The Hell Screen by I. J. Parker Page A

quarters?”
     
    “No. They keep apartments for special guests in one of the monastery wings. I stayed there. The visitors’ quarters were quite a long way off.”
     
    Kobe said, “Well, there you are, then. Not anywhere near the murder site. In any case, there is no need for you to trouble with it further. You have reported it, and there the matter rests.”
     
    Akitada protested, “But what if it was the murdered woman I heard screaming? It is certainly a strange coincidence that an actress should have screeched outside my room the same night. Isn’t it at least possible that she was not killed in her room or by her brother-in-law?”
     
    Kobe glared. “That does not follow, and you know it.” Narrowing his eyes, he asked suspiciously, “And how do you know where she was found?”
     
    “Nagaoka told me.”
     
    Kobe flushed with anger. “So you went to speak to Nagaoka after all! No doubt he asked you to clear his brother.”
     
    “He did.”
     
    Kobe muttered under his breath and started pacing, casting angry glances at Akitada from time to time. After a few passes, he stopped in front of Akitada and asked through clenched teeth, “Did you inform him also about the scream and your theory that the murder must have happened elsewhere?”
     
    “Of course not! I have no intention of undermining your work.”
     
    “Hah! You have done plenty of damage already. Now Nagaoka will persist in dragging out the case. I went to tell him that the evidence forces us to put his brother through interrogations until he signs a confession. If the man refuses, he will be dead in a week.”
     
    Akitada’s stomach lurched. “You cannot do that! Your evidence is not complete. He was asleep or unconscious when they found him. He does not remember anything.”
     
    “That’s what he says. He was drunk. It’ll come back to him when he feels the bamboo whip.”
     
    Akitada searched for a convincing argument and failed. Biting his lip, he tried another tack. “What does your coroner say about the cause of death?” he asked.
     
    To his surprise, Kobe became evasive. “Nothing special. Time of death sometime during the night. They never like to be precise. In his fit of anger, the killer cut her up pretty badly with his sword. Not a pretty sight. By the way,” he added pointedly, “Nagaoka’s brother still had the sword in his hand and was covered with her blood when we found them together.”
     
    Akitada felt his heart beating faster. “You still have the body?”
     
    Kobe jerked his head. “In the morgue. It’s messy. You don’t want to look.”
     
    “I do want to look. Would you show me?”
     
    Kobe turned away.
     
    “Three days have passed,” Akitada pleaded. “There is not much time before you will have to release her for cremation. How could my seeing her ruin your case?”
     
    After a moment Kobe turned and nodded grudgingly. “Come on, then,” he muttered, walking to the door. “I must be mad, but there is something that’s been bothering me about that corpse. The coroner and I have an argument about the cause of death. I’d like to get your opinion. The doctor is still around somewhere, I think.”
     
    As they passed through the hall, smiling police constables and sergeants bowed snappily to Kobe. His new status had clearly won him their respect. He passed them with a joke here or a nod there, only pausing once to request that the coroner be sent to the morgue.
     
    They left the administration hall by the back, crossed an open exercise yard, and headed toward a series of low buildings. The morgue was the farthest of these, a small building reminiscent of the earthen storehouses of most mansions and temples. A guard stood at the narrow door. When he saw Kobe approaching, he flung it open. Kobe led the way as they stepped over the wooden threshold onto a floor of stamped earth. The bare room held several human cocoons, bodies wrapped in woven grass mats, but only one corpse occupied its