The Pillow Book of Lady Wisteria

by Laura Joh Rowland

  “Silly habit of mine, running away when I’m sure to get caught,” Fujio said, managing a wry laugh. “But this time it was worth a try.”

  Although Sano usually traveled with an entourage to assist him and uphold the dignity of his rank, Edo Jail was a place he preferred to go alone.

  Edo Jail, a fortified dungeon surrounded by deteriorating stone walls and watchtowers, reigned over the slums of northeast Nihonbashi. Inside, jailers tortured confessions out of prisoners, and convicted criminals awaited execution. The jail also housed Edo Morgue, which received the bodies of citizens who perished from natural disasters or unnatural causes. There Dr. Ito, morgue custodian, often lent his medical expertise to Sano’s investigations. Because the examination of corpses and any other procedures associated with foreign science were illegal, Sano wanted as few people as possible to know about his visits to Edo Jail.

  Dr. Ito met him at the door of the morgue, a low building with flaking plaster walls. “What a pleasure to see you,” Dr. Ito said.

  In his seventies, he had white hair like a snowfall above his wise, lined face and wore the dark blue coat of a physician. Years ago he’d been caught practicing forbidden foreign science, which he’d learned through illicit channels from Dutch traders. The bakufu had forgone the usual sentence of exile and condemned him to work for the rest of his life in Edo Morgue. There Dr. Ito had continued his scientific experiments, ignored by the authorities.

  “However, I might have wished for a better occasion than another violent death,” he said.

  “I, too,” Sano said. “I wouldn’t ask you to examine another body now if I had any choice.”

  The Black Lotus disaster had taken its toll on Dr. Ito even though he hadn’t been at the temple that night, when over seven hundred people had died. Their bodies had been taken directly to a mass funeral outside town, but many nuns and priests had died from injuries or committed suicide in jail, and Dr. Ito had prepared their corpses for cremation. His horror at the Black Lotus carnage had put a halt to his work—the one solace that made his imprisonment bearable—and the spiritual pollution from so many deaths had weakened his health.

  Dr. Ito smiled reassuringly and gestured for Sano to enter the morgue. “Justice for a murder victim takes precedence over personal feelings.”

  Inside the morgue, a large room held stone troughs used for washing the dead, cabinets containing tools, a podium stacked with papers and books, and three waist-high tables. Upon one table lay a figure draped by a white cloth. Beside this stood Dr. Ito’s assistant, Mura, a man of some fifty years, who had bushy gray hair and an angular, intelligent face.

  “We’re ready to begin, Mura-san,” said Dr. Ito.

  Mura was an eta, one of the outcast class from which came the wardens, torturers, corpse handlers, and executioners of Edo Jail. The eta’s hereditary link with death-related occupations such as butchering and leather tanning rendered them spiritually contaminated. Most citizens shunned them, but Dr. Ito had befriended Mura, who performed all the physical work for Dr. Ito’s studies.

  As Sano went to stand near the table, he battled an impulse to run away. He’d not yet recovered from the horror and nausea he’d experienced upon finding the body. He dreaded examining the corpse of a woman he’d known intimately.

  Mura peeled off the white cloth from the corpse, beginning at the feet. The rigidity of death had passed, and the woman lay flat on her back, limbs straight. Her feet were bare, their skin a bluish white; dirt and cuts marked the soles. As her clothes came into view, Sano observed red-brown splotches on the kimono’s purple and green floral pattern. The woman’s fingernails were broken and crusted with dried blood. Mura uncovered her top half, exposing the hideous mutilation where her head should have been. The sweet odor of rotting meat struck Sano; his stomach lurched.

  “Where did you find her?” Dr. Ito asked.

  Sano related the details of the murder investigation, explained how he’d discovered the body, and described the scene.

  “Was there blood around the body?” Dr. Ito said.

  An indelible picture of the room haunted Sano’s mind. “Not much. Some spatters on the floor, the wall, the futon, and the mosquito net.”

  He knew Reiko was worried about him, and he’d wished to act normal in front of her last night, but all his energy had gone toward keeping sickness and emotion at bay. Closing himself off from Reiko would drive them farther apart, but he couldn’t explain the murder’s extreme effect on him without telling her what would make matters worse.

  “To determine exactly what happened, we must view the rest of her.” Dr. Ito gestured to Mura.

  The eta fetched a knife and cut the kimono off the woman. He removed the white under-kimono, exposing her naked body. It was an ugly patchwork of huge red and purple bruises that had erupted under the pale skin on her abdomen, breasts, and ribcage. Smaller bruises blotched her neck, arms, and thighs. Sano inhaled sharply through his teeth; Dr. Ito murmured in dismay, and even the stoic Mura looked shaken.

  “Please turn her on her side, Mura-san,” said Dr. Ito.

  Mura obeyed, and they silently viewed the bruised back and buttocks. Then Dr. Ito walked around the table, his expression pitying as he studied the corpse. “This brutality indicates a male rather than a female attacker, because it required considerable strength. Those bruises were made by fists. The small ones on the arms and neck are fingerprints.”

  “She fought back,” Sano said, observing the woman’s hands. “Her fingernails are broken and bloody because she clawed her attacker.”

  In his mind he saw the blood on the floor and walls, smeared with two sets of handprints and footprints, one large, one small—the victim’s and the killer’s. If this was Wisteria, what responsibility did he bear for her death?

  “Note these dark, deep bruises along her back. After she fell, he kicked and trampled her,” Dr. Ito said. “She probably died from the rupture of internal organs.”

  “So he beat her to death.”

  Sano wished more than ever that he’d bothered to find out what had become of Wisteria after their affair ended, and not just because he might have saved her life. His sense of responsibility extended to what she might have done, as well as what had been done to her.

  “The removal of the head was performed after death,” said Dr. Ito, “because otherwise, there would have been copious blood in the room.”

  “The dead don’t bleed,” Sano concurred, forcing a matter-of-fact tone even as he saw bits of gore clinging to mosquito net. “After he killed her, he laid her on the bed, then decapitated her.”

  “And see how the neck is hacked and ragged at the edges.” The concern in Dr. Ito’s eyes said he guessed that something troubled Sano. “Whoever did this must have been in a violent frenzy of rage.”

  From the jail drifted the howls of the prisoners. Sano envisioned Wisteria, her beautiful face contorted in terror, trying to ward off a shadowy attacker. He heard her scream as fists hit her, saw her clutch the wall as she went down under a storm of blows and kicks…

  With an effort Sano said, “Now that we know how she died, we just have to figure out if this really is Lady Wisteria, and whether Fujio killed her.”

  “Let us first determine whether this woman matches the missing courtesan’s description.” Dr. Ito paused, clearly on the verge of asking Sano what was wrong; but either Sano’s expression stopped him, or courtesy precluded prying. “How old is Wisteria?”

  “Twenty-four years,” Sano said. Her age was the one thing she’d told him that he thought he could take as fact.

  “This woman was young,” Dr. Ito said, studying the corpse. “Her flesh is smooth and firm. Twenty-four years is a reasonable estimate of her age.”

  The similarity in age could be a coincidence, Sano thought; but the spreading hollow in his stomach said otherwise.

  “What is Wisteria’s physical size and shape?” Dr. Ito said.

  “She’s small.” Sano raised his hand at shoulder height, as
sailed by a memory of embracing Wisteria. He tried to compare his knowledge of her naked body to the dead woman’s, but the absence of a face, as well as the bruises and the pall of death, made recognition impossible. He swallowed and forced himself to continue: “She’s slim, with narrow hips and small breasts.”

  “As is the victim.” Dr. Ito glanced at the part of the woman’s body where Sano had avoided looking and said, “Her pubis is shaved. She was a prostitute.”

  So many points of resemblance indicated that the dead woman was Lady Wisteria, even if they weren’t final proof. Sano felt his hope that Wisteria was still alive yield to desolation; he turned away from the body.

  “Cover her, Mura-san,” Dr. Ito said quietly.

  Whatever lies Wisteria had told or evils she’d committed, she’d been a proud, courageous woman. Sano recalled her aloof behavior the last time he’d seen her. Might she have had a premonition that her remaining time on earth was short?

  “Do you think the hokan killed her?” Dr. Ito asked.

  “It’s hard to imagine Fujio being capable of such brutality. Hirata went to question him this morning. We’ll see what happens.”

  Sano stared grimly out the window as he pondered the consequences that the second murder held for him. His investigation could now continue, because even if the shogun believed that the killer of his heir had already been punished, he would expect Sano to solve the case of the decapitated woman. New inquiries might turn up new evidence to prove who had killed Lord Mitsuyoshi. Yet this prospect caused Sano dread as well as satisfaction.

  “Mura-san, please leave us,” Dr. Ito said. The eta complied, and Dr. Ito stood near Sano. “Can I be of further assistance?” he said gently.

  The need to confide overcame Sano’s reserve. “I knew her,” he blurted, then told Dr. Ito his secret. “It’s hard to be objective when the victim could be someone who was once my lover,” he admitted. “But if I go on with this investigation, I’ll have to keep my mind open to the possibility that the dead woman is Lady Wisteria—and that Wisteria was a murderer.”

  Dr. Ito nodded in somber understanding. “If the treasury minister was innocent, then Wisteria, Fujio, and Momoko are the only suspects left. Wisteria may have stabbed Lord Mitsuyoshi.”

  “In other words, my former lover killed my lord’s heir.”

  Sano felt sicker than ever. “There’s another problem. My wife doesn’t know any of this. I never told her about Wisteria and me because I thought it wouldn’t matter. But if Reiko keeps on with her inquiries, she may find out that I freed Wisteria and think I haven’t told her because I have something to hide.”

  Fraught with anxiety, Sano clenched his hands around the window bars. Never had he expected his minor omission to grow into a major threat to his already shaky marriage. “I wish I’d told her at the start. What should I do now?”

  “A tiny pebble rolling down a mountain can start a landslide,” Dr. Ito reminded him. “I suggest you tell your wife as soon as possible, because the longer you wait, the worse your problems may get.”

  22

  The palanquin carried Reiko out the gate of Edo Castle’s official quarter. Huddled beneath a quilt, she brooded as she rode along the stone-walled passage leading toward the palace.

  Sano’s behavior last night disturbed her, as did the fact that he’d left home this morning before she’d awakened. Perhaps this latest murder was too much for him? She feared for his spirit. And at any moment the shogun might condemn him for interfering with Treasury Minister Nitta’s trial and failing to solve the murder case.

  Reiko also worried about Midori, who’d come to the house earlier to announce that she’d received a message from Lord Niu, ordering her to come to him. Midori was now headed to Lord Niu’s estate, while Reiko traveled toward the palace women’s quarters, where her cousin Eri was an official. Eri, the center of Edo Castle’s female gossip network, could perhaps identify the samurai who’d freed Lady Wisteria. Finding him seemed more important to Reiko than ever. If Wisteria was still alive, he might know where she was. If she was the corpse in the summer house, he might have information relevant to her murder.

  The thought of Wisteria caused Reiko more worry about Sano. She’d guessed that he didn’t want her investigating the courtesan’s background. Was there something he didn’t want her to discover?

  Suddenly Reiko heard hoofbeats and footsteps approaching. Her palanquin rocked to a standstill as her guards, bearers, and maids halted. Reiko put her head out the window to see who was blocking the passage. She saw a procession of troops and attendants facing her, escorting a large black palanquin. Out of its window popped two heads. One belonged to Lady Yanagisawa, the other to her daughter, Kikuko.

  The girl smiled and waved. As Reiko waved back and bowed, Lady Yanagisawa murmured something to her escorts. Her guard captain addressed Reiko’s: “The wife of the Honorable Chamberlain wishes to visit the wife of the ssakan-sama.”

  Reiko was surprised that Lady Yanagisawa wanted to see her again so soon. Though reluctant to delay her inquiries, she had no choice except to tell her attendants, “Take me home.”

  Inside the reception room of Sano’s estate, Lady Yanagisawa and Kikuko knelt opposite Reiko. Lady Yanagisawa politely declined Reiko’s offer of refreshment.

  “We won’t stay long,” she said. Suppressed emotion ruffled her composure, and a blush tinged her flat cheeks. She held in her lap a small bundle wrapped inside a square of dark blue silk printed with white leaves. “I’m sorry to bother you when you were on your way somewhere.”

  “Oh, it’s no bother,” Reiko said. “I’m glad to see you again.”

  Yet she feared that their acquaintance would become an onus if her new friend wanted more attention than she wanted to give. The peculiar sheen of Lady Yanagisawa’s narrow eyes made Reiko uneasy.

  “Please believe that I wouldn’t have interrupted your business except…except for the most urgent reason.” Lady Yanagisawa’s voice dropped; she paused, fingering the tied ends of her bundle. Then she blurted, “Last time we met…I said I would do whatever I could to assist you with your husband’s inquiries. That’s why I’ve come today.”

  Kikuko hummed a tuneless song, turning her head from side to side. Reiko regarded Lady Yanagisawa with surprise.

  “You’ve found information that will help the murder investigation?” Reiko said. Eyeing the package her guest held, she wavered between skepticism and hope.

  A brief frown shadowed Lady Yanagisawa’s aspect. “I wish I could say that my discovery will benefit your husband…but I fear the opposite is true. May I please explain?”

  When Reiko nodded, Lady Yanagisawa said, “Yesterday this came for my husband.”

  She untied the bundle, revealing a flat, rectangular package wrapped in rough brown paper and bound with coarse string. Reiko saw the words, “For the Honorable Chamberlain Yanagisawa. Personal and Confidential,” written on it in simple black characters.

  “My husband wasn’t home,” Lady Yanagisawa said. “I overheard his secretaries saying they didn’t know who sent the package and discussing whether to open it. Finally they decided not to, and left the package on my husband’s desk. My curiosity was aroused. I went into the office, slipped the package into my sleeve, and took it to my room.”

  Reiko sat speechless with amazement that anyone would dare steal from the chamberlain.

  Lady Yanagisawa sighed. “If my husband finds out what I’ve done, he’ll be very angry with me. But when I looked inside the package…I knew I must risk his displeasure.”

  Her intense, yearning gaze flitted over Reiko. “You’ve been so kind to me, and I shall now repay you. This package represents a terrible threat to your husband. I brought it to you so that he will understand the danger…so that he can protect himself, and you.”

  “What danger?” Reiko asked in alarmed confusion.

  Kikuko emitted a loud keening sound, made faces, and rocked back and forth. Lady Yanagisawa put a hand on the girl’s shoulde
r, quieting her. “Perhaps it’s better that you see for yourself than that I should tell you. Please accept this with my sincere wishes for your good fortune, and allow me to bid you farewell until we meet again.”

  Extending the package on her palms, she bowed to Reiko.

  “Many thanks,” Reiko said, accepting the gift.

  As soon as her guests had gone, she took the package into her chamber and closed the door. Eager yet fearful, she untied the string and unwrapped the paper. Inside was a book covered in lavender silk, bound by a green ribbon threaded through holes near the spine. A thrill of recognition and disbelief shot through Reiko. She opened the book.

  The first of some twenty pages of thin white rice paper bore an inscription: The Pillow Book of Lady Wisteria.

  The daimyo maintained great fortified estates in the district east and south of Edo Castle. Here the provincial lords resided during the four months they spent in the capital each year. Here Tokugawa law required them to leave their families as hostages when they returned to their provinces, to prevent them from staging a revolt. Here Midori rode in a palanquin down a wide avenue crowded with mounted samurai.

  Lines of barracks, their white plaster walls decorated with black tiles arranged in geometric patterns, surrounded each estate and housed thousands of retainers who served the daimyo. Elaborate gates boasted multiple portals, tiered roofs, and guardhouses occupied by sentries. As Midori’s palanquin halted outside the gate that bore the Niu dragonfly crest, her chin quivered with apprehension.

  This had once been her home; but the place harbored bad memories, and she never came back unless it was absolutely necessary. If not for her father’s summons and the hope of salvaging her chance of marrying Hirata, she would have avoided the estate forever.

  Inside the estate, multitudes of samurai patrolled a large courtyard or sat in guardrooms. Barracks for the officers formed an inner wall around the daimyo’s mansion, a vast complex of half-timbered buildings joined by covered corridors and intersecting tile roofs and elevated on granite foundations. At the door to Lord Niu’s private room, Midori met Okita, her father’s chief retainer.