her eyes widened at his firmness. “It’s very dangerous,” she muttered.

“Ah, but I have you to help me,” he said slyly. “Surely between us we may steer this search for the killer in such a way that we don’t ruffle the great man’s feathers.”

She giggled. “I’ve seen him. He looks like a stork.”

He smiled. “Or a crane. His daughter called her home the crane pavilion.”

Akiko sat up. “Oh! I wonder.”

“What?”

“There may have been another scandal. The crane dance is part of the gosechi dancers’ performance.”

“Really?”

“Yes. What if Soga Sadako was a gosechi dancer? I bet I can find out.”

The gosechi dances were performed before the emperor by four specially chosen young girls on the second day of the dragon in the eleventh month. The entire court attended, and the young women wore feathered robes as they portrayed the dancing of celestial beings. To be chosen for this performance amounted to an immense honor and opportunity. The gosechi dancers were much sought after as brides of the most powerful and highly placed men. And this matched the story the girl Maeko had told.

Akitada said, “I believe you’re right. If she is indeed the same, her life certainly did not turn out the way her father must have imagined it.”

“Yes.” cried his sister, her eyes shining. She rose. “I’ll go right now to find out.”

And she was gone with a rustle of silken skirts, leaving her brother smiling to himself.

He recalled himself to his situation quickly, however, and sighed. Instead of lighting incense at the family altar, he went outside into the garden that Tamako had loved. The chrysanthemums were almost gone, but the maple blazed in its most brilliant red. He wandered about, imagining her beside him, picturing her face as he told her about the lady of the crane bower and how he had just gotten the better of Akiko by sending her off in search of court gossip. He could almost hear her laughter. Tamako had had a very pretty laugh. He paused and covered his face with his hands.

Oh, how he missed his wife!

21

Arrest

In the daytime, the house of the gangster boss Kanemoto looked harmless, just another small, well-kept place in the middle of a quiet neighborhood. The amusement quarter was also peaceful at this hour. After the night’s carousing, its inhabitants mostly slept or relaxed at nearby bath houses.

Tora saw no sign of life either in front or at the back of the house. Returning to the front after his inspection, he pounded on the door. There was no answer. Finally, a woman next door put her head out to glare at Tora. She shouted, “He’s left.”

Tora responded with an apology and a smile. “I had a message,” he lied, “about some emergency. Do you happen to know what’s going on?”

Her face relaxed, perhaps because even in middle age she appreciated a handsome man smiling at her. “No, but there was a lot of noise late last night with people pounding on his door. And then he was up before dawn, building something in his backyard. And right after that, he left.” She shook her head. “Not like him at all.”

Tora thanked her and walked around back again. He hoped to find some sign of what might have happened to Saburo. As he eyed the back wall of the house and studied marks in the dirt, he heard a sound. His eyes fixed on some wooden boards that had been hastily nailed up, most likely by Kanemoto himself last night. A scratching noise came from behind them.

He bent his face close to the boards and shouted, “Saburo?”

The scratching stopped, and then came Saburo’s croak, “Tora?”

“What the hell are you doing under there?”

“Scratching my way out.”

Looking around the yard, Tora saw a discarded wooden bucket with a missing stave. Prying off another stave, he returned and shoved the stave under one of the boards, prying it loose. Another few moments, and he had made an opening large enough for Saburo to peer out at him.

“Amida!” Tora jumped back.

Saburo slowly crept out. He said nothing.

Tora eyed Saburo’s bloody clothes and stared at his face again. “Dear gods,” he muttered, “not again! The bastards didn’t torture you again?”

Saburo got to his feet somewhat painfully. He looked down at his hands, caked with dirt and blood and now also with oozing blood from his fingernails. “No!” he said wearily. “There was a wildcat down there.” He paused. “And a dead man. And Kanemoto nailed us in together.”

There was a well in the far corner of the yard. Tora put an arm around Saburo and led him over. Hauling up some water, he helped him wash off the blood and dirt.

“Thank you for coming,” Saburo said. “I’m getting too old for this work. In my younger years, this wouldn’t have happened. He sat down on the well rim.

Tora was about to start asking the questions burning on his tongue when they heard the trotting of many feet on the street in front of the house. A moment later, ten constables appeared around the corner of the house and surrounded them, their jitte prongs extended in a threatening manner.

They were under arrest.

“What for?” demanded Tora, aware that Saburo’s blood-stained clothing and the wounds on his face and hands were unlikely to convince the constables of their harmlessness.

He was right. A jitte poked him a little, and the senior constable said, “Report of robbers making a public disturbance.”

Tora suppressed a curse. No doubt the neighbor woman had kept watch and seen him prying loose the boards. He said, “The robbers are gone. You can see my friend here is a victim.”

They looked Saburo over. The senior constable said, “Those look like scratches. Are you telling us that robbers use their fingernails these days?”

That brought some guffaws from the rest.

The senior constable snapped, “Stop cackling like monkeys. Chain them.”

Tora protested.

“You can tell your story to the police,” the senior constable told him.

Tora did not want to bring the Sugawara name into this yet. He exchanged a glance with Saburo.

Saburo said, “There’s a dead man under the house. And the wildcat that scratched me. The dead man’s a gambler called Hankei. The man who killed him is Kanemoto. It’s his house. I was under the house and heard them arguing. Then it was suddenly silent. The next thing I knew, Kanemoto was shoving a body under the house and nailing boards over the opening. My friend here came looking for me and just released me.”

Tora knew right away that it had been a mistake.

They goggled at this. The senior constable walked over and studied the loose boards with their bent nails, then peered into the darkness under the house. “You, Joshu! You’re the smallest. Crawl in there and check it out!”

Joshu made a face but obeyed. He disappeared under the house. Some unintelligible sounds emerged, and then he shot back out. “Amida,” he gasped. “The place is full of corpses. I’m not going down there again.” He rushed over to the well to wash his hands and rinse out his mouth.