Sano Ichiro 8 The Dragon's King Palace (2003)
Page 25
Sano wasn’t surprised that Toda knew about the theory, and the suspects. Toda probably had spies among the soldiers guarding Hosh-ina, and they’d eavesdropped on his conversation with Sano that morning. “I’ve got a new suspect,” Sano said, “but unfortunately not his name.”
He described what had happened at the secret Black Lotus temple. “The only clue I have to the man’s identity is the dead woman that he tried to communicate with through the Black Lotus priest. Her name was Anemone. I think someone among her family or associates is the Dragon King. I’m hoping you can tell me who she is.”
Toda pondered, searching the voluminous storehouse of his mind for the answer. Then he said, “I don’t remember a murder of anyone called Anemone. It’s a pity you didn’t get her family name. When was she killed? How did she die?”
“I don’t know,” Sano said.
“Perhaps you can tell me where her murder took place?”
Sano shook his head, realizing that what he asked might be more than even Toda could give him, considering the paucity of background information on the crime.
“There have been thousands of murders in the country throughout the years, as you well know,” Toda said. “For me to know where to begin looking for information about Anemone, I need more than just her given name.”
“Let’s suppose there’s a connection between Anemone and Hoshina,” Sano said, “even if he didn’t kill her.”
“That would narrow the time span down to the past twenty years or so, presuming the murder didn’t occur while Hoshina was only a child,” Toda said. “It would also locate the crime in Edo or Miyako, the two places Hoshina has lived.”
“The Dragon King couldn’t have planted Mariko as a spy in Lady Keisho-in’s retinue unless he has close connections to the Tokugawa,” Sano said. “He must be someone in the bakufu, and a member of a high-ranking samurai clan. There can’t be many murders of women named Anemone that involve a man who fits those criteria.”
“True,” Toda said, his weary expression leavened by the possibility that this favor to Sano might not cost him too much trouble after all. “And crimes involving a man of that sort would be noted in the records at metsuke headquarters. Give me a moment to get dressed, then we’ll be on our way.”
Soon they were in the partitioned room in the palace that housed the metsuke headquarters. A single lamp burned in the compartment where Sano and Toda pored over ledgers that detailed incidents concerning Tokugawa vassals and the law. The palace corridors were silent, the other compartments unoccupied. Desks piled with scrolls, maps, and writing materials awaited metsuke agents who still slumbered at home while Sano and Toda searched the Edo records for the three years Hoshina had lived in the city. Sano turned pages of accounts of people killed in duels or crimes of passion, wives divorced, and disputes over money, property, and protocol, but he found no mention of Anemone’s murder.
By the time he and Toda started on the Miyako records, daylight began seeping through the windows; temple bells around the city tolled, summoning priests to morning prayers. The room filled up with men, muttered conversation, and tobacco smoke. Strain burned Sano’s eyes as he read through yet another ledger and tried to stay awake. The noon deadline that Chamberlain Yanagisawa had given him loomed nearer, until at last, the characters of the name he sought focused his bleary gaze.
“Here it is,” he exclaimed to Toda, who gladly set aside his own ledger. Sano read: “ ‘Tenwa Year two, month five, day four,’ ” then clarified, “That’s twelve years ago. ‘Dannoshin Jirozaemon, commander of the militia, dead by suicide. His wife Anemone, dead by drowning. The lifeless body of Dannoshin was found in his pleasure boat, adrift on Lake Biwa. His throat was cut, his short sword in his hand. He had left a note at home that explained his actions.
“ ‘It said that his wife and a man who was Dannoshin’s own paramour had carried on a secret affair together. When Dannoshin found out, he decided to punish his wife by throwing her into the lake, then kill himself because he must atone for her death and could not bear that the two people he loved most had betrayed him with each other. The body of Anemone was never recovered.’ ”
Sano pounded his fist on the ledger as triumph exhilarated him. “This has to be the murder behind the kidnapping plot! Anemone is the drowned woman in the poem in the ransom letter. Since she was never found, she’s still in the lake, under the water—in the palace of the Dragon King.”
“But Hoshina didn’t kill Anemone,” said Toda. “Her husband did, according to his own confession. Why would anyone demand Hoshina’s execution for Anemone’s drowning? It makes no sense.”
“Maybe Hoshina still played a role in the murder,” Sano said. “I’m thinking he was the man who was the lover of both Dannoshin and Anemone.”
“Hoshina has been known to bed women, even though he prefers male partners,” Toda said. “If he was the lover, then Anemone’s death is indirectly his fault because her affair with him caused her husband to drown her.”
“Someone who grieved for her might resent the fact that Hoshina went about his business as if nothing had happened.” Sano reread the account. “Whoever wrote this neglected to mention the lover’s name.”
“Perhaps the omission was deliberate,” Toda said, then hinted, “What was Hoshina doing twelve years ago, when Anemone and Dannoshin died?”
“Hoshina was a detective on the Miyako police force,” Sano recalled. “Perhaps he investigated the deaths. There would have been an ugly scandal, and he probably wanted to keep himself out of it. He could have destroyed evidence that implicated him.”
“And made sure his name never appeared in any official records,” Toda said.
“Supposing he was indeed the third party in the triangle, there’s another reason for him to cover up the fact,” Sano said. “At the time, he was the companion of the shoshidai.” The shoshidai was the Tokugawa official who ruled Miyako, and a cousin of the shogun, “He wouldn’t have wanted his master to know he’d been indulging his lust elsewhere.”
“That might have cost him his position,” Toda said, “and his chance of rising in the bakufu.”
Exhaustion, as well as pressure to identify the Dragon King before noon and save Lady Keisho-in before the shogun lost patience and did something rash, took the edge off Sano’s triumph. Rubbing his tired eyes, he said, “This is all conjecture. And even though I’m sure that the Dragon King is someone connected with Anemone or Dannoshin, we still don’t know who he is, let alone where he is.”
“I’ll look up the names of their relatives,” Toda said. “I can also check on which are members of the bakufu and live in Edo. But it will take time to unearth the clan lineage records from the archives and match names on them to the thousands on the bakufu list.”
And time was running out for Sano. “Get your metsuke comrades to help you,” he said, rising to leave.
“Very well,” Toda said.
“Meanwhile,” Sano said, “I’m going to try a shortcut to the Dragon King. Knowing what we know now, I think a talk with our friend Hoshina is in order.”
The sun had ascended over Edo Castle, but the forest preserve cast deep shadow over the guard tower that imprisoned Hoshina. Although the morning was clear and the air windless beneath the hazy aquamarine sky, gray clouds spilled mist and rain over the distant hills, portending storms for the city. Sano strode toward the tower along the walkway on top of the palace wall. There, three guards lounged outside the door to the prison.
“Open up,” Sano said. “I want to see Hoshina-san.”
The guards obeyed. Sano stalked into the dim room, whose stone walls exuded the transient coolness of night. Hoshina lay asleep on his futon, with his back to Sano. When Sano kicked his buttock, Hoshina jerked awake, let out a cry of alarm, and clambered to his feet. Groggy panic showed on his face as he reached for the sword he normally wore, and his hand clutched empty air. Then he saw Sano. Even as his breath puffed from him in relief, anger stimulated him to alertness.
“We need to talk,” Sano said, his sympathy for Hoshina depleted by everything he’d learned about the man since yesterday.
“What’s happened? Have you found out something?” Hope of rescue enlivened Hoshina’s haggard, unshaven face. “Have you caught the person who got me into this predicament?”
Pressed for time, Sano forbore to argue that Hoshina’s own execrable behavior was the root of his troubles. “No, I haven’t caught the Dragon King,” Sano said, “but I’ve found out plenty. Why didn’t you tell me about Anemone?”
“Who?” Hoshina regarded Sano in genuine bewilderment. Then recognition encroached. “Oh. Anemone,” he said in the perturbed tone of a man suddenly confronted by a ghost from his past.
“So you were her lover?” Sano said. When Hoshina nodded, Sano said, “Were you her husband Dannoshin’s lover as well?”
Again Hoshina nodded, warily.
“Dannoshin drowned Anemone because you and she cheated on him by having an affair with each other,” Sano said. “Were you the detective who investigated their deaths? Did you cover up your part in them to protect yourself from scandal and punishment?”
“Yes, but what has that got to do with anything?” Hoshina said, annoyed now.
Incredulity filled Sano as he beheld Hoshina. Did the man really not understand the significance of the events? “It’s a murder connected with you, that you should have mentioned when we made the list yesterday.”
“But we were focusing on people I killed, or sent to their execution,” Hoshina said, hands on his hips and feet planted wide in defensive obstinacy. “I didn’t kill Anemone. She didn’t belong on that list.”
“One might argue that you were indirectly responsible for her death,” Sano pointed out.
“I wasn’t responsible. Her murder was her husband’s doing, not my fault. They were just a pastime for me. I couldn’t help it if he overreacted.” An aggrieved whine tinged Hoshina’s voice. “How did you find out about her, anyway?”
It was just like Hoshina to disclaim culpability, Sano thought in disgust. “Never mind how I found out. You should have told me about Anemone’s murder, instead of hiding a source of potential suspects.”
“I wasn’t hiding anything,” Hoshina protested. “I haven’t thought of Anemone in years. I didn’t mention her because I’d forgotten her.”
“She and her husband died because of her affair with you, and you didn’t even remember her?” Sano thought he’d already learned the worst about Hoshina, but there seemed no limits to the man’s callousness.
“All right, I should have remembered. I should have told you about Anemone.” Hoshina flung out his arms in a gesture of mock surrender and glared at Sano. “What are you going to do, kill me?”
“It’s tempting,” Sano said, “but I need your help. I’ve got an army of metsuke agents searching for information on people connected with Anemone and Dannoshin, but that will take too long. Here’s your chance to make up for the lost time that your bad memory has cost us. You knew Anemone and Dannoshin. Who in their household would have wanted to avenge her death?”
Hoshina’s features went slack with astonished dismay. “It was ages ago that I knew them. That time is a blur in my mind. How am I supposed to remember anyone in their household?”
“Try,” Sano said. “Your life may depend on your remembering.”
Pacing the room, Hoshina clamped his hands to his head, as though to physically squeeze out facts. “Dannoshin had a couple of sons from his previous marriage. They were in the Miyako militia. We were on friendly terms—I don’t think they had a grudge against me. Dannoshin’s parents lived in his house, but they were so old, they’re probably dead now. I can’t think of anyone else.”
“Think harder!”
“I’m doing the best I can!” Hoshina stomped the floor, sounding close to tears.
Sano realized that his own impatience was only worsening the situation. “Let’s try a different approach,” he said. “Who besides Dannoshin knew about your affair with Anemone?”
“Nobody.” Hands falling limp at his sides, Hoshina seemed near the breaking point. “We were very discreet. She sneaked me into a cottage in the garden late at night, while everyone was sleeping.”
“Who knew?” Sano repeated, because somebody had known, and that somebody had transformed into the Dragon King twelve years later.
Hoshina shook his head in despair. Then his drooping posture straightened. “Wait,” he exclaimed, his dull eyes lighting. “Anemone had a son by Dannoshin. He was about fifteen years old—a strange, repulsive boy.” Hoshina made a moue of distaste. “Whenever I went to the house, he would creep around and stare at me. And once, when Anemone and I were making love, we heard a noise in the bushes outside the cottage. It must have been him, spying on us.”
At last they were making progress, Sano thought with relief. “What was the boy’s name?”
“Dannoshin Minoru,” Hoshina said, and grinned, proud of himself for remembering.
“The son of Anemone is a likely person to want her death avenged,” Sano said.
“He must be the Dragon King.” Hoshina bounced on the balls of his feet and smacked his hands together, obviously exhilarated by the thought that his ordeal might be nearing a happy end. “He must have been plotting my downfall ever since Anemone died.”
“Now all I need to do,” Sano said, “is find out what became of him, pick up his trail, and follow it to wherever he’s hiding the hostages. I’ll go tell the metsuke to start combing the archives for information on Dannoshin Minoru.”
“Don’t bother,” Hoshina said. His mocking attitude resurfaced. “I’ve just remembered something else: I saw the fellow recently. I know where he’s been.”
“When?” Sano said, frowning in surprise. “Where?”
“About two years ago. Here in Edo. He’s grown up and changed since we last met, and I couldn’t place him. But now it’s come back to me.” Hoshina said, “He’s an inspector for the Ministry of Temples and Shrines.”
Thoughts crystallized in Sano’s mind as he comprehended how the Dragon King, the Black Lotus, and the kidnapping fit together. The Ministry of Temples and Shrines was responsible for monitoring religious sects, making sure they obeyed the laws and didn’t rise up against the ruling regime. Therefore, the Ministry had a major share of the task of eradicating the Black Lotus and employed inspectors to travel around the city, looking for illegal religious activity.
“Dannoshin Minoru’s work put him in contact with Black Lotus outlaws,” Sano deduced. “That’s how he found the secret temple and met Profound Wisdom. But instead of reporting them to the police, he used them. He got Mariko to spy on Lady Keisho-in. He probably used his connections in the bakufu to plant the girl inside Edo Castle. He got a band of Black Lotus rōnin to help him ambush Lady Keisho-in’s procession and kidnap her.”
“Are you going to tell the shogun now?” Hoshina grabbed Sano by the arm. “Take me with you. When he hears that I’ve identified the kidnapper, he’ll be so grateful that he’ll set me free and give me back my position.”
Trust Hoshina to try to turn the situation to his personal benefit and reap all the credit instead of just the fraction he deserved, Sano thought. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said, flinging off Hoshina’s hand. “I still have to find out where the Dragon King is holding the hostages and rescue them.”
Maybe Hoshina had redeemed himself by providing the vital piece of information. But the Dragon King would be awaiting news of Hoshina’s execution. How much longer would he wait before he decided the shogun had disobeyed his order and he made good on his threat to kill his captives?
Had the identification of Dannoshin Minoru come too late to save the women?
* * *
25
Detective Marume dragged a load of long, thin logs into the forest clearing where he and Hirata and Fukida we
re building the raft upon which they would cross the lake and bring back the women. A day had passed since they’d arrived on the Izu Peninsula, and they still had yet to invade the kidnappers’ island. The air was cool and misty, and the sun hidden behind layered gray and white clouds, but Marume was sweating from the hard labor of cutting and hauling wood. Stripped down to his loincloth and sandals, his dagger gripped between his teeth, he looked like a savage. He dropped the logs beside Hirata.
“Do you need more wood?” Marume asked, panting.
Hirata aligned the logs with the others that comprised the raft and tied them together with braided reeds. He wiped his dripping nose on his sleeve. “I don’t think so.” He looked at his hands, which were filthy and marked with bloody cuts, then at the raft. “It’s big enough, isn’t it?”
The raft was a lopsided square platform, approximately twice as long as Hirata’s height. Rough logs of various widths, bristling with trimmed stubs, were joined side by side with clumsily knotted reeds. Hirata felt more crestfallen than proud of his work. Fukida brought over the oars he’d fashioned by cutting two forked branches and weaving dense, unruly mats of sticks and reeds between the forks. He tossed the oars atop the raft and gave Hirata an apologetic glance. All three men gazed doubtfully at the product of their efforts.
“Will it float?” Marume said, voicing the thought on everyone’s minds.
“It has to,” Hirata said firmly.
They’d invested the whole previous afternoon and evening, as well as this morning, in his decision to attempt the rescue instead of returning to Edo. The raft had taken longer to build than Hirata had anticipated. First, they’d had to backtrack from the lake and camp in a secluded place off the road, where any kidnappers who happened to leave the island wouldn’t notice them. The search for suitable timber, and the struggle to hack it to the right size, had consumed hours. By the time they’d devised methods for constructing the raft and oars, darkness had forced them to stop work until sunrise. They’d spent a cold, uncomfortable night trying to sleep on the ground, while a ceaseless mental debate had kept Hirata awake.