Father Mateo looked confused. “Four days? Why only four?”
“After seven days of mourning we commit my husband’s body to the flames,” Mina said. “At that time, his spirit has to face the Heavenly Judges. If we know his killer’s name by then, our prayers can intercede on his behalf. Four days for you leaves three for the magistrate to find the answer if you fail.”
Kaoru frowned. “I will not carry that petition to the magistrate for you.”
“I hadn’t planned to ask you,” Mina said. “Ren’s word will carry greater weight than yours.”
She shifted her gaze to Hiro. “I will ask the neighbor’s son to carry a message to Ren this morning. Ren will take my request to the magistrate.”
“Speaking of Ren,” Hiro said. “Where can we find him?”
“He went home,” Mina said, “to change into mourning garments. After that, he intended to speak with the coffin maker.”
Mina cast a sidelong glance at Kaoru. “Ren offered to make the arrangements since my son was … indisposed. I only hope we can afford a reasonable coffin, since the moneylenders will not give a loan.”
Again, she looked at Kaoru, and an awkward silence followed.
“Could you tell us where Ren lives?” the Jesuit asked. “We’d like to find him.”
Mina nodded. “He rents a place on Shijō Road, three buildings west of the apothecary. His room is fourth from the street, as you count the doors.”
“Thank you,” Hiro said.
“Did Ren work last night?” the priest continued. “Did he leave the shop at any point?”
So much for not revealing our suspicions, Hiro thought.
“He worked all night, as did Chikao,” Mina said. “My husband left to see Ginjiro in the early evening hours. He returned with a bruise on one eye and fear in both. Ginjiro struck him, and threatened worse, if we didn’t make an immediate payment toward Kaoru’s debt.”
Hiro looked at Kaoru. “Where were you last night?”
“Me?” the young man asked. “That’s not your business.”
“Kaoru,” Mina admonished. “This man is samurai, and our guest.” She turned to Hiro. “Please forgive my son’s behavior. He went out for an hour or two in the evening and then returned. He helped us close the shop and went to sleep.”
Hiro knew the woman lied, but let it pass. He asked the question to change the topic and take suspicion off of Ren.
From Hiro’s perspective, Chikao’s family didn’t need to know any details of the investigation or the names of any suspects. Not until the evidence revealed someone’s guilt.
* * *
Hiro and Father Mateo left the alley and turned west on Shijō Road. The wind had shifted, filling the air with smoke from the nearby charcoal sellers’ street. The pungent aroma of smoldering pine filled Hiro’s nose, overwhelming every other smell.
Given the lingering scent of the alley, Hiro didn’t mind.
West of the apothecary, rows of rental dwellings filled the block. Property taxes were based on frontage, so most of the buildings presented only their narrow ends to the street. Passageways between the structures led to twisting alleys where the renters lived like soybeans pressed together in a fermentation pot. Each room had a private entrance, but thin walls and tiny spaces meant the residents enjoyed no real privacy.
“I’m glad Mina told us to count the entries,” Father Mateo said, as he looked down the passage at the unmarked doors. “We’d never have found the place.”
Hiro didn’t argue but knew otherwise.
Every dwelling house had an elderly person, usually female, who considered it her duty to keep track of the other residents. These unofficial guardians knew everyone and everything and, in most cases, also loved to gossip.
Hiro and Father Mateo approached the fourth room down. The door slid open before they knocked.
Ren’s surprise revealed he hadn’t seen the two men coming.
The brewer wore an unadorned kimono over white hakama, a color normally reserved for family in mourning. He bowed to Hiro and then to Father Mateo. “May I help you?” His forehead furrowed as recognition registered in his eyes. “Pardon me, but didn’t I see you this morning, outside Ginjiro’s?”
Hiro exercised the samurai right to ignore a commoner’s question. “We need to know some things about Chikao.”
“Pardon me,” Ren said, “you don’t look like dōshin.”
“We are looking into the matter as a favor.” Hiro kept his answer vague and hoped the priest would do the same.
“I see,” Ren said. “I wish I could help, but I wasn’t there when the murder happened.”
“Yes,” Hiro said, “we understand. Where were you?”
“When it happened? I don’t know.” Ren thought for a moment. “I came directly home from the Lucky Monkey after closing.”
“Of course,” Hiro said. “Did you know Chikao intended to visit Ginjiro late last night?”
“No.” Ren looked from Hiro to Father Mateo. “Are you a priest?”
“I am,” the Jesuit said, “a Christian priest, from Portugal.”
“What did Chikao tell you about the debt he went to pay?” Hiro asked.
Ren sighed. “He told me about the argument, the one they had in the early evening hours. I knew he went, because I watched the shop while he was gone. When he returned, he said Ginjiro insisted on payment, immediately, or the debt would impact our petition to join the guild.
“I told Chikao that Kaoru needed to get a job and pay the debt himself—we’ve taken care of Kaoru long enough.”
“This wasn’t the first time?” Hiro asked.
“No, and it wouldn’t have been the last.” Ren exhaled sharply and shook his head. “I told Chikao many times. Kaoru will never learn until he has to deal with consequences. Still, Chikao kept throwing money into a fire and expecting it not to burn.”
“So you disagreed with paying this debt,” Father Mateo said.
“Wholeheartedly,” Ren agreed. “We needed that money to pay for admission into the brewers’ guild.” He slid open the door, revealing a tidy space. “Would you like to come in? May I offer you tea?”
“No, thank you,” Hiro said. “How do you plan to handle your new partnership with Kaoru?”
“What does that have to do with Chikao’s death?” Ren asked.
“Investigations always start with heirs,” Father Mateo said. “They gain the most from a murder victim’s death.”
“I doubt Kaoru considers his inheritance a gain,” Ren said.
“Nonetheless,” the Jesuit said, “he benefits from the tragedy, as do you.”
Hiro wished the priest would stop revealing information.
“I? Benefit?” Ren raised a hand to his chest in surprise. “I assure you, I do not benefit. Before last night, Kaoru was Chikao’s problem—his alone. Now, he’s mine, at least until I divest myself of the lazy, wasteful dog who is now my partner.”
“You do not intend to continue running the Lucky Monkey?” Hiro asked.
“I do not want to see Mina destitute,” Ren said, “but I have no intention of continuing to run a shop with Kaoru.”
“What will become of the brewery?” Father Mateo asked.
“A complicated question.” Ren’s artificial smile revealed discomfort. “I cannot tell you. I haven’t exactly had time to consider my options.”
“Who killed Chikao?” Hiro asked.
“How would I know?” Ren countered. “I wasn’t there.”
“What about Kaoru?” Father Mateo asked. “Could he have done this?”
“Kaoru?” Ren repeated. “As I said, I don’t believe he wanted his father dead. If you want to know what happened, ask Ginjiro.”
“Why Ginjiro?” Father Mateo asked.
“The police arrested him for the crime,” Ren said. “Though, I admit, I do not think he actually killed Chikao.”