As young Minamoto passed his desk on his way out the door, Akitada remembered the present from Kinsue's wife. "Sadamu," he said, "I have something for you."
The boy's eyes widened with pleasure. "For me? What is it?" he cried, taking the box.
"It is not from me. This morning I went to speak to your grandfather's driver. He and his wife are the only ones left at the mansion."
"Kinsue," nodded the boy, his eyes suddenly intent. "What did you discover?"
Akitada hesitated. "Essentially Kinsue supports the official story. Your grandfather entered the temple hall, but did not emerge. When his attendants looked for him, he had disappeared."
The boy sighed. "Kinsue would not lie. He loved Grandfather. There must be an explanation. Will you go to the temple?"
"Yes. I will after I have talked to the men who were with your grandfather. I am told the Lords Abe, Yanagida and Shinoda, as well as some general, accompanied your grandfather. Do you know any of them?"
The boy nodded. "I know them, but not well. They came often to the house, but I was not present when my grandfather entertained them. The general is called Soga. I am sorry I cannot help you any more."
"It does not matter. By the way, I am amazed you know the names of your grandfather's servants. There must be many of them."
The boy smiled. He was weighing the box in his hand and shaking it slightly. "Of course," he said. "But especially Kinsue and Fumiko. Fumiko is Kinsue's wife. Are they both well? Is this present from her?" Somehow the string had come undone. His lordship raised the box to his face and squinted at a crack under the lid, his nose twitching a little.
"Go ahead and look," said Akitada with a smile.
Instantly the lid came off. "Sweet dumplings!" cried the boy, doing a little skip and hop. "I was hoping it would be sweet dumplings. She makes the best." He inhaled the smell ecstatically and extended the open box to Akitada. "Please, sir, will you sample one?"
"No, thank you. It is time for my midday rice. Kinsue and, er, Fumiko are quite well and wanted me tell you that they are taking good care of your home in your absence."
The youngster closed the box, blushing a little. "It is very good of them and I am glad that they are healthy and have not been dismissed. Do they need anything?"
Akitada marvelled again at the sense of responsibility this eleven-year-old felt for his people. "No," he said, "I don't believe so. They grieve, of course. For your grandfather and because you are not with them."
The boy blinked. "I am glad they are at the old place, because that is where my grandfather's spirit will be until his forty-nine days are up," he said, his voice choking a little. "Is there any news of my sister, sir?"
"None, I'm afraid. She is in the country. By the way, where is your country house?"
"Near Mount Kuriko on the Nara Highway."
"I have also spoken to your great-uncle, Bishop Sesshin. I don't suppose he has sent for you or changed your living arrangements?"
"No, sir. My great-uncle is a priest. He takes no interest in worldly things."
It was said matter-of-factly, but Akitada's heart contracted for the lonely boy. "Well," he said with a forced smile, "enjoy your dumplings!"
He was rewarded by a big grin and watched with a chuckle as the boy skipped out, clutching his precious box. It took so little to make a child happy. Even the dim memories of his own past included moments of sheer bliss.
His smile faded a moment later, when he was interrupted in his childhood reminiscences by Nishioka, who stuck his long nose in, asking, "My dear fellow, aren't you having your noon rice today? I'm on my way to my office for mine. Come, be my guest! I am anxious to share my new theory with you and give you a taste treat at the same time."
Akitada was about to decline, when he saw Hirata's gaunt face appear behind Nishioka. Sighing inwardly, Akitada accepted the invitation. Hirata nodded to both of them and withdrew again.
Nishioka chattered away as they walked together towards the Temple of Confucius. Akitada, feeling guilty about Hirata, said little. It was uncomfortably hot for the first time this year. Glancing up at the sky, Akitada thought the weather was changing. An oppressive heat haze hung over the city, and hardly a leaf stirred in the trees.
"Master Tanabe took off today on my urging," Nishioka said when they reached his room. "I'm a bit worried about him. He's getting too old for all this excitement. The sooner the police arrest the killer, the better for all of us."
Thinking of how frail and ill Hirata had looked, Akitada agreed.
Nishioka confided excitedly, "I think I have worked it out. We agreed it is all a question of the murderer's personality, and by that premise I have narrowed it down to a single person. Of course, if it were not for the fact that it takes a very strong man to tie a body the size of Oe's to that statue, the field would be much larger. But let us discuss it over our food."
They settled down on the veranda outside Nishioka's cramped and cluttered study to a meal of rice and pickled vegetables delivered from the staff kitchen. Akitada eyed the food with little interest or appetite. "A taste treat, did you say?"
Nishioka's eyes sparkled. "Later," he promised and returned to the subject of Oe's murder. "It seems to me that we should consider everybody who had a motive, eliminate those who could not have done it, and analyze the psychological traits of those remaining. Agreed?"
Clearly this would take a while. Unhappily, Akitada nodded, brushing away a few beads of perspiration from his brow. He was not particularly hungry and ate listlessly.
"Let us begin with ourselves," said Nishioka, waving his chopsticks. "No, no! Don't shake your head. We must be systematic. System is everything in scholarly research. I, Nishioka, did not like Oe. He was quite rude to me on several occasions. I also did not care for his lack of respect towards Master Tanabe. But dislike is not a strong enough motive for murder. You, unless you inform me otherwise, would not have known the man long enough even for that. Am I right?"
Akitada gave Nishioka a long look. Then he put down his chop-sticks and rice bowl and said bluntly, "You may have had a stronger motive than dislike. The police captain seems to think that Oe was threatening you over certain gambling activities."
Nishioka's jaw dropped. He turned absolutely white. "K… Kobe said that? How could he? What did he say?"
"Nothing specific. He picked up the information among a lot of gossip about the faculty."
Nishioka relaxed a little. "It's a silly story. Vastly exaggerated. There is really nothing to it. A couple of clerks in administration were taking bets on the outcome of the last examination and they asked me to hold the money for them. Nobody would have said anything about it, if we had not had some sore losers. You see, the favorite did not place first."
"So I gathered," Akitada said dryly. He had noted the shift in pronoun from "they" to "we," and wondered just how culpable his host had been. Everybody needed money, and assistants, as Akitada knew, were paid a pittance. He asked, "How much money was involved?"
Nishioka fidgeted. "All in all about five hundred pieces of silver."
"That much!" Akitada stared at him. "Who won?"
"There was only one winner. Ishikawa."
"Ishikawa! You don't say! If he got that much, why was he reading Oe's papers?"
Nishioka put on an irritatingly mysterious look and merely said, "Ah!"