“Oh, her!” Ohiya waved dismissively. This time the wine sprayed from the full cup in his hand. He stared at it. “What happened? Did I drink it?” He giggled. “Never mind.” He poured some more.
Akitada, who had barely been missed the shower of wine, reached across and took the cup from his hand. “Who is she?”
“Who?”
Akitada bit back an angry comment. “The woman who sleeps with Kanemoto?”
Ohiya screwed up his face in thought. “Now who is she? A drop of wine would help me remember,” he added in a wheedling tone.
“You drink too much. That’s why you no longer teach.”
Ohiya protested weakly, “I still teach. I have three promising pupils. The wine is for after work.” Self-pity seized him again. His face crumpled and he sobbed. “I’m old. That’s what it is. They’ve all left me because I’m old. All my boys, my lovers, my pets are gone. I’m all alone!”
Akitada’s disgust melted on that last wail. Loneliness was everywhere. The lady in the crane pavilion, the professor, the painter, perhaps even the student. And Genshin? Was he lonely now that he was a monk? He, too, had lost his good look. Would the women at court give him a second glance these days?
And what of his own loneliness?
Akitada was not a vain man and had never thought of himself as handsome. He had reached middle age and already discovered a white hair or two. Would any woman still consider him a suitable husband or lover?
But what was he thinking of? Tamako had not even been gone a year.
He looked at Ohiya, whose head had sunk to his chest. Was the man asleep? Yes, that was the sound of a snore. Suddenly frustrated, Akitada jumped up and took Ohiya by the shoulders—thin, bony shoulders—and shook him violently. Ohiya’s eyes opened and stared.
“Wha—?”
“What’s the name of Kanemoto’s woman, you drunken sot?” Akitada roared.
“Phoenix. They call her Phoenix. Lucky bitch. He’s buying her a house.”
Akitada let Ohiya go and straightened up.
Ohiya rubbed his shoulders. “You hurt me,” he complained.
Ashamed, Akitada fished a silver coin from his sash and dropped it on the floor.
The sight revived the man amazingly. He snatched up the coin and staggered to his feet to perform one of his elaborate bows. “How generous!” he cried, staggering a little. “May Amida bless you a thousand fold! May you never lack beautiful women and may you have many sons!”
Not likely, thought Akitada and turned to leave.
25
Phoenix
It was getting dark and the rain was heavier when Akitada left the dance master’s place. As he walked away into the dusk, he heard the sound of a small drum and Ohiyah’s voice, strangely melodious for a man who was drunk, begin an old song. The sound was soothing, and Akitada’s frustrations melted. He felt sorry for the man who had nothing to look forward to but death. He also became aware of extreme fatigue and a very painful left leg. He felt a great temptation to go home to his warm bed. For that matter, he wished he could just close his eyes for a very short rest, but wind and rain buffeted him and time was running out.
The memory of Tora and Saburo in their cells and of the blind woman only a night away from being found guilty of a grisly murder made him continue. His stubborn journey took him all the way back to the willow quarter. Ohiya had provided the professional name of the woman who had witnessed the gambler’s murder, but he still had no idea where she could be found. As things stood, he could not ask Kobe to take up the investigation.
When he reached the willow quarter, it was blazing with colored lights even in this miserable weather. Snatches of music floated on the perfumed air and the hanging paper lanterns swung in the wind, giving the scene an air of wild abandon. Perhaps it had always been thus, but Akitada was impressed in spite of his aversion to the hedonistic world of prostitution and gambling. He got a sense of what drove men to squander their hard-earned money here. It was more than lust for women; it was a desperate hunger for an experience that would blot out their real lives for the span of a night. To the women and professional gamblers as well as a host of others this was the only real life, and they stood ready to collect their wages.
Akitada made his way back to the warden’s office. It was busy. The drunken brawls, the heart attacks of middle-aged men, the theft reports, and the unconscious revelers had to be dealt with. The constables were on their rounds, and the cells were full.
He was so wet, tired, and sore that he wished he could sit down for a while and rest, even in one of those cells. But the stares from guards and drunks made him ashamed to give in to weariness.
The warden, a man habitually engaged in dealing with the grossest behavior of people, eyed his appearance with a frown.
“I was here earlier,” Akitada said.
The warden merely looked back and waited.
“I need more information. A few days ago there was a murder in a bath house in the next quarter.”
The warden nodded. “The Daikoku-yu.”
“Yes. It appears the young woman charged with crime may be innocent. Meanwhile, there has been a second murder in your quarter. A gambler was found strangled.”
Again the warden nodded. “They arrested two men. They lost heavily and accused him of cheating. Maybe he did. It happens. No reason to kill a man.”
“Yes. But these two men work for me, and that gambler worked for a man called Kanemoto. The body was found under Kanemoto’s house. Why wasn’t Kanemoto interrogated about the incident?”
“There’s no evidence the dead man worked for Kanemoto. And Kanemoto wasn’t home at the time.”
“How do you know?”
“The house was empty, and the neighbors saw him leave.”
“And they were certain about the time?”
“Yes.”
“Then they lied. One of my men had been watching Kanemoto’s house.”
The warden stared at him. “Why would he do that?”
“Kanemoto is a notorious gangster, and he seems to be involved in the murder of a moneylender.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “I think, sir,” he said, “that you must speak to the police about this. It’s out of my hands.”
It was clear that this man would not answer the question, and that was an answer of sorts. Kanemoto was not interfered with because the warden either feared or respected him. Perhaps it was a little of both. Akitada thanked the warden and turned to leave. He had not handled this very well. He should have approached the subject of Kanemoto more casually.
Never mind. He was in the willow quarter and should be able to get some information elsewhere. He thought about this, and it occurred to him that such assignations were made through a go-between. A question directed to one of the messenger boys running past brought him to a house where such a business was arranged.
In spite of his wet condition, he was received with smiles and bows by a fat man in a green-figured black silk robe. “What a night!” he said. “The gentleman wishes for one of our famous beauties to help him pass the storm in comfort and pleasure?” he asked in an oily voice, after leading Akitada to a small room that was quite luxuriously furnished with thick tatami and silk cushions.
Akitada collapsed with a groan and looked around. It struck him belatedly that this would cost money. He said, “Well, I haven’t made up my mind. I hoped you could assist me with your expertise.”
The fat man bowed more deeply, and murmured, “Certainly, certainly. You honor me, sir. But first perhaps a little wine and some tasty snacks? If you’ll forgive me, your lordship looks very cold and tired. It wouldn’t do to spoil a whole night of exquisite pleasure by falling asleep.” He chuckled deep in his chest, making a sound that resembled distant thunder. Clapping his hands, he instructed a maid to bring refreshments.