Sano rubbed his forehead in dismay. This was more evidence that pointed to Tomoe, she’d just absconded, and the investigation was leading away from Lord Ienobu.
“But Dengoro also said he thought he saw Lady Nobuko and smelled Madam Chizuru’s hair oil. So we’d better not trust anything he says.”
Detective Marume and Captain Hosono joined them. Marume said, “That’s the worst kind of witness—the kind that makes things up.”
Sano was disappointed because the shogun’s boy couldn’t identify the attacker. “Have you finished searching the Large Interior?”
“Yes,” Marume said, dejected. “No bloody socks. Not a thing out of the ordinary. And the snow under the windows was undisturbed. There’s no sign that anybody tossed anything out or climbed through them.”
“So we’re left with Tomoe, Madam Chizuru, and Lady Nobuko as suspects, and without any evidence to say which is guilty.” Sano was discouraged, but at least the array of suspects was still narrow, manageable. He asked Captain Hosono, “How is the shogun?”
“He’s asleep. The guards and the physician are with him.”
“At least he’s still alive,” Marume said.
But Sano knew that didn’t guarantee his recovery. Sano had to prove that Lord Ienobu was responsible for the stabbing before the shogun died. If he couldn’t, then Lord Ienobu would inherit the dictatorship and there would be no way to hold him accountable even if he was guilty.
“People are starting to show up for work.” Captain Hosono gestured beyond the cordon to the growing crowd of officials. “Can I let them in?”
“Yes,” Sano said. The government had to continue its business despite the circumstances. “I’m finished here for the time being.”
13
AFTER EXITING THE castle, Manabe rode with Sano, Marume, and Masahiro to make sure they really were going home and not just pretending in an attempt to get rid of him so they could continue their inquiries by themselves. He left them at the edge of the banchō.
In the blank white daylight, the small estates looked especially run-down with the leftover New Year decorations. Ash from Mount Fuji coated sacred rope hung on the gates to keep out evil spirits and the pine branches staked to bamboo poles by the doors—symbols of strength, longevity, and resilience. Dismounting outside his estate, Sano saw the shabby little house with his flying crane crest on the gate as a shameful reminder of how far he’d fallen in the world.
Marume took the horses to the stable in the backyard. Masahiro went into the house. Carrying the cloth-wrapped iron fan he’d brought from the castle, Sano followed his son and mustered the courage to face his wife.
* * *
INSIDE THE HOUSE, Reiko opened the back door to the racket of dogs barking. Akiko was standing in the yard, holding a wooden bowl and unlatching the gate. In rushed a pack of huge stray dogs. Rough-furred and lean, frantic with hunger, they jumped and pawed at Akiko. She emptied the contents of her bowl onto the ground. As the dogs pounced on the food, growled, and fought over it, Reiko called, “Akiko!”
Akiko turned, her face a picture of guilty defiance.
“I told you not to feed stray dogs,” Reiko said. “We can’t afford it.”
“I saved them some of my food.”
Reiko hated to criticize her daughter’s generosity, especially since caring for dogs was a virtue. The shogun had enacted laws that protected dogs and built kennels for them. Anyone caught killing or hurting dogs received the death penalty. A priest had once told him that his mercy would please the gods, who would then grant him an heir. Under his laws the population of stray dogs roaming Edo had exploded. The fierce, wild animals scared Reiko.
“They’ll bite you,” she said.
“No, they won’t. They’re my friends.”
Reiko was caught between her need to discipline and protect her child and her wish for Akiko to be happy. She knew Akiko was lonely. Chiyoko was too young to be a close friend, Tatsuo preferred to play by himself, and Akiko’s bold ways didn’t endear her to the neighborhood girls who shunned her because her father was in disgrace. When they teased her, she hit them. Reiko herself had been unpopular as a child, neither able nor willing to fit in with the conventional girls of her social class. She’d been fortunate that her father, Magistrate Ueda, had occupied her with education, martial arts lessons, and listening to trials in his court. But Reiko’s attempts to teach Akiko ended in fights, Sano didn’t have time, and there was no money for tutors. Akiko had turned to these dogs for company and diversion.
Something had to be done about her, Reiko thought. Then she heard noises from the front of the house. Sano and Masahiro had come, at last. She’d been in a fever of impatience to see them ever since she’d heard the news about the shogun. She dreaded talking to Sano because every conversation turned into an argument, but she wanted to find out what had happened. Reiko closed the back door, leaving Akiko with the dogs, and hurried to the entryway.
* * *
SANO’S HEART LIFTED, its habit whenever he saw his wife. Then it fell like a bird with a net thrown over it, dragged back to earth by their troubles. Reiko was as beautiful as when they’d married nineteen years ago, but she was thinner, and silver threads glinted in her upswept black hair. She didn’t smile at Sano across the distance created between them by his campaign against Lord Ienobu. Sano felt lonely in her presence.
“Are you all right?” Reiko asked. She was cool toward Sano; her concern focused on Masahiro.
The zest Masahiro had shown during the investigation turned to sullenness. “I’m hungry.”
“Your breakfast is ready,” Reiko said.
“I’ll eat it in the kitchen.” Masahiro hung his swords on the rack, tossed his cloak on a hook, and stomped off.
It wasn’t like Masahiro to be rude to his mother. Sano noticed a new tension between his wife and son. Masahiro didn’t like the estrangement between his parents and avoided being with them, but this was something different. “What’s wrong with him?”
“I’ll explain later.”
Reiko helped Sano remove his cloak, careful not to touch him. They never touched except accidentally. They hadn’t had sexual relations in two years. She’d spurned his advances until he’d given up. She’d said she didn’t feel well, but Sano knew the real reason: She wasn’t in love with him anymore because his actions had put them in danger, reduced them to poverty, and ruined their children’s prospects. He was still in love with her despite her disapproval of him, and he felt rejected, less than a man, and miserable. He also couldn’t help feeling angry.
She knew these were hard times for him, too, yet she denied him the comfort of physical intimacy and sexual release. Would it kill her to accommodate him once in a while? He would never go outside their marriage for sex, although it would be his right; many husbands did.
They went into the parlor, which was chilly despite the charcoal brazier. The alcove, decorated for the New Year, contained a table set with ferns in a porcelain vase and painted wooden lobsters—symbols of good fortune—and rice cakes topped with oranges—bribes to make evil spirits go elsewhere. If only the rituals worked, Sano thought as he sat by the brazier and thawed his hands.
Reiko put his breakfast on a tray table in front of him. Sano was starving; he hadn’t eaten since dinner yesterday. Devouring rice with fish, pickles, and tofu, washing it down with hot tea, he felt guilty because Reiko bore the brunt of his demotions. Raised as a privileged member of the upper class, she’d never had to do housework for most of her life. Now they had so few servants that she cooked, waited on the family, and washed clothes. She wore cotton garments because her pretty silk kimonos had worn out and Sano couldn’t afford to replace them. She never complained, but he knew she minded—and it wasn’t because she was spoiled and resented having to work. It was because he’d willingly, despite the consequences, kept up the campaign against Lord Ienobu, and his honor always took priority over her wishes and their family.
“What happened last
night?” Reiko asked.
He’d done more things that he knew would upset her and jeopardize what was left of their marriage. Sano started his tale with the confrontation on the highway.
Reiko leaned away from him. Her eyes filled with reproach. “You didn’t tell me you’d had a tip about Lord Ienobu’s men.”
Four years ago Sano wouldn’t have kept it a secret from her. Back then, since the early days of their marriage, they’d shared everything. Reiko, a unique woman and unconventional wife, had loved helping him with his investigations. The only child of one of Edo’s two magistrates, she’d grown up listening to trials, and she’d developed an interest in crime and a flair for detective work. Sano had come to rely upon her help. Although they’d often disagreed on aspects of their investigations, they’d never disagreed about whether to pursue a murderer … until the case of Lord Ienobu. Sano wanted to continue. Reiko didn’t. They’d had many arguments about it, but neither could change the other’s mind. Their discord was complicated by other problems, one of which was that Reiko’s father had been forced to retire after Sano had run afoul of Lord Ienobu. Now here came another argument, the last thing Sano wanted, that he’d tried to avoid by not telling Reiko about the tip.
“I didn’t know if the tip was any good,” Sano said. “I had to investigate it first.”
“You could have told me you were going after them last night.” Reiko spoke in a controlled, civil voice.
“I didn’t want to upset you,” Sano said.
“So you let me think you were out on your regular patrol? Then Detective Marume comes home alone, covered in blood?” Reiko exclaimed, “Well, I’m upset now!”
“I’m sorry,” Sano said, keeping his voice low, hoping Reiko would follow suit. The house was so small; words spoken in one room were audible everywhere else. “I didn’t know what would happen.”
“Things always turn out badly when you take action against Lord Ienobu.” Reiko repeated what she’d been telling Sano for years: “It’s time to give up trying to prove that Lord Ienobu was responsible for Yoshisato’s murder.”
At times like this Sano wished she were a conventional wife who never criticized or opposed her husband. Her strong, independent will had attracted him to Reiko when they were first married, but he didn’t like having it turned against him; yet he had only himself to blame. He’d endangered what was left of their life together. What did she see when she looked at him? Surely not the dashing samurai she’d married, but a misguided fool.
“It’s a matter of honor,” Sano retorted.
Reiko glanced up at the ceiling, her habit when he used Bushido to justify his misdeeds. Sano knew that losing his temper was dangerous when he was exhausted and under pressure, but he felt a flare of anger at Reiko. She knew that honor was the most important value in his life, yet she wouldn’t embrace it for his sake because she didn’t care enough about him.
“A wise man knows when to stop beating his head against his wall,” she said.
“Are you calling me stupid?” Sano demanded.
“Just stubborn.”
“And you aren’t?” This trait they shared made it all the harder for them to get along, and it was worsening as they grew older. “I’m stubborn for the sake of justice.”
Reiko gave him a long look that penetrated too deeply. “It’s not only justice you want. It’s revenge on Lord Ienobu.”
“Vengeance is a matter of honor, too. It’s cowardly to let your enemy beat you and not fight back.”
“Vengeance can hurt you more than your enemy! It almost got you killed last night!”
“I’m alive to fight another day,” Sano said, folding his arms. “That’s how it goes.”
“According to Bushido?” Reiko said, “You’re investigating Yoshisato’s murder after the shogun told you to stop. That’s a violation of Bushido, which says you have to obey your lord.”
“I’m disobeying it for the shogun’s own sake, to prevent his murdering nephew from inheriting the regime! It’s my duty as a samurai to go against my lord when my lord is going the wrong way.”
“Then why not break the rule about justice and vengeance, too? Why should you be able to choose which rules to follow and which to break?”
Her logic was sound, but honor didn’t always obey logic. “There’s no use my trying to explain,” Sano said. “You refuse to understand.”
“I don’t understand why you had to report Hirata. He hasn’t done anything wrong. You could have given him a chance to shut down his secret society instead of making him a fugitive and his family outcasts.”
She never confined an argument to one subject; she dragged in all his offenses. Sano’s anger flared hotter, stoked by the frustration of unsatisfied desire. “Don’t bring that up again!”
“Of course, you don’t have to live with Midori and the children and their misery every day,” Reiko said, angry, too. “You’re hardly ever home.” She shook her head, realizing the argument had gotten off track. “What’s the use fighting Lord Ienobu? You never win.”
“There’s obviously no use expecting you to give me another chance,” Sano snapped.
“Why take another chance? The shogun doesn’t care about justice for Yoshisato. Let the fool leave the regime to Lord Ienobu, the traitor who murdered his heir. It’s what he deserves.”
“Don’t talk about the shogun like that!” Sano was horrified to hear someone criticize his lord even though he knew exactly what the shogun was.
“You’re trying to do him a service he doesn’t want, and it’s only hurting us. Haven’t we suffered enough?” Reiko spread her arms.
The gesture encompassed their cold, shabby house and her thin body. The memory of their dead child occupied the space between them like a cruel apparition. Sano supposed he’d never grieved the loss as keenly as Reiko. He hadn’t carried the child in his body or been present when it was stillborn. It had never seemed as real to him as his other children. He felt guilty for that as well as because she’d lost the baby while trying to save his life.
“It’s because we’ve suffered that I’m so determined to get Lord Ienobu.” Sano wanted desperately to make it up to Reiko, and this was the only way he knew how. “He set the events in motion that caused…” Sano couldn’t say “our baby’s death.” They didn’t talk about the baby; it was too painful.
Tears glittered in Reiko’s eyes. “Don’t make your vendetta about that. You can’t change anything that’s happened. You’ll only cause more trouble for us.”
“It’s not just about honor,” Sano said. “It’s about survival now.”
“You knew four years ago that it could come to that. If you’d quit then, we wouldn’t be in this spot. And it’s not too late for you to change.”
Sano felt the rift in their marriage widen. He fervently wished they could be as they’d once been—united, facing peril together. He loved Reiko so much that he wanted to blurt it out, but she must hate him so much that if he did, she would laugh. Would they ever find their way back to each other? It seemed impossible.
In the adjacent room, the children fretted; Midori’s anxious voice soothed them. Reiko drew a shaky breath, made an effort to calm herself for their sake. “Detective Marume said the shogun was stabbed.” She spoke as if she thought this was a safer, neutral topic. “Will you tell me what happened?”
It was as safe as an axe hanging over his head, but Sano mustn’t keep any more secrets from her. He told her about the unseen attacker. “The shogun’s wounds are serious. The doctor says it’s too soon to know if he’ll survive.”
Clasping her heart, her eyes stricken, Reiko said, “Merciful gods.”
“There’s good news,” Sano said, delaying the inevitable while he tamped down his emotions. Their argument was about to move on to even more hazardous ground, and unless he controlled himself, he would say or do something irreparably destructive. “The shogun brought me, and Masahiro, back to court. I’m chief investigator again and Masahiro is my assistant.�
��
Reiko brightened, then frowned, suspicious. “But why … how…?”
Bracing himself for the axe to drop, Sano said, “I’m going to investigate the attack.”
* * *
REIKO INTUITED WHAT had really happened. “You mean, you volunteered?”
“Yes,” Sano admitted.
She tried to see it from Sano’s point of view instead of getting angry that he’d stepped right in the middle of another dangerous investigation. He was an experienced detective; it was his duty to find out who stabbed the shogun. She couldn’t help thinking, He never learns! The discomfort in his manner told her there was even more to the story that she wasn’t going to like.
“But you’ve been out of favor for four years. Why would the shogun change his mind about you all of a sudden?”
“I talked him into it. With help from Yanagisawa.”
Reiko was surprised that their enemy would lift a finger for Sano except to cut his throat, and even more disturbed to learn that Sano had gotten mixed up with Yanagisawa again. That surely meant more trouble, and she smelled Sano’s motive for volunteering to investigate the crime. “Don’t tell me: Lord Ienobu is a suspect. You think he’s responsible for the attack on the shogun.”
“He has the best motive,” Sano said, defensive. “If the shogun dies, he inherits the dictatorship.”
Reiko’s anger flared again. “You’re using the investigation to start up a new battle with Lord Ienobu! I don’t believe it!” She shook her head as she thought of the demotions, the effect on the children, and the constant fear that next time Lord Ienobu retaliated, it would be death for the whole family.
“This is my new chance to prove that Lord Ienobu is guilty of treason and take him down,” Sano said. “That’s the only way to protect us.”
“And if you can’t?”
Sano beheld her with reproach. “Why are you assuming I’ll fail?”
“After four years you still can’t convict Lord Ienobu of killing the shogun’s daughter and son. Why do you think you’ll succeed this time?”
The Iris Fan Page 9
