Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 44, No. 7 & 8, July/August 1999

“Oh, it was after, all right. And I think we did Davis a big service by airing the whole thing. Maybe now he won’t think he sees the ghost of Václav Hucek every time he turns around.”

Akitada’s First Case by I. J. Parker

HEIAN-KYO (KYOTO), ELEVENTH CENTURY JAPAN SOMETIME DURING POEM-COMPOSING MONTH (AUGUST).

The sun had been up only a few hours but the archives of the ministry were already stifling in the summer heat. A murky, oppressive air hung about the shelves of document boxes and settled across the low desks. These were normally occupied by scribes and junior clerks, but at the moment they were empty.

Akitada, having celebrated his twentieth birthday with friends the night before — an occasion that involved emptying a cup of wine each time one failed to compose an acceptable poem — had overslept and crept in the back way. Now he knelt at his desk, feeling sick and staring blindly at a dossier he was supposed to be copying. He winced when two of his fellow clerks, Hirosawa and Sanekana, walked in chattering loudly.

“Sugawara!” Hirosawa stopped in surprise. “Where did you come from? The minister’s been asking for you. I wouldn’t give much for your chances of keeping your position this time.”

Sanekana, a pimply fat fellow, sniggered. “You should have seen his face,” he announced gleefully. “He was positively gloating at the thought of getting rid of you. Better go to him quick!”

Akitada blanched. He could not afford to lose his clerkship in the Ministry of Justice. It had been the only position offered to him when he graduated from the university. If only the minister had not formed such an instant dislike of him: inexplicably, His Excellency, Soga Ietada, had found fault with everything Akitada had done until he had become too nervous to answer the simplest question. As a result the minister had banished him to the archives to do copy work alongside the scribes. To make matters worse, his fellow clerks had recognized Akitada as a marked man and had quickly disassociated themselves from him. Akitada eyed Sanekana and Hirosawa dubiously. “I don’t suppose you would cover for me?” he asked. “I might have stepped outside when you looked for me.”

They burst into laughter.

With a sigh, Akitada rose.

His heart was beating wildly and his palms were sweating when he was shown into the great man’s office with the painted screens of waterfowl, the lacquered document boxes, and the broad desk of polished cryptomeria wood. On the desk stood the porcelain planter with a perfect miniature maple tree, the bronze brazier with its enameled wine flask, and the ministerial seal carved from pale jade — all of them witnesses to Akitada’s prior humiliations.

The minister was not alone. A thin, elderly man in a neat, dark grey silk robe was kneeling on the cushion before the great man’s table. “It is a matter of honor, Excellency, no, of life and death to me,” he said, his voice uneven with suppressed emotion. “I have, as I explained, exhausted all other possibilities. Your Excellency is my last hope.”

“Nonsense!” barked Soga Ietada. Being stout, he was sitting cross-legged at his ease, tapping impatient fingers on the polished surface of his desk. “You take it too seriously. Young women run away all the time. She’ll show up one of these days, presenting you with a grandchild, no doubt.”

The old man’s back stiffened. He did not glance at Akitada, who hovered, greatly embarrassed, near the door. “You are mistaken,” the man said. “My daughter left my home to enter the household of a nobleman. She would never engage in a fleeting, clandestine affair.”

Soga raised his eyes to heaven, caught a glimpse of Akitada, and glared, saying coldly to his guest, “As you say. I can only repeat that it is not in my power to assist you. I suggest you seek out this, er, nobleman. Now you must excuse me. My clerk is waiting to consult me on an urgent case.”

Akitada’s heart skipped a beat. Maybe it was not another reprimand after all. A case? Would he finally be given a case?

The older man bowed and rose. He left quickly, with only a passing glance at Akitada.

When the door closed, the minister’s expression changed to one of cold fury.

“And where were you this morning?” he barked.

Akitada fell to his knees and touched his forehead to the floor. “I... I was feeling ill,” he stuttered. Well, that was the truth at least. His stomach was heaving, and he swallowed hard, waiting for the storm to break over his head.

“No matter!” snapped the minister. “Your work has been unsatisfactory from the start. As you know, you came here on probation. Since you have proved inept at all but copying work and are now far behind in that, you cannot afford the luxury of ill health.”

“Yes, Your Excellency. I shall make up the time.”

“No.”

Akitada looked up and caught a smirk of satisfaction on Soga’s face. “I assure your Excellency...” he began earnestly.