“Oh, you have seen the hell screen. Yes, it makes me shudder, too, but that is after all the purpose. It is said that if we can just save one soul from sinful living by impressing him or her with the sufferings of their afterlife, it has served its purpose.”
“I expect so,” said Akitada, and turned to leave, but at the gallery he paused and looked back. “You said Noami spent the night of the murder here. Where does he sleep?”
“Sometimes in the room where he works, sometimes in one of the empty monks’ cells. He used to be a monk, you know.”
“Used to be? Did he renounce his vows, or was he dismissed for improprieties?”
Eikan spread his hands. “Nobody seems to know, my lord.” He grinned suddenly. “And believe me, we have tried to find out. Though I shouldn’t say it, life has a certain sameness to it day after day in a monastery. You have no idea how interested everybody is in the murder. The abbot has already assigned three penitential meditations to stop such worldly concerns. For those we stay up all night, kneeling on the hard floor, our backs straight as pine trees. If we drowse off or slouch, we are struck with a bamboo cane by the hall steward. But even that has not stopped the young monks from whispering about it.”
“Under those circumstances I feel guilty asking your help.”
They looked at each other. Then Eikan said, “Not at all, my lord. It is my duty to aid in the investigation.” They smiled at each other in complete understanding.
The accommodations for lay visitors to the temple were in the southeastern corner of the temple grounds. Akitada’s own room, thanks to his rank and the abbot’s hospitality, had been in the monastery proper.
They entered the visitors’ courtyard through a small gate. The buildings of the quadrangle resembled monks’ cells. A rectangular courtyard with a few pine trees was enclosed by one-storied buildings, two long wings to either side and a shorter one closing off the end. Many doors led to rooms accessible from a veranda which passed around the quadrangle. Every six doors or so, steps led down to the courtyard, where two young monks were busy with chores.
Eikan turned to the right and they walked along the veranda until he stopped before one of the doors.
“This is the room which was given to Mrs. Nagaoka’s brother-in-law,” he told Akitada.
The door was not latched, and he merely pushed it open on an empty room. It literally held nothing, not so much as a clothes chest. The bare space was only ten feet deep and wide, perhaps to fit the monastic ideal of the ten-foot-square hermit’s hut, and had a floor of plain boards. The rough wooden walls, decorated with the scribbles or drawings of generations of pilgrims, had only two openings, the door and one small window in the back wall. As accommodation it was hardly luxurious.
“Have they removed the furnishings?” asked Akitada, astonished.
“No. All the rooms are like this. Bedding and a lamp are provided if there are guests. On cold nights also a brazier of coals. And, of course, water and a simple vegetarian meal. All of those things, except for the brazier, were left for the gentleman.” Eikan paused, clearing his throat meaningfully. “He did not make any use of them.”
“Oh?” Akitada noted a coy expression on Eikan’s face.
“It is one of those facts, my lord, which has filled the younger monks’ minds with conjectures of a worldly nature and imposed the penitential meditations on them.” Eikan winked with a straight face.
Akitada almost laughed aloud. He was beginning to like his companion. “You are suggesting that the lady’s brother-in-law joined her in her quarters soon after their arrival. What about his luggage?”
“Oh, he left that behind, money and all.”
Akitada’s brows shot up. “All but his sword,” he murmured thoughtfully.
“Ah,” cried Eikan, rubbing his hands. “I follow your thinking, my lord. You believe that he had already made up his mind to murder the poor lady and proceeded immediately to her room, taking his sword along?”
“That is one explanation.”
“But that means that he was not bent on seducing his brother’s wife, as most of us have assumed. He did not kill her because she spurned his advances?”
“It would seem unlikely that he would take his sword on an errand of love.”
“A brilliant deduction, my lord.” Eikan eyed Akitada with admiration. “I am willing to wager that the police have not thought of that. They kept asking if anyone had noticed improper behavior between the two.”
Not being in Kobe’s confidence, Akitada could not pursue the subject. He asked instead, “Who discovered the crime?”
“One of the novices. His name is Ancho. The novices are assigned to cleaning duties in the guest quarters. Ancho and Sosei had the duty that week. I made a note of it and questioned Ancho after I discovered your identity, my lord, just in case you should return and ask me this question.”
Akitada thanked him gravely.
“It is a pleasure to be of service. In any case, Ancho and Sosei started their duties after the morning lecture. That is well after the hour of the dragon, when most guests have risen and are at their devotions or have departed. Ancho knocked at the lady’s door, and when there was no answer, he assumed the room was empty and used his special key. He was horrified to find the bloody corpse of a woman and the lifeless body of a man. Being young, he went screaming for help. Sosei came from another room and looked. He, too, ran, but he had the sense to get a senior monk from the monastery. Ancho, confused, stayed in the courtyard within sight of the room. He saw a few guests gathering to peer into the room until some of the senior monks arrived. It was only then that someone noticed the man was alive and merely in a drunken stupor. They tied him up, and the prior sent for the capital police.”
“Did the man sleep through all this commotion?”
“It took the police several hours to get here. He woke up in the meantime and had to be restrained. The monks got more ropes and sat on him when he got violent. The police felt it proved his guilt.”
Akitada had no trouble picturing the scene. Nagaoka’s brother, Kojiro, woken up by a rude shaking, and, while still dazed with the aftereffects of drink, tied up by a group of monks, would have panicked. He nodded and said, “I think I should like to see that room next.”
They walked along the veranda to the short wing of cells.
“This is where the women stay,” Eikan said. “The male actors occupied rooms across from this wing. It seemed better to separate them. The mind is supposed to be pure when preparing for worship.”
Akitada grunted somewhat disrespectfully. Eikan ignored it and threw open another door on a room identical to the last one. Akitada stepped in and looked around. The floorboards had been scrubbed, of course, and there would not have been much blood in any case. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, he turned his attention to the door. There was a latch on the inside which could be lifted from the outside only by a special key inserted through a small hole. Akitada asked, “Who has keys for this lock?”
“There are only two. They are kept in the guest prefect’s office. Only the novices assigned to cleaning duties carry them. They are issued keys on the morning of their duties by the work supervisor, and they return them to him when they are done. Empty rooms generally are not locked.”
“I see. Do you suppose I could have a word with this Ancho?”
“Nothing easier. He’s outside.”
They stepped out onto the veranda, and looked toward a young monk who was raking the gravel at the end of the courtyard.
Eikan put his hands to his mouth and shouted, “Ancho.” The young monk dropped his bamboo rake and came running.
“Ancho,” said Eikan, “this is the great lord I mentioned to you. He has come to investigate the murder and has a few questions for you.”