Black Lotus

by Laura Joh Rowland

  Sano bid farewell to the novice nuns and walked to a low, thatch-roofed building. The priests had supposedly taken Pious Truth to the temple hospital, and Reiko would expect Sano to look for the monk there.

  Inside the hospital were thirty mattresses on wooden pallets, all occupied. Three nuns bathed the sick, served them tea, and massaged backs. Sano walked along the rows, inspecting the patients. They were male and female, all middle-aged or old.

  “Are there any other patients elsewhere?” Sano asked a nun.

  “No, master,” she said.

  “Has a young novice monk named Pious Truth been recently treated here?”

  “No, master.”

  A physician in a dark blue coat entered, knelt beside a bed containing an elderly man, and spooned liquid from a bowl into the patient’s mouth.

  Sano walked over to the doctor and asked, “What ails your patient?”

  “He has a fever,” the doctor said, adding, “I’m giving him willow-wood juice.”

  This was a standard remedy. “Do you ever perform medical experiments on the sect members?” Sano asked.

  “Never.”

  The doctor looked genuinely shocked by Sano’s suggestion that he would endanger his patients’ lives. The nuns came over to join them, and Sano asked the group, “Has anyone from here disappeared recently?”

  “No, master,” said the doctor.

  The old man in bed mumbled something.

  “What did you say?” Sano asked

  “Chie,” said the old man. His bony cheeks were flushed, his eyes dazed. “She’s one of the nurses. Used to take care of me. Haven’t seen her in days.”

  “He’s delirious,” the doctor told Sano apologetically. “There has never been a nurse named Chie here.”

  Sano looked at the nuns, who murmured in agreement “Has Haru ever been treated here?” Sano said.

  “Yes,” said the doctor. “Haru is a patient of Dr. Miwa, our chief physician. Her spiritual disharmony causes bad behavior.”

  Sano considered the possibility that everyone at the temple was part of a conspiracy bent on hiding secrets from him and smearing Haru’s reputation, but these people seemed honest. After leaving the hospital, he wandered through the temple precinct. He observed nuns and monks tending the gardens and washing dishes in the kitchen. They appeared as normal as the clergy at any other temple, and their activities mundane. Sano continued on to the orphanage. He thought of his interview with Haru’s parents, and guilt tugged at him, because he was about to do something else he hadn’t mentioned to Reiko.

  Children’s laughter and shouts greeted his entry into the garden surrounding the orphanage. Under the supervision of two nuns, the thirty-one orphans were running, jumping, and skipping in play. They ranged in age from a toddler, who reminded Sano of Masahiro, to two girls of ten or eleven years tossing a leather ball with some younger boys. One of the boys missed a catch, and the ball flew toward Sano. He caught it. The group turned to him, wary at the sight of a stranger.

  “Watch,” Sano said.

  He kicked the ball high in the air. The children squealed in delight, and a boy caught the ball. He clumsily imitated Sano’s kick, booting the ball into some bushes.

  “Here, I’ll show you,” Sano said. With his coaching, the children mastered the trick and began a lively contest to see who could kick the ball highest. Someone sent the ball soaring over the orphanage roof. The boys ran to retrieve it, and Sano turned to the two girls.

  “Is Haru a friend of yours?” he asked.

  The girls moved close together, suddenly shy. The taller, who was delicate and pretty, blurted, “We don’t like Haru. Nobody does.”

  “Why not?” Sano asked.

  “She’s mean,” the other girl said, her round face puckering in dislike. “If we don’t do what she says, she hits us. Um, the littler ones are afraid of her because she picks on them.”

  Sano listened in consternation. Their story contradicted the one Haru had given Reiko, who he knew would be upset to learn that the orphans Haru had professed to love considered her a bully. Sano also knew that these bad character references could help him convict Haru. If she was cruel to children, she might have killed the little boy found in the fire. More mixed feelings plagued Sano. He was eager to solve the case, yet disturbed to think of himself and Reiko compiling evidence for and against Haru like warlords stocking arsenals for a battle. Although he didn’t relish the idea of losing, he wondered if Reiko was right about the Black Lotus in one respect.

  It appeared that Haru had offended many people here. Maybe they were seeking revenge, as she’d claimed, by implicating her in murder and arson.

  The boys had returned with the ball. One of them said, “It’s no use telling the nuns or priests how Haru treats us. They won’t stop her.”

  “Why not?” Sano said.

  “Haru is High Priest Anraku’s favorite. She can do whatever she wants.”

  Sano saw that he must speak with Anraku. The high priest had been secluded in prayer rituals during his previous visits to the temple, and he’d willingly postponed an interview because he’d considered Anraku neither a witness nor a suspect, but now it was imperative that he question the high priest about Haru.

  “I’m trying to find out who set the fire,” Sano said to the children. “Do you know anything that might help me?”

  The boys shook their heads. Glances passed between the two girls. “Haru did it,” said the pretty one.

  Children often made up stories and repeated things they’d heard, Sano knew; as a father, he felt a certain responsibility toward these children who had no parents. He sent the boys off to play ball, then asked the girls, “What are your names?”

  “Yukiko,” said the pretty one.

  “Hanako,” said the round-faced one.

  “Yukiko-chan and Hanako-chan, it’s wrong to accuse someone unless you have facts to prove your accusation,” Sano said. “Do you think Haru set the fire just because other people say so?”

  Again the girls looked at each other. Hanako said, “Um, the night before the fire, we went to bed in the dormitory, but instead of going to sleep, we watched Haru.”

  “She sneaks out at night all the time,” said Yukiko. “We wanted to follow her and see where she went.”

  “We thought that if we could catch her doing something really bad, we could, um, report her,” Hanako said. “High Priest Anraku would find out that she’s no good and expel her.”

  Sano was startled by the vindictive cunning of these innocent-looking girls, and his expression must have revealed disapproval, because Yukiko said hastily, “Oh, we wouldn’t really have reported Haru. We were just going to tell her that we would unless she stopped hurting us.”

  Their childish blackmail scheme disconcerted Sano even more. How early they’d learned the ways of the world! “What happened?” he asked.

  “When the temple bell rang at midnight, Haru got out of bed and left the dormitory,” Yukiko said. “We went after her.”

  “She tiptoed through the precinct,” Hanako said. “She kept looking around like she was, um, afraid to be seen.”

  “We followed her down the path,” Yukiko said, “then Hanako got scared.”

  Hanako said defensively, “I knew that if Haru saw us, she would be angry. She would, um, be even meaner to us. So I made Yukiko go back to the dormitory with me.”

  “Then you didn’t see what Haru did?” Sano said.

  “No,” Yukiko said, “but we followed her as far as the garden outside that cottage that burned down.”

  “She acted sneaky, like she was doing something wrong,” Hanako said. “She must have set the fire.”

  Maybe Ham had gone to the cottage to meet Commander Oyama, Sano thought. If so, what had happened between them? How did the murdered woman and boy fit into this scenario?

  “Did you see anyone else near the cottage?” Sano asked.

  “No, master,” said Yukiko.

  “Did you hear any unusual no
ises?”

  The girls shook their heads. If they were telling the truth—and Sano saw no indications otherwise—then this was confirmation of Abbess Junketsu-in’s claim that Haru had sneaked out of the dormitory that night.

  “What did you do then?” Sano said.

  “We, um, went back to bed.”

  Still, the girls couldn’t account for the later missing hours in Haru’s life. Sano thanked them, then toured the temple, inspecting the buildings and grounds. He found no doorways to underground passages. On a path he met a pilgrim carrying a pack on his back and a walking staff in his hand. The face under his wicker hat belonged to Detective Kanry. He bowed to Sano, showing no sign of recognition, shook his head slightly, then walked on. Sano interpreted this signal to mean that his surveillance team hadn’t yet discovered anything amiss in the temple.

  At the abbot’s residence, an attendant told Sano that High Priest Anraku was engaged in meditation. Sano was annoyed at being put off, but he didn’t want to disrupt the temple routine and offend the shogun’s religious sensibilities, so he scheduled an appointment with Anraku for tomorrow afternoon. Then he walked to the hall that served as headquarters for his investigation. There, three of his detectives were questioning Black Lotus members.

  “Any luck?” Sano asked them between interviews.

  “We’ve questioned about half the sect,” said a detective. “So far, there’s nothing to indicate that any of Commander Oyama’s family or known enemies were here at the time of the fire. And there doesn’t appear to be anyone with cause or opportunity to have committed the crimes.”

  Except Haru, Sano thought grimly. He joined his detectives in interviewing nuns and priests, aware that until he found evidence against someone else, Haru remained his only suspect, and he would somehow have to detach Reiko from her.

  14

  He who denounces those who embrace the Law of the Black

  Lotus

  Will not be believed,

  For he speaks not the real truth.

  —FROM THE BLACK LOTUS SUTRA

  The shogun’s mother, his two hundred concubines, and their attendants lived in a secluded area of the palace known as the Large Interior. Reiko entered by its private gate. Walking through a garden green and fresh from the rain, she came upon a group of young women dressed in bright kimonos, gathering asters and reeds in the late-afternoon sunshine. Among the women Reiko spied Midori, who smiled and hurried to greet her.

  “Hello, Reiko-san,” Midori said. “What brings you here?”

  “I need to see His Excellency’s mother,” Reiko said.

  “Then I must warn you that Lady Keisho-in is in one of her moods. We’ve had a terrible time keeping her entertained. Now she’s sent us out to pick flowers for her to arrange.” Midori sighed at the plight of herself and the other ladies-in-waiting. “Maybe a visit from you will improve her temper.”

  Reiko and Midori walked toward the building, a wing of the palace with a gabled tile roof over plaster and timber walls. Midori said hesitantly, “Have you seen Hirata-san today?”

  “Yes, as I was leaving the house this morning,” Reiko said.

  “Did he …” Midori looked down at the flower basket in her hands. “Did he say anything about me?”

  “We didn’t speak at all,” Reiko said, sparing her friend the knowledge that Hirata never mentioned Midori anymore. Reiko had noticed Hirata’s lack of attention to her friend, and Midori’s growing despondency. She knew Midori was in love with Hirata, but although she and Sano had cherished hopes of a match between them, social considerations and Hirata’s indifference made the possibility of their marriage remote.

  “I don’t know what to do!” Midori cried. Tears spilled down her cheeks. “How can I make him like me again?”

  Reiko privately thought Hirata had turned into a conceited boor who wasn’t worth such anguish, but she wanted to help her friend. “Maybe you should show special interest in his life.”

  “I’ve already tried that.” Midori sniffled. “I offered to help him solve a case, but he just laughed.”

  “Well, maybe that’s not such a good idea,” Reiko said, quailing at the thought of delicate, innocent Midori involved in dangerous detective work.

  “You mean you don’t think I’m capable either?” Midori said, pouting.

  “It’s not that,” Reiko said hastily. “But most men don’t admire cleverness in a woman or want her meddling in their business, and I doubt if Hirata-san does, either. Maybe you should just look as pretty as possible and be cold and aloof toward him. That should spark his interest in you.”

  Comprehension shone in Midori’s eyes. “Of course! He’ll want me because he thinks I don’t want him. Oh, thank you,” she exclaimed, hugging Reiko. “I can’t wait to see Hirata-san and show him how little he means to me!”

  Inside the Large Interior, rooms were crammed with pretty young women playing cards, combing their hair, and chattering among themselves. Their shrill voices deafened Reiko as she walked through the narrow, winding corridors with Midori. A cypress door, resplendent with carved dragons, marked the entrance to Lady Keisho-in’s private chambers. Two sentries—among the few men allowed in the Large Interior—stood outside. From inside came gay samisen music. Keisho-in’s crusty old voice yelled, “I’m sick of that song. Play something else,” then subsided into phlegmy coughing.

  Another tune began. The sentries admitted Midori and Reiko to a room filled with tobacco smoke. Through its haze Reiko saw the samisen player seated amid other ladies-in-waiting. Around them lay cards, tea bowls, and plates of food. Lady Keisho-in lolled upon cushions. She was a small, squat woman clad in a cobalt silk kimono; a silver tobacco pipe protruded from her mouth. Puffing, she squinted at the doorway.

  “Midori-san? Don’t just stand there, come over here.” Ill temper coarsened her voice. “Who is that with you?”

  Reiko and Midori knelt before the shogun’s mother and bowed. “I present the Honorable Lady Reiko,” Midori said.

  “Splendid!” With a grunt, Lady Keisho-in pushed herself upright. Her dyed black hair, thick white face powder, and crimson rouge gave her a guise of youth, but her sixty-seven years showed in her sagging bosom and double chin. She smiled, revealing gaps between her cosmetically blackened teeth; her rheumy eyes sparkled.

  “Life is so melancholy these days, and it cheers me to see you,” she said to Reiko. She signaled the attendants, who poured tea for Reiko. “Have some refreshments.”

  “Thank you,” Reiko said, glad of Lady Keisho-in’s welcome. She’d visited Keisho-in before, but never without invitation, and she’d feared offending the mother of her husband’s lord.

  “My, it’s been ages since we last met.” Keisho-in shifted to a more comfortable position for a good chat. The samisen music continued; Midori and the other attendants sat in polite silence. “What have you been doing?”

  “Taking care of my son,” Reiko said. “He’s eighteen months old now, and he keeps me quite busy.”

  “I recall my own dear boy at that age,” Keisho-in said with fond nostalgia. “He loved his mama so much that he couldn’t bear to be separated from her. He was so obedient and docile.”

  He hasn’t changed much, Reiko thought. The shogun depended on his mother for advice on how to rule Japan, and Lady Keisho-in was one of his most influential companions. Her word could elevate or destroy the careers of bakufu officials. Fortunately, Sano had earned her goodwill, and it was this goodwill that Reiko hoped to benefit from today.

  “How is your health?” Keisho-in asked. “Do your breasts give plenty of milk? Hmm, your figure looks fine.” With a lewd cackle, she added, “I bet you and your husband have resumed marital relations.”

  Blushing in embarrassment, Reiko nodded. The woman had such a vulgar habit of discussing intimate subjects!

  “Move closer so I can get a better look at you,” Keisho-in said. Reiko obeyed. Keisho-in scrutinized her, then declared, “Motherhood becomes you.” Heightened interest lit
her gaze. “In fact, it has increased your beauty.”

  “Many thanks for the undeserved praise,” Reiko said politely. “I know I look terrible.”

  “Oh, you’re too modest.” Lady Keisho-in dimpled. “Now tell me, what news is there of the ssakan-sama?”

  “He’s investigating the fire and murders at the Black Lotus Temple,” Reiko said, leading the conversation to the topic of importance to her.

  “Men,” scoffed Keisho-in. She inhaled on her pipe, exhaled smoke, and coughed, shaking her head. “Always so absorbed in business. Do you know that Priest Ryuko has gone off somewhere and left me by myself all day?”

  Ryuko was Keisho-in’s spiritual adviser and lover. Evidently, his abandonment had caused her bad mood. Now she fluttered a silk fan in front of her face. Above it, her eyes twinkled at Reiko. “I bet your man has left you to your own devices, too.”

  “Actually, he’s asked me to help with the case,” Reiko said.

  She explained about Haru, and her belief that the Black Lotus sect was involved in the crimes. Lady Keisho-in listened eagerly, uttering exclamations: “Shocking!” “Remarkable!” Her attention encouraged Reiko to hope that Keisho-in would grant the favor she wanted.

  “I need to speak with High Priest Anraku, the leader of the sect,” Reiko said, “but his subordinates wouldn’t let me.”

  “Disgusting!” Keisho-in grimaced. “Those people take too much authority upon themselves.”

  “Perhaps if I had assistance from a person of influence … ?” Reiko hinted.

  “I suppose that might help,” Keisho-in agreed cheerfully.

  “Someone to whom the high priest owes a duty could convince him to grant me an audience,” Reiko said.

  Smiling, Keisho-in nodded, but it was obvious that she had no idea what Reiko meant. Mirth shimmered behind the stoic faces of the ladies-in-waiting. Reiko gave up on subtlety. “The high priest would see me if you ordered him to,” she said.

  “Of course he would.” Comprehension brightened Keisho-in’s face. “He has to do what I say. All of his kind must.”