"You are very kind," said Tora, stealing another look at her charms. "I wish I could, but I'm on duty. But perhaps you can help me."

Her eyes widened. "On duty? How can I be of service to the honored gentleman?"

"I came to ask some questions about your daughter Omaki."

"Omaki?" Her face stiffened and a wary look came into her eyes. "She's not my daughter. She's my husband's. Besides, she's dead."

"I know. That's why I'm here. A very unfortunate case. You certainly have my deepest sympathy."

She quickly lowered her eyes, nodded, and raised an embroidered sleeve to her face.

"I'm attached to the Ministry of Justice you see," Tora continued, pleased with himself at the choice of words. She looked up at that, clearly impressed, and he decided to stretch the truth a little further. "Since Captain Kobe of the metropolitan police is following up another lead, we have been asked to investigate this end of the case."

"You don't look old enough to be with the Ministry of Justice," she said dubiously.

Tora gave her another brilliant smile and bowed. "Thank you, ma'am, for the compliment. Actually I'm just a 'junior junior,' so to speak. I got lucky with a case in the provinces and was transferred here. Now I'm trying to make my way in the capital. I don't like to trouble folk when they're mourning a loved one, but you surely want the killer caught, and I'd be glad to get some help." He looked at her pleadingly.

"Well," she said, frowning. "I don't know . . . . Haven't they caught the killer already? That student she was seeing? I expect it was his child she was expecting. Or maybe not, and that's what made him mad enough to kill her."

"There," cried Tora. "That's exactly what I need. A woman's impression of what was going on. I knew right away that you would have a sharp eye and a fine understanding. Look at the way you knew I was too young for my job. I don't believe you miss much when it comes to sizing up people and their feelings. So you knew Omaki was seeing the student?"

"Yes. He walked her home from work a few times. A silly, ugly thing with ears like handles on a jug. Even Omaki made fun of him. I thought she didn't like him, but I guess I was wrong about that."

"Well," said Tora, "we're not supposed to talk about a case with the people concerned, but since you already know . . . Omaki used to visit him at the university, and he wrote poems about her."

She moved a little closer to him, listening avidly. "Poems? You don't mean it! So maybe it was his kid after all. Does his family have any money?"

"I don't think so."

"Then Omaki must've been mad to mess around with him. And look what it got her!"

"Actually," said Tora, "it looks like he didn't kill her. Could there have been another man?"

She thought, chewing her lip. "I suppose it's possible," she said. "She met a lot of people at her work. Sometimes they'd even give her presents."

"Could you find out about that?" He smiled at her and stroked his mustache, letting his eyes travel slowly to her large, dark-skinned breasts, half exposed where her jacket gaped.

She looked down, and pulled her jacket together. Flushing, she raised her eyes to his. "I might need a little time," she murmured, shifting her round hips a little and smoothing the jacket over her knees. Her eyes moved to his lips, his shoulders and his broad chest. "Could you come back?"

Tora nodded. "Tomorrow? Maybe a bit earlier than this?" He let his eyes go to her breasts again. "No point in disturbing your husband's dinner." This time she smiled and leaned towards him, the dusky globes straining from the fabric. A warm, unwashed smell came from her body.

Tora had rarely felt less desire for a female, but an investigator's work sometimes required acting skills, and he forced himself to whisper, "How delightful!" Pretending to recall his purpose, he cleared his throat. "Did your daughter ever mention any admirers to you?"

Her smile faded. "I told you, she's not my daughter," she cried petulantly. Tora apologized profusely, and she said grudgingly, "Well, she kept to herself a lot, you know. It's hard to be a second mother to someone your own age." She patted her hair and gave Tora a sidelong glance to see how he took this. He nodded sympathetically, and she went on, "And then Omaki thought she was much too fine for us after she became an entertainer in the Willow Quarter. Though in my opinion, that's not much better than being a whore."

"Ah! So she may have taken customers?"

The woman looked away. "I wouldn't go that far. At least you'd better not mention it to my husband. The old fool thinks she was a saint. And here she brought home all those expensive things! I ask you, who'd give a simple girl a fine jacket like this," she held out an embroidered sleeve, "for playing a lousy lute?" She paused. "Say! Is it true that the murderer and his family have to pay blood money to her relatives? I mean, if the killer was found, would you people make his family pay up for what he's done to us?"

Tora nodded. The woman placed her hand on his arm familiarly. "I can make it worth your while to look after our interests," she said, squeezing gently. "Humble folk like us don't know our way around police and the courts, but you, being with the Ministry of Justice, could keep your eyes and ears open and help us make our claim."

"Oh, I don't know that I can agree to be an informant to someone connected with a case," said Tora, frowning. "It's against the rules and might cost me my career, maybe even my job, to do such a thing."

"Oh!" she cried, "I wouldn't expect that. Only to get what is rightfully ours." She crept close to him on her knees and murmured, "I'd be very grateful. We are poor people and Omaki was our entire hope in our old age."

Tora raised his eyebrows. Apparently she could adjust her age from girlhood to senility at a moment's notice. He had noted that this was a skill peculiar only to the middle-aged female.

She misinterpreted his astonishment. "The girl had a brilliant career ahead of her," she cried. "Think of the money she would have earned; think of how she could have taken care of her old parents! Is it justice that all of that should be taken from us?"

"Hmm," Tora pretended to consider her claim, "there is something in what you say. I'll think about it. Of course, you are not likely to get anything unless we find the killer and he turns out to have some money."

Before she could answer, there was a loud and angry thumping noise from the back of the house. Mrs. Hishiya jumped a little and got to her feet. "It's getting late. I must see about dinner. My husband will be here any moment. Maybe you'd better not talk to him tonight. Come back tomorrow afternoon."

He knew she was eager to get rid of her impatient lover before her elderly husband returned home from the market. He nodded with a big smile and took his leave.

Outside, he walked around the block and up the dark alley, counting off roofs until he was behind the Hishiya house. A patch of light fell from the open door on a small yard where the little servant was hanging washing over a bamboo fence.

Tora remained in the shadows and studied the rear of the house. The small yard was full of the umbrella maker's materials and debris. A rain barrel leaned against one corner of the house and propped up a stack of firewood. This reached halfway up to a ledge under a single shuttered loft window. Omaki's room must be up there. Satisfied, Tora nodded to himself. There was plenty of time to go to the amusement quarter and pay another visit to the Willow.