“In the marketplace,” the gangster said obediently.
“Where was she kidnapped and found?”
“By Shinobazu Pond.” Now the gangster’s eyes widened in fright because he realized he’d broken a gang rule.
“Thank you,” Hirata said. “I won’t tell your boss.”
The abbess led Sano into the convent’s chapel, which was shaded by pine trees and darkened by closed shutters. Inside, a low altar held a gold Buddha statue that sat amid gold lotus flowers, lit candles, and brass incense burners that emitted pungent, bittersweet smoke. Before the altar knelt a nun, shrouded in a gray hemp robe, her head covered with a white drape. She rocked slowly back and forth.
“Since she was kidnapped, all she does is pray,” the abbess said in a quiet, sad voice. “She won’t talk to anyone. It’s as if she’s living in a world of her own.”
Now Sano understood why the other nuns considered her a problem. As he and the abbess moved toward her, he noticed someone else standing in an alcove, like a guardian deity. It was a girl in her teens, with an innocent, pretty face, her hair tied in a kerchief.
“That’s Ume,” the abbess said. “One of our novices. I’ve assigned her to watch over Tengu-in.” She whispered, “When she first came home, she took a knife and cut her arm.”
Had she been trying to punish herself for the rape, which many people would consider her fault? Sano felt a terrible pity for the old woman. He knelt at the altar, far enough away from her that she wouldn’t feel threatened by his presence, but close enough to see her clearly. Now he observed that her body was emaciated; her robes hung on her skeleton.
“She won’t eat,” the abbess said, “or sleep, either.”
Her profile was sharp with facial bones visible through taut, waxen skin. Her eyes were closed tight, their lids purplish. Her lips moved, but she made no sound.
“Tengu-in,” Sano said quietly.
She seemed not to notice him. Her lips kept moving; she rocked to some inner, secret rhythm.
“Can you hear me?”
There was no response. The novice gave a faint, desolate sigh. The abbess said sadly, “I warned you.”
But Sano couldn’t give up. “Tengu-in, I’m Chamberlain Sano. Tell me what happened when you were kidnapped.”
She continued her silent praying. Her face was expressionless, animated only by the flickering candlelight.
“Who took you?” Sano persisted. “Was it someone you recognized?”
No answer came.
Sano appealed to the kind nature that the abbess had said Tengu-in had once possessed. “I believe this man has kidnapped and attacked two other women besides you. One of them is my cousin. I must catch him before he hurts anyone else. And I need your help.”
His words didn’t penetrate the invisible shell into which she’d retreated. In an attempt to reach her, he spoke louder, urgently: “What did he look like? Where did he take you?”
“It’s no use,” the abbess said as Tengu-in prayed, rocked, and ignored everyone. “Even if she’s listening, she won’t speak.”
Sano rose, reluctantly. He didn’t want to leave empty-handed. “I need to question everyone who was with Tengu-in on that trip to Zj Temple.”
“Ume was.” The abbess beckoned to the novice.
The girl crept over to Sano and bowed, her eyes open wide with anxiety.
“What happened?” Sano said. “How did Tengu-in just suddenly disappear?”
“I don’t know,” she said in a barely audible whisper. She clenched her hands under her sleeves and cast a nervous glance at the abbess.
Sano said to the abbess, “I’d like to speak with Ume privately.”
Disapproval crossed the older woman’s face, but she couldn’t deny his request. She said, “I’ll be right outside,” and departed.
Sano said, “Whatever secret you don’t want her to know, it’s safe with me.”
The girl’s face crumpled. Tears shone in her eyes. “It’s my fault Tengu-in was kidnapped.”
Sano couldn’t believe that this innocent-looking girl was in any way responsible for the crime. “How so?”
“We were supposed to stay with her. I should have watched out for her.” Ume sobbed as she gazed down at Tengu-in, who seemed oblivious. “Instead, I ran ahead with the other novices. She was too slow. She couldn’t keep up.”
Sano envisioned the old woman hobbling through the temple grounds in the wake of the young, exuberant girls. Perhaps they had been negligent, but he said, “You’re not to blame. You couldn’t have known she was in danger.”
“But I was doing something I shouldn’t have been.” Shamefaced yet eager to unburden herself, Ume said, “There was a group of novices from the monastery down the street. We—the other girls and I . . .”
The picture became clear to Sano. The girls had wanted to flirt with the young monks, so they’d run away from their chaperone. Joining a religious order didn’t rid people of their natural human desires.
“I feel so guilty,” Ume said as she wept. “I wish I could make up for what I did.”
“Here’s your chance,” Sano said. “Help me catch the man who hurt her. When you were at the temple, did you see anyone or anything that looked suspicious?”
“No,” Ume said, wiping her tears on her sleeve. “I’ve tried and tried to remember, but I don’t.”
Whoever had kidnapped Tengu-in couldn’t have just suddenly appeared out of nowhere, swooped down on her like an eagle from the sky, and spirited her away, Sano thought. He would have had to single her out of the crowd, to await an opportunity to take her without anyone seeing.
He must have been watching her.
“Think back to the time before you and the other girls left Tengu-in,” Sano said. “Did you notice anyone paying particular attention to your group?”
Ume pondered, then shook her head.
“Anyone following you?” Sano persisted.
“No. I’m sorry. I was busy looking at the monks.” Then she frowned, as if startled by a memory forgotten until now.
“What is it?” Sano asked.
“I did see someone.”
“At the temple?” Sano’s pulse began to race in anticipation.
“No, not there. And not then. It was the day before. Outside the convent.”
Maybe the kidnapper had had his eye on the nuns. Maybe he’d been spying on the convent, lying in wait for his chance to kidnap one. “Tell me what happened,” Sano said urgently.
“It was after morning prayers. I sneaked outside.” Ume’s face flushed. “The monks walk past the convent on their way to the city. There’s one that I—well, when he goes by, he smiles at me.” Pleasure and guilt mingled in her voice. “That day, I missed him. But I saw a man standing in the street.”
“Who was he?”
“I don’t know. I’d never seen him before. Nor since.”
“Can you describe him?”
“I didn’t get a very good look. As soon as he saw me, he turned and walked away.” Ume squinted, trying to bring the remembered glimpse of him into focus. “He was tall and strong. His hair was so short, the skin on his head showed through. He was old, about thirty.”
Sano winced: He himself was forty-three, which she probably considered ancient. “What was he wearing?”
“A dark blue kimono.”
Every commoner in Japan owned a cotton kimono dyed with indigo. And many of them cut their hair short to discourage fleas and lice. “Did his face have any distinctive features?”
“He looked like he hadn’t shaved in a while.” Ume brightened at a fresh recollection. “He had a big scab, here.” She touched her right cheekbone. “I remember thinking he must have been in an accident or a fight.”
That wasn’t unusual, either. Sano pressed for more details, but Ume could provide none. “Did you see an oxcart?”
“No. I’m sorry,” she said, gazing unhappily at Tengu-in, who prayed, rocked, and apparently had not heard any of the conversation.
But the oxcart could have been parked nearby, out of sight. The man she’d seen could have been the driver, who might have kidnapped Tengu-in, Chiyo, and Jirocho’s daughter, too.
“You’ve been very helpful,” Sano said.
“You’ll catch him, won’t you?” she said, with touching faith.
“I will,” Sano vowed. He dared to think that he had a lead at last.
The marketplace in Ueno extended along the approach to the foot of the hill where Kannei Temple stood. Hirata rode past shops that sold boxwood combs and ear-cleaners and teahouses where customers ate rice steamed in lotus leaves, a local specialty. The street widened into the Broad Little Road, home to stalls and booths crammed with all sorts of goods. A few dancers, puppeteers, and acrobats entertained crowds diminished by the rain. Beneath the lively, colorful bustle of the market, Hirata saw its dark underpinnings.
Tattooed gangsters roamed, looking for any traders who didn’t belong there, keeping an eye out for thieves. This was Jirocho’s domain. He controlled the allocation of the stalls, shops, teahouses, and booths, collected rents from the vendors, paid tributes to the temple and taxes to the government, and kept a generous cut of the profits for himself. Here his daughter had sought refuge after he’d turned her loose.
Hirata rode down the aisles of stalls, looking for a twelve-year-old girl on her own. The market swarmed with children unaccompanied by parents. The orphans of Edo flocked to its temple markets in hope of food and alms. Children with dirty faces and dirtier bare feet, dressed in rags, grabbed scraps of food dropped outside the stalls and begged coins from the customers. They were such a usual part of the city scene that Hirata had never paid them much attention. Now he scrutinized the girls for some hours until he found one who looked to be the right age. She squatted on the ground, gnawing a rice ball. Long, matted hair hung over her face. She wore a white kimono printed with green leaves; it was torn and muddy.
“Fumiko-san?” Hirata called.
The girl looked up. She had elfin features marred by fading bruises around her eyes and scabs on her cheeks. Surprised to hear her name, frightened by the sight of Hirata, she crammed the food into her mouth and ran.
Hirata jumped off his horse and chased her. Fumiko was quick, darting through the crowds. But his longer stride gave Hirata an advantage, and he could follow the unique, starburst pattern of her energy. He tracked her to the narrow back streets where local brothels employed illegal prostitutes. Dressed in their trademark aprons, the women bargained with customers outside their rooms. Hirata cornered Fumiko in a doorway. She stood with her hands inside her sleeves, panting and trembling.
“Don’t be afraid,” Hirata said.
Her eyes gleamed with feral panic. After two months of living on the streets, she already looked more animal than human.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” Hirata introduced himself, then said, “I want to help you.”
Incredulity wrinkled her dirt-smeared brow. Hirata wasn’t surprised that she didn’t believe him. Why should she trust any man, after one had kidnapped, raped, and apparently beaten her, and her own father had cast her off?
His heart went out to the girl. Extending his hand, he said, “Come with me. I’ll take you to a place where you’ll be safe, and—”
Fumiko whipped her right hand out of her sleeve. She lashed at his face with a knife clutched in her fingers. Startled, he leaped backward just in time to avoid a nasty cut. Fumiko lunged around him and fled.
“Hey!” Hirata called. “Wait!”
But she was gone.
Sano arrived home in late afternoon. The sun was a pale, shimmering pearl behind gray clouds. In the courtyard, grooms took charge of his and his men’s horses, which were spattered in mud from hooves to flanks. On the veranda of his mansion, servants rid Sano of his wet hat and cape. His secretary appeared and said, “Major Kumazawa is here to see you.”
Sano was surprised that his uncle would come, without advance notice or invitation. They’d not parted on very good terms yesterday. “Show him into the reception room.”
“I must inform you that the treasury minister and the judicial council are ahead of him in the queue.”
“I’ll see Major Kumazawa first.”
Sano felt a strange attraction to his uncle, the pull of blood to blood, even though they didn’t get along. He discovered in himself a yearning for the sense of family that had been diminished when he’d moved out of his parents’ home, when his father had died, when his mother had remarried. The Kumazawa were his closest senior kin in town.
In the reception room, he found Major Kumazawa marching slowly back and forth like a soldier at a drill. His face was as stern and hard as ever, but his restlessness told Sano how distraught he still was about his daughter.
“I wanted to ask if your investigation has made any progress,” Major Kumazawa said. “My apologies for showing up like this, but I thought I’d save you the trouble of another trip to Asakusa.” He sounded much more polite than before, but of course this was Sano’s territory.
“You knew where to find me,” Sano said.
His tone hinted at the fact that his uncle had kept track of him since his birth. He saw a glint of antagonism in Major Kumazawa’s eyes, but the man simply nodded and said, “I’ve been here before. When this place belonged to Yanagisawa.”
That his uncle had been in his house, without his knowledge until this moment, gave Sano an eerie feeling, as if he’d just learned that his home was haunted by a ghost whose presence he’d never suspected. He recalled the vision he’d had at Major Kumazawa’s house. He still didn’t know what it meant.
“Please allow me to welcome you back,” Sano said evenly.
They exchanged wary glances, both bracing for another clash. But Sano was determined to keep things civil. He didn’t want a quarrel that would be overheard by his subordinates, or bad blood with his uncle to contaminate the peace of his home.
“How is Chiyo today?” he asked.
“I went home to check on her this afternoon. She was asleep. The doctor had given her a potion.” Major Kumazawa’s expression was grim. “My wife says that after your wife came to see Chiyo, she was very upset.”
His gaze accused Reiko, and Sano, of upsetting Chiyo. Sano refused to seize on the pretext for another argument. “It stands to reason that she would be upset by talking about the crime. But if I’m to catch the man who kidnapped her, I must know as many details about it as possible. However, I may not need any more help from Chiyo. I discovered some clues today.”
“Oh?” Major Kumazawa’s eyebrows and tone lifted in surprise. “What sort?”
Sano couldn’t help feeling pleased that he’d exceeded his uncle’s expectations. He told Major Kumazawa about the oxcart spotted by the witness.
“An oxcart.” Major Kumazawa looked disappointed, and skeptical. “If nobody saw Chiyo put into or thrown off it, how can you be sure it had anything to do with what happened to her? Even if it did, there are hundreds of oxcarts in Edo. They all look alike, and you said your witness didn’t see the driver. How are you going to find the right one?”
“I’ll find it.” Sano had people out searching now. He’d expected Major Kumazawa to find fault with his results, but that didn’t make the carping any less unpleasant. He would almost rather be working for the shogun, who always complained about his lack of progress and threatened him with death, but sometimes appreciated his efforts.
Sometimes.
At least Sano could tell himself that the shogun was a fool. Criticism from someone more intelligent was harder to stomach.
“I’ve also made another discovery: Two other women were kidnapped before Chiyo was.” Sano told Major Kumazawa about the gangster boss’s daughter and the nun. “The kidnappings may be related.”
After he described what he’d learned at the convent, disapproval crossed his uncle’s features. “You said you were going after the man who kidnapped my daughter, but you’ve been investigating this o
ther woman?” Major Kumazawa said.
Nettled by the implication that he’d wasted time, Sano said, “The other crime is a new source of clues.”
“I suppose so, but it doesn’t sound as if you got anything out of the nun. With all due respect, you would do better to concentrate on Chiyo. Especially since you can’t be sure that the crimes are related.”
“I found other witnesses at the convent, and there are similarities between Chiyo’s case and the nun’s,” Sano said, his patience slipping. “Both women are from samurai families. Both were kidnapped at places of worship, then found nearby.”
“What about the gangster’s daughter?”
Sano was at a disadvantage because he hadn’t any information about that. “My chief retainer is investigating her case. I expect news from him soon.”
“So maybe the cases are related,” Major Kumazawa said. “Or maybe you’re going down the wrong path.”
Fed up now, Sano spoke more sharply than he’d intended: “Maybe you’re not qualified to decide how this investigation should go.”
They exchanged stares in hostile silence. Then Major Kumazawa said, “By the way, I met your father a few times.”
Sano felt his muscles tense, but he said coolly, “I can guess when that was. When he asked your parents for my mother’s hand in marriage. At the miai where he was formally introduced to her. Then, at their wedding.”
Those were the instances when social custom had forced the Kumazawa clan to associate with the lowly rnin who’d married Sano’s mother.
Major Kumazawa nodded. His eyes narrowed, scrutinizing Sano. “You take after your father.”
Sano knew that Major Kumazawa wasn’t referring to the physical similarities. His uncle was implying that he’d inherited bad character traits, chiefly his determination to follow his own will. And Major Kumazawa was blaming heredity on his father’s side for what Major Kumazawa perceived as Sano’s mishandling of the investigation. Sano burned with rage, and not only because Major Kumazawa would disparage his bloodline.
The Cloud Pavilion Page 9
