“I suppose you’ve come to question me in connection with Lord Mitsuyoshi’s murder,” Makino said.
“If you’re willing.” Sano replied cautiously, because Makino was no friend of his. The powerful senior elder had once accused Sano of treason, thereby almost ruining him.
“I might be willing to provide information to you,” said Makino, “under certain conditions. Shall we drink?”
He gestured to a maid, who poured sake for him and Sano. They drained their cups, and Sano felt the heated liquor flush warmth through him. “What conditions?” he said. Survival in the bakufu required give-and-take, but Sano was wary of the terms Makino might offer.
“The other party guests can confirm that I was with them at the time of the murder.” Makino inhaled on his tobacco pipe, and blew smoke through his brown teeth. “So can the staff of the Owariya. Hence, I couldn’t have killed Mitsuyoshi. You’ll find no evidence that I was in any way involved in his death.”
Suspending judgment, Sano kept his expression neutral.
“I’m prepared to furnish evidence that might otherwise take you quite some time to find.” Makino gave an ugly grimace that passed for a smile. “And time is critical, is it not?”
It was indeed. “In exchange for what?” Sano said.
“For keeping me out of your investigation.”
The senior elder spoke calmly, but the sinews of his neck tightened like leather cords: He knew Sano could name him as a murder suspect and ruin him because he’d happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. For a moment Sano was tempted to take revenge for all the trouble Makino had caused him, but the impulse quickly passed. To use a murder investigation to further selfish interests would compromise his honor, and he was just as vulnerable to attack as Makino. Should he begin a campaign to advance himself at the expense of his enemies, the resulting bloodbath would probably destroy him. Besides, he needed all the information he could get.
“Very well,” Sano said, “but if I find out that you are involved in the murder, our agreement is terminated.”
Makino’s hollow eyes contemplated Sano with disdain, but his relief was palpable. He signaled the maid to pour another round of sake. After he and Sano drank, Makino said, “There are three guests from the party whom you won’t find in Yoshiwara.”
“Who would they be?” Sano asked.
“The Honorable Treasury Minister, Nitta Monzaemon. And his two top retainers.”
The treasury minister was the official charged with overseeing the collection of taxes on commerce, revenue from the landed estates of the daimyo—feudal lords who ruled Japan’s provinces—and other monetary tributes paid to the Tokugawa. This was an important post and its incumbent one of the shogun’s most trusted, powerful vassals.
“Where has Nitta-san gone?” Sano said, as he found himself facing the perils of an investigation that extended upward to the high levels of the bakufu.
“I’ve no idea, but he left the quarter with his men during the party.” Makino grimaced, clearly perceiving and relishing Sano’s discomposure.
“Why did he leave?”
“He was not in a festive mood.” Inhaling on his pipe, Makino seemed ready to make Sano probe for every fact.
“Why not?” Sano asked patiently.
“Because of Lady Wisteria. He’s her patron, and quite enamored of her.” Makino shook his head, scorning anyone unwise enough to fall in love with a prostitute. “He is her sole client, now that Lord Mitsuyoshi is gone. She’s very selective.”
By custom, a taju could pick and choose her clients, and her high price compensated for their small number.
“Nitta is so jealous that he reserves her services for every night. He pays her fee, whether he visits her or not, just so he knows she isn’t with anyone else. But he’d learned that on two recent occasions when business kept him away from Yoshiwara, Lord Mitsuyoshi had obtained appointments with Lady Wisteria. Nitta was furious. Then, when he came to Yoshiwara yesterday, expecting to spend the night with Lady Wisteria, the proprietor of the Owariya told him that Lord Mitsuyoshi had requested her, and asked him to yield.”
Yielding was the procedure by which one client preempted another’s appointment with a courtesan. When a client had engaged a courtesan, and a second client asked for her company on the same night, the ageya would, under certain circumstances, ask the first client to yield his appointment to the second. The imposition might displease the first client; however, the polite code of behavior required him to concede if the second client was a special customer of the courtesan, or of higher social position than the first.
“How do you know all this?” Sano asked Makino.
“I make it my business to know all about my colleagues.” In other words, Makino employed spies in the households of the treasury minister and other officials. “I also overheard Nitta arguing with the proprietor of the Owariya last night.”
“What did he say?”
“Nitta objected to giving up Wisteria,” said Makino, “especially since this was her third appointment with Lord Mitsuyoshi, and she would finally bed him. But Nitta didn’t dare offend the shogun’s heir apparent by refusing to yield. Instead, he consented, and he joined our party. He sat in a corner, drinking and sulking. When Wisteria arrived and met Lord Mitsuyoshi in the next room, Nitta watched them through a hole in the partition. When they went upstairs, he stormed out of the house. Obviously, he couldn’t bear to stay while Wisteria pleasured another man right above his head.”
“Did you see the treasury minister after that?” Sano said.
“No. I stayed at the party; he never returned.”
But Nitta might have sneaked back to the house, gone upstairs, then stabbed the man who’d done him out of a night with his beloved. “While you were at the party, did you hear any unusual sounds from upstairs?” Sano asked Makino.
“I heard nothing whatsoever. The music was loud, and so were my fellow guests.”
Sano wondered what had become of Wisteria. Was she also dead by the hand of her patron? The idea dismayed Sano, as did the possibility that he might soon find himself for the first time investigating the murder of a former lover.
“That ends my story,” Makino said. “May I ask when I and my fellow captives might be allowed to leave Yoshiwara?”
“As soon as my men have finished taking everyone’s names,” Sano said.
The senior elder eyed him with veiled expectancy. “I’ve handed you a possible culprit in the murder. I trust that is a fair reward for your discretion?”
“Your evidence doesn’t prove Treasury Minister Nitta’s guilt,” Sano said, "or explain how Lady Wisteria got out of Yoshiwara.”
The door of the teahouse opened, and Sano turned to see Hirata, ruddy-faced and windblown, standing on the threshold. “Excuse me, Sōsakan-sama,” Hirata said, bowing, —but I’ve discovered something of possible importance.”
Walking down the street together, Sano and Hirata compared the results of their inquiries. “Jealousy gives Treasury Minister Nitta a motive for wanting Lord Mitsuyoshi dead,” Sano said, “and his attachment to Lady Wisteria is a reason for him to remove her from Yoshiwara.”
Ahead, beyond the rows of teahouses and brothels, the guards had opened the gates. Men emerged from the buildings and streamed out of Yoshiwara. The sky resembled an ink-wash spreading across damp paper; blustering wind and veils of falling snow promised an arduous evening’s journey home.
“Nitta could have taken Lady Wisteria away in the palanquin,” Hirata said. “He seems as good a suspect as the yarite.”
Unless she confessed under torture, thought Sano. He wondered uneasily where Hoshina was. “We’ll interrogate Nitta tomorrow—if he hasn’t fled town with Wisteria.”
As they reached the gates, where Sano’s detectives awaited them, Sano noticed Hirata looking at him as if needing to speak, but reluctant to do so. “Was there something else?” Sano said.
“Oh, no,” Hirata said nervously. “It’s just that
my miai is tomorrow…”
Caught up in the investigation, Sano had completely forgotten the miai, in which he, as Hirata’s go-between, must play a key role. Distress flooded him. “Hirata-san, I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to —”
“That’s all right,” Hirata said staunchly. “The miai can be rescheduled after the investigation is over.”
They both recognized that duty took precedence over personal affairs; yet Sano knew how eager Hirata was to marry Midori. “Go ahead with the miai,” Sano said. “I’ll get someone to substitute for me.”
Hope and concern mingled in Hirata’s expression. “I appreciate your generosity, but you need me on the case. I can’t take time away.”
“Yes, you can,” Sano said, although he was loath to lose the services of his chief retainer at a critical time. “The miai won’t last long, and the detectives can help me until you’re finished.” Observing that Hirata was ready to refuse, he said, “You’ll go to the miai. That’s an order.”
“Yes, Sōsakan-sama,” Hirata said with heartfelt gratitude.
Sano hoped the miai would succeed without him, but he had more immediate concerns. “We’d better get back to the castle.” On the way he must tell Hirata about his past relationship with Wisteria. He could trust Hirata to keep the information confidential. “The shogun will be expecting a report from us.”
* * *
5
Sano and Hirata reached Edo just before the hour of the boar, when the gates to every neighborhood would close for the night, halting the movement of traffic through the streets until dawn. The snowfall had ceased; the indigo sky glittered with stars like ice crystals. A ride up the hill through the stone passages and guarded checkpoints of Edo Castle brought Sano and Hirata to the shogun’s palace. Snow gleamed white upon the gabled roofs and transformed the garden’s shrubs and boulders into ghostly shapes. Sano and Hirata trod softly in the eerie quiet, alone except for the sentries at the palace doors.
But the interior of the palace was a hive of activity. In the shogun’s private chamber, a funeral altar held smoking incense burners, hundreds of lit candles, and a portrait of Lord Mitsuyoshi. Sano and Hirata entered to find Shogun Tokugawa Tsunayoshi hunched on his bed on a raised platform. Swathed in quilts, his face haggard, and his head bare of the black cap of his rank, he looked less like the dictator of Japan than like an old peasant. He moaned with every breath. Edo Castle’s chief physician, dressed in a dark blue coat, felt the pulses of the shogun’s body; two more doctors mixed herb potions. Attendants and guards milled about. Near the platform, Chamberlain Yanagisawa sat facing four members of the Council of Elders.
“What is your diagnosis, Dr. Kitano-san?” asked Yanagisawa. Tall and slender, with sharp, elegant features, he was a man of remarkable beauty, clad in brilliant silk robes. His intense, liquid eyes watched the shogun.
“The death of Lord Mitsuyoshi has caused His Excellency a severe shock,” the doctor said gravely. “His emotions are out of equilibrium and threatening his physical health.”
Anxious murmurs arose as the elders, all dignified samurai of venerable age, conferred among themselves. Conspicuously absent was Senior Elder Makino, who Sano supposed was still journeying home from Yoshiwara.
Dr. Kitano palpated the shogun’s chest. “Do the pains persist here, Your Excellency?”
“Yes, ahh, yes!” Tokugawa Tsunayoshi groaned.
“He’s taken neither food nor drink all day,” the doctor informed the assembly. To the shogun he said, “You must keep up your strength. Won’t you please try to eat?”
Servants proffered bowls of broth and tea, which the shogun waved away. “Alas, I cannot. Ahh, how I suffer!”
Sano registered alarm at how badly the murder had affected his lord’s weak constitution, just as Tokugawa Tsunayoshi spied him and Hirata. “Ah, Sōsakan-sama, at last!” the shogun said; his swollen, red-rimmed eyes brightened. “Come here to me.”
Everyone watched Sano and Hirata approach the platform, kneel near the other officials, and bow. As the officials bowed to the newcomers, Chamberlain Yanagisawa’s face wore the deliberately bland expression with which he’d greeted Sano throughout their truce. The elders looked hopeful that good news would relieve the shogun’s illness, and Sano felt apprehension tighten his nerves.
“Have you caught the, ahh, evil criminal who killed my beloved cousin?” the shogun said with eager anticipation.
“Not yet, Your Excellency,” Sano was forced to reply.
Disappointment drew the shogun’s features into a frown. “And why have you not?”
“I apologize for the delay, Your Excellency, but there’s been insufficient time.” Sano masked fear with a calm, polite manner. The shogun had no understanding of detective work, and thus expected that every killer should be caught within the day.
“This case is a complex one, with many people to interview.”
“And many leads to pursue,” said Hirata, the only person to come to Sano’s defense.
“But I’ve got search parties looking for Lady Wisteria, the missing courtesan who was with the Honorable Lord Mitsuyoshi last night,” Sano said, “and—”
An impatient gesture from the shogun cut him short. “At least you can tell me exactly how, ahh, Mitsuyoshi-san was killed. No one else seems to know.”
Tokugawa Tsunayoshi cast an annoyed look at Yanagisawa and the elders, who turned to Sano. He understood that they did indeed know, but preferred not to deliver the news themselves.
“The Honorable Lord Mitsuyoshi died of a stab wound through the eye, inflicted with a woman’s hairpin, probably while he was semiconscious,” Sano said reluctantly.
The shogun drew a great inhalation of horror. “Merciful gods,” he whispered, then began to pant, clutching his chest. “Ahh, ahh, ahh! I’m dying!”
Physicians hastened to his aid. Sano and Hirata exchanged stricken glances. Tokugawa Tsunayoshi often fancied himself on his deathbed, but perhaps he really was this time.
Dr. Kitano held a cup to the shogun’s mouth and said, “Please drink this, Your Excellency.” The shogun gulped, then flopped back on the bed, sighing.
“My poor cousin,” he lamented weakly. “So beautiful and full of life one day, then dead and disfigured the next. The loss of his, ahh, companionship grieves me.” Tokugawa Tsunayoshi liked handsome young men, and Lord Mitsuyoshi had won the position of heir apparent by flattering, amusing, and flirting with the shogun. “For such a cruel killer, no punishment is too harsh, Sōsakan Sano, have you any idea who committed this terrible crime?”
“So far there’s one definite suspect: Lady Wisteria’s yarite.” Sano explained that the hairpin belonged to Momoko, and that she had found Lord Mitsuyoshi dead.
The shogun pushed himself upright. “Ahh, then this woman may be the culprit?”
“Yes. And I have arrested her,” a masculine voice said from the doorway.
Police Commissioner Hoshina entered the room. He must have ridden as fast and hard from Yoshiwara as had Sano; yet he’d changed from traveling garb to a maroon silk kimono, and looked stylish and vigorous. As he knelt beside the chamberlain, they betrayed no sign of their intimacy. Yanagisawa’s relationship with the shogun had never been exclusive, and it was no secret that they’d both enjoyed many other lovers, but Sano knew Yanagisawa never flaunted his affairs, lest their lord take unexpected offense. The elders’ courteous bows to Hoshina acknowledged his special status. Sano’s gut tightened: Hoshina’s arrival boded no good for him.
The shogun responded to Hoshina’s bow with a feeble smile. “Ahh, Hoshina-san, welcome. I was not aware that you were helping Sōsakan Sano with the, ahh, investigation.”
“I’m always ready to help when I’m needed,” Hoshina said in a humble tone that didn’t hide his arrogance from Sano. “And I believe I am needed in this investigation, because with all due respect to the sōsakan-sama, he appears determined to make slow progress.”
Sano had expected trouble from Hoshina
, but this was the first time Hoshina had attacked him in front of the shogun. His heart began to race, for he understood that his adversary had decided to make their rivalry public here and now.
Before he could counter the accusation, Hoshina said, “In spite of all the evidence against the suspect, the sōsakan-sama would not arrest her. He preferred to give her the benefit of the doubt. I had no choice but to step in.”
“You refused to arrest the person who killed my cousin?” The shogun gaped at Sano, appalled. “After I have elevated you, a former rōnin, to a high position and trusted you to do my bidding? Can this be true?”
“I am most grateful for your patronage, but I must say that the yarite’s guilt is by no means certain,” Sano defended himself. “The evidence doesn’t prove she’s the murderer.”
“Ahh, you are correct,” the shogun said, his opinion always easily swayed.
While Sano detested squabbling for power, he had to strike back at Hoshina. He said, “The police commissioner would rather persecute a convenient suspect before all the facts are in than make any effort to identify the true culprit.”
Now the shogun turned to Hoshina. “Would you indeed?” Angry color suffused his pale cheeks. “I allow you to, ahh, take over the police force, and you shirk your duty?”
“My duty is the reason I jailed the yarite,” Hoshina said deferentially, but with a venomous glance at Sano. “If there’s any chance that she killed Lord Mitsuyoshi, she shouldn’t be left free to attack other members of the Tokugawa regime.”
The shogun looked from Hoshina to Sano in confusion. The elders sat like stones, and Sano perceived their attention focused on Chamberlain Yanagisawa, though nobody looked straight at him. Yanagisawa, the power behind the shogun, usually took charge during meetings and settled arguments, but tonight he was in an aloof, enigmatic mood.
Smoking his pipe, his expression hooded, he merely said, “Have you anything else to report concerning your investigation, Sōsakan Sano?”
Sano Ichiro 7 The Pillow Book of Lady Wisteria (2002) Page 5
