The man turned. “I see. Yes, I’m Professor Suketada.” He gave Akitada a long measuring glance, then nodded. “If you must be a nuisance, follow me. It’s hot in this sun, and I must conserve my energy. My room is just this way.”

Perhaps the comment about living on charity had shamed the professor. He seemed somehow shrunken, diminished in stature. He climbed the steps to the covered corridor and then walked to one of the wings of the mansion. There he paused among a row of doors. Inside was a smallish room. Shutters on the opposite side let in some light, and Akitada saw that most of the space was taken up by books and papers. These were stacked along the walls or piled on surfaces of stands and desks. One larger desk, its lacquer cracked, held more papers and writing utensils. A single tattered tatami mat lay in the middle of the room, and some bedding was rolled up in a corner. He saw no clothes chests, but against one wall stood a leaning clothes rack, heavily laden with robes and other paraphernalia of dress. All of it seemed to be of the same rusty black color as the professor’s current outfit.

“Have a seat,” he told them, gesturing to the mat. “I have no wine, but I’ve just bought a stuffed dumpling from a vendor. He claimed it contains fresh fish, but I doubt it.” He took a small package wrapped in oiled paper from his sleeve and sniffed it. It released a strong odor of rancid fish. “Do you want some?”

Akitada said quickly. “Thank you, we have just eaten. We need nothing.”

Their host looked relieved and placed the greasy package on a small, chipped tray.

Poverty, thought Akitada. Such extreme poverty that he is probably hungry most of the time. What must that be like for a man of his background? What could have brought a scholar so low?

Professor Suketada went over to the shutters and threw them wide. Light flooded in. Outside, the lush plants of the overgrown garden approached to within a few feet of the narrow ledge. “No candles or oil, but the sun will do for me,” he said, rubbing his hands. “I’m very happy here.”

Perhaps this comment was meant to take some of the sting out of being very poor and living on someone’s charity. He did not look at all happy.

After he came back to sit down with them, he and Akitada took each other’s measure. Close up, the professor looked worn, tired, and unhealthy. His skin was pale, his eyes red-rimmed, and his tall frame sagged. As if they had aged with his body, his shoes and clothes were not just threadbare; they had gaping holes. “Sugawara?” he said. “Didn’t you take a first at the university?”

Surprised, Akitada nodded. “A long time ago. I’m afraid I don’t recall you, sir.”

The professor’s eyes were watery. He blinked several times. “I don’t see too well, but I think you used to have a mustache then. I was very young myself. You were always chasing after women. Disgraceful, as I recall. You’re lucky the quality of your Chinese essays made up for it.”

“I don’t think …” Akitada paused, then guessed the mistake. “It might have been my father, sir. He was Sugawara Koretada.”

“Yes, yes. That’s the one.” He squinted at Akitada. “Yes, I was a mere child myself then. Anyway, good family. Honor your name, or you’ll come to this.” He gestured at his abode.

Akitada wondered again how the man had come to this. Professors who taught at the Imperial University were well-born, with family money and connections in addition to their stipend.

But his purpose was to discover what had happened to Lady Ogata. Or more precisely, what role Tasuku had played in her death. He considered how to bring up the subject.

The professor eyed his dumpling longingly. “Now, what do you want?” he said, his voice impatient.

“I used to come here when Abbot Genshin was still Takashina Tasuku. We were at the university together. As I recall, he, too, had an interest in women.”

Suketada frowned. “Perhaps.”

“You have had a death here recently. A Lady Ogata died. I believe, she, too, was a permanent resident in the Takashina mansion.”

The professor was silent for a moment. Then he said, “Under the circumstances, there’s nothing permanent about such a residency. She’s dead, and I won’t be around much longer myself. Young man, get to the point. I thought you had questions to ask. So far you’ve only uttered statements.”

“Well then, what was Abbot Genshin’s relationship with the dead woman?”

Suketada stared at him. “I have no idea. Do you mean were they lovers?”

Akitada was becoming frustrated. “Well, were they?”

There was a moment’s silence, then Suketada’s lip twitched. “Do you seriously expect me to blacken the character of the man on whose charity I live here?”

Akitada flushed. “Forgive me. My question was clumsy. Let me explain. I’ve promised to find out what happened, why the lady would suddenly commit suicide. Can you throw some light on this?”

“No.”

“Well, do you know how she came to live here?”

“Considering your questions, you and your friends seem to know next to nothing about the lady. I don’t know any more, but I can guess. The answer is most likely that she was poor and alone in the world.”

“Surely the abbot knew her personally. I would think he knows you and his other lodgers. Why else would he offer these accommodations?”

“Ah. You think there is a story? Possibly a romance? True, the lady was quite beautiful, if my old eyes haven’t fooled me. I may be going on in years, but I do know female beauty.”

“Yes. Perhaps they knew each other before he took the tonsure. Did he ever visit her here?

“That I do not know. He comes here very rarely and doesn’t spend the night. As for his past, I didn’t know him then.”

“I see. Did you get to know her after she came to live here?”

“No. I’m past the age of paying visits to young women.” Suketada’s lip twitched. “Not sorry, you know. Women are trouble. I have my work to occupy me and, unlike you, I’m not curious about other people/s lives. We’d meet sometimes. Fetching water from the well or leaving or returning from an errand. She seemed very pleasant.”

“I see. What about the others who live here? Might they have been closer to her?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. I keep my nose in my books all day and sleep at night, but I rather doubt the student studies much. At his age, he’s probably a night animal. The young are always roaming about. As for the nun, well, she’s another woman. The two of them probably had things to talk about.”

“How long have you lived here, sir?”

“Six years in another month. And don’t bother to ask how I came to accept charity or why it was offered, because I won’t tell you.”

Akitada acknowledged this with a small nod. “And Lady Ogata? How long has she been here?”

“She came a year later, I think. I couldn’t tell you exactly when. My memory’s going, and besides I wasn’t interested. One day I came across her in the garden. I asked her what she doing there, and she said she lived in the crane pavilion. Silly name. She meant the lake pavilion.”

“Did you not wonder at her being here?”

“Not at all. It’s none of my business.” Casting another glance at the malodorous food package, the professor added testily, “For that matter, what is your interest in her, Sugawara? I don’t believe you explained the real reason for your visit. Are you here in an official capacity?”

Akitada thought of the Ministry of Justice. He had probably already lost his position. On an impulse, he said, “I investigate crimes.”

The professor’s jaw dropped for a moment. Then he said in a tone of utter astonishment, “You think someone killed her?”

“The police believe it was suicide. Were you surprised when you were told of her death?”

After a pause, the professor said, “No.”

“Then you must have expected it. Were you aware of something being amiss, of an event or a fact that would have driven her to take her life?”