a suspect.
Akitada’s next quarry was the county prefect Ikeda, an appointed official who reported directly to Motosuke but who controlled his own staff and the constabulary of the provincial capital. Ikeda was a middle-aged man of nervous disposition with a habit of quoting statutes and regulations to support his every action. He denied any knowledge of the tax matter vehemently: it was not within his sphere of authority. He also protested against any suggestion of criminal elements at work within the city or in the surrounding prefecture. When pressed for suggestions on how the shipments might have disappeared, he mentioned highway robbers in the neighboring province of Shimosa. Akitada formed an image of the typical bureaucrat, lacking both the courage and the imagination to plan and carry out a crime of such magnitude.
By week’s end, Akitada and Seimei glumly reviewed the facts.
“The convoys could have been attacked in Shimosa, sir,” Seimei offered when told of Ikeda’s views. “That would explain why there was no news of them all the way from the capital to Sagami province. It also would solve all our problems and clear the governor.”
“Which is what everyone wants,” growled Akitada. “The garrison commander, who is no fool, went himself to search the route through Shimosa without finding a trace of goods or robbers. Yukinari is young but efficient and thorough and, of all the local officials, the only one who could not have been involved. He has no motive to cover up anything and is stumped. Goods, horses, grooms, bearers, and military guard all disappeared from the face of the earth without leaving so much as a boot or horseshoe behind.” He shook his head. “Since this is patently unbelievable, we must assume there is a conspiracy, and here in this very city. Whoever is behind it is very clever, well informed about dates and details, and has a large organization at his disposal.”
“The governor,” muttered Seimei.
There was a polite cough at the door and Akinobu bowed his way in. He presented some letters to Akitada, explaining that another government courier had arrived from Heian Kyo, then bowed again and left.
Akitada scanned the two letters from home quickly but exclaimed in surprise at the third.
“What is it?” asked Seimei.
“A supper invitation from the governor for tonight. The abbot of that large Buddhist temple stopped in for a visit, and Motosuke wants to introduce me. He is also inviting the former governor.” Akitada checked the letter. “A Lord Tachibana. Nobody mentioned him to us. He seems to have stayed on here after his retirement. Curious, that. Yukinari and Prefect Ikeda will also attend.” Akitada jumped up. He waved the governor’s letter about excitedly. “This is fortuitous, indeed. Just think, Seimei, each of these men is in a unique position of control in local affairs. One of them may be our man, and I shall observe them all together. I am a good judge of people, I think.”
“I hope you won’t be disappointed,” Seimei remarked sourly. “It is said that he who hunts two hares leaves one and loses the other.”
“Thank you for your confidence,” snapped Akitada. “Now get my court robe out. Whatever your opinion may be, I shall eventually discover who is behind the crimes. Once we have an idea of the guilty person, all we have to do is find witnesses.”
Seimei looked dubious but helped Akitada dress. As he handed him his court hat, he asked, “Was there any news from home, sir?”
Akitada said, “Oh! Not much. Kosehira writes, hoping that I am making good progress. And there is also a letter from my younger sister. Everyone is well. The girls are full of the news that the emperor’s favorite consort has eloped with a lover. I remember there was gossip that Lady Asagao had disappeared. It seems Lord Nakamura left Heian Kyo at just about that time to return to his home province, and so