Yuriko accepted the rebuff with the nonchalance of someone who’d survived many disappointments in life. “Maybe next time.”
As she led him toward the nuns and shrine attendants who still flocked outside Asakusa Jinja Shrine, Hirata reflected that he’d unearthed compromising evidence against both Agemaki and Okitsu. It might justify his misbehavior and please Sano, if not solve the murder case. There remained suspects in Senior Elder Makino’s household who were still unknown quantities to Hirata. He would give much to know what was going on inside that estate now.
* * *
18
Reiko carried a tray laden with food and drink down the corridor of Senior Elder Makino’s private chambers. After hours of washing laundry under the housekeeper Yasue’s strict supervision, she was more exhausted than from the most strenuous martial arts practice. Her clothes were damp, grimy, and sweaty. A bump had sprouted on her head where Yasue had hit her again, and her cut finger burned from the lye soap used in the laundry. Never did she want to touch another piece of soiled bedding or underwear! When Yasue had ordered her to serve dinner to the actor and concubine, Reiko had rejoiced at the chance to escape drudgery and spy on them.
She knelt at the open door of Koheiji’s room and staggered across the threshold, awkwardly balancing the tray. The room was bright and warm from glowing lanterns and numerous charcoal braziers. Inside, surrounded by theatrical costumes on wooden stands, Koheiji and Okitsu lolled on floor cushions, laughing together at some joke. They both wore colorful silk dressing gowns. His head lay in her lap. As Reiko set the tray near them, she reflected that she’d learned something today besides that Senior Elder Makino had had bizarre sexual habits and his chief retainer had behaved suspiciously.
There could be no doubt that his concubine and houseguest were lovers.
“Oh, good, our meal is here!” Okitsu said. “I’m starving!”
She ignored Reiko; the lavish spread of sashimi, grilled prawns, sweet cakes, and other delicacies commanded all her attention. Koheiji gave Reiko an appraising glance that she thought he probably gave all women who happened into his view. She saw his eyes register her plain looks and dismiss her as unworthy of his interest. He said to Okitsu, “Feed me.”
Okitsu popped morsels into his mouth and her own. Reiko set the sake decanter on a brazier to warm. She was glad that her disguise worked and Koheiji and Okitsu considered her beneath their notice, but she felt an unexpected sting of wounded pride. Though admired for her beauty and respected for her high social status all her life, she was nothing to these people.
“Isn’t it nice that we can be together without sneaking around?” Okitsu said, feeding a prawn to Koheiji.
He chewed and swallowed. “Yes, it certainly is. Making love in the garden at night was a bit uncomfortable. But the sneaking added excitement.” He leered up at Okitsu and tickled her ribs.
Okitsu giggled. “Naughty boy!” she said, slapping Koheiji. “I was always afraid that Makino would find out what we were up to. If he’d known, he would have been very angry.”
Koheiji snorted. “That’s an understatement. Makino was a jealous old dog. He would have thrown us both out of the house. You’d have had to go back to the brothel. And Makino would have ordered the theaters to ban me from their stages.”
Reiko felt a thrill of excitement. Had Makino indeed found out about Okitsu and Koheiji’s love affair? If so, one of them might have killed him to protect themselves.
“But now we don’t have to worry about old Makino anymore. Everything is wonderful.” Okitsu exuded a sigh of bliss. She fed Koheiji raw tuna and stroked his cheek. “You’re so clever!”
“Yes, I am,” Koheiji said, basking in her admiration.
Did Okitsu mean he’d been clever to rid them of the man who stood between them? Reiko pictured the actor beating Makino to death, then tucking his corpse into bed.
“I adore you,” Okitsu said, gazing raptly at Koheiji.
“I know,” Koheiji said with a conceited smile.
He pointed at the sake decanter and gestured at Reiko. She obediently poured liquor for the couple. They continued ignoring her. She felt as invisible as she’d told Sano she would be. Anticipation eclipsed hurt pride. Might the couple be foolish enough to reveal the truth about the murder while never suspecting that she was a spy?
Okitsu sipped her sake and looked coyly at Koheiji over the rim of her cup. “Koheiji-san… ?”
The actor downed his drink and crammed more sashimi into his mouth. “Hmm?”
“Do you remember what you promised me?” Okitsu’s voice took on a teasing, wheedling tone.
“What did I promise?” Koheiji said, his face blank with confusion.
Okitsu playfully swatted his shoulder. “Silly!” she cried. “You know. You promised we would marry someday.”
“Oh. Right,” Koheiji said with a notable lack of enthusiasm. “I guess I did.”
“Well, now that Makino is gone, we can marry.” Okitsu appeared not to notice her lover’s reaction. Eagerness sparkled in her eyes. “Let’s do it tomorrow!”
Here Reiko perceived another possible motive for the murder. Maybe the concubine and actor had wanted Makino dead so that they could wed. But although she seemed besotted with him, Reiko saw that he cared less for her. Intuition told Reiko that this man could have killed Makino to protect his career but not to marry Okitsu.
“We shouldn’t rush into marriage,” Koheiji said. His gaze avoided Okitsu’s. He edged away from her.
Surprise and disappointment showed on Okitsu’s face. “Why not?” she said. “Why should we wait?”
“Because our future is uncertain. We don’t even have a place to live.” Koheiji spoke as if concerned with practical matters, but Reiko thought he was grasping at excuses. “You know we can’t stay here forever.”
“But Makino gave me some money,” Okitsu said. “He gave some to you, too, didn’t he? Between us we should have enough to get a house of our own.”
“Yes…” Koheiji pondered; his hands toyed nervously with dishes on the tray. “But there’s a more serious reason why we should wait at least until the fuss about Makino’s murder blows over. If we marry too soon, everybody will know we were lovers before he died and we were cheating on him. Everybody will believe I killed him.”
“But you didn’t!” Okitsu exclaimed, widening her eyes in horror. “We—”
“Whether I’m innocent doesn’t matter,” Koheiji interrupted. “It’s what people think that counts.”
Reiko longed to know what Okitsu had meant to say when Koheiji cut her off. Did Okitsu know the truth about the murder? Was Koheiji innocent or not? The trouble with spying was that even if Reiko could see and hear people as plain as day, she could only guess at what was in their minds.
“The sōsakan-sama and his men are already snooping around, asking questions, making accusations,” Koheiji said. “You and I were two of the four people in these chambers the night Makino died. I’m afraid the sōsakan-sama will pick me to blame for the murder. Actors have a bad reputation, and nobody who matters to him cares what happens to me. It will be his word against mine, and which of us do you think his superiors will believe?”
Koheiji shook his head. “Not me. I’ll be convicted and executed.” Okitsu gaped at him in alarm. He clasped her hand and gazed earnestly into her face. “So you see, we must be cautious. To marry now would be a dangerous mistake.”
Okitsu sighed. “Yes. You’re right.” Doubt puckered her brow; she regarded Koheiji as though she feared deceit. “But sometimes I wonder if maybe you don’t want to marry me at all.”
“Of course I do,” Koheiji said with an ardent sincerity that didn’t convince Reiko. “How can you doubt my word?”
“If you really loved me and wanted to marry me, you would be willing to take a few risks to be together.” Okitsu pouted, her lower lip thrust out. “You wouldn’t let a little danger stand between us.”
Koheiji laughed, amused by her childish na�
�veté. “You’re getting me mixed up with the heroes I play in the theater. The danger is only make-believe for them. After the play is over, they can walk offstage unharmed. But if I run afoul of the law, I’ll die for real.”
“Don’t laugh at me!” Okitsu flared, yanking her hands out of his. Her cheeks flushed; she eyed Koheiji with sharp suspicion. “Is there someone else?” she said, her voice accusing yet querulous. “Is that why you’re putting me off?”
“There’s nobody but you,” Koheiji said. His masculine dislike of emotional scenes and his desire to forestall this one were obvious to Reiko. “You’re the only one I love.”
He reached toward Okitsu, but she angrily batted his hands away. “What about all those girls who hang around you at the theater?” she demanded. “Those girls who go to all your performances, follow you in the streets, and send you gifts and love letters? Is she one of them?”
“Those girls mean nothing to me,” Koheiji said, loud in his vehement denial.
“But I know you accept their gifts. You answer their letters. I’ve seen you flirting with them when you don’t think I’m looking.” Tears quavered Okitsu’s voice.
“They’re my audience,” Koheiji defended himself. “I have to keep them happy.”
“And you care more about their happiness than mine.” Having whipped herself into a fit of hysteria, Okitsu began to sob. “I can’t bear for you to have anyone else. I can’t bear to lose you. Especially after what happened with Senior Elder Makino. Especially after everything I’ve done for you!”
Reiko stared at Okitsu, forgetting to pretend she had no interest in the conversation. Did Okitsu mean she had killed Makino for the sake of her lover? Reiko cautioned herself against reading too much into Okitsu’s words; yet perhaps Okitsu had more motive for the murder than did Koheiji. His concern for his career and dependence on his patron could have outweighed his feelings toward Okitsu and inhibited him from harming Makino. She, on the other hand, seemed fixated on Koheiji, reckless in her love for him. Perhaps she’d beaten Makino to death and eliminated the obstacle to the marriage she so desired.
“There’s no other woman,” Koheiji insisted.
Reiko heard panic in his voice. Did he know that Okitsu had killed Makino for him and fear that if she couldn’t keep it a secret, they would both be punished? Reiko waited breathless, gazing at the floor, hoping Okitsu would incriminate herself.
“I love you and only you,” Koheiji told Okitsu. His hand cupped her face; his manner turned seductive. “Let me show you how much.”
To Reiko’s disappointment, Okitsu said no more about Senior Elder Makino. She clamped her mouth shut, swallowed sobs, and cringed from Koheiji. He murmured endearments and stroked her cheek. A reluctant smile twitched her lips; her tongue licked his fingers. Obviously relieved that he’d placated her, Koheiji put his arm around Okitsu and squeezed her waist. She giggled, undulating provocatively, shrugging her robe off her bare shoulders. Koheiji caressed them, while she fondled the bulge that swelled at his crotch beneath his robe.
Reiko decided that they wouldn’t want her around while they made love, and she wouldn’t hear anything else worth her spying. She moved quietly toward the door.
“Don’t go,” Koheiji said. “I haven’t dismissed you yet.”
She paused, surprised that he had noticed her after ignoring her until now and apparently didn’t want her to leave. As Okitsu fondled him, he gave Reiko a lazy, sensuous smile. “We’ll need you to serve us drinks later,” he said. “Sit down and enjoy yourself.”
His gaze condescended to her. Reiko realized that he thought he was doing her a favor by inviting her to experience vicarious carnal pleasure. She was so flabbergasted that words failed her.
“I always perform best in front of an audience,” Koheiji said.
Okitsu gave Reiko a sly, superior glance that said she didn’t mind an audience because she liked being the object of another woman’s envy. Then she turned her attention back to her lover. Reiko wanted to bolt from the room rather than watch the pair, but if she did, she might be thrown out of the house for disobeying an order. And she’d not learned enough that she could give up future chances for spying. She knelt as far from Koheiji and Okitsu as possible.
They giggled and nuzzled each other, shedding their clothes. Naked, they entwined their legs. Koheiji’s manhood curved upward, long and thick; Okitsu’s sleek, plump body and rosy nipples gleamed in the lantern light. Reiko had never before watched other people engage in intimacies. Her face burned with embarrassment, but she couldn’t look away. Horrified fascination kept her gaze fixed on the lovers.
Koheiji picked up a sweet cake from the tray of food. He blew powdered pink sugar from the cake onto Okitsu’s chest. He licked the sugar off her while she cooed and tittered.
“Oh, look, there’s some on you,” she said, pointing to his erection.
She bent over him and sucked on his member; he held her head, groaning dramatically. Reiko felt her body respond against her will. Arousal increased her embarrassment.
Okitsu flopped onto her back and reached for Koheiji. “Wait,” he said, “I need a little aphrodisiac.”
He plucked a hard-boiled quail egg from the tray and discarded the shell. Okitsu spread her legs. He inserted the peeled egg into her womanhood, then crouched between her legs and sucked out the egg. As he chewed, smacked his lips, and uttered sounds of relish, Okitsu laughed uproariously. Reiko cringed, mortified by a different sort of humiliation than the housekeeper Yasue had inflicted on her. What other trials must she endure while spying? She beheld the lovers, now coupling with noisy, energetic abandon. If one of them was the murderer she sought, was it Koheiji or Okitsu?
* * *
19
The sky above Edo Castle’s official quarter glowed with the cold red fire of sunset. Moon and stars glittered like ice shards in the darkening heavens. Smoke drifted from inside the mansions and lanterns burning at the gates; sentries stamped their feet and rubbed their arms to keep themselves warm. Hirata rode along the empty street, dawdling as he neared Sano’s estate. Soon would come his moment of reckoning. He prayed that he wasn’t in too much trouble.
“The sōsakan-sama is waiting for you,” said the guard who opened the gate for Hirata.
The guard’s tone said Hirata was in very much trouble. Hirata’s heart began a slow, sickening descent. When he entered the mansion, he found Sano, Otani, and Ibe kneeling in the reception room.
“Hirata-san. Please join us,” Sano said.
His manner was unusually formal. Ibe and Otani regarded Hirata with open animosity. Hirata’s heart pounded as he knelt, greeted Sano and his guests, and bowed to them.
“I understand that you ran out on the men assigned to observe your inquiries today,” Sano said. “Is that true?”
“Yes, Sōsakan-sama,” Hirata said in a monotone that he hoped would conceal his nervousness.
“Where did you go?”
“To investigate Senior Elder Makino’s wife at Asakusa Jinja Shrine.”
“See? I told you.” Otani shot a look at Sano. “He went off investigating on his own. He broke the rule that all inquiries pertaining to Senior Elder Makino’s murder should be overseen by representatives of Lord Matsudaira.”
“And Chamberlain Yanagisawa,” added Ibe. “He also left my men breathing his dust.”
The disappointment in Sano’s eyes pained Hirata. “I can explain,” he said, anxious to defend himself although his only, poor excuse was that he’d snapped under pressure.
Otani’s hand sliced a cutting gesture at Hirata. “It doesn’t matter why you did it.”
“What’s important is that you never cause us trouble again,” said Ibe.
“As of this moment, you are removed from the investigation,” Otani said.
Shock and horror combined with humiliation as Hirata realized that his watchdogs thought him such a trivial person that they wouldn’t bother inflicting a more severe punishment on him. They were just cutti
ng him out of the investigation as if he were a rotten spot on an apple.
“That’s fair,” Sano said, his tone as stoic as his expression.
And Sano was going along with them! Hirata stared in dismay at the master who’d just sacrificed him to appease Chamberlain Yanagisawa and Lord Matsudaira. A sense of injustice filled Hirata even though he knew he’d earned his fate. He couldn’t let the watchdogs take away his chance to solve the murder case and regain Sano’s esteem.
“A thousand apologies for my bad behavior,” he said, reluctantly abasing himself to Otani and Ibe. “Please allow me to make amends to you and continue in the investigation.”
“Save your breath,” Otani said. “The decision is final.”
Otani and Ibe rose. As Sano accompanied them to the door, Otani paused and said to Hirata, “By the way, what did you learn at Asakusa Jinja Shrine?”
Hirata rebelled against sharing the results of his clandestine inquiries with the men who’d exacted painful retribution for them. “Nothing,” he lied.
Ibe chuckled. “Then your escapade wasn’t worth the consequences, was it?”
Hirata sat alone, furious and miserable, while Sano escorted the watchdogs out of the estate. Presently, Sano returned and knelt facing Hirata.
“Things could be worse,” Sano said. “Otani and Ibe could have ordered you put to death for insubordination. If either of us had objected to your punishment, they’d have done it out of spite.”
That Sano had good reason for not objecting gave Hirata little solace. “Do you want me out of the investigation, too?” he said.
Conflicting emotions battled in Sano’s eyes. He exhaled and said, “You’ve shown poor judgment. This murder case is difficult enough without my own men causing problems.”
Sano Ichiro 9 The Perfumed Sleeve (2004) Page 17
