Laura Joh Rowland - Sano Ichiro 07 - Pillow Book of Lady Wisteria

by Pillow Book of Lady Wisteria(lit)

  "Me? Why, no." The Rat looked dumbfounded, then guffawed. "Oh, you're joking. Even if I could afford Yoshiwara, those women would run screaming from me."

  Hirata experienced discouragement, because if the Rat knew nothing of Wisteria's lover, then the man had kept himself well hidden. Or perhaps the pages he'd bought from Gorobei were a false clue, as Reiko had suggested. "Let me know anything you hear about a Hokkaido man, particularly one traveling with a woman," Hirata said.

  "Will do." The Rat ambled away with his monkey.

  Impatient for action, Hirata decided to press onward to Fukagawa and search the noodle shops where Lady Wisteria and her lover might have taken refuge. But first he would visit his family and test the chances of his marriage to Midori.

  16

  A horde of bureaucrats paraded in and out of Sano's mansion, all with the intent of heaping suspicion on their enemies. They besieged Sano with unsubstantiated accusations until his mind whirled. By midmorning he couldn't endure any more self-serving attempts to manipulate him. Finally, during a break between calls, Sano donned his outdoor clothes and swords, then left the house in search of the one person who could tell him which rumors were true or false.

  The day was cold and bleak, the sky like raw, soiled cotton, the moist air gritty with soot. Below Edo Castle, the steel-gray river and canals carved a monotone cityscape. The hazy peaks of the hills outside town smudged the distance. Sano passed hurrying officials and patrolling troops as he ascended through the castle's stone-walled passages. Everyone's expression appeared as dismal as the weather. Sano walked faster, uneasy in the tension created by Lord Mitsuyoshi's murder; he could almost smell the impending purge in the air. Entering the palace, he proceeded to a secluded area in which he'd first set foot a lifetime ago.

  Here, hidden within a labyrinth of corridors, government offices, and reception rooms, lay the headquarters of the metsuke. The Tokugawa intelligence service occupied a room whose mean proportions belied its power. In compartments divided by paper-and-wood screens, men smoked tobacco pipes and studied maps hung on the walls; they conversed together or pored over papers at desks laden with scrolls, message containers, books, and writing implements. As Sano passed, heads turned toward him, and voices lowered.

  Inside the last compartment knelt a samurai dressed in black. He looked up from reading a ledger and bowed to Sano. "Greetings, Sosakan-sama."

  Sano returned the bow. "Greetings, Toda-san."

  Toda Ikkyu was a senior intelligence agent, and of such nondescript appearance that Sano might not recognize him if they met anywhere else. Neither short nor tall, fat nor thin, old nor young, Toda had weary eyes set in a face that no one would notice in a crowd. Sano had consulted Toda on past cases, and Toda had once described how he'd spied on an official suspected of treason. The official never recognized Toda, although they both worked in the palace and passed each other in the corridors daily. He went to his death on the execution ground without knowing who'd sent him there.

  "Can you spare me a moment of your time?" Sano asked, imagining that he might someday find himself the unwitting prey of the metsuke agent.

  "Certainly." Toda motioned for Sano to sit near him. His languid voice and gesture belonged to a man who seldom roused from a natural state of ennui. "I suppose this visit concerns your investigation of Lord Mitsuyoshi's murder?"

  "Yes," Sano said.

  "And you've come to me because you're deluged with rumors."

  Sano chuckled, because the extent of Toda's knowledge never ceased to amaze him. Toda also chuckled.

  "It never ceases to amaze me how far you've risen in the world since we first met," Toda said.

  They'd met during Sano's first murder case, when Sano had discovered a plot against the shogun and had come to Edo Castle to report it to the metsuke.

  "To go from renegade policeman on a personal crusade to Most Honorable Investigator for His Excellency is no small accomplishment," Toda said. "That you've kept the post for four years is a miracle, considering all the troubles you've had."

  "Is it any more a miracle than that you've kept your post in spite of all your troubles?" Sano couldn't resist saying.

  Toda had disbelieved Sano's story about the plot, and later, the shogun had punished the entire metsuke for failing to take the threat seriously. Agents had been demoted, banished, and executed, yet Toda had somehow survived. Sano suspected that Toda knew the secrets of many members of the bakufu's upper echelon, and had blackmailed them into protecting him.

  Now Toda smiled complacently. "We've both been fortunate," he said.

  "Good fortune is an impermanent condition," Sano said, "but perhaps we can maintain ours by working together."

  Toda's expression didn't change, but Sano felt the man's resistance to the hint that he'd better grant the favor Sano was about to ask. Metsuke agents had a habit of hoarding facts. They liked to know things that others didn't, they jealously guarded their unique power, and they wanted sole credit for keeping Japan under the bakufu's control. But sometimes their habit backfired on them.

  After the Black Lotus crisis, a disturbing fact had come to light: The metsuke possessed years of records that described the sect's illegal practices, yet had not only failed to prevent the sect from gaining an immense, dangerous following but had withheld their records from the Minister of Temples and Shrines, who'd tried to thwart the Black Lotus and asked the metsuke's help. Further investigation revealed sect members within the ranks of the metsuke. Toda had survived the purge that ensued, but even he wasn't invincible. The murder of Lord Mitsuyoshi was such a politically sensitive issue that for Toda to refuse to cooperate with Sano's investigation equaled suicide.

  "What can I do for you?" Toda said with weary capitulation.

  "Let's start with Treasury Minister Nitta," Sano said.

  The agent looked around the office, then rose and said, "Let's go elsewhere, shall we?"

  Soon they were walking along the Edo Castle racetrack. In summer, this was the scene of samurai riding horses at a furious pace, while palace officials cheered. But now the track was a bare strip of earth, the benches vacant; only a faint smell of manure lingered. An empty meadow, surrounded by pine trees and stone walls, isolated Sano and Toda.

  "Is it true that Nitta embezzles from the treasury?" Sano said.

  Toda looked as though he'd guessed what Sano would say, but frowned, nonetheless perturbed. "Where did you hear that?"

  "Nitta seems to have mentioned it to Lady Wisteria, who told another client," Sano said.

  "Well, he's the subject of a highly confidential investigation," Toda said. "I'm surprised that Nitta would incriminate himself, but men are sometimes careless about what they tell courtesans."

  "Then Nitta was embezzling," Sano inferred.

  Toda nodded, gazing over the walls at the rooftops of the palace stables. A flock of crows perched in the pine trees. "There have been discrepancies between tributes sent from the provinces and the money in the treasury accounts. After we investigated, our suspicion settled on Nitta. He'd always been honest before, but Yoshiwara is an expensive habit. We placed him under secret surveillance and observed him taking gold from the storehouse at night. He alters the entries in the account books to hide the missing money."

  The agent gave Sano a sharp glance. "How does Nitta's embezzlement fit into the murder case? Is he a likelier suspect because of it?"

  "That's possible," Sano said. "Maybe he killed Wisteria because he regretted telling her about his embezzlement and wanted to prevent her from reporting him. Even if she didn't have proof, and she was just a prostitute, her accusation could have hurt him."

  "Perhaps Wisteria told Lord Mitsuyoshi," said Toda. "In his hands, the knowledge could have been most dangerous to Nitta because he and Mitsuyoshi were on bad terms. Nitta wrote a report about how much money Lord Mitsuyoshi squandered and sent it to his family. His father was shocked by his extravagance, and cut his allowance. Mitsuyoshi blamed Nitta for impoverishing him. He be
lieved Nitta did it so he couldn't afford appointments with Wisteria."

  They reached the end of the racetrack and turned, retracing their steps. The crows swooped over the meadow like black kites, their caws loud in the still air. Sano pondered the fact that Toda had just contradicted the treasury minister's claim that he didn't love Wisteria and wasn't jealous of her other clients, but confirmed Senior Elder Makino's statement. "Then you think Nitta killed Mitsuyoshi and Wisteria both?"

  "He could be behind the murder and her disappearance," Toda said, "but he's not the type to dirty his hands by stabbing a man or abducting a woman."

  "Could his retainers have done the dirty work?" Sano said.

  "Unlikely. They're loyal to Nitta, but I doubt if their obedience extends to murdering the shogun's heir. Nitta has a wide acquaintance among the ruffians he meets in Yoshiwara. If I were you, I'd look into them."

  Sano would. Yet he had misgivings about the scenario he and Toda had devised. "If Wisteria was murdered in her room, there should have been some evidence of it, but I found no indication that anyone except Mitsuyoshi had died there. If she was abducted then killed someplace else, where is her body?"

  "I understand you're still searching the area around Yoshiwara, and along the highways," Toda said.

  "We've yet to find a corpse."

  "She could have been dumped in the Sumida River, the Sanya Canal, or one of the smaller waterways."

  But Sano's instincts told him that Wisteria was alive, and he had additional reason to discount the likelihood of her murder. The pillow book provided a scenario that didn't involve the treasury minister, and indicated that Wisteria's disappearance had been a voluntary elopement. However, Sano understood that even if the book was genuine, and Lady Wisteria had written the truth in the pages he'd read, they were only part of the whole book. Perhaps the unnamed lover from Hokkaido was just as possessive toward Wisteria and jealous of her clients as Nitta seemed. Perhaps he'd murdered the last client she'd entertained before they left Yoshiwara.

  "You might be interested to know that Treasury Minister Nitta was arrested early this morning," Toda said.

  "What?" Sano halted in surprise.

  "For his embezzlement," Toda explained. "By now, his trial should be underway." With a sly smile, Toda added, "If you need any further information from him, you'd best get over to Magistrate Aoki's Court of Justice."

  "But my investigation isn't finished. Nitta can't be tried now." Sano knew what would happen to the treasury minister. That Nitta had earned his fate didn't ease Sano's horror. Sano urgently beseeched Toda, "Please call off the trial!"

  "I'm sorry, but the matter is out of my hands." Shrugging, Toda contemplated the crows. They alighted in a black horde in the meadow, where they squawked and fluttered, squabbling over some bit of food. "And I venture to say that the murder investigation is out of yours."

  Hirata's family home was in the bancho, the district west of Edo Castle where the Tokugawa hatamoto occupied estates surrounded by live bamboo fences. Although these vassals had served the shogun's clan long and faithfully, they lived in conditions modest at best and often near poverty because of rising prices and the falling value of their stipends. Today the crowded neighborhood of ramshackle buildings looked drab indeed, with the bamboo withered and leafless. Hirata rode amid other samurai, along narrow, muddy dirt roads. He dismounted outside his parents' house, one of the poorest in the district.

  Entering the plain wooden gate, Hirata found the courtyard occupied by four horses, decked with fancy saddles and bridles, which didn't belong to his family. Three of his small nephews raced around the side of the low, weathered house, shouting. Hirata secured his own horse and went into the house. When he hung his swords in the entryway, he noticed four ornate sets of swords, presumably belonging to the visitors, on the racks with the plain weapons of his father and grandfathers. He entered the corridor and found the house full of people and noise. His grandmothers sat in the main room, smoking while they scolded the toddlers playing near them. Hirata heard the maids banging dishes in the kitchen, and a baby crying. Every time he came home, the place looked smaller and dingier. Today it was also chilly because his family needed to conserve fuel. Greeting his grandmothers, Hirata experienced guilt that his kin must endure this, while he enjoyed the quiet luxury of Sano's estate.

  His eldest widowed sister came carrying the baby. "How nice to see you, Brother," she said. "Many thanks for the clothes you sent the children."

  Spending most of his stipend on his family didn't ease Hirata's guilt. Before he could ask who was visiting them, his father's voice called from the parlor: "Is that you, Son? Please come in."

  Curious, Hirata obeyed. In the parlor sat his parents and a middle-aged samurai garbed in opulent robes. Near the samurai knelt three men in plainer dress, evidently his retainers. Hirata's mother was serving tea with her best utensils.

  "How fortunate that my son should arrive while you're here," Hirata's father said to the guest, then turned to Hirata. "You remember the Honorable Yoriki Okubo."

  "Of course." Hirata knelt beside his father and bowed to the guest. Yoriki Okubo had been his commander when he was a police officer, and his father had served under Okubo's. But the two clans had never been on intimate terms, and Hirata wondered why the yoriki had come. He said politely, "It's an honor to see you again. I hope you are well?"

  "Yes, thank you." Yoriki Okubo had fleshy, down-turned features. He observed Hirata with shrewd approval. "I can see that you are also well. Life in the sosakan-sama's employ suits you." After questioning Hirata about his duties, Okubo said, "That you make time in your busy day to visit your parents is a mark of good character."

  Hirata cast a puzzled glance at his father, who avoided his eyes and addressed Okubo: "My son is always conscientious about his duties to both his master and his family." Still without looking at Hirata, his father said to him, "Okubo-san has come on behalf of his colleague, the Honorable Yoriki Sagara."

  "My colleague has an unmarried daughter," Okubo said.

  Alarm struck Hirata as he comprehended that Okubo was here as a go-between, bearing him a marriage proposal from the other police commander. Since his parents clearly welcomed the proposal, it was obvious that they'd rejected the idea of his marriage to Midori.

  "A match between my son and the Sagara girl would be most suitable," said Hirata's father. "Their common heritage in the police force would be a foundation for a harmonious life."

  "There would be other benefits for both sides," Okubo said. "Speaking frankly, your son's status in the bakufu is valued by the Sagara clan. And their fortune is considerable."

  Hirata opened his mouth to protest; but his father spoke: "What about the girl herself? Is her character pleasing?"

  "Quite," Okubo said. "She is modest, obedient, and dutiful." He turned to Hirata. "She is also sixteen years old and very pretty."

  Hirata didn't care how wonderful the Sagara girl was. "Father," he said.

  An ominous look from his father and a frantic shushing gesture from his mother forestalled his protests. He squirmed in wordless agitation as the talk proceeded.

  "The next step is a miai, I presume?" said his father.

  "That can be arranged," Okubo said. "The Sagara are most eager for a meeting."

  Polite farewells ensued. Afterward, Hirata's father said to his wife, "My leg hurts from kneeling so long. I must have my medicinal bath."

  Hirata helped his mother fill a tub with hot water and herbs. His father sat on cushions with his thin, crooked leg immersed in the water.

  "Father, I don't want to go to that miai," Hirata said.

  "You must, because we've already committed ourselves." The older man spoke offhandedly, as though manners were their sole concern and he'd decided to pretend that Hirata had no serious reason for objecting to the miai. "For us to back out now would offend Yoriki Okubo and the Sagara clan."

  "Well, I won't go," Hirata said. His voice shook even as he folded his arms and
planted his legs wide. He, who supervised Sano's hundred detectives and troops, still quailed before paternal authority; he hated to defy his father. "I'm upset that you began this marriage negotiation behind my back."

  A glint of anger sparked in the older man's eyes. "It's my right to make arrangements on your behalf, and your duty to obey me," he said. "You will go to the miai and fulfill our obligations. Then, if you don't like the Sagara girl, we can politely refuse the proposal. There are plenty of other good clans eager to wed a daughter to you."

  "Father, I don't want anyone but Midori. I beg you not to force me into a marriage with another girl." Desperate, Hirata dropped to his knees. "Please reconsider allowing me to marry the woman I love. Please forgive Lord Niu and resume our marriage negotiations."

  "If you came here hoping to change my mind, then you've wasted your time." His father flexed his leg in the tub and glowered. "I forbid you to marry Lord Niu's daughter. I order you to choose one of the girls whom I consider suitable."