Akitada met his eyes calmly. "I am afraid it was unavoidable. My servant and I found her, and I remembered meeting her with you."

Sato looked away. "Yes, I see. I suppose it couldn't be helped. She was a silly girl, but she didn't deserve to die so young." He grimaced. "It was a bit embarrassing, though. I met her in the Willow Quarter."

"She was a prostitute?"

"Not everybody in the Willow Quarter is a prostitute," snapped Sato angrily. But he calmed down quickly and sighed. "Poor Omaki. She was training to become an entertainer. If you ask me, she was on her way to becoming a prostitute when she died. It was her karma. Her father's a poor man, an umbrella maker called Hishiya. They live in the sixth ward. The mother had died and he remarried. It's the usual story: the second wife did not get along with the grown daughter. The girl threatened to sell herself to a brothel rather than stay home as a servant to the new wife. The father, who's a decent man, came to me one evening. Told me the girl played the lute and asked if I could get her a job. I listened to her play. She was untrained but not bad. The long and the short of it was that we made an arrangement by which I got her a job in a place I know, and she paid me for a few lessons. She learned quickly. Anyone else would have succeeded. But for her? All wasted! Poor silly chit!"

He filled his cup again, drank deeply, and stared out the door. Akitada sipped his wine slowly. He did not believe either the sentiments or explanations. Sato had become positively chatty. The man's behavior, his reputation, the fleshy, sensuous lips and soulful eyes— all were at odds with the detachment he pretended. No, Sato was a womanizer, perhaps a murderer, not a humanitarian.

"Did you know of anything that might help the police find her killer?" Akitada asked.

Sato shook his head. "I doubt it. I knew she was with child, foolish girl. That meant the end of her career just as it was starting. But she didn't seem to care. When I asked her about the child's father and her plans, she closed up. Actually, if anything, she seemed more cheerful, or excited, than before." He paused and thought. "There was one thing I told that captain. I saw her with one of the students here. Maybe that young rascal was the father of her child. He used to moon about the place where she worked. Damned youngsters ought to keep their heads in their books! Though this particular one was hardly a dashing figure. Can't imagine what she saw in him!"

There was a sharp twanging sound, and Akitada's eyes went to the music teacher's hands. They were clenched tightly around the neck of the lute. Sato followed his glance and immediately relaxed his long fingers. They looked powerful from twisting tight lute strings, and agile from many hours of practice. Powerful and agile enough to twist a piece of silk around a woman's neck and strangle her to death?

"Oh, I can see what's going through your mind," Sato said angrily. "It wasn't my brat and I had nothing to do with her death. And having said that much, I have no intention of pursuing the subject."

Akitada reddened, disclaimed such suspicions, and changed the subject to the previous evening. But his comments about Oe's argument with Fujiwara seemed to irritate Sato more. He growled, "I wasn't there, and I don't care a monkey's fart what that bastard Oe does. Serves him right, if he made a mess of himself." Grasping his lute, he got to his feet.

It was a signal that the conversation was over. Akitada rose also and left to return to his room, where he found a bleary-eyed Tora waiting for him.

"You look terrible," Akitada said sourly, eyeing Tora's unshaven chin, his dishevelled hair and the bloodshot eyes. "Where have you been? Have you had any sleep?"

"None at all!" Tora grinned. "Sleep isn't everything. As you'd find out if you tried it. You know, you should sleep with a woman more often. It may not be restful, but it's a great deal better than sleeping alone. Not having a woman saps a man's vital essence after a while. I may look worse than you, but my vital essence is in top shape, thanks to the prettiest and most talented female you ever saw. Oh, what a body that girl has . . . and the things she does with it! There's a position she calls 'monkeys swinging from a branch' where she—"

"Enough!" Akitada roared in a sudden fury. "Watch your tongue when you speak to me! And spare me the details of your sordid affairs! Seimei is quite right. I have spoiled you. Your excessive familiarity is beginning to grate. And now you are becoming insolent. Not only do you lack all respect for your betters, but you don't seem to do much work. Why did you not return to the house last night and report to your mistress for your duties this morning?"

Tora gaped at his master speechlessly.

"My mother complained about you," blustered Akitada, "and I did not know what to say. Be careful! If you try my patience too much, I shall abandon you to the streets."

Looking pale, Tora scrambled to his feet. "I'll go right now, sir," he mumbled, eyes averted and his voice tight with shock.

Immediately ashamed of his outburst, Akitada bit his lip. "Well, er, maybe you'd better wait a little before showing up at home. Er . . . do you know anything about building kites?"

"Making kites? Of course! And flying them! When I was a kid, I was champion in my village two years running. Why?"

"Some of the younger students are making kites in the dormitory courtyard. I think they must plan to fly them today. There is a good breeze for it. I want you to go over and talk to the Minamoto boy. He is probably still on the veranda pretending to read a book. You might see if you can get him interested in kites."

"A boy who's not interested in kites? You must be joking!" Tora paused abruptly and said, "I beg your pardon, sir. I'll take care of that right away." He rushed out, then stuck his head back in. "Oh, I forgot. I've solved your other case for you. The dead girl's name is Omaki. She played the lute in one of the wine houses in the Willow Quarter until she was fired."

"I know, and that hardly solves the case," Akitada said. Tora's face fell. Hanging his head, he turned to leave, when Akitada added, "All the same, it was good of you to ask around. We'll talk about it later."

When Tora was gone, Akitada sat down heavily and stared at the spray of white hollyhocks that survived, somewhat crushed, in a wine cup full of water on Akitada's desk. Perhaps Tora had a point. A man was not meant to spend his life alone unless he was a monk or hermit, and Akitada had no interest in the contemplative or spiritual life. What was it Sato had said? He had asked if Akitada had a private life. Against his better sense, he closed his eyes and thought of Tamako in her Kamo finery. It was a revelation how enchanting her face seemed to him now, since he had really never realized it before. And she had a very graceful figure, slender, with elegant shoulders and a most enticing neck when she turned her head. The image of that white neck with a delicate rosy ear half hidden by the silky black hair was extraordinarily erotic, and he called himself to order sharply, ashamed that Tora's tussle with a common prostitute should have caused him to think with physical desire of the young woman who had been like a sister to him. He reached for the student papers.

Professor Hirata stopped by when Akitada was halfway through the stack of essays. He complained of not being able to find Oe. "Have you spoken to Ishikawa yet?" he asked.

"No, he left early this morning. It is a holiday, and he may be visiting friends." Akitada found it difficult to behave normally around Hirata and had to force himself to carry on a conversation. "How did the rest of the contest go?"