‘Do His Lordship’s daughters-in-law keep him company during the day?’
‘No.’ It was a statement of fact, neither rancorous nor complaining.
Akitada wondered at the strangeness of this household run by women. The fact that only workers from outside were being used suggested that the family had something to hide. Surely that something was Peony and her relationship with the younger Masuda. When they reached the main hall, Akitada asked, ‘Was the picture of Lord Masuda’s son?’
The old man’s face softened. ‘Yes. It’s just like him. Wasn’t he handsome?’
‘I expect the ladies thought so. What did Lord Masuda think about his keeping a courtesan from the Willow Quarter in the lake villa?’
The old man’s face closed and he shuffled away. Akitada caught up and stepped in his path. ‘Come, you know very well what I mean. Young Masuda fell in love with the courtesan from the capital and installed her in the lakeside villa. Everyone knows.’
The servant bowed his head. ‘We’re not to talk about it, sir.’
Akitada said acidly, ‘Yes, I heard. His first wife has forbidden the subject. She who also holds the purse strings. She had reason to be jealous of the beautiful woman from the capital who took her husband’s heart and gave him a son.’ The old man said nothing. Akitada snapped, ‘There was a son, wasn’t there?’ Silence. ‘Why did his father not take care of the young woman and her child, his own grandchild?’
To his surprise, the servant became angry. ‘The first lady doesn’t tell me what to do,’ he said. ‘I’ve served His Lordship since we were boys. It was His Lordship who forbade mention of the woman’s name in this house.’
‘But why in heaven? She gave him an heir.’
‘Because she killed the young lord.’
‘What?’
‘That devil woman – that cursed demon…’ The old man trembled with fury and choked on the words.
Akitada put a steadying hand on his bony shoulder and said, ‘Calm down. The story I heard is that he deserted her and his son and later died of an illness. Now you tell me he was murdered?’
The servant dabbed his sleeve to his eyes, sniffed, and said fiercely, ‘He left her when his father insisted, but she bewitched him with her tears, and he went back to her. That’s when the vengeful demon poisoned him. He died at her house.’
Akitada stared at the old man. ‘He died there? When?’
‘My young master died on the tenth day of the third month after many days of pain and suffering. Oh, the she-devil!’
‘But she was not accused of the crime or arrested. In fact, she stayed on in the house for another year.’
‘They couldn’t prove it. She was too sly. Called the doctor in. But it was too late. The young master died, and his father lost his mind. There was nobody left to punish her. The first lady’s son was still a baby, and he died, too. They said it was the curse.’ He suddenly raised a finger towards the coffered ceiling. ‘Heaven’s net is large, and nothing escapes it.’ Giving an odd dry chuckle, he hobbled away.
Akitada looked after him, appalled. The humble and devoted old man had sounded positively malevolent. He pieced this new information together with what he already knew. If the servant was right, then someone other than Sadanori had had a motive to kill Peony, a much stronger motive. It certainly explained the puzzling behavior of the Masudas towards Peony and her son. If Peony had murdered the Masuda heir, then it was far more likely that her death was the work of someone in this family.
Had Peony really killed her lover? Akitada decided that it did not matter if she had, so long as the killer thought she had. And who in this household would have had such a motive? The old lord? His servant? One of the wives?
The empty hall lay dim and silent around him. He thought of the passions that had torn this family apart and the guilty secrets they hid from the outside world. The dead man’s wives must have hated the beautiful woman from the capital. His father seemed to have disliked the relationship from the beginning, and he certainly hated her after his son’s death. And, being loyal in every way, so did his servant. What about Mrs Ishikawa? Her role seemed negligible, but she had visited Peony and her son. Why had she done so, when the ladies she served were hostile to their husband’s concubine?
And what was her son’s role in all of this? Akitada knew Ishikawa well enough to be convinced that he would look for profit in a situation of this sort. Ishikawa was a blackmailer.
And there was another thing. Whatever had happened, whatever Peony had done or someone had done to her, nobody here would claim her son. Akitada heaved a deep sigh. Perhaps this was, after all, just another interesting murder case, and he would return home with a small boy.
He started to leave when he heard a silken rustling in the dark recesses of the hall. A moment later, a woman entered the back of the hall on soft feet. She came from the left and headed towards Lord Masuda’s room. She carried a footed tray and vaguely resembled one of the Buddha’s handmaidens as she glided across the polished floor towards the corridor.
The younger wife. What was her name again? Lady Kohime.
When he spoke her name, she gave a little cry and stopped, peering at him through the gloom.
‘I’m sorry if I startled you,’ he said quickly. ‘I’m Sugawara. We met a few days ago. I paid a visit to your father-in-law and was on my way out.’
She came, still clutching the tray, her eyes on his face. ‘Oh, it is you,’ she cried, as if she had not believed him.
He saw that her dress was a brilliant copper red, and that she wore white paint and rouge on her face. She smiled at him with red lips and blackened teeth. An upper-class lady would not have revealed an open mouth to a strange male visitor, nor stood so close to him that he could smell her scent. He moved away a little.
‘How silly of me to be frightened of you, sir,’ she simpered. Only, we never have company here. It’s very dull. But why did you visit Lord Masuda? He never says anything. He just sits there like a statue.’ She lifted the tray a little. ‘I was just going to feed him. He’s like a baby.’ She heaved a sigh.
He looked at her round face with its round, childish eyes, and at her half-open mouth, and disliked her stupid coyness. It seemed unfair to take advantage of a silly woman, but there had been murder, and Akitada had no more patience with family secrets. He put on a smile and made her a little bow. ‘You’re right, Lady Kohime. He didn’t speak to me either. What a pleasure, therefore, to see you.’
She giggled and fluttered her lids. ‘Oh, I’m nobody. A widow with two daughters. Not much more than a servant here, really.’
He let his eyes travel over the rich silk of her gown, which covered lush curves underneath. If he was not mistaken, she was flirting with him. Lady Kohime had struck him from the first as a silly and shallow woman of common background. Clearly, she was bored with her life, even if it entailed wearing fine silks and living in a great mansion. Putting aside his remaining scruples, he said, ‘Surely not. You are entirely charming. It would have given me much greater pleasure to chat with you, but I’m afraid I brought bad news. Dr. Inabe is dead.’
She gave a small gasp. ‘Dead? But then he was quite old, so… I mean, old people die, don’t they?’ She cast a glance towards Lord Masuda’s room. ‘Eventually.’
More than shallow, thought Akitada, she is as blatantly self-centered and uninhibited as a small child. He wondered if Inabe’s murder had been news to her. Something had not rung true in her reaction. He said, ‘Sometimes even young people die. Forgive me for raking up old pain, but I understand you lost your husband last year. Was it some illness?’
‘Something he ate didn’t agree with him.’ She eyed the covered bowl on her tray thoughtfully and added, ‘My husband was very fond of warabi shoots. I used to gather them and cook them for him the way my mother and grandmother did. He loved that, especially warabi mochi. Perhaps someone was careless.’
It was artlessly said. Fern shoots were a springtime delicacy, but if they were not picked at the right stage and cooked properly, they could make a person very ill… and possibly kill them.
‘He died from eating warabi shoots?’
Her eyes widened in shock. ‘Oh, no. I didn’t say that.’
‘You said someone may have been careless in the preparation of his food. He didn’t die here?’
‘My husband had gone elsewhere when he became ill.’
A vague answer, and uttered primly. Akitada asked, ‘Was it in Peony’s house that he died? In the house by the lake?’
