by Susan Spann
Hiro wondered how the priest understood the Japanese concept of beauty so well, when his own appearance diverged so widely from it. He tried to imagine a female version of Father Mateo’s pale skin, enormous nose, and unusual height. He decided that Portuguese women must look like trolls.
“You don’t agree?” Father Mateo asked. “You’ve got an odd look on your face.”
“Do women in your country have noses like yours?” Hiro asked.
“What’s wrong with my nose?” Father Mateo touched it gingerly. “In Portugal, this is considered a nice-looking nose.”
“I’m sure it is,” Hiro said. “I was trying to picture it on a woman’s face.”
“We don’t all have the same noses,” Father Mateo said. “If anything, we look even more different from one another than Japanese people do.”
Hiro opened his mouth to reply, but closed it again as a middle-aged woman emerged from the Yutoku-za.
She wore a dark kimono and the purposeful look of someone on an errand. Her gaze settled on Hiro and Father Mateo, and she approached as if she knew them. The lines on her face suggested age, though her ebony hair revealed no trace of gray. Her clothing was cut in the latest style and embroidered with colorful leaves and flowers, but Hiro noted the silk itself was not of the finest quality.
The woman stopped in front of them and bowed. Although she waited for them to address her, as custom required, she carried herself with unusual boldness, and Hiro doubted she would permit rebuff.
CHAPTER 19
“Good morning.” Father Mateo’s tone suggested he didn’t know the woman. “May we help you?”
“Good morning, sir. My name is Rika, and my son is Yuji, of the Yutoku-za.” After a pause she continued, “I came to tell you my son is ill and cannot see visitors this morning. He sends his apologies.”
“How considerate of you to come, instead of sending Chou to deliver the message,” Hiro said.
Father Mateo tensed, as he often did when Hiro behaved more rudely than a situation warranted. However, Hiro considered his abruptness justified. Only a daring mother—or a guilty one—would intervene on her son’s behalf.
“With respect, you do not need to interview Yuji about the murder,” Rika said. “He barely knew Emi, and though her death was a tragedy, my son knows nothing of it.”
“Who mentioned an interview?” Hiro asked.
“Chou claimed the foreign gentlemen has interest in nō,” Rika said, “but—again, with respect—my future daughter-in-law is quick to believe any compliment given to Yuji. Samurai have no interest in riverbank people except when a crime occurs. You asked for my son. A girl is dead. An investigation is the reasonable inference.”
Hiro decided to overlook the woman’s lack of deference. He also respected her reasoning skills too much to persist in the lie. “Where was Yuji two nights ago?”
Rika didn’t hesitate. “Home, with me.”
“Can anyone else confirm that?” Hiro asked.
“As I mentioned, my son has been ill,” Rika said. “He left his room for lessons with Master Botan, nothing more.”
“Thank you for confirming Yuji’s whereabouts,” Father Mateo said, “and do not worry, we don’t suspect him of the crime. We’re trying to find the owner of this coin.” He held it up. “Have you seen it before? Do you know who it belongs to?”
Rika shook her head. “I’m sorry. I might have seen it, but how would I know? It looks no different than any other.”
“Does Yuji possess any golden coins?” Hiro asked.
“Not that you would find near Emi’s body,” Rika said. “My son is betrothed to Chou. He would not give a gift to another woman.”
Hiro found it curious that Rika characterized the coin as a gift, and also that she knew where it had come from. “You’re certain your son didn’t leave the house two nights ago? Not even briefly?”
“Only to use the latrine.” She started to say something more but stopped.
“What were you going to say?” Hiro asked.
“Nothing, sir.” She shook her head.
“A person’s lips don’t part for nothing.” Hiro affected a samurai scowl. “Tell me what you began to say.”
“I apologize.” Rika hung her head. “The comment was inappropriate.”
“Women do not tell samurai what is and is not appropriate,” Hiro growled.
The tone drew a disapproving glance from Father Mateo.
“A thousand apologies.” Rika bowed and held the obeisance for several seconds. “I started to say that Yuji wanted nothing to do with Emi—alive or dead.”
“How do you know this?” Father Mateo asked.
Rika straightened. “My husband and I chose Chou for Yuji many years ago. She is plain, but also steady of temper, patient, and hardworking. She will make an excellent wife.”
“And Emi?” Father Mateo asked.
Rika’s lips took on a pinched expression. “The girl had dreams beyond her station.”
Hiro turned to the priest and spoke in Portuguese. “Few women want their sons to marry a beautiful, independent girl. A son who loves his wife too much is difficult for a mother to control.” He switched to Japanese. “Did Yuji share your opinion of Emi?”
“Of course,” Rika said. “No man wants to marry a girl with a bad reputation.”
Hiro found Rika’s openness surprising—and suspicious. Actors didn’t behave like other commoners, but even they would normally show restraint in the presence of samurai. Rika clearly wanted them to believe in Yuji’s innocence, and wanted it more than Hiro considered normal.
“Did Emi have a bad reputation?” Father Mateo asked.
“She would have, had anyone known the truth.” Rika sniffed. “She met men by the river, at night, when her parents thought she had gone to the temple.”
“How do you know this?” Father Mateo asked.
“Yuji told me,” Rika said, “although he never saw her do it. Chou told him of her sister’s behavior about a week ago. She was worried about Emi, alone on the riverbank at night.”
The Jesuit frowned. “Why would Chou tell Yuji instead of her parents?”
Rika shrugged. “Young people do not always show good judgment. Chou didn’t want to cause her sister trouble. She thought Yuji might persuade Emi to change her wanton ways.”
“Did you tell Satsu and Nori about Emi?” Hiro asked.
“No, sir.” Rika shook her head. “I wanted to, but Yuji said he would handle the situation himself. He promised to speak with Satsu, if Emi refused to cooperate.”
“How kind of him,” Hiro said with sufficient irony to contradict the words.
Rika raised her chin. “My son did not want Emi’s behavior injuring the reputation of our troupe.”
“But he didn’t mind taking a prostitute’s sister to wife?” Hiro countered.
“I never called Emi a prostitute,” Rika said quickly. “I heard that she met and talked with men by the river. Nothing more.”
“How dedicated was Yuji to stopping Emi?” Hiro asked.
“Sir, my son was home the night Emi died. In any case, Yuji had no need to soil his hands. Satsu would never have let his daughter get away with such wicked behavior.”
Hiro wondered whether Rika realized she’d just admitted Yuji—as well as Satsu—had a motive for wanting Emi dead.
“Thank you for telling us what you know about the incident,” Father Mateo said.
“I know nothing about the incident.” Rika paused. “And my son doesn’t either.”
Hiro made a dismissive gesture. “You may go.”
“Thank you.” Rika bowed. “Please excuse me, I will attend to my shopping.”
She scurried off toward the Kamo River.
“Do you have to behave so much like a samurai?” Father Mateo asked.
Hiro raised an eyebrow at the priest. “I am a samurai.”
Father Mateo sighed. “No point talking with Yuji now. He’ll only repeat his mother’s story.”
; “Maybe.” Hiro started toward the Yutoku-za.
“Where are you going?” Father Mateo asked. “Satsu isn’t home and Yuji’s sick.”
Hiro paused in front of the door. “Making this the perfect time to see Botan.”
CHAPTER 20
The door swung open the moment Hiro knocked.
An elderly woman stood in the doorway. Her unadorned kimono and simple braid suggested a servant. She bowed. “Good morning, gentlemen. Welcome to the Yutoku-za. How may I help you?”
“We have come to speak with Botan,” Hiro said.
She bowed her head. “I apologize, sir, but the master has gone to the tailor this morning. He is not at home.”
“Which tailor does he use?” Hiro asked.
“Today he has gone to Shigeru’s shop on Sanjō Road, just north of Pontochō.”
Hiro frowned. “Shigeru sews kimono for entertainers.”
The woman nodded. “The master has gone to obtain kimono for use in female roles.”
Hiro turned to leave.
“Thank you for your assistance,” Father Mateo said.
The woman blinked, surprised by the unexpected courtesy. She bowed. “Of course. I am sorry the master could not see you.”
Father Mateo followed Hiro away from the house as the woman closed the door.
“What now?” the Jesuit asked.
“We pay a visit to Shigeru,” Hiro said.
“Now?”
Hiro shrugged. “If we wait until later, Botan will have left.”
Hiro and Father Mateo crossed the Kamo River at Shijō Road. Near the entrance to Pontochō, an indigo noren in front of a building read “SHIGERU: TAILOR, SPECIALIZING IN WOMEN’S KIMONO.”
The shop sat east of the pleasure district, on the south side of the street.
“I’d never noticed this shop before,” Father Mateo said.
“No reason you should have,” Hiro replied. “Your taste in kimono doesn’t run to embroidered flowers and butterflies.”
Father Mateo smiled. “As far as you know.”
The noren parted, revealing a middle-aged woman in the entrance. “Good morning, gentlemen.” She bowed. “How may I help you?”
“We seek an actor named Botan,” Hiro said. “We were told we might find him here.”
“One moment, please.” The woman ducked back through the entrance.
Before they could follow, a high-pitched voice inside the shop said, “I need daylight to check the color.”
The noren flew aside, and a willowy woman emerged into the street. She wore a lavender kimono under a violet surcoat embroidered with giant chrysanthemums in startling shades of orange. Silver embroidery at the collar accentuated her slender neck, and the flowing sleeves hung almost to the ground.
She tilted her head appraisingly as she noticed Hiro and Father Mateo. “Good morning,” she said with a graceful bow.
“Good morning. I am Father Mateo Ávila de Santos.” The Jesuit gestured to Hiro. “My translator, Matsui Hiro.”
“I am called Aki.” The woman gave Father Mateo a special smile. “Have you business with Shigeru? He is the best tailor in all of Kyoto.”
“W-we have come to speak with a customer,” Father Mateo stammered, “an actor named Botan.”
Hiro found it amusing that the Jesuit grew tongue-tied in the presence of attractive women—especially since, despite the kimono and feminine mannerisms, Aki was not female.
“With Master Botan?” Aki seemed surprised.
“Yes,” Father Mateo said, “about a private matter.”
“Botan doesn’t hire out for . . . private matters.” Aki’s appraising gaze ran the length of Father Mateo’s kimono. “But I do, and would gladly offer you a special price.” The gaze shifted to Hiro. “Slightly higher if I entertain you both.”
Father Mateo’s patient expression turned to one of horror as he realized what Aki thought he meant by “private matter.”
“Thank you,” Hiro said, “but we will wait and speak with Botan.”
Aki waved a dismissive hand that failed to conceal his disappointment. “As you wish, but if you change your mind, you can find me at the Yutoku-za.”
He twisted to examine his robe, nodded acceptance, and disappeared back through the noren.
“Did she . . . was she offering . . .” Father Mateo trailed off, unable to complete the sentence.
“A special, and truly private, performance,” Hiro confirmed.
“I am a priest!” Father Mateo protested. “I don’t hire women for that kind of private performance. I took vows!”
“Japanese priests take different vows.” Hiro could no longer stifle his amusement. “And, I should probably add—Aki was not a woman.”
Father Mateo’s horror deepened. “What?”
“Women cannot perform on the stage. In nō, the female roles are played by men.” Hiro gestured toward the tailor’s shop. “Aki is an actor in female dress.”
“Are you certain?” Father Mateo peered at the noren.
Hiro touched the lump in his throat that only males possessed. “You didn’t look in the proper place. Aki is most assuredly male, though he emulates a woman almost perfectly.”
“He’s not onstage at the moment,” the Jesuit said. “Why try to fool us?”
“I don’t think he intended to,” Hiro said. “Any Japanese person would have known him for a man.”
The noren parted yet again, revealing a man whose eyes still held a youthful sparkle, though his hair had turned more white than gray. The lines on his face seemed far too few for the snowdrift covering his head, and he moved with graceful steps and measured gestures that did not betray his real age.
He bowed to Hiro and then to Father Mateo, holding the gesture in deference to his lesser status. “I am Botan, of the Yutoku-za. Have you come from the police or from the shogun?”
“Which do you think?” Hiro asked.
“With apologies, I do not know.” Botan straightened with a hesitant smile. “I’ve paid my taxes and caused no trouble.”
“The way we heard it, someone caused you trouble,” Hiro said.
Botan’s smile froze. “I apologize. I don’t know what you mean.”
“How much gold did you give the samurai who tried to extort you?” Hiro hoped the question would bypass the actor’s reserve and startle him into an honest answer.
Botan’s mouth dropped open in shock. “Who told you about the samurai?”
CHAPTER 21
Hiro ignored Botan’s question. “Do you recognize this coin?”
He gestured to Father Mateo, who held up the golden coin on its leather thong.
Botan drew back as if the gold was poisoned. “Yes, I know it.”
“Because you used it to bribe a samurai?” Hiro demanded.
“No.” The actor’s voice grew cold. “Because it hung around my dead granddaughter’s neck. Satsu told me about the coin and that he asked some men to help him. I assume you are the ones of whom he spoke.” Botan paused. “And, to answer your question, I did not bribe a samurai.”
“Paying for silence sounds like a bribe to me,” Hiro said.
“With respect, sir, he accused me of harboring spies within the Yutoku-za. He demanded that I pay him or face the magistrate.” Botan raised his hands, palms up. “I have no spies within my troupe, but how could I persuade a magistrate? I paid the samurai only to make the problem go away.”
“Can you prove this isn’t a coin you gave him?” Hiro asked.
“You already know that I cannot. I wish I could.” Botan kept his gaze on Hiro and didn’t look at the coin again. “The golden ones look pretty much the same.”
“Perhaps the actors in your troupe could help identify it,” Hiro said.
“Unfortunately, they cannot,” Botan replied. “I spoke with the samurai alone. I told only Satsu and my brother, Tani, about the threat. However, it wouldn’t surprise me to learn that coin is one I gave him.”
Hiro hadn’t expected that. “Why no
t?”
“I didn’t have the entire amount he wanted,” Botan said. “I gave him only half the demanded sum. He said I’d regret my stinginess, but I explained I had no more—he could take what I offered or nothing. I believed he would accept the lesser sum and find someone else to harass for the rest. . . .”
“But instead he killed Emi and left the coin as a message,” Father Mateo finished.
“Don’t give him ideas,” Hiro hissed in Portuguese.
“Please put the coin away.” The actor closed his eyes. “I cannot bear to see it.”
Father Mateo tucked the coin into his purse.
When Botan opened his eyes, they were filled with tears. “It is my fault my granddaughter died. If only I had been able to pay the full amount . . .”
“Do you know the man who bribed you?” Hiro asked.
“He wore a mask across his nose and mouth. I didn’t recognize his voice.”
“Can you remember anything else about him?” Father Mateo asked.
Botan looked upward and thought for a moment. “He stood about the average height, and his body was neither fat nor thin. He wore a pair of swords and fixed his hair in a samurai knot.” The actor shrugged. “I’m sorry. He looked like any one of a thousand samurai in Kyoto.”
“Except for the mask,” Hiro said.
Botan nodded. “I admit, that was unusual.”
“Did you pay this samurai immediately?” Hiro asked. “Or did you make him wait to receive his money?”
“I had to retrieve the gold from the storehouse,” Botan said. “I do not keep it at the Yutoku-za. The samurai said he would return the following morning, at dawn. That is when I paid him.”
“No one saw you do it?” Hiro asked.
Botan shook his head. “No one knew I went to the storehouse, and the actors usually sleep late. I did tell Satsu and Tani, but only because they handle the accounting and would have noticed the money missing.”
Hiro considered it interesting that Botan trusted Satsu enough to let him handle the finances of the troupe. “How would the samurai have known that Emi was your relative?”
