It was all very proper, but Akitada sensed that the man was holding himself in an iron control. He cast about for some way to penetrate the shell of loyalty and found none. Eventually, he said, ‘I am sure you wish to see your master’s killer found.’ Fuhito bowed his assent. ‘Being a trusted member of the household surely means that you were in your master’s confidence?’ A slight hesitation, then another bow of agreement. Akitada wondered why Fuhito never changed the fixed expression on his face. The man had superb control – or else he had something to hide.
‘Since life is never without its disagreements, you might inform me of anyone who has quarreled with Lord Kiyowara, or who had a reason to wish him dead.’
If such a thing were possible, Fuhito stiffened even more. He compressed his lips tightly. Akitada knew from experience that this meant the major-domo refused to reveal some important and relevant piece of information. Most likely it was something that implicated him or reflected badly on a family member. To Akitada’s surprise, however, the major-domo spoke.
‘You will have heard that Lord Kiyowara’s son was upset with his father,’ he said. ‘Lord Kiyowara refused to let the young master become a soldier. You must not read too much into that. Those of us who have watched the young lord grow up, know that there is no viciousness in him. That particular disagreement you may therefore ignore. It happens – happened regularly; at least once a month.’
Akitada acknowledged this with a slight smile. ‘You are right that I have been told about the quarrel, but Lady Kiyowara seems to take it more seriously than you. In fact, I believe she expects me to find a more likely candidate quickly, before her son is arrested.’
Fuhito’s eyes moved around the room. ‘Quite so, My Lord. I’m sure you know that a man of His late Lordship’s temperament and position in the government may make many enemies that his household knows nothing about. Did not Her Ladyship tell you this?’
‘But the murder happened here, in Lord Kiyowara’s house. If the murderer came from the outside, either someone admitted him or he came by stealth. Since it happened in the daytime, the former is more likely. That is why I hope one of the servants will know who the killer is.’
Fuhito blinked. ‘I must warn you that there are nearly thirty house servants here. And another eighty-five have various duties at the gate, in the stables, the kitchens, the bath house, and the gardens.’
It was an impossible proposition, and the major-domo knew it. Akitada said coldly, ‘I expect a man in your position has questioned them already. Perhaps you would share what you have learned?’
Fuhito looked at his clenched hands. ‘Not everyone, sir. But I did speak with those on duty in the house, at the gate, and in the gardens. I made a list of all the visitors who entered the compound that day. Neither the servants in the house nor in the gardens observed anyone who was not supposed to be there. The list is in the hands of the police.’
‘Did you make a copy?’
Fuhito flushed. ‘No, sir. I did not know it would be needed. I have some rough notes, which I used to compile the final list.’
That was better. Akitada asked to see the notes, and Fuhito went to a bamboo stand with shelves, where he took several sheets of paper from a writing box. These he passed to Akitada with a bow.
Akitada studied them closely. Fuhito wrote in an excellent hand. In fact, his brush strokes marked him as university-educated, though sometimes graduates of the Imperial University were forced to teach in the provinces, and Fuhito might have benefited from one such instructor.
He saw his own name, and that of the poet Ono. In each case, the purpose of the visit was noted. He himself was identified by his former rank and position and his intention ‘to speak to His Lordship on a matter connected with the Ministry of Justice’. Ono was unidentified, perhaps because he was a familiar and regular visitor. He had paid a call on Her Ladyship. The others were tradesmen, messengers from various offices of the Greater Palace, and people from the Kiyowara estate. They had been seen by Fuhito or the head cook, because they had brought supplies or received orders.
When Akitada had read the notes carefully, he looked up. Fuhito met his gaze. ‘I see the name of His Highness, Prince Atsunori. He and I met briefly in the waiting room. Why is the purpose of his visit missing?’
The major-domo seemed astonished by the question. ‘His Highness was shown into the waiting room by mistake. I was horrified when I discovered what an ignorant servant had done and rushed to remedy the situation. His Highness should not have been asked to wait. He was angry.’
Akitada recalled the air of outraged importance that had enveloped the Minister of Central Affairs. ‘But why not list the reason for his call? Did you also leave that off the list you gave the police?’
‘I saw no need to demand a reason from someone of such exalted rank. He probably stopped on his way to the emperor to remind Lord Kiyowara of some small matter. I took him in myself and waited outside the door. He left after only a moment. His lordship was alive then.’
Ah, that helped narrow things, though Akitada, in a perverse humor, was a little disappointed that the prince was cleared of suspicion. He said, ‘Thank you. May I ask you to make a list for me also? And then perhaps you might show me the house and the room where your master died. As you know, I never got farther than the waiting room the day I came here.’
Fuhito accepted his notes back. ‘As you wish, sir.’
‘Did you by chance attend the university here in the capital? Your calligraphy is excellent.’
This time, the major-domo blushed with pleasure. The man’s eyes became moist. ‘Thank you, sir,’ he stammered. ‘Yes, I was so fortunate. Those were happy days. Long gone, I’m afraid.’
Seeing so much nostalgic emotion, Akitada felt like apologizing, but he desisted. Fuhito jumped up, tucked the notes away, and rushed to open the door for him.
The tour of the house was enlightening about the dead man’s wealth and his hopes for the future. Clearly, he had aimed for palatial appointments, rejecting true elegance like the austere simplicity of the emperor’s own residence. Costly fabrics, objects, and paintings abounded. The room where he had died was no exception.
More to the point, Akitada suspected that it had been cleaned after the police left and the body was removed.
In addition to Kiyowara’s own desk, there was a smaller second desk meant for a secretary rather than a scribe. Akitada asked about this and was told that the secretary had not been employed yet, but that Lord Kiyowara had been casting about for a suitable man.
‘Why was the job not offered to you?’ Akitada asked. ‘Surely your background would have made you an excellent choice.’
Fuhito bit his lip. ‘Not at all, sir. I am too old. His Lordship hoped for someone younger and with connections among the court nobility.’
Was he bitter that he had been passed over? Or relieved? The position would surely have meant constant exposure to Lord Kiyowara’s whims. Akitada found Fuhito increasingly interesting. What were his true feelings about his late master? So far, he had not seen signs of grief.
Since the room had been cleaned and rearranged, he could learn nothing from it. No doubt the police had noted whatever clues there might have been. Akitada went to look at the scrolls and books on Kiyowara’s shelves. Much of it was what you would expect to find: the great poetry collections, the law books, the Records of Ancient Matters and some other chronicles, translations of the Chinese masters, and the court calendars.
Akitada turned away from the books. The desk was handsome, but bare of anything but the writing set. ‘Where are Lord Kiyowara’s papers kept?’ he asked.
‘His official documents are not in this house, and the estate documents are kept at the provincial mansion. I myself keep those documents that pertain to household expenses.’
‘Then Lord Kiyowara did not work here?’
‘His Lordship used the room for meetings.’
‘Who served as his secretary on those occasions?’
‘It was rarely necessary to keep notes. His Lordship’s son occasionally sat in on a meeting. His Lordship wrote his own letters.’
That was very curious. A man as wealthy as Kiyowara should have had both secretaries and scribes at his disposal. It sounded very much as if Kiyowara had not trusted anyone with the transactions taking place here. Akitada eyed the desk thoughtfully. ‘Who found your master’s body?’
‘I did.’
