Free The Masuda Affair by I. J. Parker Page B

away. The children, two boys and a smaller girl, joined them. They were sturdy, tough-looking children with flat round faces and looked nothing at all like the deaf-mute boy. ‘Are these your other children?’ Akitada asked.
    ‘Yes.’
    It seemed a very short answer for a mother to give. She was anxious to get rid of him, and he was beginning to be uneasy. ‘You say your husband has taken the little boy. Surely he’s younger than these children.’
    ‘He was begging so, my husband took pity.’
    Neither her tone nor her smile was convincing. Akitada frowned. ‘I thought he was deaf-mute. Surely he’s not much help on a boat.’
    The oldest boy guffawed. ‘Moron,’ he said.
    ‘Shut up.’ His mother glared at him. ‘It’s true he isn’t much help, poor cripple,’ she said, turning back to Akitada. ‘My husband lets him ride along for a treat.’
    ‘Ah.’
    She flushed. ‘We’re taking good care of him, sir. We give him only the best, thanks to your kindness, only the best. He eats like a prince. The other children are jealous. Aren’t you, my pets?’
    The children ignored her. Akitada was undecided. He looked out over the lake, wishing Mimura’s boat would return. Overhead swooped white gulls with raucous cries; higher up, two black kites performed their slow circles silently. Several gulls had taken up position on the roof of the storehouse, where they were walking back and forth with watchful eyes.
    And then Akitada heard the sound of sweeping from somewhere beyond the storehouse.
    Mrs Mimura heard it too and said quickly, ‘We always tell them it’s to make up for his being deaf and dumb. We all look after him like a little treasure, don’t we?’
    The children looked at their mother in surprise. The oldest said, ‘Huh?’
    Akitada looked at the storehouse. It was solidly constructedon sturdy timber supports. The sweeping sounds continued. ‘Tora,’ he called.
    Tora dismounted, tied up the horses, and strolled over.
    Mrs Mimura raised her voice a little and started down the steps. ‘I’m sorry that my husband isn’t home. Or the boy either. You’ve wasted a trip. How about coming back another day? Or maybe we could bring him to you in Otsu. Say tomorrow?’
    Akitada bent to peer under the storehouse. It was raised several feet above ground on its supports, perhaps in case of flooding from the lake. In the shelter under the building, Mimura stored tools of his trade: spare oars, parts of a boat, three-pronged spears, and bamboo fishing rods and lines. Fishing traps, like the one the old woman had been making, and baskets hung from nails, and a large net was strung between the supports. But Akitada saw movement behind all of these objects, on the far side of the storehouse.
    ‘Go see what’s behind the storehouse,’ he told Tora.
    Tora walked off, and the woman went flying after him to grab his sleeve. ‘Wait,’ she cried. ‘We keep a vicious dog back there.’
    Tora flung off her hand. ‘Don’t touch me, woman!’ he snapped. ‘I’ve dealt with dogs before. And with troublesome females.’ He disappeared around the storehouse in two or three great strides, the woman on his heels. The children followed.
    ‘Oh no, you don’t,’ she cried. ‘You’ve got no right …’
    For a moment there was silence. Then Tora’s voice, strangely tight, shouted, ‘Sir? Would you come back here a moment?’
    Akitada ran around the storehouse and came to an abrupt halt.
    It was a weedy area where Mimura cleaned his fish and dumped unsold wares and other garbage. The rotting fish was piled in a stinking mound beside an old basket. Flies buzzed everywhere.
    And there was the boy. He held a broken broom in his small hands and was once again dressed in a filthy rag. New bruises, including a black eye and a swollen lip, had joined the old ones. His eyes were wide with fear.
    But what made Akitada’s blood boil was that he had aheavy leather collar around his thin neck. From the collar, a rusty chain