Shinju by Laura Joh Rowland Page A

Popular?”
    Cherry Eater grinned. “Oh, not very popular. But he did have many friends, I would say.” He gestured toward the street. “All over the quarter.”
    â€œTell me their names.” Except for having to accommodate the proprietor’s irritating nature, this was going better than Sano had expected.
    Cherry Eater mentioned several, all men who worked as artists or in Yoshiwara’s teahouses or restaurants.
    Sano committed each name to memory. “No women?” he asked.
    â€œNo, sir, none that I know of. Except for the young lady who died with him.”
    A movement caught Sano’s eye. He looked down. Although Cherry Eater’s expression hadn’t changed, he was shifting his weight from one foot to the other. This, along with the unexpected straight answer, told Sano that the art dealer was lying. His body and manner were betraying him.
    To throw Cherry Eater off guard, Sano changed the subject. “Did Noriyoshi have any family in town?”
    The feet stopped shifting. “No, sir. But plenty in the spirit world. He told me they all perished in the Great Fire.”
    â€œWho were Noriyoshi’s enemies?”
    â€œHe had no enemies,
yoriki
,” Cherry Eater answered blandly. “He was very well liked.”
    Sano waited for a wisecrack; it never came. He watched the art dealer’s shifting feet. “You may as well tell me,” he said. “If you don’t, I’ll find out from someone else. Are you so sure you can trust your friend—” he recited the list of names Cherry Eater had given him “—not to talk?”
    â€œI am most sorry to say that I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir.” Shift, shift. The floorboards creaked under Cherry Eater.
    â€œWho is Noriyoshi’s woman friend?”
    Cherry Eater folded his arms across his concave chest. “Withall due respect,
yoriki
, I do not like the way you are addressing me. You’re calling me a liar.” Evidently his decision to bluff had calmed him; his feet stood firm. “Either arrest me and take me before the magistrate, or else please leave my shop!”
    Sano closed his eyes briefly. Self-disgust withered him. Inexperienced as he was, he’d mishandled the interview. Cherry Eater wouldn’t tell him anything now. He could hardly arrest the man for refusing to answer questions about what was officially a suicide, and he didn’t even dare arrest him for selling contraband artwork or insulting a police officer. Magistrate Ogyu had already made it clear that he didn’t want his
yoriki
doing
doshin
’s work. Besides, he couldn’t let Ogyu learn that he was investigating the deaths of Noriyoshi and Yukiko until he could prove they were murders.
    â€œI didn’t intend any offense,” he said, hating to offer apologies in return for insults and teasing, but hoping to placate Cherry Eater enough to let him see where Noriyoshi had lived. He wanted to get some feeling for the man and an idea about what could have driven someone to kill him. “I didn’t come to arrest you or demean your character. I only want information for my records, and you’ve been most cooperative. Now I ask you to grant me a small request. May I see Noriyoshi’s living quarters?”
    â€œOf course, sir.” Cherry Eater seemed glad for an excuse to stop talking about Noriyoshi’s women and enemies. He slid open a section of the wall to reveal a dim passageway. “This way.”
    Sano followed him down the passage and out into a narrow dirt courtyard. One side was bounded by the wall of the shop next door. Along the other ran a flimsy shedlike building with a narrow veranda. At the back, a privy, a woodpile, and a row of ceramic storage urns stood against a bamboo fence. The bitter, acrid smell of ink overlaid the more familiar odors of sewage and sawdust. Cherry Eater led him past the shed. Through its open doors,