The Pillow Book of Lady Wisteria

by Laura Joh Rowland

  The murder had been Wisteria’s idea? Astounded, Sano looked at her.

  “You were only supposed to wound him,” she berated Lightning in a ragged voice. “He wasn’t supposed to die!”

  Her gaze flew to Sano, and her jaw dropped because she’d thoughtlessly admitted her responsibility. Shock robbed Sano of speech. Lightning chuckled in cruel glee. “She knew Fujio and Nitta would be suspected of having something to do with the murder or her disappearance or both,” the gangster said. “Nitta was stupid enough to tell her he’d stolen from the treasury. She told Fujio, so that when he was questioned by the police, he would tell on Nitta, and Nitta would be put to death. Then I would kill a woman and put the body in Fujio’s house.”

  “Who was she?” Sano said, as he began to fit the new revelations with what he’d already known about the crime.

  “Just a whore from a bathhouse,” Lightning said.

  Sano noticed scratches on the gangster’s wrists, where the victim had clawed them. “And Wisteria sent me the anonymous tip so I would find the body?”

  Lightning nodded. “Fujio was supposed to be blamed for murdering Wisteria. Everyone was supposed to think she was dead and stop looking for her.”

  “You should have put animal blood on my clothes and left them in the house, the way I told you,” Wisteria railed at Lightning. “But you can’t resist a chance to kill.” Flustered and defensive, she turned to Sano. “No one was supposed to get hurt except Momoko, Fujio, and Nitta. They deserved it. Momoko made my life hell when I was a young courtesan. Fujio and Nitta broke their promises to marry me. I had to pay them all back.”

  Sano was astonished to learn that Wisteria was such a vengeful schemer. Her beauty and charm had disguised her true nature. He’d correctly guessed that Lightning had killed Lord Mitsuyoshi, while never suspecting that Wisteria was behind the crime. Now he recalled the clues that had hinted at the truth.

  “The treasury minister confessed at his trial that you wanted him to marry you but he wouldn’t,” Sano said. “You ruined your mother’s clothes because she sold you to Yoshiwara. Now Momoko, Fujio, and Nitta are dead because they hurt you.” Magistrate Aoki had unwittingly aided Wisteria’s scheme. “And you might have escaped the consequences, except that you chose an accomplice you couldn’t control.” Her selfish depravity horrified Sano.

  “Those weren’t the only people she meant to hurt,” Lightning said. “Do you want to know who her last target was?”

  “Be quiet!” Wisteria shrilled. “You’ve done enough wrong!”

  Lightning jabbed a finger at Sano and grinned. “It was you.”

  “Me?” Flabbergasted, Sano stared at Wisteria.

  “She wrote in her pillow book that you’d plotted to murder the shogun’s heir so your son could rule Japan someday,” Lightning said. “Then she sent the book to the chamberlain. You should have seen how glad she was when we heard the news that you’d been accused of killing Lord Mitsuyoshi.”

  Shock reverberated through Sano. The book he’d deemed a forgery was genuine. Police Commissioner Hoshina was guilty of nothing except using the book to his advantage. Wisteria herself had mixed lies about Sano with authentic details of their affair, then delivered her slander to Hoshina. Enlightenment removed Sano’s last illusions about Wisteria. Horrified fascination propelled him a step closer toward the wicked stranger who’d been his lover.

  “Why?” he said, his voice hushed and his brow creased with his effort to understand Wisteria.

  Her lips trembled in a smile that begged for mercy; she looked small and harmless. But Sano likened her to a woman in a No drama, played by an actor wearing a mask with moveable parts that shift, turning her beautiful face into an ugly one and revealing her as a demon. Wisteria’s mask had shifted.

  “It was a mistake. Please let me explain,” she said, breathlessly eager. “Four years ago, you asked me questions about a murder. I was punished because men in high places didn’t want you investigating the case or anyone to help you. I was demoted to hashi—the bottom rank of courtesans. My private room and nice kimonos were taken away from me. I had to live in a crowded attic infested with lice, eat leftovers from other people’s plates, and wear cheap clothes. I lost my rich clients. I had to serve the poorest, crudest men—three or four a night. I suffered because of you.”

  Sano acknowledged his culpability, yet marveled at the lengths she’d gone to retaliate.

  Memory and hatred darkened Wisteria’s eyes. “Then I learned that you’d risen in the world and meant to free me. I thought you would take me to Edo Castle to live with you. But you just sent someone to pay off the brothel and give me money.” Her voice turned jagged with ire. “And later, you visited me and took your pleasure from me, as if it didn’t matter that you’d left me to struggle on my own.”

  Now Sano understood why Wisteria had acted cold toward him during those visits. She’d expected more of him, and he’d disappointed her.

  “She got in trouble and went back to Yoshiwara.” Lightning paced around Wisteria and Sano, clearly enjoying the drama he’d provoked. “She thought you owed it to her to rescue her again. But you didn’t, and she wanted to make you pay.”

  A spark of anger within Sano ignited as he recalled what Yuya had told Reiko. “You squandered the money I gave you,” he reminded Wisteria. “You ran up debts and became a thief. I compensated you for suffering on my account. What you did afterward was your fault, not mine.”

  Anger blazed into outrage. Fists clenched, Sano advanced on Wisteria. “You framed me for murder and treason because you couldn’t handle your freedom. You almost destroyed my whole family instead of taking responsibility for your own mistakes!” His offense against Wisteria didn’t justify her attack on him. The last of his sympathy toward her vanished. “To think I risked my life to rescue you!”

  “I know now that I did wrong. I’m sorry I hurt you,” Wisteria said in a wheedling tone. She gave him a coy smile that faltered, exposing her terror of his wrath. “Please forgive me.”

  Dropping to her knees, she clutched Sano’s hands against her bosom. Her attempt to propitiate him repelled Sano. He yanked his hands out of hers, just as Lightning seized her by the hair.

  “You think you can blame me for everything and save your own hide,” Lightning shouted. “Well, you won’t get away with it. This is all your fault, and now you’ll pay!”

  He smote her face. He threw her to the floor and kicked her. Wisteria curled up, sobbing.

  “Help!” she screamed to Sano. “He’ll kill me!”

  Sano was tempted to walk out and leave Wisteria to Lightning. As he thought of how she would have condemned his wife, son, and all his retainers to execution just to punish him for sins she’d magnified out of proportion, her agony gladdened him. Yet his honor deplored his own thirst for vengeance. He couldn’t permit another murder, and Wisteria was still a witness he needed alive. Tokugawa law would mete out justice to her.

  Now Lightning drew his sword and raised it high over Wisteria, who shrieked in terror. “Stop!” Sano ordered. He lunged, and seized the gangster’s arm. Lightning wrenched free; he slashed at Sano. As Sano dodged, Wisteria crawled away toward the stairs. Lightning charged at her, sword poised to kill. Sano dashed after Lightning, when suddenly, a shout came from outside the warehouse.

  “Lightning! Ssakan-sama!” Hirata’s voice called. “I’ve brought the money.”

  Reiko didn’t wait for her palanquin to carry her to her door. As soon as it entered the official quarter, she leapt out of the vehicle, ran up the street, and burst through her gate. Heart thudding, she raced into the courtyard. She experienced cold, nauseating fear that what she sought to prevent had already come to pass. A wail rose in her throat as she dashed into the mansion.

  “Masahiro-chan!” she called, hurrying down the corridor.

  Her voice echoed through emptiness. Fright constricted her lungs. Skidding around a corner, she almost fell through a doorway. She saw, inside the room, all five housem
aids and three of Masahiro’s nurses asleep on the floor. Their eyes were closed; air hissed softly through their open mouths. Empty wine cups littered a table. Reiko stared with alarm as her suspicions found anchor in reality. Lady Yanagisawa must have drugged the servants so she would have the house to herself, and no witnesses to what she did. Reiko ran into the nursery.

  Toys lay scattered around, but Masahiro was nowhere in view. The exterior door was open, the room bitterly cold. Stricken by terror, Reiko hastened outside to the garden.

  “Masahiro-chan!” she called again.

  The wind whipped her as she frantically searched the deserted lawn and wilted flowerbeds for her son. Then she heard childish laughter—and splashing noises. Reiko’s heart lurched. She sped around the cherry trees to the pond.

  Kikuko stood waist-deep in the water. She was pushing something under the surface, holding it down with both hands. Water splashed, showering her with droplets. Giggling, she pushed harder. Reiko saw little feet kicking and arms flailing. Horror stabbed her. She inhaled a deep, wheezing gasp, then screamed: “No!”

  Panic launched her forward to rescue Masahiro. Suddenly a figure darted out through the pine trees on the pond’s opposite bank. It was Lady Yanagisawa. Agony contorted her face almost beyond recognition. Her gray robes streamed behind her as she ran awkwardly to the pond.

  “Stop, Kikuko-chan!” she cried.

  The little girl looked up, saw her mother, and wrinkled her brow in confusion. Masahiro’s struggles weakened. Reiko and Lady Yanagisawa plunged into the pond. The cold water chilled Reiko’s legs and soaked her garments; mud sucked at her feet. Lady Yanagisawa seized Kikuko by the arm and hauled her away from Masahiro. Mother and daughter lost their balance and fell with a huge splash as Reiko reached Masahiro.

  He lay face-down and motionless on the bottom of the pond, his pale clothes visible through the murky water. His outspread arms and legs floated limply.

  “Oh, no, oh, no,” Reiko moaned.

  She lifted her son. Carrying his heavy, dripping weight, she staggered up on the bank. Lady Yanagisawa followed, towing Kikuko. The wet, bedraggled pair collapsed onto dry land together and watched Reiko lay Masahiro down on his back.

  “Masahiro-chan,” she cried.

  His eyes were closed, his lips slack, his skin pale. Not a sound nor movement did he make. In desperation, Reiko shook Masahiro, then pushed on his stomach. A flood of water gushed from his mouth. He coughed and wriggled. His eyes blinked open and gazed up at Reiko. He started to bawl.

  Reiko exclaimed in joyous relief. She gathered up Masahiro and wrapped her cloak around his cold, shivering body. “It’s all right,” she soothed. Belated tears streamed down her cheeks. She looked over her son’s head, at the woman whose daughter had almost killed him.

  Lady Yanagisawa clung to Kikuko. “I’m so sorry,” she said earnestly. “I brought Kikuko to play with Masahiro. Please believe that I never imagined what would happen. Kikuko didn’t know any better.”

  The woman’s excuses couldn’t deny what Reiko saw in her eyes: Lady Yanagisawa had wanted Masahiro to die. His near-drowning was no accident. She’d gotten the maids out of the way and sent Kikuko to murder him. That she seemed to have changed her mind at the last moment didn’t absolve her.

  “Can you ever forgive us?” Lady Yanagisawa’s tone was anxious, pleading.

  And all Reiko’s distrust and suspicion of Lady Yanagisawa had been justified. Her instincts had proved true. Though Reiko had only begun to guess why the woman wanted to hurt Masahiro, she knew with profound certainty that Lady Yanagisawa was her foe.

  “Get out,” Reiko said in a voice that shook with outrage.

  The sound of Hirata’s voice outside froze Lightning with his sword poised to kill Wisteria. Sano halted his rush to stop the gangster. Wisteria hunched on her elbows and knees, arms shielding her head. She cautiously looked up. Sano held his breath while silence pervaded the warehouse.

  “Lightning!” Hirata called again. “Ssakan-sama!”

  Sano watched the anger dissipate from Lightning and satisfaction dawn on him as he recollected that his primary goal was escape, and understood that the means of escape had arrived. Lightning lowered his weapon, seized Wisteria by her collar, and yanked her upright. He backed away from Sano, toward the front of the loft, dragging Wisteria.

  “You come, too,” he ordered Sano, then warned, “Try anything, and she’s dead.”

  As Sano followed, his mind worked frantically to think how he might use this circumstance to capture Lightning.

  “Open the window,” Lightning commanded him. Sano obeyed. Fading daylight brightened the warehouse; icy wind blasted inward. Still gripping Wisteria and his sword, Lightning leaned out the window. “Hey!” he shouted.

  Hirata shouted back: “Before I give you the money, I want to see the ssakan-sama.”

  Lightning moved aside, pulling Wisteria with him. He jerked his head at Sano. “Go on.”

  Stepping up to the window, Sano spied Hirata standing in the street, holding a cumbersome box, his face worried. He smiled in relief when he saw Sano alive and unharmed. “I had to go all the way to Tobacco Lane to get the money,” he called.

  His emphatic tone suggested a hidden meaning, but Sano was baffled. He couldn’t understand why Hirata would mention Tobacco Lane, a street of tobacco shops and warehouses that had no moneylenders. Then Lightning’s sword poked his armor tunic, prodding him away from the window.

  “Bring the money to the door and knock,” Lightning shouted to Hirata. “Then go home.”

  “Very well,” Hirata called.

  Suddenly Sano remembered an investigation that had taken him and Hirata to Tobacco Lane. Enlightenment struck him. As he comprehended Hirata’s intent, three loud knocks on the door echoed through the warehouse.

  Lightning hesitated, clearly wondering how to get the money and control his hostages at the same time. His breath huffed and his gaze darted with accelerating rapidity. His grip on the sword and on Wisteria’s collar tightened. Sano saw the gangster’s quandary urging him toward more violence instead of rational action. Wisteria shut her eyes and bunched up her face, as if she anticipated a fatal lash of the blade.

  “We’ll all go downstairs,” Sano said, thinking fast about how to help Hirata’s plan succeed. “You can hold onto Wisteria, while I bring in the money.”

  After an instant of deliberation, Lightning said, “All right. You go first.”

  Sano descended; Lightning and Wisteria followed several steps behind him. They all crossed the warehouse. Sano unbarred and slowly opened the door, while his companions waited in the shadows. His pulse raced; expectation thrummed along his nerves. The wooden chest sat outside the door. Sano bent to lift the chest. Then came a scrambling noise on the roof.

  “What’s that?” Lightning exclaimed. Panic edged his voice.

  Turning, Sano saw the gangster spin in a circle, his gaze on the ceiling, as he clutched Wisteria against him. The skylights opened, raised by Sano’s troops, who’d climbed onto the warehouse. In dropped several dark objects the size and shape of turnips. Each had a short, flaming tail. As they fell, Lightning cried out and ducked. The objects plopped to the floor around him. Sano lunged for Wisteria. He caught hold of her hand, just as the bombs exploded with multiple thudding noises.

  Dense, yellowish smoke billowed, clouding the air. Lightning emitted an enraged, terrified yowl. Wisteria shrieked. Sano tugged her toward the doorway, a rectangle of brightness that was barely visible through the smoke. But a hard yank from the opposite direction tore her hand out of his. Sulfurous fumes stung Sano’s eyes, obscured his vision. Though he heard Hirata calling him and Lightning and Wisteria coughing, he could see nothing but smoke. He wished he’d managed to remove Wisteria from the building and let the smoke flush out Lightning. His lungs constricted, and coughs wracked him; yet he couldn’t go and leave Wisteria in here with the gangster.

  “Help!” she screamed, retching.

  Covering h
is nose and mouth with his sleeve, Sano groped blindly toward the sound of her. Light from the lanterns filtered through the smoke clouds. Sano’s instincts blared a sudden warning. He crouched, and Lightning’s blade flashed out of the smoke, over his head. More pleas for help came from Wisteria; Lightning alternated curses and wheezes. Blurred shapes flailed like ghosts in the smoke, while the blade whistled around Sano. He fell to the floor, rolled away. Wisteria loosed a scream of agony.

  Loud, splintering crashes reverberated as Sano’s troops hacked the window shutters open with axes. While the fresh air dispersed the smoke, Sano clambered to his feet in the center of the room. He saw Lightning lurch toward the door, choking and gagging, just as his detectives charged through it, their swords drawn. Lightning staggered into their midst, wildly swinging his blade in a desperate bid to escape or die trying. Sano launched himself at the gangster. He tackled Lightning around the knees. Lightning crashed to the floor. Sano’s men fell upon him and wrested his sword away. He struggled like a captured beast, uttering incoherent protests.

  “Are you all right?” Hirata asked Sano.

  Nodding, Sano panted from exertion and coughed up phlegm as he stood. “Where’s Wisteria?” he said.

  Then he heard a moan, and saw her. She lay on her side, torso raised on her elbows, inching toward the door. Pain wrenched her features. Her legs were soaked with blood, injured by Lightning. Now pity overrode Sano’s ill will against Wisteria. He and Hirata walked over to her. When she saw them, she strained her body and groaned with a last, futile heave toward freedom. Then she collapsed, weeping in defeat.

  35

  “Hirata-san!” Midori ran out on the veranda of the Edo Castle women’s quarters as he hurried up the path toward her. In her red silk kimono, she was a warm spot of color in the chill, cloudy afternoon and drab garden. “What has happened?”