Sano Ichiro 9 The Perfumed Sleeve (2004)
Page 19
More echoes from the past resonated through Sano. The murder of Lord Matsudaira’s son had also involved a missing woman. “Go question the other people in the house,” Sano told Marume and Fukida. “Bring me anyone who knows anything about the woman, or saw or heard anything.”
The detectives bowed and went. Sano had brought them because Hirata was in bad odor with the factions, and Sano couldn’t risk employing him in anything that involved them. Now Sano missed his chief retainer. He hoped Marume and Fukida would do as good a job as Hirata had always done. Inspecting the room, Sano found Daiemon’s shoes and swords on the floor by the door, where he’d apparently left them. There was no trace of anyone else’s presence. Examining the window shutters, Sano found the latches intact and no sign that the killer had forced his way into the room from outside.
“Is the room just as you found it?” Sano asked Lord Matsudaira.
Lord Matsudaira stared in bitter silence at his dead nephew. Hoshina said, “We didn’t change anything, except to cover the body.”
Sano crouched and peered at Daiemon’s hands. They were smeared with blood, as though from clutching his wound before he’d fallen, but uninjured. Daiemon apparently had not tried to defend himself against the dagger. As Sano rose, Detectives Marume and Fukida returned, bringing the proprietor of the house.
“None of the couples saw Daiemon or his lady,” said Fukida. “They were too busy to notice anything going on in this room.”
Marume pushed the proprietor toward Sano and said, “He’s the only witness. He rented the room to Daiemon and the woman. He discovered the body.”
“Who was the woman?” Sano asked the proprietor.
The proprietor had bulging eyes that bulged wider as he shrank fearfully from Sano. “I don’t know her name.”
“What does she look like?” Sano said.
“I don’t know. She’s been here many times, but she always hides her face.”
“Does anyone come with her?”
“No, master. She always comes by herself.”
“By palanquin?”
“On foot.”
Sano gave up the notion of identifying the woman through her vehicle or escorts. If she’d had them, she’d left them where they wouldn’t be seen. “What time did she come?”
“At half past the hour of the boar,” said the proprietor.
Late evening, the time preferred for secret assignations. Sano said, “What happened when she arrived?”
“She knocked on the door, as usual,” the proprietor said. “I showed her to the room. It was reserved and paid for in advance, as usual.”
“Was Daiemon already here when she arrived?” Sano said.
“No,” said the proprietor. “He always came later.”
“Tell me what happened when he came.”
“I let him in the door, but I didn’t show him to the room. He went by himself. He knew where it was—they always used the same one. That was the last time I saw him alive.”
“Were there any noises from this room after he went in?”
The proprietor hunched his shoulders. “Maybe some whispering or cries. But that’s normal here. And they could have come from my other customers.”
The sounds of lovemaking had obscured whatever sounds Daiemon or his killer had uttered during the stabbing, Sano observed. “How did you happen to discover the murder?”
“I was passing by the door and I looked through the peephole.” A guilty, sheepish look came over the proprietor’s face. “All the doors have peepholes. I like to check the rooms once in a while, to make sure everything is all right.”
And he probably enjoyed watching the lovers. Sano said, “So you looked inside this room. What happened next?”
“I saw him like that.” The proprietor glanced at the corpse, gulped, and averted his gaze.
“You fetched the police?”
“No.” The proprietor hastened to add, "Of course I was going to fetch them, but I didn’t have a chance. First I thought I should tell my customers what had happened and give them time to leave.”
Sano knew that the illicit lovers wouldn’t have wanted to be caught here, by the police, at the scene of a crime; nor would the proprietor have wanted to expose them to scandal and lose their business.
“But just then, I heard banging on the door,” the proprietor said, “and voices shouting, ‘Police! Let us in!’ When I opened the door, they ran straight to this room—they seemed to already know about the murder.”
Sano cut his gaze to Police Commissioner Hoshina, loitering nearby. “How did they?”
“The local patrol officer was patrolling his territory with his civilian assistants, when they heard someone shouting, ‘The Honorable Lord Matsudaira Daiemon has been murdered at the Sign of Bedazzlement!’ ” Hoshina said. “They didn’t see who shouted. Whoever it was ran away. They came here and found Daiemon. They notified me. I notified Lord Matsudaira. We came immediately.”
This strange story of an anonymous herald sounded unlikely to Sano. He hesitated to believe anything Hoshina said, but perhaps the killer had wanted the murder discovered and thus had told the police.
“The woman was gone when you found Daiemon?” Sano asked the proprietor.
“Yes, master.”
“Did you see her go?”
“No, master. She must have left through the secret passage.” The proprietor slid aside a partition camouflaged by the mural on a wall, revealing a closet. From a square black hole in the floor issued a cold draft that smelled of earth and drains. “It leads to the alley behind the house.”
Sano turned to his detectives. “Marume-san, tell our men outside to search the neighborhood for the woman,” he said, although he knew she could have gotten far away during the time that had elapsed since the murder. “Fukida-san, examine the secret passage and the alley for clues she might have left.”
Marume departed. Fukida borrowed a lamp from the proprietor and jumped into the passage that the illicit lovers used to escape when necessary. Lord Matsudaira got to his feet like a pile of rubble coalescing into a mountain. His stunned expression vanished; anger focused his eyes as his combative spirit returned.
“Why must you bother hunting for the woman?” he asked Sano.
“She may have witnessed the murder,” Sano said, “or she may have committed it.”
“Who cares about witnesses?” Lord Matsudaira said, his fists clenched and nostrils flared. “We don’t need anyone to tell us what happened here tonight. And we both know my nephew wasn’t killed by his lady.”
“She was with him,” Sano pointed out. “That she’s gone now suggests she’s guilty. Daiemon appears to have been killed by someone he knew and trusted. His murder could be a case of romance gone bad.”
Yet Sano doubted the crime was that simple. Daiemon’s murder, so soon after Makino’s, was unlikely to be a coincidence.
“This was no lovers’ quarrel. This was political assassination,” Lord Matsudaira said, voicing Sano’s thoughts.
“And it’s obvious who’s responsible,” Hoshina said.
“Chamberlain Yanagisawa.” Lord Matsudaira spat the name as though expelling poison from his mouth.
The grin on Hoshina’s face expressed his pleasure at the implication of his onetime lover in the murder of the shogun’s heir apparent. Sano felt his heart sink as he foresaw a rise in the strife between the factions, no matter how or why Daiemon had actually died.
“Bring my nephew home to be prepared for his funeral,” Lord Matsudaira told his troops. Then he addressed Sano and Hoshina: “I must inform the shogun about the murder.” Vindictive intent glittered in Lord Matsudaira’s eyes. “And I will make Chamberlain Yanagisawa pay with his own blood.”
* * *
21
No!” the shogun cried. “It can’t be! First my old friend Makino dies of, ahh, foul play, and now my dearest, beloved Daiemon. Why are these terrible things happening to me?” He flung himself facedown on his dais and sobbed.
“Tell me,” the shogun entreated Lord Matsudaira as he sat up and wiped his tear-drenched face, “what villain has, ahh, cut Daiemon down in the prime of his life?”
Lord Matsudaira leaned toward the shogun like a general riding into a decisive battle. “My nephew had an enemy who was envious of your affection for him. That enemy has been plotting to destroy Daiemon and strike at you by killing him.”
He didn’t come right out and name Yanagisawa because he first wanted to lay groundwork for his accusation, Sano understood. And he couldn’t name Yanagisawa’s real motive for the murder—to weaken the Matsudaira clan and clear his son’s way to inherit the dictatorship—because the shogun wasn’t supposed to know about the factions’ struggle for power. The whole bakufu had an unspoken agreement to keep him in the dark.
“Last night his enemy stabbed Daiemon to death,” Lord Matsudaira said.
Confusion wrinkled the shogun’s forehead. “And who is this enemy?”
“I regret to say that he is none other than your chamberlain.” Lord Matsudaira spoke with grave sincerity that hid his enjoyment of openly attacking his rival at last.
Sano braced himself for the reaction. Police Commissioner Hoshina kneaded his hands, while everyone else sat frozen. The shogun gasped in wide-eyed shock.
“Chamberlain Yanagisawa? But that’s, ahh, impossible. He would never hurt anyone who matters to me… would he?” Sudden doubt colored the shogun’s features. Ever open to influence by people more forceful than himself, he looked from Lord Matsudaira to Sano to Hoshina. “What makes you think he, ahh, killed Daiemon?”
“The evidence points to him,” Lord Matsudaira said.
Hoshina nodded in staunch affirmation. And Sano couldn’t say that Lord Matsudaira had no real evidence to justify an accusation against the chamberlain. Before the meeting, Lord Matsudaira had told Sano to keep quiet or he would be expelled.
Sputtering with fury, the shogun said, “Well, ahh, I shall have Yanagisawa-san come and, ahh, answer for what he has done.”
“A good idea.” Lord Matsudaira’s tone hinted at how much he welcomed a face-to-face clash with his rival.
Tokugawa Tsunayoshi ordered his attendants, “Bring the chamberlain here.”
The attendants hastened to obey. Soon the door to the reception hall opened to reveal Yanagisawa standing at the threshold. Apprehension glimmered in his eyes as he saw Lord Matsudaira. His gaze bypassed Sano and skittered over Hoshina.
“You wished to see me, Your Excellency?” he said.
Glaring at him, the shogun said, “Don’t just, ahh, stand there, you scoundrel—come in.”
The apprehension in Yanagisawa’s eyes deepened, but he strode toward the dais. After him walked his son Yoritomo. Sano was surprised to see the boy, for Yanagisawa had never before included him in official business. Why did he now? Lord Matsudaira’s and Hoshina’s faces also showed surprise as the handsome, shy Yoritomo neared them. The chamberlain noted Lord Matsudaira seated in his own usual place by the shogun. He paused, tacitly ordering Lord Matsudaira to move. When Lord Matsudaira didn’t, Yanagisawa knelt in the lesser position to the shogun’s left. He motioned for his son to kneel between them. As Yoritomo complied, Sano watched the shogun’s attention fix upon the boy.
“May I inquire what this is about?” Yanagisawa asked the shogun.
“Ahh ...” Distracted by Yoritomo, the shogun faltered, then said, “I have just heard some terrible news. Daiemon was murdered last night.”
His admiration for the son had depleted some of his ire toward the father as well as his grief over the death of his favorite. Lord Matsudaira and Hoshina stared in dismay. Sano marveled at whatever prescience or genius had inspired Yanagisawa to bring his son as a weapon to protect himself.
Yanagisawa’s face expressed shock, apparently genuine, at the news of the murder. If he realized that Daiemon’s death had benefited him and the Matsudaira faction had lost ground, he didn’t show it. “What happened?”
“He was stabbed to death while in a house of assignation,” Hoshina said. His manner toward the chamberlain reflected the bitterness that had accompanied the demise of their affair. “Except you didn’t really need to ask, did you?”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Yanagisawa’s perplexity seemed as honest as his shock.
“He means that you knew how and where Daiemon died, because you killed him,” Lord Matsudaira declared.
The shogun reluctantly detached his gaze from Yoritomo and eyed Yanagisawa with renewed suspicion.
“Your Excellency, that’s ridiculous.” Amazement and outrage visibly jolted Yanagisawa. His breath exploded from him in a loud huff. “I did not kill Daiemon.”
“Not with your own hands,” Lord Matsudaira said. “You’d have kept them free of blood by sending one of your minions to do your dirty work.”
“I was nowhere near any house of assignation,” Yanagisawa continued, raising his voice over Lord Matsudaira’s and directing his vehemence at the shogun. “My guards will verify that I didn’t leave my compound last night.”
“See how careful he is to arrange himself an alibi.” Hoshina sneered. “A man of his wealth and power can easily bribe or force other men to lie for him.”
Yanagisawa shifted position, blocking the shogun’s view of Hoshina. “I had no need to kill Daiemon.” He flashed Lord Matsudaira a glance that Sano interpreted to mean he could win their fight without resorting to assassination. “Their accusations are false, Your Excellency. Don’t listen to them. Trust me.” The gaze he fixed on Tokugawa Tsunayoshi alluded to their longtime companionship. His voice took on a husky, fervent tone: “I swear I’m innocent.”
But Sano remembered their conversation last night and his suspicion that Yanagisawa was up to something. Had the chamberlain been plotting Daiemon’s murder? Was that why he’d felt confident enough to claim that Lord Matsudaira was vulnerable and promise Sano rewards for joining his side?
Vacillation played across the shogun’s weak features as Yanagisawa held his gaze captive. “Don’t believe him,” Lord Matsudaira said, enraged that Yanagisawa was foiling him. “He’s guilty. He’s lying to save his disgraceful neck. And he’s brought his bastard to soften your feelings toward him and make you forget my nephew.”
Lord Matsudaira shot a contemptuous look at Yoritomo, who blushed and bowed his head. If Yanagisawa had killed Daiemon, he would have expected to be accused of the crime and come prepared to defend himself, Sano realized. Yoritomo was his weapon against Lord Matsudaira as well as his shield against the shogun’s wrath.
“He’s playing you for the fool he thinks you are, Honorable Cousin,” said Lord Matsudaira.
The shogun goggled at Yanagisawa. “Are you?” he said, hovering between fear and anger.
“Of course not,” Yanagisawa said. “Lord Matsudaira and Police Commissioner Hoshina are the ones trying to deceive you. Let us ask ourselves why they’re so eager to convince you that I murdered Daiemon. I suggest that they killed him, and they want to frame me.”
Lord Matsudaira and Hoshina looked flabbergasted by the counterattack, although Sano thought they should have known that Yanagisawa considered a good offense as the best defense. The shogun turned his suspicion, fear, and anger on them. “Is that why you, ahh, accused Yanagisawa-san?” he demanded.
“The very idea is blasphemy!” Lord Matsudaira’s complexion turned so red that Sano thought he would burst a vein. “Why would I
kill my own nephew?”
Tokugawa Tsunayoshi shrank from his cousin’s anger. The chamberlain sat calm and smug, in control of the situation now. He said, “Everyone knows Daiemon was ambitious for power within your clan. Many a high-ranking samurai has protected his position by killing off young challengers among his kin.”
That Daiemon was ambitious, and Lord Matsudaira hard-pressed to restrain him, Sano had seen for himself. Sano now wondered if Lord Matsudaira was indeed responsible for his nephew’s death.
Lord Matsudaira, reduced to blustering indignation, shouted, “I would never shed the blood of my own clan!” The strain of waging political warfare during many months had undermined his self-discipline. Fear shone through his rage, because now the shogun beheld him with distrust.
“Oh, I doubt that you stabbed Daiemon yourself,” Yanagisawa said. “You’d have had other hands wield the dagger.” Now his accusing gaze swung to Hoshina. “The hands of your lackey the police commissioner.”
Hoshina stiffened as though Yanagisawa had tossed a bomb into his lap. Sano saw that Yanagisawa wasn’t content to attack Lord Matsudaira; he sought to harm his onetime lover who’d joined forces with his rival. Hoshina went very still, as though afraid the bomb would explode if he moved.
“That’s absurd,” he said. His matter-of-fact tone didn’t hide his panic. “I had nothing to do with the murder.”
“Your officers were surely familiar with the house of assignation,” Yanagisawa said. “They must have known that Daiemon was a patron, and they passed the gossip to you. It served you well when you needed to rid your master of his unruly nephew.” The chamberlain swelled with vengeful pleasure at paying back Hoshina for hurts and insults inflicted on him. “You found out when Daiemon was due to visit the house. You lay in wait for him there. You took him by surprise and stabbed him.”
“I didn’t!” As Hoshina’s panic broke through his self-control, sweat glistened on his face. “I’m innocent!” He looked to Lord Matsudaira, who frowned severely at him.