Free Death of a Doll Maker by I. J. Parker Page A

married, that’s all. I went to see them a couple of times at the New Year, but she was always busy with those dolls. She had her life, and I have mine. And my father favored by brother.”
    Tora was troubled by this lack of feeling. “When did you see her last? Did she tell you she had to clean other people’s houses?”
    Mitsui’s daughter exchanged a glance with her husband. “Yes, I knew. She went on and on about all the fine things in Hayashi’s house. She and her friend enjoyed working there.” She paused and bit her lip. As if it explained everything, she added, “They were Chinese.”
    Before Tora could voice an opinion on a daughter’s duty to her parent, Maeda asked, “This friend of hers? She worked there also? What’s her name?”
    This baffled her. “I don’t remember the names of maids.”
    Maeda ended the visit, practically pulling Tora from the shrine priest’s house. Outside, he said, “Tora, you must curb your tongue. It’s best to make people feel at ease when you want information.”
    “Sorry. You’re right, but I couldn’t help it. That woman is a she-devil, and her husband’s not much better. I’ll watch myself in the future. Let’s go find the friend next. Something isn’t right about this.”
    The Hayashi house was a fitting residence for an important guild official. It had its own compound and small garden behind. Maeda got his information from a servant.
    Yes, a Chinese woman by the name of Mei worked there, but she hadn’t shown up for work. They also had another Chinese woman by the name of Suyin, family name Zhou, but she couldn’t be spared during working hours.
    Maeda did not press the issue. They headed back and entered the Chinese quarter. This was near the harbor but had its own moat and dirt walls. They passed through a substantial gate and found themselves in a warren of streets and houses built so closely together Tora could not tell where one began and another ended. He thought the many walls, some dirt and some wood or bamboo, enclosed other dwellings within them. Each unit seemed to enclose a small village of houses.
    When he commented on this, Maeda said, “They have large families, and all stay together.”
    The Chinese men wore tight, slit robes with narrow sleeves. The women put their hair in braids or buns on the back of their heads and some piled it high on top. Most struck Tora as plain, with flat, coarse faces and round bodies, but there were one or two young girls who were charming and graceful. The cut of the women’s clothes was straight and narrow like the men’s, but they wore skirts under the slit tunics. Their language sounded harsh and animal-like to his ears. He walked and stared, and once he laughed out loud, and Maeda gave him a look.
    Tora sniffed the air. “It smells delicious. And it’s past time for the midday rice. How about sampling the local fare? I’ll pay.”
    Maeda chuckled. “Either you’ve won a wager or your pay’s better than mine, as the case may be. Though come to think of it, your pay must be better. You’re the governor’s executive officer.”
    Tora snorted. “As for that, I’ve yet to see a copper of it.”
    They ate in a large Chinese restaurant called Golden Dragon near the harbor. To Tora’s surprise, the guests occupied wooden chairs like those of Buddhist abbots. Tora sat down, shifted his bottom around a bit, and grinned. “I could get used to this. It feels a little stiff, but you don’t have to worry about getting up and down and it keeps your robe out of the dirt.”
    He was even more enthusiastic when the food arrived and he sampled. The noodle soup was particularly rich and delicious. “What’s this?” Tora asked, raising a pale succulent sliver with his chopsticks.
    “Chicken.”
    “May the Buddha forgive me for eating an animal.” He chewed and smacked his lips.
    “Wait until you taste the pork dumplings.” Maeda held one out between his chopsticks.
    “Are you sure it’s