The Fire Kimono

by Laura Joh Rowland

  “Ahh, a new suspect,” the shogun said, impressed.

  But Yoritomo looked unhappy instead of pleased that Sano had made headway toward clearing his mother. Sano wondered why.

  “And I’ve discovered that my mother has an alibi for the murder,” Sano continued. “Her maid was with her before Tadatoshi disappeared and during the whole time after.”

  “So she couldn’t have, ahh, kidnapped and killed him,” the shogun deduced.

  Lord Matsudaira would surely have denounced the alibi as fake, created by a loyal servant in debt to her mistress. But the shogun hadn’t the wits to think of that himself. Sano said, “Hana also identified another suspect. She heard him threaten Tadatoshi soon before he disappeared. It’s Colonel Doi.”

  “Doi?” The shogun’s mouth fell open. “To think he accused your mother of the crime that he could be guilty of committing!” Enlightenment came over the shogun’s face. “Maybe he’s trying to protect himself.” His ability to draw mental lines between evidence and conclusions improved without Lord Matsudaira around to muddy the waters. “Well, Sano-san, I must say that I am, ahh, leaning toward believing your mother is innocent.”

  Sano and Hirata exchanged a glance of cautious triumph.

  Yoritomo cleared his throat and said, “Your Excellency, it’s not enough that Chamberlain Sano has produced other suspects besides his mother.” He gave Sano a look that was apologetic yet defiant. “We still don’t know who’s guilty.”

  Sano regarded Yoritomo with surprise. They’d been friends for years, and Yoritomo had often professed himself willing to do anything for Sano. Why had he now taken on the role of detractor? Sano experienced a moment of déjà vu. Once Yanagisawa had sat beside the shogun and belittled Sano. Now Yanagisawa’s son, his very image, was in the same place.

  “Yes, that’s right. I still want to know who killed my cousin,” the shogun said, visibly cooling toward Sano. “What else are you doing to find out?”

  Hirata spoke up. “I’m looking for an important witness, the tutor that Colonel Doi says was involved in the kidnapping and murder.” He described how he’d gone to the temple that Egen had once belonged to and learned that Egen had left town after the Great Fire. “I’ve begun a nationwide search for him.”

  It sounded futile, but Sano was glad Hirata was making such a heroic effort. The shogun said peevishly, “Well, ahh, I guess that will have to do for now.” He held out his hand to Yoritomo, who helped him rise. “We must be going. It’s time for my medicine.”

  As they walked toward the door, Yoritomo sidled past Sano, face averted. Sano signaled Hirata, who accompanied the shogun down the corridor, distracting him with conversation. Sano stood in front of Yoritomo so he couldn’t follow.

  “What’s going on?” Sano asked.

  Yoritomo looked at the floor. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Yes, you do,” Sano said. “You deliberately turned the shogun against me.”

  “I only pointed out a fact that seemed worth mentioning.” Yoritomo’s voice quavered.

  “I thought we were friends. What’s the matter?”

  The shogun called, “Yoritomo-san! Come along!”

  “I have to go.” Yoritomo ducked around Sano and scuttled down the corridor.

  Sano was left with growing suspicions.

  It was evening by the time Sano rejoined his family.

  Reiko and the children sat in the guest chamber with his mother. Etsuko lay propped up on cushions in bed, with Hana at her side. Masahiro arranged his toy soldiers in ranks on the floor while his grandmother smiled fondly at him and cuddled Akiko in her arms. The children chattered. Reiko had been waiting anxiously for Sano, and when he appeared in the doorway, she leaped to her feet. The children ran to him, and Akiko hugged his leg while he greeted his mother. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  The smile faded from the old woman’s face. She murmured, “Yes.” She’d clearly seen from his expression that their problems were far from solved.

  So had Reiko. “What happened?” she asked.

  “Let’s go somewhere else, and I’ll explain,” Sano said. He tousled the children’s hair. “Masahiro, Akiko, keep Grandma company. Mother, I’ll talk to you later.”

  In the privacy of their room, Reiko said, “First, tell me what your mother said this morning.”

  Sano rubbed his forehead, weary and upset. “She said she didn’t kill Tadatoshi. But she does know Colonel Doi, the man who accused her. They were once engaged to be married.”

  Astounded, Reiko shook her head. There seemed no end to her mother-in-law’s secrets. They further undermined Reiko’s good opinion of Etsuko.

  “But I turned up some witnesses who can help her,” Sano said, brightening. “Tadatoshi’s mother and sister will vouch for her character. And Hana has said that she and my mother were together before, during, and after the Great Fire. My mother couldn’t have gone to the shrine and killed Tadatoshi.”

  This last news dismayed rather than gladdened Reiko. It contradicted what Etsuko had told her. She could tell by the expression on Sano’s face that he’d noticed the worry in hers.

  “Has something happened?” he asked.

  “Lieutenant Asukai and I have set a trap for the spy,” Reiko said, delaying the bad news. She related the details.

  “That’s good, I hope it works.” Sano studied her curiously, then said, “What else?”

  Cautious because she knew he wouldn’t welcome any statements that put his mother in the wrong light, Reiko said, “I talked to your mother, while you were gone.”

  “And?”

  “I was trying to help her, and you. I asked her if there was anyone who could give her an alibi, and she said no,” Reiko said reluctantly. “But if she and Hana had really been together, wouldn’t she have told me so?”

  Sano frowned, disturbed because Reiko had put the alibi in question. “Maybe she forgot that Hana was with her.”

  “Maybe.” But Reiko doubted that her mother-in-law would have forgotten such a crucial fact. To her, Etsuko had appeared less impaired of memory than deliberately evasive. It seemed more plausible that Hana had lied, Etsuko hadn’t known that Hana was going to cover for her, and they hadn’t gotten their stories straight.

  A moment passed, during which neither Reiko nor Sano spoke. Then Sano said, “Do you think my mother is guilty?” His tone was partly accusatory, partly defensive.

  “No,” Reiko said, so fast that Sano eyed her with surprise. “But I think she’s withholding information—” Reiko faltered under his look, which anticipated betrayal and hurt. An uncomfortable, familiar tension vibrated between them. Reiko had felt it before, on occasions when their opinions of a suspect’s guilt or innocence had differed. But this time they couldn’t afford to be at odds. “Information that could help her,” Reiko hastily amended. “Sometimes people charged with crimes just don’t want their private business aired, even if it has nothing to do with the crimes.”

  She didn’t want Sano to think she was digging for proof that Etsuko was guilty and taking the accusers’ side against his mother. If their positions were reversed and her father had been accused, she would want nothing less than Sano’s complete faith that her father was innocent. Now she saw relief in Sano’s expression.

  “I could talk to your mother again, if you like,” Reiko suggested. “Maybe she’ll open up and tell me more.”

  Sano considered a moment. Reiko could feel him weighing possible benefits and dangers. Then he let out his breath. “All right. I haven’t gotten much out of her myself. You might as well go ahead, as long as you’re gentle with her. What could it hurt?”

  At the temple in Shinagawa, the priests knelt in the main worship hall for evening prayers. Light from a thousand candles shimmered on their saffron robes and their shaved heads, on the golden Buddha statue surrounded by gold lotus flowers upon the altar. Sweet, pungent incense smoke and the rhythmic drone of the priests’ chanting rose heavenward.

  Yanagisawa
knelt in his usual position at the back of the hall. Chanting along with the other men, he didn’t look up when Yoritomo, dressed in a hooded cloak, tiptoed into the room and knelt beside him. Nor did Yoritomo appear to notice Yanagisawa. Eyes downcast, they carried on a conversation below the sound of the praying.

  “This must be urgent, if you couldn’t wait until we’re finished,” Yanagisawa whispered.

  “It is,” Yoritomo whispered back. “And I can only stay a little while. The shogun is keeping me on a tight rein.” He told Yanagisawa about the good character reference that Sano’s mother had received from Tadatoshi’s mother and sister, the new suspect they’d named, the evidence against Colonel Doi, and Hirata’s search for the missing tutor.

  Yanagisawa frowned. “Our friend Sano is doing too well with his investigation.”

  “I’m sorry to disappoint you.” Yoritomo sounded as distressed as if Sano’s progress were his own fault.

  “But we shouldn’t be surprised,” Yanagisawa said. “Sano has a talent for fighting his way out of a thornbush. I’ve been watching him do it for ten years. I swear, he must have a guardian deity.”

  But not even divine protection could save Sano much longer.

  Yoritomo didn’t answer. A sidelong glance at him showed Yanagisawa that his son was more distressed than ever. Fearing that Yoritomo had saved worse news for last, Yanagisawa asked, “What else?”

  “I criticized Sano in front of the shogun. I turned the shogun against him a little.”

  “That’s excellent,” Yanagisawa said. “Why so glum?”

  “You should have seen the look in Sano’s eyes. He was hurt because I betrayed him.”

  Yanagisawa refrained from pointing out that Yoritomo could hardly have expected Sano to be delighted. Yoritomo was easily wounded by sarcasm. “Sano is used to treachery. He shouldn’t be so sensitive.”

  “But I feel awful!”

  “Don’t,” Yanagisawa said. “Just remember, taking Sano down is necessary. If he falls out of favor with the shogun, that’s good. This is war. It’s either him or us.”

  A mournful sigh issued from Yoritomo. “I know.”

  “It’s done,” Yanagisawa said. “Just forget it.”

  “It wasn’t all that happened. Afterward, Sano cornered me. He wanted to know why I did it.” Anxiety filled Yoritomo’s whisper. “He asked what was going on.”

  The priests chanted louder, faster. Hands rubbed rosaries between palms. The incense smoke thickened, bittersweet and poisonous. Yanagisawa experienced a pang of fear. “Did you tell him that I’m back and we’re in contact?”

  He risked a direct look at Yoritomo, who said, “No!” The young man’s expression begged Yanagisawa to give him some credit. “I made an excuse, then got away as fast as I could. But I’m sorry, Father—I’m not good at these political games. I think he suspects.”

  “There’s no reason he should,” Yanagisawa assured his son. His cover was good; not a single rumor about his return from exile had leaked. But he’d underestimated Sano in the past, to his own detriment. He wouldn’t repeat the same mistake. “But we’ll play it safe. Don’t speak against Sano anymore.”

  “I won’t.” Yoritomo spoke with obvious relief, even though he still reeked of unhappiness. After a pause he said, “There’s more bad news.”

  “What?” Yanagisawa braced himself.

  “Shigeta, Tamura, Mimaki, and Ota were captured today.”

  Those men had numbered among Yanagisawa’s key underground soldiers. “How? Where?”

  “Toda Ikkyu trapped them at a bathhouse.”

  Yanagisawa stifled a curse. “What’s happened to them?”

  “They’re being interrogated. That was all I could find out without asking too many questions and making people wonder why I’m curious.”

  Yanagisawa wasn’t upset only because he’d lost some important men. “They know I’m here. If they should talk—”

  “They won’t. They’re tough, loyal samurai.” Yoritomo sounded as if he were trying to ease his own mind as well as Yanagisawa’s. “They’ll die first.”

  “Maybe,” Yanagisawa said, “but things are getting too hot. Sooner or later someone will be captured who will talk. We have to act fast.”

  The chanting rose to a crescendo. The priests’ faces wore rapt, urgent expressions. “We can’t just stand by and hope Sano’s luck will turn bad,” Yanagisawa said. “It’s time for us to take a more active, personal role against him.”

  “How?” With one word Yoritomo conveyed that he was unwilling yet committed to helping his father engineer his friend’s demise.

  A priest near the altar beat a gong, its sound a quickening metal pulse. Yanagisawa thought about the events Yoritomo had reported. He mulled over different aspects of Sano’s murder investigation, spied one he could turn to his advantage, and smiled. “I have an idea. Listen.”

  The next morning, while Hirata ate breakfast, Midori entered his chamber, holding a child by each hand. She said, “Good morning, Honorable Husband.”

  Her manner was polite, aloof. The children gazed curiously at his bowl of fish topped with sliced ginseng root to stimulate mental and physical energy, fleece flower to strengthen the blood, and lycii berries to improve eyesight. They were somber in the presence of this strange father who ate weird food, said little, and did puzzling things.

  “Good morning.” Hirata hadn’t seen Midori since yesterday. She hadn’t slept in their room with him last night. Since he’d returned home they’d shared a bed, but they’d not touched except by accident. Now she’d cut off even this physical contact. The distance between them had widened into an unbridgeable gulf.

  “Excuse me for interrupting you,” Midori said.

  Overnight something had changed in her. She was behaving as traditional wives did toward their husbands, with restrained civility. This disturbed Hirata more than her fits of temper. Was it a new tactic in this war of theirs? He studied Midori as he would an opponent on a battlefield. His trained perception sensed no aggression in her, no trick to goad him into another argument. Rather, her emotional energy had contracted within her, giving off neither heat nor light for him to read. Baffled, he settled on caution as his best course.

  “That’s all right, you’re not interrupting anything,” he said. “Come in. Sit with me.”

  “I will if you insist, Husband.” Midori was uncharacteristically meek, subservient. “But I have to feed the children.” They clung to her hands, regarding both parents in obvious fear of another quarrel.

  Hirata was tempted to ask what she was up to, but his instincts warned him off. Revealing confusion to his opponent put a warrior at a disadvantage. He felt vexed because he could figure out any man during a sword fight but not his wife in his own home.

  “Very well,” he said, matching her formal manner. If this was a game, two could play. “Was there something you wanted to say to me?”

  “Yes,” Midori said. “Detective Arai is waiting for you in the reception room. I came to fetch you.”

  Hirata welcomed the prospect of starting the day’s work, which was something he could master. He felt a pang of fear stronger than any he’d experienced in battle. It stemmed from his sense that Midori could hurt him worse than could any foe.

  “What does Arai want?” Hirata asked.

  “He’s found someone you’ve been looking for. A tutor.”

  “One of my search parties came across a lead a few hours ago,” Hirata told Sano as they rode their horses down the boulevard outside Edo Castle. Sano’s entourage rode at their front, flanks, and rear, ever vigilant. “They met a fellow who said he knows a man named Egen who used to be a monk.”

  “Can it really be the tutor?” Sano was hopeful yet not quite ready to believe.

  “He’s in his sixties, which would put him at the right age,” Hirata said. “And he once belonged to Egen’s temple.”

  “And he’s right here in Edo.” That they’d found the tutor after only a day’s search seemed t
oo good to be true. “Maybe this is the break we need to clear my mother, if not solve the crime,” Sano said. “Where is Egen?”

  “Living in the Kodemmacho district.”

  This was the same neighborhood through which Sano had passed on his way to Edo Jail two days ago. Now there was no need for a disguise. As they rode down the main street that crossed the slum, his party turned heads among the residents. Women lugging babies on their backs and pails of water in their hands stopped and stared. Not many samurai officials came this way. Laborers on their way to work bowed to Sano. Children and beggars trailed his retinue in hope of alms.

  Today Sano saw beyond the poverty and the dirt. This investigation had put the Great Fire on his mind. He noted the smoke from many braziers and hearths, so dense that the atmosphere was gray even on a clear, sunny morning like this. The wind whipped the smoke around dilapidated houses set too close together. A fire that started in one would burn many others before it could be extinguished. Wells were few, water scarce. The narrow streets would impede escape. In any natural disaster, the poor always suffered worst.

  “According to directions from the man who gave the tip, this is where Egen lives,” Hirata said, leading the way down an alley barely wide enough for the group to pass through single-file. Laundry on clotheslines stretched across the alley brushed their heads. The stench of humans crowded together in unsanitary conditions was overpowering. Hirata stopped his horse at a gate made of dingy boards. “Here.”

  Sano, Hirata, Marume, and Fukida dismounted. Hirata pushed open the gate. Leaving the troops in the alley, Sano and the detectives followed Hirata down the muddy passage between the blank, windowless walls of two tenements, past reeking garbage containers. They entered a yard enclosed by buildings. Doors on the lower stories opened directly onto the yard. Balconies cluttered with junk fronted second-story dwellings. Sano heard voices arguing and children shrieking, but the yard was empty except for two unshaven, surly men.