“It would be better to use your power and influence to discover the truth about your son’s death,” he said. “I’ve come to enlist your help in exposing the real killer.”
Lord Matsudaira’s head snapped around; fury glittered through his tears. “You’ve come to stage a show of innocence and gloat over the misery you’ve caused this clan! I’ll not help you save yourself.” He leapt off the dais, advanced on Sano until they were a mere step apart, then thrust his face so close that Sano could see the red veins in his blazing eyes. “The only reason I let you in was so I can tell you in person that you, who have destroyed my son and betrayed our lord, are the most disgraceful creature on this earth!”
The insult struck Sano like blows to his spirit, and he retreated backward even as he said, “Please hear me out. In most murder cases, the victim was killed by someone close to him. Things he did, or trouble in his relations with people, can have led to the crime, and—”
“You would blame my son for his own murder?” Lord Matsudaira interrupted in outrage. “You’re an even worse villain than the courtesan’s pillow book portrays you. I’m ashamed that I ever thought you were an honorable samurai!”
“I’m not blaming Lord Mitsuyoshi,” Sano hastened to say. “The fault belongs entirely to his killer. All I meant was that the key to solving a murder case usually lies in the victim’s background.”
Lord Matsudaira shook his head, scorning Sano.
“Your son must have had an enemy,” Sano persisted. “You knew him all his life, and you must know what his activities were, whom he associated with, the places he frequented.” Sano extended a hand and infused his voice with all the persuasiveness in him. “Please help me identify the enemy who killed him.”
“My son was a harmless, respectable young man, and liked by everyone around him. He had no enemies, and he didn’t die because of anything that happened in his personal life.”
It had occurred to Sano that Lord Matsudaira might not be the best source of facts about Mitsuyoshi, whose reputation for debauchery suggested he’d had plenty to hide from his father. “Perhaps other family members were more familiar with your son’s business than yourself,” Sano said. “Perhaps they would be more willing to talk to me.” Though he saw little chance that Lord Matsudaira would allow him to interview anyone else here, he had to ask.
Lord Matsudaira huffed in shock at this new affront. “My wife is ill from grief. I’ll not let you bother her with questions or insinuations about our son.”
“Then may I speak with Mitsuyoshi’s brothers?” Sano said. “Or his personal retainers?”
Just then, Sano noticed one of the guards watching him with closer attention than the others. The man, perhaps thirty-five years old, had the powerful body of a fighter and the sensitive face of a scholar. His gaze met Sano’s, then veered away. Sano recognized the guard as one of Mitsuyoshi’s men whom he’d seen in Yoshiwara after the murder.
“This murder was strictly political, as you well know,” Lord Matsudaira said. “My son fell victim to your quest for power. You murdered him so your son could take his place as the shogun’s heir. He was an incidental casualty of your attack on the Tokugawa regime. Now you seek a scapegoat to frame for your crime, so you can escape treason charges.”
“I’m neither a murderer nor traitor,” Sano denied vehemently. “I’m innocent, and I’ll prove it.”
Lord Matsudaira jabbed his finger into Sano’s chest. “Mitsuyoshi’s brothers and retainers know what you are, and if you approach them, they’ll kill you to avenge his death. Consider it a favor from me that I deny you permission to speak to them. I wouldn’t willingly trespass on His Excellency’s right to determine your fate, but if you come here again or go near any members of my household—” He drew his sword, brandished it at Sano, and shouted, “I’ll kill you myself and save the executioner the trouble!”
The detectives leapt between Sano and Lord Matsudaira’s sword; the guards drew their weapons, anticipating a battle. “Even as you accuse me and threaten me, the real killer is out there somewhere,” Sano said. “If you won’t cooperate with my investigation and you join my enemies in condemning me, you’ll deny your son the justice he deserves. The murderer will walk free.”
Fixing a long, hostile look on Sano, Lord Matsudaira said, “He already has.” Then he addressed the guards: “Escort the ssakan-sama off the premises before I personally deliver him to justice.”
As soon as Sano and Hirata had left her to begin their inquiries into Lord Mitsuyoshi’s background, Reiko had gone to the palace to begin hers. She’d hoped to coax her cousin Eri and friends among the shogun’s concubines and their attendants into telling her what they knew about Lord Mitsuyoshi. But the chief female palace official said everyone was too busy to talk. Her cold manner told Reiko the unhappy truth: The women had heard that Sano was on the brink of ruin, and they all had withdrawn their friendship from his wife because they didn’t want her troubles to infect them. Visits to friends and relatives in the official quarter ended the same way, and Reiko went home feeling like a pariah.
As she sat in her parlor, terrified that she’d lost her power to help Sano, one of Sano’s detectives appeared at the door. He said, “I have information that the ssakan-sama told me to report to you if he wasn’t available. I’ve found the bathhouse where Lady Wisteria’s friend Yuya works.” He gave a location in Nihonbashi. “I searched the place this morning, and there was no sign of Wisteria. Everyone denies knowing anything about her—but I think Yuya was lying.”
Reiko was thrilled, because her visit to the courtesan’s family had produced a possible lead. Perhaps if she talked to Yuya, she could get the truth. “Please summon an escort to take me to the bathhouse at once,” she said.
The detective went off to obey. Reiko hurried to her chamber to dress for the trip. She’d just strapped her dagger under her sleeve, when the nursemaid O-hana sidled into the room.
“You’re very busy lately, Honorable Mistress,” O-hana said.
Reiko frowned at the intrusion. She suspected that O-hana had been eavesdropping. “Yes, I am,” Reiko said in a tone that discouraged conversation. She noted that O-hana seemed nervous and her eyes were brighter than usual.
O-hana ignored the hint that she should go. “Are you going out again?” she said eagerly.
“Yes.” Reiko’s dislike of the girl increased, even though O-hana had done her a service by introducing her to Wisteria’s family. Her senses stirred alert to a new malevolence about O-hana. She inwardly rebuked herself for feelings based on fancy, not reason. How could she break the spell of the Black Lotus, stop imagining threats that didn’t exist, and concentrate on the ones that did?
“I heard that the ssakan-sama has been accused of murder and treason.” O-hana edged closer to Reiko. “How awful!”
“Indeed,” Reiko said flatly. O-hana had overstepped the bounds of courtesy by mentioning Sano’s problems, and Reiko resented O-hana’s obvious hunger for sordid details.
“I’m so sorry. You must be very worried about what’s happened.” O-hana knelt cautiously, like a cat settling down in a place where it feels insecure. “I hope I haven’t upset you more by speaking of it.”
Instead of heeding her wish to order the girl back to work, Reiko forced a smile and said, “It’s all right.” O-hana was only offering sympathy as best she knew how. Personal problems were no excuse for ill temper toward an innocent servant.
“You and the ssakan-sama have been good to me, and I’d hate for anything bad to happen to you,” O-hana said. An odd, furtive note echoed in her voice, almost as if she felt the opposite of what she said. After a pause, she blurted, “I wish I could make all these troubles disappear.”
Reiko fought her suspicion, because there was no reason to think O-hana meant her harm. “Thank you,” Reiko said more warmly. “I’m sorry if I seemed harsh. I am a little worried.”
O-hana blushed, hunching in inexplicable shame. “I don’t deserve your apology,” she mu
mbled.
But there definitely was something off about O-hana that Reiko couldn’t attribute to her own overactive imagination. “What’s the matter?” she said.
“Nothing!” The girl sat up straight, as if jabbed in the back. “It’s kind of you to ask, but I’m fine.” She gave Reiko a too-bright smile. “It’s your situation that concerns me. What are you going to do?”
Unconvinced, Reiko eyed her closely. “I’ll try to discover who killed Lord Mitsuyoshi and prove my husband’s innocence.”
“Maybe I can help,” O-hana said. “Shall I go with you?”
Her readiness to intrude again aroused new suspicion in Reiko. “You can help me by staying here and attending to your duties,” Reiko said.
“Yes, Honorable Mistress.”
A look of pique and disappointment flitted across O-hana’s face, but she bowed meekly, rose, and sidled away. Reiko hurried outside to her waiting palanquin.
Sano and his detectives walked down the passage leading away from the Tokugawa family enclave. Through the gun holes and arrow slits in the enclosed corridors that topped the high walls, Sano heard the guards conversing while they waited to shoot anyone who invaded the castle. He kept his eyes focused straight ahead and his face expressionless, concealing his fear as he passed beneath watchtowers occupied by more guards. There was no security here for a man accused of treason. Sano felt like an enemy soldier trapped in the castle, because the might of the Tokugawa would turn on him unless he somehow obtained the information he’d failed to get from Lord Matsudaira and cleared his name.
“Ssakan-sama!” Rapid footsteps behind Sano accompanied the call. “May I please speak with you?”
Sano turned and saw, running down the passage toward him, the guard who’d watched him so intently at the Matsudaira estate. He halted, glad that someone from the household was willing to talk to him.
“Yes,” Sano said. The guard lurched to a stop before him, panting from exertion, and bowed. “Go ahead.”
The guard looked around, his sensitive face taut with nervousness. He mumbled, “In private, if we may?”
“As you wish.” Sano signaled his men to move ahead, while he walked with the guard.
“Many thanks.” Though the guard spoke with breathless relief, he dawdled, his shoulders hunched and his gaze furtive.
Sano studied the man while allowing him time to compose himself. He had a frown that wrinkled the skin of his upper eyelids, and a delicate mouth that lent him a vulnerable air despite his muscular heft.
“What’s your name?” Sano said.
“Wada,” the guard said, as if making a guilty admission.
“Don’t be afraid, Wada-san. I appreciate your coming to me,” Sano said.
They traveled some twenty paces before Wada said in an almost inaudible voice, “Family reputation is very important to my master. He loved his son and wants to preserve only the good memories of him.”
“But someone who cares less about appearances might reveal the truth about Lord Mitsuyoshi?” Sano suggested.
Wada hesitated, his gaze fixed on the ground as they walked. “My master has forbidden his family, retainers, and servants to talk to you. I don’t want to disobey him.”
And he certainly didn’t want to be punished, Sano thought. Was the man fishing for a bribe? Sano scrutinized Wada’s profile, but saw no avarice, only the worry of a man torn between loyalty and the desire to speak his mind. “Your ultimate duty is to the shogun,” Sano said. “His Excellency has ordered me to investigate Lord Mitsuyoshi’s murder, and you must cooperate by telling me everything you know that might be relevant.”
Wada’s frown relaxed, but he still looked perturbed. “My family has served the Matsudaira for five generations,” he said. “I was part of Mitsuyoshi-san’s retinue since the day he was born and looked after him all his life. He was as dear to me as a younger brother. I don’t want to lose my post, but I couldn’t bear it if the wrong man was punished for his murder and his killer went free because I kept silent.”
“I’ll do everything in my power to avenge Mitsuyoshi-san’s death,” Sano promised.
“Well…” Although Wada seemed reassured, hesitation inserted uneasy pauses between his words. “When Mitsuyoshi-san was very young, the clan’s fortune teller predicted that he would someday rule Japan. From that moment his life was a preparation for becoming shogun. His father hired teachers to make Mitsuyoshi-san study books and practice martial arts all day long, and priests to discipline his spirit. Eventually he was introduced to the shogun, who took a liking to him. It looked as if the prophecy would come true. So much was expected of him because he was going to inherit the regime…”
“That he rebelled?” Sano said.
Nodding, the guard continued with reluctance: “He was a strong-willed boy. He craved adventure. When he was sixteen, he got tired of constant discipline and protection. He ordered me to help him sneak out of the castle. We would roam the town while his father thought he was studying. Mitsuyoshi-san loved the entertainment districts. He had good looks, charm, and money, and he made friends at the teahouses and gambling dens. Soon he discovered Yoshiwara, and the trouble started.
“One night when the shogun wanted his company, he was nowhere to be found. Lord Matsudaira learned he’d been visiting a courtesan. When Mitsuyoshi-san came home, they had a terrible argument. His father was furious that he’d disappointed the shogun and risked falling out of favor. Mitsuyoshi-san begged a little freedom in exchange for sacrificing himself to the clan’s ambitions. They both wanted him to be the next shogun, but Mitsuyoshi-san was the one who paid the price.”
Apparently, Mitsuyoshi had been the shogun’s sexual object, and disliked the role forced on him. “What happened then?” Sano said.
“The arguments continued,” said Wada. “Lord Matsudaira ordered Mitsuyoshi-san to dedicate himself to pleasing the shogun. Mitsuyoshi-san pursued his own enjoyment, and the shogun began to complain that he was never available when he was wanted. Eventually his father cut off his allowance so he couldn’t afford his habits.
“Mitsuyoshi-san began paying closer attention to the shogun because he didn’t want to lose his chance at the succession,” Wada said, “but we still went out together, to teahouses and brothels that often served him without payment because he was a Tokugawa samurai and the shogun’s favorite. But there was one place he ran into trouble. It’s a gambling den in Nihonbashi. The patrons are hoodlums and gangsters.”
Sano experienced the internal stir that signaled the advent of an important clue. “Did he lose money to them?”
Grimness hardened Wada’s features as he nodded. “He should never have gotten involved with them, but he loved the thrill of Edo’s underside. He should never have put himself in their debt because they’re dangerous. The owner of the place is a wild, tough rnin who fears no one, not even the Tokugawa. One night while Mitsuyoshi-san and I were in town, he cornered us and demanded that Mitsuyoshi-san pay him and his friends their money. When Mitsuyoshi-san said he couldn’t, the rnin threatened to kill him unless he paid.”
Here, at last, was a possible suspect other than the three already executed. Elation flared in Sano. “When was the threat made?”
“About two months ago.” Wada pondered for a moment. “But even before Mitsuyoshi-san owed money, the rnin hated him. They had some sort of feud.”
“Did Mitsuyoshi-san pay what he owed?” Sano said as his excitement increased.
“Not to my knowledge.” After another pause, Wada said, “Even though Treasury Minister Nitta was convicted of the murder and now you’ve been accused of it, I can’t help wondering if the rnin was involved in Mitsuyoshi-san’s death.”
Nor could Sano. But there was still the matter of determining that the rnin could have killed Mitsuyoshi.
“I didn’t come forward earlier and tell you or the police about the rnin,” Wada said, “because I knew my master wouldn’t want his son’s reputation ruined. And later, when the treasury ministe
r was convicted, I thought the killer had been caught and I needn’t speak.” He hung his head. “I’m sorry.”
Sano couldn’t be angry at the guard for withholding information because he understood the code of loyalty that bound them both. He also understood the agonizing guilt Wada suffered because he’d violated that code for the sake of the truth.
“I want to make up for whatever trouble I’ve caused, by telling you everything I know, including one last thing,” Wada said earnestly. “The rnin was in Yoshiwara that night. When I went with Mitsuyoshi-san to the ageya for his appointment with Lady Wisteria, I saw the rnin in the crowd outside.”
Sano inhaled the fresh, invigorating atmosphere of joyous possibility; his heart soared because he now had a new suspect and a whole new line of inquiry.
“Who is the rnin, and where can I find him?” Sano said, wanting to fall on his knees and thank the gods for this new chance to prove he wasn’t a murderer or traitor.
“I can take you to the gambling den now, if you like,” Wada said, “but I don’t know the rnin’s proper name. Everyone calls him Lightning.”
29
The bathhouse where Yuya worked was located near a canal that ran through a slum in the Nihonbashi merchant district. Reiko peered out the window of her palanquin at ramshackle buildings where children flocked and screamed on balconies and old people huddled in doorways. Crowds of drab women separated to let the palanquin and Reiko’s mounted guards pass through a produce market. Bonfires of reeking garbage smoldered. The canal, a muddy stream that flowed sluggishly between stone embankments, teemed with houseboats. Beyond lay more ugly slums, blurred by smoke and sleety drizzle. Reiko smelled the powerful fishy stench of the canal and spied a roving gang of hoodlums carrying iron clubs. Stifling a shiver, she leaned out the window.
The Pillow Book of Lady Wisteria Page 26
