Tora looked forward to reporting the young lord’s furious departure on the afternoon of the murder. It surely meant that the quarrel his master had overheard had been between Lord Kiyowara and his son. In that case, most likely young Kiyowara could have been the killer. A rash-tempered youth was prone to knocking people out, and this one’s temper was proved when he had ridden down the old woman.
And if this information did not solve the case, then at least another suspect could be offered to the police.
All in all, a good day’s work, though it would have to wait. The next morning, the master was busy. Tora changed back into his rags.
Hanae’s face fell. ‘Are you going out again?’
‘The master thinks someone’s setting those fires. You know he needs all the help he can get.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Amida! Someone setting fires?’ She bit her lip and nodded. ‘Go then, but be careful and don’t stay out too late.’
‘Never fear.’ He ogled her. ‘Just be ready for me when I slip into bed.’
That made her giggle.
This time Tora passed through the Western Market, skirting Hoshina’s wine shop, and wandered through the dingy streets beyond. From time to time, he stopped a man or woman to ask for Jirokichi. People either denied knowing of him, their faces closing like slammed doors, or they smiled and nodded but had no idea where Tora might find him. It was frustrating.
Near midday he was in an especially depressing part of the city. Hunger gnawed and his legs were growing tired. He decided to look for a place where he might eat and drink and rest for a while. He found a low dive in the very next street.
The curtain hanging across the doorway bore the name of the establishment: Fragrant Peach. It was so old and tattered that the painted blossoms looked like dirty snow falling from a cloudy sky, and its smell resembled that of dung. Still, from the sounds within, there would at least be wine, and after a drink the place would look much better.
Tora pushed aside the curtain and stepped down into a dirt-floored room with a low, dark ceiling. It was a hot, airless hole. Fumes of smoke, burning oil, sour wine, and sweat hit him like a fist. A few oil lamps, fixed to the walls, accounted for the stink of oil. The smoke came from a central fire pit. At first glance, the place contained several customers, both men and women, all of them poorly dressed and dirty.
A few faces turned his way but showed no interest. In a dark and lonely alley, these men, and a few of the tattered females, would probably just as soon shove a knife in a man’s back to rob him of a few coins.
Tora gritted his teeth and looked for a place away from the fire. He would have his cup of wine, try for some information and, if things turned ugly, he would get out. Then he saw a familiar figure on a sort of dais in the far corner.
The fat rice merchant from Kaneharu’s cousin’s ward was standing there, talking to a couple of juveniles. Tora wondered what would bring him to a place like the Fragrant Peach. The merchant was waving his chubby hands, and the youngsters, who had their backs to Tora, nodded and laughed. Tora searched his mind for a name, found it, and started forward.
‘Hey, Watanabe!’ he shouted.
The fat man’s head jerked around. For a moment, there was puzzlement on the broad face, then he said something to the youths, who slipped away, and raised a hand in greeting.
Tora put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Well met, my friend. I’m parched and hate drinking alone. Join me in a cup.’ The merchant hesitated, but Tora called for wine and made him sit down. ‘You look surprised,’ he told Watanabe. ‘The name’s Tora. We talked outside your house about that fire the other day. Any news of Young Kaneharu?’
Watanabe’s double chin creased. ‘Ah, yes. He died yesterday. A release. He was in terrible pain – terrible! Ah, the anger of the gods!’ Jowls quivering, he shook his head.
Tora’s heart sank. So he had not been able to save the son either. ‘That’s a pity,’ he said heavily. ‘You don’t think it could have been an accident?’
Watanabe pursed his lips and suddenly resembled a frog. ‘I see what you mean. A senile father and a house full of dry grass and bamboo. Perhaps. But even then it might have been a sign. Did you notice the altar at the end of their street? I paid for that, and for the priest to perform rites.’
Tora had not, but he nodded. ‘Very pious,’ he said. ‘You’re probably right about the gods being angry. So many fires, that’s just not normal.’
A very young waitress in a stained pink robe slouched up and plunked down two cups. Her robe gaped open as she bent, revealing firm young breasts. She filled the cups from a flask, set down the flask, and held out a dirty palm.
Tora eyed her. She looked not much more than fourteen or fifteen and was surprisingly pretty. He felt pity for her. Already, she had lost her childhood. Her smooth face was painted like a trollop’s, and she looked sullen. Children grew up fast in this part of the city. Tora fished out three coppers and placed them in her palm.
‘Hey,’ she said with a pout. ‘That pays for the wine. What about the service?’
Tora flashed her a smile and let his eyes sweep over her again. ‘I don’t know. What do you offer?’
Watanabe shook with silent laughter. She glared at both of them and flounced off.
Tora looked after her. ‘Not bad looking, but she needs a bath.’
With another rumbling belly laugh, Watanabe said, ‘Around here, men don’t care. She’s both young and willing.’ He winked.
So the girl was a whore already, and Watanabe had probably slept with her. Tora was disgusted and said nastily, ‘I thought your interest was young boys. Or isn’t that why I saw you talking to them?’
The rice merchant reached for his cup. ‘I take a charitable interest in poor youths,’ he said coldly.
Right!
Tora smirked. ‘Well, to each his own. I prefer females myself.’
Watanabe choked. ‘You misunderstood. I’m a married man,’ he squawked, coughing.
‘So am I, but that doesn’t keep me from ogling a beauty.’ The girl was at the open back door now, talking to someone outside. A moment later, she slipped out.
Watanabe was still protesting his innocence. ‘I’m just helping poor boys find work. Working keeps them out of trouble.’
‘That’s very public-spirited of you.’
Watanabe eyed Tora resentfully. ‘If you don’t mind my asking, what are you doing here?’ he asked. ‘And why are you dressed like that?’
‘I’m looking for a thief. It seemed like a good idea to blend in.’
Watanabe’s bulging eyes widened. ‘Why are you looking for a thief? Are you a constable?’
‘No. This one paid a visit at my house.’
‘Ah. Did he get away with much?’
‘Not really. I have nothing to steal. Have you heard of a Jirokichi? The one that steals from the rich to give to the poor?’
Watanabe’s belly quivered with mirth again. It reminded Tora of boiling bean paste. ‘Sure, I’ve heard of him,’ he said. ‘It’s a great story. Fools will believe anything. Some even pray to him for gold – just like some god.’
Tora flushed. He did not like being called a fool, and while he knew Jirokichi was human, he had great respect for miraculous events. ‘You can believe what you want,’ he said ungraciously.
Watanabe became apologetic. ‘No offense. I knew you were joking.’ He thought a moment. ‘You know, speaking from a business standpoint, a man could make a lot of money out of a thing like that. Being thought a god, I mean.’ He started to laugh again.
Tora watched him with barely hidden disgust. The man was made of whale blubber. ‘How so?’
‘Think about it. All sorts of things can be done if people think they are done by the gods. The police don’t trouble themselves with arresting the kami.’ He leaned forward to refill their cups. ‘Oh, no! The kami are quite safe.’ He fell into another bout of laughter.
‘Pretending to be a god would be a sacrilege,’ Tora pointed out, but he wondered if Jirokichi was the sort of man who would dishonor the gods. And that brought up another thought. ‘Is that what’s going on with all those fires, do you think?’ he asked Watanabe. ‘You know, someone’s setting them and blaming it on the gods?’
Watanabe was shocked by the notion. He stopped laughing. ‘Of course not. Much too dangerous. And what’s in it for him?’
The wine had warmed Tora’s belly. He was wasting time with Watanabe. Emptying his cup, he got up. ‘Well, I’m glad I bumped into you, but it’s time I was off. My wife’s not as understanding as yours.’
Watanabe’s grin was strained. ‘Thanks for the wine, Tora. And good luck finding your thief.’
As Tora walked away from the Fragrant Peach, he passed the alley next to the building. A closely entwined couple leaned against the wall. The young waitress had her pink robe pulled up to her waist and a pale thigh clasped around a young male in a blue and white robe. His hips moved energetically against her.
Tora was amused. When he was young, he had known such uncomfortable but exhilarating moments himself, but these days he had something better waiting for him at home.