The Cloud Pavilion (24 page)

She lay still and peaceful on the litter on which she’d been brought. “Husband,” she murmured.

“Take her home and let her rest,” Joju said. “She’ll be fine.”

The moneylender and the family bowed to Joju. All smiles, they carried the dazed Onaru out of the room.

“Was that real?” Fukida asked.

“I don’t know.” Marume sounded shaken out of his usual cheer. “But if they’re happy, I’m happy.”

Sano rose and walked toward Joju, who stood on the dais, hands clasped at his chest. He didn’t seem surprised to see Sano; he must have been aware of Sano’s presence all along. Perhaps those deep, glowing eyes could see in the dark.

“Welcome, Honorable Chamberlain,” Joju said. “Although we’ve never been formally introduced, I know you by sight.”

He didn’t look as ageless now. The shadow of black stubble on his head receded far back on his scalp. Lines in his golden skin bracketed his mouth and webbed the skin at the corners of his eyes. His muscles had begun to sag. He also seemed tired from his exertions; he was bathed in sweat. But he descended from the dais with the agility of a young man, and he had an allure that transcended his physical being. He wore holiness as he did his glittering stole. Which caused Sano to distrust him more than he would the usual suspect.

“That was quite a show you put on,” Sano said.

Wry humor upturned the corner of Joju’s mouth. “I’ll take that as a compliment. The salvation of souls can be quite dramatic, as you’ve just seen.”

“Especially with a little help from opium in the incense and a few theatrics?” Sano said. No such theatrics had accompanied the phenomena he’d witnessed in Ezogashima. Sano had more than a hunch that Joju was a charlatan.

Joju laughed, the sound startlingly boisterous. “I see that you like rational explanations. Supposing I did employ the kind of trickery that you accuse me of: Why not, if it drives out the spirits and restores people to sanity?”

“Point taken,” Sano said, “but possession by spirits isn’t the cause of every illness. It may be rarer than it seems.”

“Indeed not. Spirits are all around us, always seeking innocent victims to haunt.” Joju opened his arms wide. “We all have the power to communicate with the spirit world, but few of us know how to use it. I am one of the few. I have dedicated my life to freeing humanity from evil spirits and laying them to peaceful rest.”

He spoke as if he believed what he said. Perhaps he truly did. “At a handsome profit,” Sano commented.

Irritation glinted in the black wells of Joju’s eyes. “Not for myself. For my temple. For the benefit of the faithful who come to worship. May I ask why you’re here? Perhaps you are in need of my services?”

“As a matter of fact, I am,” Sano said.

“Oh?” Joju said, smug because he thought he had the advantage over Sano. “Who is in trouble?”

“My cousin,” Sano said. “Her name is Chiyo.”

Joju didn’t react to the name, but he was clearly a man in control of how he appeared. “What are her symptoms?”

“She has nightmares,” Sano said. Reiko had told him that.

“Nightmares are often caused by spirit possession.”

“Not in this case,” Sano said. “My cousin was recently kidnapped and raped. So was a twelve-year-old girl named Fumiko. I need your help with finding the person who did it.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know what use I could be,” Joju said. He hadn’t reacted to the mention of the crimes, or seemed to recognize Fumiko’s name. “I’m not a policeman.”

“You can speak to the spirits. Maybe they can give me some information.”

“The spirits speak to me about themselves and their wishes. I can’t interrogate them about matters that don’t concern them.” Joju remained courteous, but impatience tinged his voice.

“Never mind the spirits, then,” Sano said. “You can help me in another way.”

“How is that?”

“You can tell me about your relations with two oxcart drivers named Jinshichi and Gombei.”

Joju looked confused, perturbed. Sano thought he’d finally hit his target, but then Joju said, “They transport supplies for the temple. Are they responsible for the crimes you mentioned?”

“They’re suspects.” Sano wondered whether Joju’s business with the drivers was as innocent as the priest claimed. If not, Joju might have denied knowing them. But he also might have realized that people had seen him with them and it was better not to lie. “Can you tell me where they are?”

“I’m afraid not. I haven’t seen them in perhaps a month. If they turn up here, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

He walked toward the door, drawing Sano and the detectives with him, anxious for them to leave. Maybe Sano had hit him close to home after all.

“They’re not the only suspects,” Sano said. “Your name also came up in the course of my investigation.”

“My name?” Joju’s expression altered. Sano saw shock, and an emotion harder to interpret. “You can’t believe that I kidnapped those two women.”

“Three women,” Sano said. “There was another—a nun from a convent near this very temple.” Was that fear in Joju’s eyes? “No, I don’t believe you kidnapped them. I believe Jinshichi and Gombei did. They procure women for clients with special tastes. Are you one of those clients?”

“Of course not.” Joju’s expression shifted into outrage mingled with disdain. “When I became a priest, I vowed never to harm anyone. I also took a vow of celibacy.”

“Vows can be broken.”

“Not mine.” Joju radiated sanctimoniousness. “The work I do requires me to be pure in mind, body, and soul. If I had committed those crimes, the spirits wouldn’t speak to me.”

Marume laughed. “That was one of the more original proofs of innocence we’ve ever been offered.”

“It’s not good enough. Let’s see if you can come up with something based in this world.” Sano asked the priest where he’d been during the periods when the women were missing.

“I can’t recall exactly,” Joju said, “but I was probably praying, conducting exorcisms, and fulfilling my other duties at the temple from sunrise to sundown.”

“And after sundown?” Sano said.

“I sleep.”

“Can anyone vouch for you?”

“The monks, the servants, and the other priests here. The people for whom I conducted exorcisms. I may have called on some government officials.”

“I’ll need a list of everyone,” Sano said.

“I’ll gladly provide it. I’ll also provide you a list of good character references.” Joju said with a sly smile, “The shogun will be at the top of that list. Are you aware that His Excellency is my patron?”

“I am.” Sano knew the shogun was enthusiastic about religion in general and mysticism in particular. But now Sano realized that the shogun’s patronage of Joju threatened to complicate his investigation.

The shogun was often more loyal to his favorite priests than to his top retainers. In a conflict between Sano and Joju, whose side would he take?

Joju uttered his boisterous laugh. “Then I needn’t warn you to think before you persecute me.”

Sano returned to Edo Castle after dark, when the night watch patrol guards roamed the passages with torches that smoldered and hissed in the moist evening air. Thunder murmured. As Sano and his entourage dismounted at his gate, Hirata rode up. One look at his friend’s face warned Sano that things hadn’t gone well for Hirata either.

In his office, Sano poured sake for himself and Hirata. “Any news?” Sano asked.

“My men and I spent the day looking for the oxcart drivers, but we haven’t found them yet,” Hirata said.

That was bad enough, but Sano could tell it wasn’t the worst problem Hirata had to report. “What happened with Ogita?”

“He says he’s not guilty. He has alibis.” Hirata described his interview with the rice broker.

“We expected as much,” Sano said. “Did you check those alibis?”

Hirata hesitated, then said, “No.”

“Why not?” Sano asked, surprised.

“Ogita has three of your top allies deeply in debt to him. He said he would call in their debts unless I left him alone.”

This was a serious threat with potentially dire political consequences, but Sano insisted, “I won’t be stopped by blackmail.”

“I knew you would say that,” Hirata said, “but as your chief retainer, I must advise you to be careful with Ogita. Besides, maybe he’s innocent. I propose that we concentrate on the other suspects first.”

“That may be a problem, too,” Sano said, and told Hirata about his encounters with the other suspects. “Nanbu is still barricaded inside the kennel with his dogs and refusing to talk. And unless I leave Joju alone, I could find myself in trouble with the shogun.”

“That
is
a problem,” Hirata agreed. “I must remind you that your ultimate duty is to the shogun, not your cousin or your uncle. Think of what His Excellency will do if you displease him.”

Sano didn’t have to think. The shogun had threatened him and his family with death often enough. “There must be a way to do right by the shogun and finish this investigation.”

“Until we figure it out, we have three suspects we can’t touch,” Hirata said.

“I did do some discreet inquiries,” Sano said. After a long day of meetings at the palace, he’d spent hours tracing Nanbu’s and Joju’s movements. “I didn’t find any evidence to prove that Nanbu and Joju aren’t the upstanding citizens they claim to be.” Already exhausted, Sano sensed that the day’s story of bad luck wasn’t over yet. “Have you any more news?”

Hirata bowed his head. “The other day, while I was at Ueno Pond . . .”

He described how a mysterious stranger had begun stalking him, had later invaded his estate, and had shown up while he’d been interviewing Ogita. As he confessed that he’d killed Ogita’s servant, Sano listened in dismay, and not only because of the innocent life destroyed.

“Whoever’s stalking you, he has the power to manipulate people against their will, to make them do things they ordinarily wouldn’t,” Sano said. “You’re in extreme danger.”

“That doesn’t make up for what I did.” Hirata’s stoic expression didn’t hide his misery. “And I can’t promise that it won’t happen again.” He said reluctantly, “I must ask you to take me off the investigation.”

As much as Sano hated to lose Hirata’s help—or to see him suffering because he couldn’t fulfill his duty to his master—he knew Hirata was right. “Very well.” And he must take additional steps to protect Hirata and the public. “I’m also relieving you of your other investigations and duties until you’ve found out who’s after you and dealt with the situation. Your detectives can handle your work. If the shogun asks about you, I’ll tell him you’re ill.”

Hirata looked stricken, but he bowed in agreement. “May I be excused?”

Sano nodded.

After Hirata had left, Sano went to look for his family. Perhaps Reiko had news of Chiyo. Perhaps the children could cheer Sano up. He found Akiko asleep in bed, but Masahiro was lying on his stomach in the parlor and drawing pictures.

“Is that a cow?” Sano asked.

“No, Father, it’s a cat!” Masahiro said. “Can’t you tell?”

“Yes, I was just joking,” Sano said. “It’s a better cat than I could ever draw. What else have you been doing today?”

As Masahiro chattered about his schoolwork, Sano’s mind wandered to the investigation. Then Masahiro said, “Father, what’s divorce?”

“That’s when a husband and wife stop being married,” Sano said absently.

“What’s incest?”

Sano’s attention snapped back to his son. “Where did you hear that word?”

“Oh, I don’t know, someplace.” Masahiro scribbled on his drawing pad.

“Well, you’d better ask your mother,” Sano said, not eager to tackle sensitive subjects.

“She’s not home.”

“Where is she?”

“She went to visit Cousin Chiyo this morning. She said she would be spending the night.”

Sano heard thunder, went to the door, and opened it. He and Masahiro looked at the rain streaming off the eaves. “Well, at least she won’t get caught in this weather.”

White veins of lightning split the sky above the Kumazawa estate. Rain deluged the mansion. Thunder boomed. The sentries outside the gate stood beneath its roof, while patrol guards inside the grounds sheltered under the mansion’s eaves. They didn’t notice the man atop the back wall. The lightning illuminated his crouched figure for an instant before the sky went dark and the thunder reverberated. When the lightning flared again, he was gone. The next thunderclap masked the noise he made when he landed on the ground inside the wall.

In the women’s quarters, Reiko played cards with Chiyo and Fumiko. The chamber was stuffy, the doors that led to the garden closed because of the storm. As Reiko dealt the cards, she listened to the rain clatter on the roof tiles. Lightning flickered through the paper windowpanes; thunder cracked.

Although pale and anxious, Chiyo made an effort to smile at Reiko. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“So am I,” Reiko said, smiling back.

Fumiko wasn’t much for conversation. Intent on the game, she snatched up the cards Reiko dealt her. The women laid out, matched, and picked up cards illustrated with cherry trees, cranes standing beneath red suns, and other suits. Reiko noticed that Fumiko won every round. She began to watch the girl and spied her slipping cards in and out of her sleeves. Fumiko was cheating! She must have learned how from the gangsters. Reiko decided against reprimanding her. Let the poor girl have some fun. And if Chiyo noticed, she didn’t seem to mind. There were issues more serious than cheating at cards.

Reiko had a specific one on her mind. All day she’d wondered how to broach the delicate subject to Chiyo and Fumiko, but it couldn’t be avoided any longer. “There’s something I must tell you,” she began. “The nun who was kidnapped . . . she had . . . a disease.”

“Oh?” Chiyo said, mildly curious. “What kind of disease?”

“On her . . .” Reiko glanced down, at her lap. “It came from the man who kidnapped her.”

Stricken by horrified comprehension, at first Chiyo didn’t speak. She looked at Fumiko, who was matching cards and seemed not to be listening. Then she said, “Fumiko is clean. I saw her when we bathed. But I—”

“Do you . . . ?” Reiko couldn’t bring herself to ask Chiyo outright if she had symptoms.

“No,” Chiyo whispered. “But . . .”

But it was too soon to know whether the rapist had given her the disease or not. Reiko said, “If you find anything wrong, you must see a physician.”

“All right,” Chiyo said unhappily.

Her duty done, Reiko rubbed her eyes, which were bleary with fatigue. Some two hours ago, the temple bells in Asakusa had rung at midnight. Everybody else in the house had gone to bed.

“If you’re tired, you needn’t stay up,” Chiyo said.

“No, I’m fine,” Reiko said. Chiyo had confided that she and Fumiko stayed up late because of their nightmares, and Reiko felt a desire as well as an obligation to keep them company.

As she dealt the cards again, Reiko felt a warm, damp draft on the back of her neck. The flame in the lantern wavered. The sound and smell of the rain filled the room. Fumiko, who sat opposite her, dropped the cards she held. Fumiko gazed past Reiko, her eyes wide with terror.

Reiko turned. A man stood inside the open door, his black garments streaming water from the rain. He wore a hood that covered his entire head, with holes cut out for his eyes and mouth. Raising a sword in both hands, he lunged across the room toward Reiko and her friends.

Chiyo screamed.

Fumiko jumped up to run, but tripped on her hem and fell.

Reiko snatched up her dagger, which lay in its sheath on the floor beside her. She usually wore it strapped to her arm under her sleeve when she left home, but she’d thought she would be safe here. The man rushed at Chiyo. She raised her hands to protect herself, and his sword came swinging downward at her. Reiko whipped out her dagger and slashed at the man. Even as he faltered and turned his weapon on Reiko, her blade cut him across his belly.

He uttered an awful yowl. He dropped his sword, sank to his knees, and bent over the wound. Blood mixed with rainwater spilled onto the floor.

Fumiko huddled nearby, hands over her mouth, staring at him. Chiyo called, “Help, help!”

The intruder glared at Reiko through the holes in his hood, his eyes blazing with hatred and anger. He groped for his weapon, but toppled sideways. The emotion faded from his eyes as he collapsed amid playing cards stained red by his blood.

Reiko heard men shouting and running in the corridors and outside the house. Then Major Kumazawa and his guards were in the room. Major Kumazawa wore a night robe; his feet were bare. He carried a sword, which he pointed at the dead man.

“What happened?” he demanded. “Who is this?”

Reiko couldn’t answer. She was suddenly dizzy, gasping for breath. She had a frightening sense that time had folded back on itself and she was reliving an earlier attack, during which her children had almost been murdered.

Fumiko pointed to the mask that the corpse wore. “It’s the man who kidnapped us!” she shrilled. “He came back to get us, just like he said he would!”