last sound like a question, as if Akitada’s presence were somehow suspicious.
“No more extraordinary than your presence, Prefect,” Akitada said. “Do you always investigate accidental deaths personally? Surely this is the duty of the local magistrate.”
Ikeda’s gray skin took on an unhealthy flush. “Our magistrate is visiting a neighboring district,” he said stiffly. “Besides, for Lord Tachibana I would have come myself in any case. Out of respect.” He paused, then added, “Not that we were at all close. His lordship did not encourage familiarity from subordinates.”
“Oh, you served as prefect under him?”
A strange expression passed over Ikeda’s face. Bitterness and resentment were there, but also a sly satisfaction. “I did,” he said, then gestured to his companions. “Allow me to present my secretary, Oga, and the coroner, Dr. Atsushige.” They exchanged bows, and the prefect, all smiles again, said, “Perhaps Your Excellency would share some estimable insights into this matter while my people have a look at the body?”
Akitada nodded and stepped aside. Ikeda and his team removed their footgear and entered the studio.
Akitada described his arrival, keeping strictly to matters of time, condition and position of the body, and the general appearance of the room. Ikeda looked and listened politely, then excused himself to join the coroner, who was examining the body. The secretary knelt near them taking notes. The coroner finished very quickly, but there was a lengthy whispered exchange between him and Ikeda before the latter nodded and returned to Akitada.
“Pretty clear case, as I am sure you saw, Excellency.” Ikeda rubbed his hands, a gesture that irritated Akitada. “Poor old fellow was working late, climbed on that stool, lost his balance, slipped, hit his head on the corner of that desk, and died. The stool, the scattered documents, the position of the body, and the traces of blood and hair on the desk all support that. It probably happened late last night. However, my poor provincial skills are hardly a match for Your Excellency’s vastly superior training. I humbly beg your views.”
Akitada hesitated, then said, “It is winter and the early morning hours are chilly. Death could have occurred much later during the night or even early this morning. And the wound in the skull suggests a heavy blow to the top of the head, I think.”
“Ah, just as I said.” Ikeda nodded. “The servant told me his master often works quite late. The evidence speaks for itself. The old gentleman comes home from our little dinner, perhaps a bit dizzy from all the food and wine. He works awhile. Then, sleepy or light-headed, he climbs on the stool to get some documents. They fall on his head, stun him, and he slips. Nothing could be clearer. I am certainly grateful for Your Excellency’s observation. Now we shall finish our paperwork, and I need detain Your Excellency no further.”
Akitada glanced once more at the body, nodded to Ikeda and his staff, and left the studio. Outside the sun had finally come out. He put on his shoes, passed the two constables, and walked up to Sato and Junjiro, who still stood on the path.
“I must be on my way,” he said to Sato, “but I hope you will see to it that none of the papers in the studio are disturbed. The prefect has decided that your master’s death was due to an accidental fall. He and his staff are finishing up now and should not have any need for the documents. I should prefer it if you would not mention my interest in your master’s papers to anyone.”
The old man bowed. Junjiro offered eagerly, “I’ll stay right on the veranda and watch day and night.”
Akitada smiled. “That is not at all necessary. I expect you will all be very busy during the next few days.”
“Oh, heavens, yes,” said Sato. “You haven’t even finished sweeping the paths yet, Junjiro. Run, get your
“No more extraordinary than your presence, Prefect,” Akitada said. “Do you always investigate accidental deaths personally? Surely this is the duty of the local magistrate.”
Ikeda’s gray skin took on an unhealthy flush. “Our magistrate is visiting a neighboring district,” he said stiffly. “Besides, for Lord Tachibana I would have come myself in any case. Out of respect.” He paused, then added, “Not that we were at all close. His lordship did not encourage familiarity from subordinates.”
“Oh, you served as prefect under him?”
A strange expression passed over Ikeda’s face. Bitterness and resentment were there, but also a sly satisfaction. “I did,” he said, then gestured to his companions. “Allow me to present my secretary, Oga, and the coroner, Dr. Atsushige.” They exchanged bows, and the prefect, all smiles again, said, “Perhaps Your Excellency would share some estimable insights into this matter while my people have a look at the body?”
Akitada nodded and stepped aside. Ikeda and his team removed their footgear and entered the studio.
Akitada described his arrival, keeping strictly to matters of time, condition and position of the body, and the general appearance of the room. Ikeda looked and listened politely, then excused himself to join the coroner, who was examining the body. The secretary knelt near them taking notes. The coroner finished very quickly, but there was a lengthy whispered exchange between him and Ikeda before the latter nodded and returned to Akitada.
“Pretty clear case, as I am sure you saw, Excellency.” Ikeda rubbed his hands, a gesture that irritated Akitada. “Poor old fellow was working late, climbed on that stool, lost his balance, slipped, hit his head on the corner of that desk, and died. The stool, the scattered documents, the position of the body, and the traces of blood and hair on the desk all support that. It probably happened late last night. However, my poor provincial skills are hardly a match for Your Excellency’s vastly superior training. I humbly beg your views.”
Akitada hesitated, then said, “It is winter and the early morning hours are chilly. Death could have occurred much later during the night or even early this morning. And the wound in the skull suggests a heavy blow to the top of the head, I think.”
“Ah, just as I said.” Ikeda nodded. “The servant told me his master often works quite late. The evidence speaks for itself. The old gentleman comes home from our little dinner, perhaps a bit dizzy from all the food and wine. He works awhile. Then, sleepy or light-headed, he climbs on the stool to get some documents. They fall on his head, stun him, and he slips. Nothing could be clearer. I am certainly grateful for Your Excellency’s observation. Now we shall finish our paperwork, and I need detain Your Excellency no further.”
Akitada glanced once more at the body, nodded to Ikeda and his staff, and left the studio. Outside the sun had finally come out. He put on his shoes, passed the two constables, and walked up to Sato and Junjiro, who still stood on the path.
“I must be on my way,” he said to Sato, “but I hope you will see to it that none of the papers in the studio are disturbed. The prefect has decided that your master’s death was due to an accidental fall. He and his staff are finishing up now and should not have any need for the documents. I should prefer it if you would not mention my interest in your master’s papers to anyone.”
The old man bowed. Junjiro offered eagerly, “I’ll stay right on the veranda and watch day and night.”
Akitada smiled. “That is not at all necessary. I expect you will all be very busy during the next few days.”
“Oh, heavens, yes,” said Sato. “You haven’t even finished sweeping the paths yet, Junjiro. Run, get your
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