Flask of the Drunken Master Read Online Free

finished brushing the dirt from his trousers. “The magistrate doesn’t need your help—or his.” The yoriki glanced at Father Mateo.
    “What if we disagree with your assessment of the crime?” the Jesuit asked.
    Hiro stifled a nearly overwhelming urge to drag the priest away from the scene by force. As usual, Father Mateo didn’t know when to hold his tongue.
    The yoriki smiled, but his eyes were devoid of warmth. “Then you will keep your disagreement to yourself.”
    “Have I misunderstood the samurai code?” Father Mateo asked. “I thought honor required noble men to seek justice and act with mercy.”
    “That argument might work with a samurai from the ruling clans,” the yoriki said. “But I see crimes, and criminals, every day. Justice does not mix with mercy where commoners are concerned.”
    The yoriki started toward the alley, paused, and turned back to Hiro. “I expect cooperation—and discretion—from you both. Murder is a matter for the magistrate alone, especially now, with the city on alert. If you speak of this to anyone, I will ensure you share the killer’s fate.”
    Hiro doubted the yoriki could carry out his threat, but knew better than to challenge him in public.
    Father Mateo called after the yoriki , “Why insist on privacy? Unless, of course, you don’t intend an honest investigation.”

 
    Chapter 5
    The yoriki stopped and slowly turned toward Father Mateo.
    Hiro shifted his weight to his toes and prepared to fight. No one accused a yoriki of corruption without consequence.
    To Hiro’s surprise, the assistant magistrate didn’t draw his sword.
    “The details of Chikao’s murder might cause violence within the brewers’ guild,” the yoriki said. “The shogun’s recent death has the samurai clans on the brink of war. I do not need a war among the artisans as well.
    “Chikao died in a fight. Anyone who says otherwise will be punished.”
    “The family will guess the truth,” Father Mateo said. “No one will believe those injuries came from a simple fight.”
    “That is not your problem,” the yoriki said. “I allowed you to see the body as a courtesy. Do not repay my kindness by causing trouble.”
    “We have no wish to cause trouble,” Hiro said. “We didn’t even know Chikao.”
    “But you know Ginjiro.” The yoriki looked down the street and frowned. “Fools! I told them to send Ren to the Lucky Monkey.”
    His gaze shifted back to Hiro and Father Mateo. “The dead man’s business partner is coming. One word out of place, and I’ll have you flogged.”
    Hiro understood the yoriki ’s wish to avoid more violence but disagreed with forcing Ginjiro to bear the blame. Not without more evidence of guilt. Hiro didn’t normally involve himself in other men’s business, but couldn’t abide a yoriki who blamed the innocent just to close a case.
    Father Mateo’s chagrined expression suggested the Jesuit also had no intention of letting the matter drop. For once, Hiro agreed with the priest. They would conduct an investigation, with or without the yoriki ’s permission.
    Hiro just hoped that Father Mateo was smart enough not to say so.
    He turned as footsteps approached behind him. Hiro stood several inches taller than Chikao’s business partner, but the sake brewer weighed substantially more. Muscled arms bulged the sleeves of the brewer’s striped kimono, and his waist was thick, but not with soggy fat. His slicked-back hair had a slight green tinge, suggesting its deep black color was not natural.
    The brewer bowed to the yoriki . “A d ō shin came to my home. He mentioned an accident and sent me here. Why are we at Ginjiro’s?”
    “Thank you for coming so quickly, Ren.” The yoriki ’s tight-lipped expression promised an unpleasant afternoon in store for the d ō shin who delivered the incorrect message. “There has, indeed, been an accident, but I intended for you to meet me at your brewery, not this one. Unfortunately, the d ō shin delivered my