first time that Kosehira did not always have an easy time of it in spite of being a member of the ruling family.
At police headquarters, Takechi was out, but they directed him to the judge’s house.
Nakano had done well for himself. His house aspired to mansion status. Nakano had built outbuildings, added a wall and a roofed gate, and laid out a garden in the back. The gate was open but two constables kept an eye on a group of onlookers in the street. It was a familiar scene that Akitada had encountered many times. A violent death drew the curious, and the law had to step in to protect the investigation.
He identified himself, telling the guards that he had come from the governor. Very properly, one of them went to notify the chief who was inside the house.
Takechi came out and greeted Akitada enthusiastically. “How good of you to come yourself, sir,” he said as Akitada dismounted and a constable took his horse. “This looks suspicious after all. I’d be very glad to get your opinion.”
They walked into the late judge’s residence. Akitada saw immediately that Nakano had spared no money on furnishings. The tatami mats were thick and hardly worn; the cushions looked plump and were of silk; numerous scrolls of scenes around the lake hung on the walls; and here and there, folding screens stood about with pictures of mountain temples and hermitages.
Akitada asked, “Did he belong to a wealthy family?”
“No. His father was a mid-level official in Aki province. I think he owned some land there, but nothing impressive. He earned this himself by investing in business.”
“You don’t say.” Akitada remembered the way Nakano had confiscated the large sum of gold he had carried in order to buy the child’s freedom. Nakano had relinquished it eventually when he realized Akitada’s background, but it had been done with great reluctance. No doubt he had “earned” some of his wealth in his capacity as judge.
Takechi took him to the judge’s study. This, too, was furnished well. Nakano had a large library and his desk was elegant and heavily carved. The writing utensils on it were made of jade or lacquer. Some sheets of paper with spidery handwriting lay on the desk. In a corner, his bedding lay spread out on a thick mat.
“He was lying here,” Takechi said, pointing to a place in the middle of the room. The floor was bare and showed scuff marks from many feet. The body was gone.
“Where is he now?”
“Back at headquarters. The coroner is in a quandary.”
Akitada raised his brows. “Why?”
“Because he thought it was a natural death and is no longer sure about it now.”
“Ah!” Akitada looked around. “What about the servants? Have they been questioned?”
“There are only two. A young couple. They swore nobody came during the night. It must have happened at night. The wife found him in the morning when she brought him his gruel.”
“You saw the body here. What did it look like to you?”
Takechi scratched his head. “Well, he was lying just there. On his stomach. His legs were drawn up a little and his arms were out like this.” He spread his arms wide. “There were no wounds. It looked as though he’d become faint and fallen down. His bedding hadn’t been slept in.” Takechi gestured toward the neat quilts. “I figured he’d been working at his desk and got up to go to bed when death overcame him. He was an old man after all.”
“How old?”
“In his eighty-second year. When a man gets that old, death isn’t a surprise. It can happen any moment.”
Akitada went to look at the papers on the desk. The judge seemed to have written down details of a legal case. “Any idea what he was working on?” he asked the police chief.
Takechi shook his head. “It’s something to do with the imperial pheasant preserve. I couldn’t make it out. The two servants can’t read, but they thought he was writing down a record of his cases. Reminiscing, you know.”
Akitada nodded. Old
At police headquarters, Takechi was out, but they directed him to the judge’s house.
Nakano had done well for himself. His house aspired to mansion status. Nakano had built outbuildings, added a wall and a roofed gate, and laid out a garden in the back. The gate was open but two constables kept an eye on a group of onlookers in the street. It was a familiar scene that Akitada had encountered many times. A violent death drew the curious, and the law had to step in to protect the investigation.
He identified himself, telling the guards that he had come from the governor. Very properly, one of them went to notify the chief who was inside the house.
Takechi came out and greeted Akitada enthusiastically. “How good of you to come yourself, sir,” he said as Akitada dismounted and a constable took his horse. “This looks suspicious after all. I’d be very glad to get your opinion.”
They walked into the late judge’s residence. Akitada saw immediately that Nakano had spared no money on furnishings. The tatami mats were thick and hardly worn; the cushions looked plump and were of silk; numerous scrolls of scenes around the lake hung on the walls; and here and there, folding screens stood about with pictures of mountain temples and hermitages.
Akitada asked, “Did he belong to a wealthy family?”
“No. His father was a mid-level official in Aki province. I think he owned some land there, but nothing impressive. He earned this himself by investing in business.”
“You don’t say.” Akitada remembered the way Nakano had confiscated the large sum of gold he had carried in order to buy the child’s freedom. Nakano had relinquished it eventually when he realized Akitada’s background, but it had been done with great reluctance. No doubt he had “earned” some of his wealth in his capacity as judge.
Takechi took him to the judge’s study. This, too, was furnished well. Nakano had a large library and his desk was elegant and heavily carved. The writing utensils on it were made of jade or lacquer. Some sheets of paper with spidery handwriting lay on the desk. In a corner, his bedding lay spread out on a thick mat.
“He was lying here,” Takechi said, pointing to a place in the middle of the room. The floor was bare and showed scuff marks from many feet. The body was gone.
“Where is he now?”
“Back at headquarters. The coroner is in a quandary.”
Akitada raised his brows. “Why?”
“Because he thought it was a natural death and is no longer sure about it now.”
“Ah!” Akitada looked around. “What about the servants? Have they been questioned?”
“There are only two. A young couple. They swore nobody came during the night. It must have happened at night. The wife found him in the morning when she brought him his gruel.”
“You saw the body here. What did it look like to you?”
Takechi scratched his head. “Well, he was lying just there. On his stomach. His legs were drawn up a little and his arms were out like this.” He spread his arms wide. “There were no wounds. It looked as though he’d become faint and fallen down. His bedding hadn’t been slept in.” Takechi gestured toward the neat quilts. “I figured he’d been working at his desk and got up to go to bed when death overcame him. He was an old man after all.”
“How old?”
“In his eighty-second year. When a man gets that old, death isn’t a surprise. It can happen any moment.”
Akitada went to look at the papers on the desk. The judge seemed to have written down details of a legal case. “Any idea what he was working on?” he asked the police chief.
Takechi shook his head. “It’s something to do with the imperial pheasant preserve. I couldn’t make it out. The two servants can’t read, but they thought he was writing down a record of his cases. Reminiscing, you know.”
Akitada nodded. Old
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