And there was Boshu, Sunada’s overseer. Boshu had a large iron spike in one hand and was tapping the palm of the other with it. “Mr. Sunada, sir,” he said to his master without taking his eyes off Hitomaro, “we wondered if there was any trouble.”

* * * *

TWELVE

THE TWISTED WAYS

OF LOVE

T

he early morning gathering in Akitada’s icy private office was subdued. Day was breaking outside, but the shutters were closed against the cold and a candle flickered in the drafts. Akitada himself sat white-faced with fatigue, his shoulders hunched against the chill, his shaking hands tucked into his wide sleeves. Tora had been nodding off and jerking himself awake earlier but was staring at Hitomaro now, who had just finished his report and was waiting with the rigid face of a man expecting a reprimand.

When Akitada said nothing, Tora could not restrain himself. “You mean you let that bastard walk away from a cold-blooded murder? Committed in broad daylight in front of a large crowd? By the same man who sent his thugs after you once before? I can’t believe you’d be afraid to teach him a lesson when you caught him in the act!”

Hitomaro, who was seated stiffly next to him, compressed his lips but did not take his eyes from Akitada’s tired face. “If I have acted improperly, sir,” he said, “I offer my resignation.”

Outside the wind splattered wet sleet against the shutters like fistfuls of small pebbles.

Akitada shivered again and blinked. “No, no. Pay no attention to Tora. He is half asleep with exhaustion. You did quite right. A confrontation would have availed nothing and innocent people would have been hurt. Sunada is not going to abscond.” He gestured toward some documents on the desk. “I’ll have a look at the depositions later.” He sighed. “At the moment we have a more urgent problem. The Uesugi servant’s grandson has disappeared. Tora and I spent the night turning Takata manor and the surrounding country upside down.” In a weary voice he told Hitomaro of their investigation.

Hitomaro relaxed a little. “The boy must be dead or you would have picked up some trail.”

Akitada clenched a hand. “I refuse to believe that. It’s what they want us to think. Sooner or later there will be a clue.”

“In that case,” grumbled Tora, “I wish you’d gone home when the doctor did, instead of wasting a whole night searching that accursed foxes’ den.”

Hitomaro frowned his disapproval of such insolence, but Akitada said quite calmly, “It served its purpose. After we talked to everyone and searched everywhere, neither Uesugi nor his steward will dare punish the maid for reporting the disappearance. And it may have gained us some goodwill from the servants. They seemed genuinely fond of Toneo.”

“Well,” muttered Tora after a huge yawn, “I don’t care what you two do next. I’m going to bed. Send for me later if you have any orders.” He got up and stretched, yawning again.

“Tora!” hissed Hitomaro.

“Sit down, Tora. Hitomaro is not finished.” Akitada’s voice was flat with exhaustion. “Go ahead, Hitomaro. You met Genba later, after you had taken the depositions?”

“Yes, sir. Genba stayed in the crowd to watch and listen.” Hitomaro smiled a little. “If there had been a confrontation, Sunada’s thugs would’ve had their second surprise. You would not recognize Genba. He’s huge and can toss a grown man farther than I can jump. He will win that match, I’m sure of it. After he saw that I was letting Sunada and his goons go, Genba went to Flying Goose village. The fisherman Rikio”—Hitomaro tapped the depositions on the desk—”is one of Sunada’s men. He got in debt and Sunada helped him out. Now he’s working off the debt in Sunada’s warehouses when he’s not fishing. A lot of fishermen are in the same ... er ... boat.”

Nobody chuckled. Akitada was rummaging among the papers on his desk. “Yes, I thought so,” he muttered, shivering. “No doubt the sake merchant is equally obligated to Sunada. Where is Seimei? Is there any hot tea? Wine will put me to sleep and there is too much work to be done.”

Hitomaro rose to call for Seimei. The old man arrived quickly, bowing to Akitada, and placing the tea utensils on the desk. Coughing, he muttered something about hot water and left again.

“I wish there were even the smallest sign of support for imperial authority,” Akitada said peevishly. “I dislike the idea of serving as high constable, although there is both precedent and cause for it. If I could count on just a small faction to oppose Uesugi, I would gladly forgo that dubious honor.”

Seimei reappeared with a steaming pot and prepared the tea.

“Well, there’s the doctor,” Tora offered.

Akitada said, “Yes. Thank you for reminding me, Tora. Oyoshi is a good man and a loyal friend, I think.”

Seimei poured water and offered Akitada a steaming cup. “Friendship is a rare jewel,” he said, suppressing another cough. “It may take more than a year to make a friend, but only a moment to offend him. Remember that, Tora.”

“Thank you, Seimei.” Akitada drank, then warmed his stiff fingers on the cup. “Tell me about the victim, Hito.”

“His name is Koichi. He was a porter when he could get work, but he had a bad reputation and several convictions for theft and robbery.”

Akitada clapped his hands and shouted, “Hamaya!” When the senior clerk bustled in and knelt, he asked, “Do you remember a defendant by the name of Koichi?”

“Koichi the porter? Oh, yes. Theft, robbery, intimidation, assault, and rape. A familiar face in the courtroom and a man who does not seem to feel the pain of the bamboo. A hardened case, sir. Is he in trouble again?”

“He is the murdered man brought in yesterday. I suppose Sunada will claim to have performed a civic duty.”

Hamaya looked astonished. “Koichi is the man Mr. Sunada killed? That is strange!”

“How so?”

“Mr. Sunada employed Koichi after his last jail term. I thought it most generous because Koichi’s reputation is well known. And now he attacked his benefactor!” Hamaya shook his head in amazement.

“Thank you, Hamaya.”

When the clerk had left, Akitada remarked sourly, “The reports of Sunada’s good deeds multiply like flies on a dead rat.”

Seimei, on his way out, paused at the door. “This Sunada sounds very suspicious to me. Best watch out for him. He is the kind they call a devil chanting prayers.” He coughed again and left.

Silence fell. Akitada hunched more deeply into his robe and stared into space. Tora snored, began to topple sideways, and came awake. “Wha ... ?”