Claws of the Cat by Susan Spann Page B

Mayuri would not allow it.”
    “When was the last time you saw her?” Hiro asked.
    “A week ago, or possibly more. I can’t afford teahouses—that is, I have to save my money for her contract. You must prove her innocent. She did not do this.”
    “We will do our best,” Father Mateo said.
    Hidetaro stood up. He moved slowly, as though his injured leg still hurt a little. “Thank you for the tea.”
    Hiro escorted the guest to the door. As they reached the entrance Hidetaro said, “This foreigner is a good man, I think. Do you find it strange to serve him?”
    “He is a man, with good qualities and bad ones, like any other,” Hiro said as Hidetaro slipped on his muddy sandals.
    Hiro nodded at the shoes. “Last night’s rain created a lot of mud.”
    “Did it?” Hidetaro asked. “I was asleep at home.”
    “Indeed.” Hiro bowed. “Thank you for honoring us with your visit.”
    Hidetaro returned the bow and departed, walking slowly to prevent anyone from noticing his limp.
    “Well, I guess we can take him off the suspect list,” Father Mateo said as they watched the samurai walk away on the narrow road.
    “Quite the opposite,” Hiro said. “He just placed himself firmly on it.”

 
     
    Chapter 17
     
    “Do you really think Hidetaro killed his brother?” Father Mateo asked.
    “I think he’s less than honest,” Hiro said, “which merits investigation. Speaking of which—where’s Luis?”
    “Probably napping,” Father Mateo said. “I think he finished his business for today.”
    “Exactly what we need to discuss.” Hiro walked across the common room and rapped on the paneled door to the merchant’s room. “Luis? Are you awake?”
    He heard a rustling sound and a groan, followed by footsteps heading for the door. It rattled and Luis’s face appeared in the opening. His eyes were misty with sleep and his long hair stood out around his face. “No. What do you want?”
    “Information about the rice merchant you sold weapons to this morning. Was he from Nagoya, by chance?”
    Luis blinked and the sleepy look left his face. “How did you know that?”
    “I think you may have done business with a murderer.”
    “All of my clients are murderers. What Japanese isn’t?”
    “Luis.” Father Mateo joined them at the door. “I think I understand what Hiro means. A rice merchant from Nagoya visited the Sakura Teahouse last night. We think he may have murdered Akechi Hideyoshi. If he’s the same man you met this morning, you may be able to help us find him.”
    The door slid open further and Luis stepped into the common room. He wore the same white shirt as earlier and a clean pair of dark-colored breeches. He had taken off his tunic before his nap, and the end of his wrinkled shirt flapped loosely below his rounded belly. Hiro had rarely seen a less flattering costume.
    “Akechi?” Luis repeated. “Is that the dead man’s name?”
    “Yes.” Father Mateo nodded eagerly. “Do you know him?”
    “It might just be a coincidence. These Japanese only have about twenty surnames between them.”
    “Anything you can tell us might help,” Father Mateo said.
    Luis scratched his chest while he thought. “A couple of months ago I sold a hundred arquebuses to a samurai named Akechi, but not Hideyoshi. The given name was different. Miso-something, I think. He was passing through Kyoto on his way to join some warlord in the south.
    “The rice merchant from Nagoya mentioned Akechi’s name when he contacted me. Apparently they’re friends or something. He thought it would get him a discount.” The merchant looked smug. “I raised all the prices by twenty percent and then gave him a ten percent markdown. He never knew the difference.”
    Hiro ignored his rising frustration and returned to the topic of interest. “Who introduced the samurai to you? The one from the Akechi clan.”
    “I don’t remember,” Luis said. “I know several of the merchants, and most of them make introductions.