Flask of the Drunken Master (3 page)

The
d
ō
shin
stepped forward and gestured to something near the brewery wall.

Hiro leaned across the corpse to look.

A piece of broken pottery lay on the ground beside the dead man’s shoulder. The circular shard resembled the base of a shattered stoneware vessel—a sake flask.

It was inlaid with Ginjiro’s personal seal.

Chapter 4

Father Mateo leaned over the body. “Is that the broken base of a sake flask?”

Hiro hoped the Jesuit wouldn’t ask about the mark.

“Yes,” the
d
ō
shin
said. “The murder weapon—part of it, anyway.”

Hiro circled the corpse and examined the shard.

Ginjiro bought his sake flasks from a potter who produced them for the brewer by special order. The flasks had a distinctive color, and each bore the brewer’s mark impressed in the base. The markings distinguished Ginjiro’s flasks, which never left the brewery, from the ones that customers brought for personal use.

“That is the brewer’s mark,” the
d
ō
shin
said.

Hiro straightened. “A broken flask outside a brewery hardly marks the brewer as a killer.”

“I agree,” Father Mateo said. “Anyone could have stolen a flask or dropped it in the alley.”

“More importantly,” Hiro added, “delicate pottery would have shattered before causing so much damage to the victim. Unless, of course, the flask was full, but I see no sake on the body or the ground.”

The
d
ō
shin
crossed his arms. “If it’s a coincidence, where’s the rest of the flask? We haven’t found any other pieces here.”

“You believe the killer took them with him,” Father Mateo said.

Conveniently leaving the one with Ginjiro’s seal,
Hiro thought.

“Why would Ginjiro kill a man with a flask that bore his seal?” Father Mateo rubbed his chin.

“Arguments happen,” the
d
ō
shin
said. “Angry men don’t think before they act.”

“That’s a lot of assumptions for one dead body and one small shard from a sake flask,” Hiro said.

“Ginjiro didn’t kill Chikao.” Suke’s voice echoed through the alley as he entered. “I’m the killer.”

Hiro noted the dead man’s name and wondered how Suke knew it.

“Shut up, old man,” the
d
ō
shin
said. “Go away before I arrest you.”

Hiro raised a hand and said, “We’re finished. We’ll walk him out.”

The shinobi took hold of Suke’s sleeve and led the monk back out to the street, where the
yoriki
stood talking with Tomiko. Ginjiro’s wife stood nearby, but her glazed expression suggested inattention.

Hiro looked up the street and saw the
d
ō
shin
lead Ginjiro out of sight around a corner. The brewer’s head hung low, like a man condemned.

Father Mateo followed Hiro’s gaze. “Where are they going?”

“To the magistrate,” the
yoriki
said. “The facts are clear and not disputed. Ginjiro argued with the victim yesterday evening. Late last night, Chikao returned, and Ginjiro killed him.”

Hiro glanced at Father Mateo, expecting the priest to argue.

Suke struck a fighting pose.

“You want guilt?” the monk demanded, curling his fingers into fists. “I’ll show you guilt!”

“Calm down,” Hiro said. “If you’re the killer, explain how it really happened.”

The
yoriki
sighed and shook his head, but Suke lowered his hands and said, “I will. I’ll tell you everything.”

The monk straightened his shoulders and raised his chin like a child about to confess to a youthful crime. “Last night I sneaked a flask out of Ginjiro’s at closing time. I didn’t intend to steal it, I just wanted to finish the sake. I would have returned the flask in the morning.”

Suke paused as if concerned that Hiro might accuse him of stealing flasks. When the shinobi said nothing, the monk continued, “This morning, when I woke up, my flask was gone. I saw Chikao’s body and heard the
d
ō
shin
say Ginjiro’s flask—the one I took—was the murder weapon. Clearly, I am the killer!”

The
yoriki
made a disgusted gesture. “Clearly, you were too drunk to hear a man being beaten to death beside you. We have listened to your story. Go away.”

Suke jumped forward and shoved the
yoriki
, catching him off guard. The samurai fell backward and sat down hard in the dusty street.

The
d
ō
shin
, who had followed them from the alley, ran to Suke. He seized the monk by the arms.

Suke bowed his head. “I surrender,” he said quietly. “Deliver me to the magistrate for judgment.”

The
yoriki
stood up and brushed the dirt from his clothes. “Arrest him—but the charge is public drunkenness, nothing more.”

“Nothing more!” The angry
d
ō
shin
glared at Suke. “He assaulted you and confessed to murder.”

“He’s a drunk.” The
yoriki
removed a pebble from his sleeve. “He wobbles like an infant and he smells like a brewery floor. I believe he spent the night in the alley. The rest of his story? Merely a drunkard’s dream.”

“But … the assault!” the
d
ō
shin
protested as he tied a length of rope around Suke’s wrists. “This man attacked you.”

“You are mistaken. I stumbled and fell.” The
yoriki
paused to let his words sink in. “Now take him away, and send some bearers to carry Chikao home.”

“Don’t worry, Tomiko,” Suke said as the
d
ō
shin
led him away. “I’ll tell the magistrate what happened. Ginjiro will be home in time to open the shop tonight.”

Tomiko smiled weakly, as if unwilling to put much faith in Suke’s promise. She laid a hand on her mother’s arm and guided the older woman back to the brewery.

Hiro wanted to speak with Ginjiro’s family, but first he had some questions for the
yoriki
. “Where is Chikao’s brewery? Did the victim belong to the brewer’s guild?”

“Do not mistake my leniency for permission to investigate.” The
yoriki
finished brushing the dirt from his trousers. “The magistrate doesn’t need your help—or his.” The
yoriki
glanced at Father Mateo.

“What if we disagree with your assessment of the crime?” the Jesuit asked.

Hiro stifled a nearly overwhelming urge to drag the priest away from the scene by force. As usual, Father Mateo didn’t know when to hold his tongue.

The
yoriki
smiled, but his eyes were devoid of warmth. “Then you will keep your disagreement to yourself.”

“Have I misunderstood the samurai code?” Father Mateo asked. “I thought honor required noble men to seek justice and act with mercy.”

“That argument might work with a samurai from the ruling clans,” the
yoriki
said. “But I see crimes, and criminals, every day. Justice does not mix with mercy where commoners are concerned.”

The
yoriki
started toward the alley, paused, and turned back to Hiro. “I expect cooperation—and discretion—from you both. Murder is a matter for the magistrate alone, especially now, with the city on alert. If you speak of this to anyone, I will ensure you share the killer’s fate.”

Hiro doubted the
yoriki
could carry out his threat, but knew better than to challenge him in public.

Father Mateo called after the
yoriki
, “Why insist on privacy? Unless, of course, you don’t intend an honest investigation.”

Chapter 5

The
yoriki
stopped and slowly turned toward Father Mateo.

Hiro shifted his weight to his toes and prepared to fight. No one accused a
yoriki
of corruption without consequence.

To Hiro’s surprise, the assistant magistrate didn’t draw his sword.

“The details of Chikao’s murder might cause violence within the brewers’ guild,” the
yoriki
said. “The shogun’s recent death has the samurai clans on the brink of war. I do not need a war among the artisans as well.

“Chikao died in a fight. Anyone who says otherwise will be punished.”

“The family will guess the truth,” Father Mateo said. “No one will believe those injuries came from a simple fight.”

“That is not your problem,” the
yoriki
said. “I allowed you to see the body as a courtesy. Do not repay my kindness by causing trouble.”

“We have no wish to cause trouble,” Hiro said. “We didn’t even know Chikao.”

“But you know Ginjiro.” The
yoriki
looked down the street and frowned. “Fools! I told them to send Ren to the Lucky Monkey.”

His gaze shifted back to Hiro and Father Mateo. “The dead man’s business partner is coming. One word out of place, and I’ll have you flogged.”

Hiro understood the
yoriki
’s wish to avoid more violence but disagreed with forcing Ginjiro to bear the blame. Not without more evidence of guilt. Hiro didn’t normally involve himself in other men’s business, but couldn’t abide a
yoriki
who blamed the innocent just to close a case.

Father Mateo’s chagrined expression suggested the Jesuit also had no intention of letting the matter drop. For once, Hiro agreed with the priest. They would conduct an investigation, with or without the
yoriki
’s permission.

Hiro just hoped that Father Mateo was smart enough not to say so.

He turned as footsteps approached behind him. Hiro stood several inches taller than Chikao’s business partner, but the sake brewer weighed substantially more. Muscled arms bulged the sleeves of the brewer’s striped kimono, and his waist was thick, but not with soggy fat. His slicked-back hair had a slight green tinge, suggesting its deep black color was not natural.

The brewer bowed to the
yoriki
. “A
d
ō
shin
came to my home. He mentioned an accident and sent me here. Why are we at Ginjiro’s?”

“Thank you for coming so quickly, Ren.” The
yoriki
’s tight-lipped expression promised an unpleasant afternoon in store for the
d
ō
shin
who delivered the incorrect message. “There has, indeed, been an accident, but I intended for you to meet me at your brewery, not this one. Unfortunately, the
d
ō
shin
delivered my message incorrectly.”

After an awkward pause the
yoriki
added, “I need you to break the news to Chikao’s widow.”

“Widow?” Ren’s forehead wrinkled. “What happened to Chikao?”

“A fight—” the
yoriki
began.

Before he could finish Ren exclaimed, “Ginjiro killed Chikao?”

“We do not know that,” Father Mateo said.

The
yoriki
cut the Jesuit off with a glare.

“Ginjiro must be involved,” Ren said. “There’s no other reason to send me here, and I know they argued yesterday. Ginjiro hit Chikao and threatened worse. Where is my partner’s body? I want to see him.”

“The bearers have already carried him off,” the
yoriki
lied, his words surprisingly convincing. “Ginjiro is under arrest and will be punished, though the evidence shows the death was accidental.”

“Chikao is really dead?” Ren’s eyes reddened. “This will devastate Mina.”

The
yoriki
nodded. “All the more reason for her to hear the news from you and not a
d
ō
shin
. Will you accept the responsibility?”

Ren dipped his head in consent. “Of course.” He clenched his jaw and looked away, fighting to keep his emotions under control. “How did this happen? How did he die?”

“The details remain under investigation,” the
yoriki
said. “I cannot tell you any more.”

“Would you like me to accompany you?” Father Mateo asked the brewer. “Often, a priest can make these burdens lighter.”

Ren looked at Father Mateo. “Thank you, but Mina would prefer a Buddhist priest.” He bowed to cover the need to wipe his tears. “Please excuse me, I have sad news to bear.”

He straightened and walked away.

Hiro doubted Chikao’s family and friends would accept the
yoriki
’s explanation quite so easily after the initial shock wore off. Still, grief came first. Questions would follow later.

When Ren had left, Father Mateo turned to the
yoriki
. “I trust your familiarity with the victim and his family didn’t influence your decision not to investigate the crime.”

Hiro stared at Father Mateo. Even a fool knew not to accuse a
yoriki
a second time.

The
yoriki
narrowed his eyes at Hiro. “Translate my next words with exceptional care.

“I need not defend myself to any man. However, I will explain—once more—because the magistrate respects this foreign priest.

“I know Chikao because I arrest his son on a regular basis, usually for fighting and public drunkenness. I know Chikao’s partner, Ren, because the profits from their brewery often go to pay young Kaoru’s fines. I assure you, I do not consider either man a friend. In truth, I regret it was the father—not the son—who died today.”

At the end of the Portuguese translation Hiro added, “Do not antagonize him further.”

Father Mateo held Hiro’s gaze just long enough to make the shinobi wonder if the priest would ignore the instruction. Finally, the Jesuit nodded. “Will the magistrate punish Ginjiro’s wife and daughter?”

The
yoriki
shook his head. “The brewer’s guilt will not extend to his family unless they played a role in the crime. Based on the facts, that seems unlikely. I will tell the magistrate they are innocent.”