The grove of trees was behind a building that bore the sign
“The Golden Phoenix.” Tora stopped and looked the place over.
So this was where Wada had met Little Flower. Somewhere in back must be the place where he had almost beaten her to death. He wondered how often a man like that needed to repeat this sort of experience. There seemed no shortage of poor women willing to take their chances with such men, but how sharp were Wada’s appetites? Did he indulge them once a month, every week, or more often? He wished he could send Turtle to ask some questions for him. Where was the rascal when he was needed?
It was much too early for business, and no one seemed about. Tora decided to play the curious visitor and take a stroll about the premises. He put his head in the main house first. It was filled with the smells of such establishments: stale wine, food, perfume, sweat, and, faintly, sex. Apparently none of the employees had returned yet to clean up and ready the place for another night of debauch. But Tora did not think that even in lax Sadoshima a house would be left wide open to casual thieves, and he continued his reconnaissance with a stroll around the main building and into its back gardens. These were surprisingly well kept. When he turned to look back at the house, he saw why. Most of the rooms of the Golden Phoenix overlooked the gardens. Very nice.
But the gardens were only trimmed neatly near the main house. Farther off, dense shrubs and trees had been allowed to close off the view to the small building whose roof just showed above them.
A narrow path, lined with stones, led to the far corner of the property. Here a small cottage or summerhouse stood close to the woven bamboo fencing separating the grounds of the Golden Phoenix from a wooded shrine area beyond. The door to the cottage was open, and he saw that it contained only a single room, occupied at the moment by a small elderly woman on her hands and knees, scrubbing the grass mats and muttering to herself.
Tora had approached silently on the smooth stones of the path. She jumped a little when he cleared his throat.
“Good morning, auntie,” he greeted her. “Up so early after a late night?”
She took in his uniform, then stood painfully and bowed.
“Good morning, sir. We’re not open yet, but please to return later this evening. The Golden Phoenix offers the most elegant entertainments, the finest wine, and the most delicious foods.
Can I be of some service to the officer?” Apparently the polite phrases had been drummed into her head. As a potential customer of the Golden Phoenix, Tora must be encouraged to spend his money. He sat down on the veranda steps and smiled at her. “I was taking a stroll out near the harbor, but it’s a bit windy, so I came inside. Nice garden, this. Do you mind if I rest here for a while?” She bowed again. “Please make yourself at home, sir. Can I fetch you some wine?”
“No, don’t trouble. Go on with your work. I’ll just sit here.” The infernal bites started to itch again, and Tora scratched as he watched her.
She got back on her knees and started scrubbing again. Bloodstains? Yes, Tora thought the water had a pinkish tinge. “Some of your guests spilled their wine?” he called out to her.
“Not wine.” She made a face.
Pretending idle curiosity, Tora got up to take a closer look.
“Oh,” he said in a startled tone, “it’s blood. Somebody got hurt.
A drunken brawl?”
She sat back on her heels and looked around at the many small dark red splatters which dotted the mats in all directions.
Tora pictured the nude childlike body of Little Flower flung face down on the floor while that bastard Wada stood over her with a leather whip. The picture sickened him. Would she have been tied down? He glanced around the small room. Two smooth wooden pillars supported the wooden ceiling. The floor was also wood under the grass mats. Against the back wall stood a screen with badly painted willow trees and two lacquered trunks for bedding. There was no sign of any whips. Wada probably carried his own.
The elderly woman followed his eyes and shook her head.
“Just a customer and his companion.”
“What did they do?”
“Some men enjoy hurting the girls,” she said, her face stiff with disapproval.
“That sounds nasty.” Tora pretended shocked interest.
“Does it happen a lot?”
“No, thank heaven. The Willow Cottage costs extra.” She bent to her scrubbing again.
“It should. These men, what do they do to the women?” She paused in her scrubbing, but did not turn around. For a moment, Tora thought she would tell him, but she just shook her head and continued with her work.
“If the owner knows,” said Tora, “why does he allow such customers here?”
“Money.”
“Oh.” Tora sat back down. “You’d think the police would take an interest in such things.”
“Hah,” she snorted.
“What do you mean?”
She turned around and gave him a pitying look. “You being a stranger here, Officer, all I can say is, stay away from the police.”
Tora tried to get more from her, but she clamped her mouth shut and shook her head stubbornly.
“You must expect the customer back tonight,” he said.
“I hope not.” She got up and gathered her rags and bucket of water, muttering, “I doubt the poor thing’s in any shape for it.” And that was that. Tora thanked her for the rest and took his leave. He walked away glumly. Turtle’s suggestion had been to catch Wada here during one of his private nights of pleasure with Little Flower. It would have been perfect. The cottage was secluded, and even if they made any noise grabbing him, nobody would pay attention. Now, with Little Flower too injured to service the depraved lust of the police lieutenant, there was no chance to catch him alone, and Wada knew what had happened.
Tora turned at the next corner and passed the shrine.
Beyond its gateway the trees clustered thickly, hiding both the shrine building and the adjoining Golden Phoenix. He walked into the grounds, looked around, and then resumed his stroll about Mano. The main street took him all the way to the end of town without revealing much of interest. People were going about their daily business, glancing his way, but averting their faces as soon as he looked at them. No doubt recent events in Sadoshima had made them suspicious of soldiers.
Eventually, the houses thinned and straggled into open country. The road split, one arm leading north toward the mountains, and the other east. A dilapidated set of stables marked the crossroads. Tora put his head in the open door. A one-eyed groom who had several fingers missing-there seemed to be a lot of cripples in Mano-was tossing a small amount of stinking hay into a trough where three thin horses gobbled it eagerly.
“How much to rent a horse?” Tora shouted.
The man spat and mentioned an exorbitant amount.
“What? And where do you keep the magnificent beasts worth that much silver?”
He got an ugly squint from the remaining eye and a thumb pointing at the three nags.
“Them? You’re joking. I guess you don’t do much business at those rates.”
“Take it or leave it. Most people walk. Horse fodder costs as much as food.”
Tora told the fellow he would think about it and walked back to the hostel. Oyoshi greeted him so eagerly that he was afraid she would try to lock him into Little Flower’s room, but she only wanted to know if he wished to buy another dinner for that evening. Half her brood were gathered about her to hear his answer, their eyes glued on him with such fixed intensity that they might have been praying to the Buddha.
“Why not?” he said, smiling at the children and pulling out the money. Back in his room, he kicked the vermin-ridden bedding out the door and checked his money. Feeding a family the size of Oyoshi’s and taking care of the injuries of local whores was rapidly depleting the funds his mistress had carefully counted out. He decided against a visit to the bathhouse to get some relief for his itching body. If he did not catch Wada tonight, his chances would rapidly disappear.
Turtle made his appearance late in the day, about the time when appetizing smells wafted from Oyoshi’s cooking pots. Since Tora planned to visit every low dive in town and thought his fine new uniform too good for what
