The Perfumed Sleeve (19 page)

Okitsu gave Reiko a sly, superior glance that said she didn’t mind an audience because she liked being the object of another woman’s envy. Then she turned her attention back to her lover. Reiko wanted to bolt from the room rather than watch the pair, but if she did, she might be thrown out of the house for disobeying an order. And she’d not learned enough that she could give up future chances for spying. She knelt as far from Koheiji and Okitsu as possible.

They giggled and nuzzled each other, shedding their clothes. Naked, they entwined their legs. Koheiji’s manhood curved upward, long and thick; Okitsu’s sleek, plump body and rosy nipples gleamed in the lantern light. Reiko had never before watched other people engage in intimacies. Her face burned with embarrassment, but she couldn’t look away. Horrified fascination kept her gaze fixed on the lovers.

Koheiji picked up a sweet cake from the tray of food. He blew powdered pink sugar from the cake onto Okitsu’s chest. He licked the sugar off her while she cooed and tittered.

“Oh, look, there’s some on you,” she said, pointing to his erection.

She bent over him and sucked on his member; he held her head, groaning dramatically. Reiko felt her body respond against her will. Arousal increased her embarrassment.

Okitsu flopped onto her back and reached for Koheiji. “Wait,” he said, “I need a little aphrodisiac.”

He plucked a hard-boiled quail egg from the tray and discarded the shell. Okitsu spread her legs. He inserted the peeled egg into her womanhood, then crouched between her legs and sucked out the egg. As he chewed, smacked his lips, and uttered sounds of relish, Okitsu laughed uproariously. Reiko cringed, mortified by a different sort of humiliation than the housekeeper Yasue had inflicted on her. What other trials must she endure while spying? She beheld the lovers, now coupling with noisy, energetic abandon. If one of them was the murderer she sought, was it Koheiji or Okitsu?

19

The sky above Edo Castle’s official quarter glowed with the cold red fire of sunset. Moon and stars glittered like ice shards in the darkening heavens. Smoke drifted from inside the mansions and lanterns burning at the gates; sentries stamped their feet and rubbed their arms to keep themselves warm. Hirata rode along the empty street, dawdling as he neared Sano’s estate. Soon would come his moment of reckoning. He prayed that he wasn’t in too much trouble.

“The
sōsakan-sama
is waiting for you,” said the guard who opened the gate for Hirata.

The guard’s tone said Hirata was in very much trouble. Hirata’s heart began a slow, sickening descent. When he entered the mansion, he found Sano, Otani, and Ibe kneeling in the reception room.

“Hirata-
san
. Please join us,” Sano said.

His manner was unusually formal. Ibe and Otani regarded Hirata with open animosity. Hirata’s heart pounded as he knelt, greeted Sano and his guests, and bowed to them.

“I understand that you ran out on the men assigned to observe your inquiries today,” Sano said. “Is that true?”

“Yes,
Sōsakan-sama
,” Hirata said in a monotone that he hoped would conceal his nervousness.

“Where did you go?”

“To investigate Senior Elder Makino’s wife at Asakusa Jinja Shrine.”

“See? I told you.” Otani shot a look at Sano. “He went off investigating on his own. He broke the rule that all inquiries pertaining to Senior Elder Makino’s murder should be overseen by representatives of Lord Matsudaira.”

“And Chamberlain Yanagisawa,” added Ibe. “He also left my men breathing his dust.”

The disappointment in Sano’s eyes pained Hirata. “I can explain,” he said, anxious to defend himself although his only, poor excuse was that he’d snapped under pressure.

Otani’s hand sliced a cutting gesture at Hirata. “It doesn’t matter why you did it.”

“What’s important is that you never cause us trouble again,” said Ibe.

“As of this moment, you are removed from the investigation,” Otani said.

Shock and horror combined with humiliation as Hirata realized that his watchdogs thought him such a trivial person that they wouldn’t bother inflicting a more severe punishment on him. They were just cutting him out of the investigation as if he were a rotten spot on an apple.

“That’s fair,” Sano said, his tone as stoic as his expression.

And Sano was going along with them! Hirata stared in dismay at the master who’d just sacrificed him to appease Chamberlain Yanagisawa and Lord Matsudaira. A sense of injustice filled Hirata even though he knew he’d earned his fate. He couldn’t let the watchdogs take away his chance to solve the murder case and regain Sano’s esteem.

“A thousand apologies for my bad behavior,” he said, reluctantly abasing himself to Otani and Ibe. “Please allow me to make amends to you and continue in the investigation.”

“Save your breath,” Otani said. “The decision is final.”

Otani and Ibe rose. As Sano accompanied them to the door, Otani paused and said to Hirata, “By the way, what did you learn at Asakusa Jinja Shrine?”

Hirata rebelled against sharing the results of his clandestine inquiries with the men who’d exacted painful retribution for them. “Nothing,” he lied.

Ibe chuckled. “Then your escapade wasn’t worth the consequences, was it?”

Hirata sat alone, furious and miserable, while Sano escorted the watchdogs out of the estate. Presently, Sano returned and knelt facing Hirata.

“Things could be worse,” Sano said. “Otani and Ibe could have ordered you put to death for insubordination. If either of us had objected to your punishment, they’d have done it out of spite.”

That Sano had good reason for not objecting gave Hirata little solace. “Do you want me out of the investigation, too?” he said.

Conflicting emotions battled in Sano’s eyes. He exhaled and said, “You’ve shown poor judgment. This murder case is difficult enough without my own men causing problems.”

Hirata bowed his head, aware that Sano was right and he’d made himself a liability to Sano. When he’d disobeyed orders during the hunt for their wives and the kidnapper, he’d lowered himself into a hole of disgrace. Now, after only three days on the murder case that he’d hoped would restore him to honor, he’d dug the hole deeper.

Forlorn, he said, “How can I make up for what I did today?”

“You might start by telling me what you discovered about Senior Elder Makino’s widow,” said Sano. “Maybe you fooled Otani and Ibe, but I doubt that you came away from Asakusa Jinja Shrine empty-handed.”

At least he could prove himself a competent detective as well as a fool and liar, Hirata thought glumly. He told Sano the rumors that Agemaki had murdered Makino’s first wife. “Before I came home, I questioned the Edo Castle physician who attended Makino’s first wife when she took ill.” Hirata mentioned some interesting facts gleaned from the doctor. “He’s always suspected she was poisoned. And Agemaki certainly benefited from her death.”

Sano nodded, absorbing the news, delaying judgment. “Otani told me about your trip to Rakuami’s pleasure house. He says you learned nothing worthwhile about the concubine.”

“I beg to disagree,” Hirata said, irked that the man who’d expelled him from the investigation had also demeaned his hard-won evidence. “We learned that Okitsu hated Makino enough that she tried to drown herself rather then be sold to him.”

“Whether or not that means either woman killed Makino, it appears that his household was no model of peace and harmony,” Sano said. “He and his chief retainer had their differences.” He described Tamura’s disapproval of his master’s greed for money and sex. “His vendetta against the murderer could mean he’s innocent, or that he’s covering his guilt. And that actor is a shady character.” Sano told how Koheiji had staged sex shows and once beaten up an elderly client.

“We’ve discovered evidence against all the people who were in Makino’s private chambers that night,” Hirata said, “but none that proves any of them is guilty.”

“Maybe Reiko will find some,” Sano said.

Hirata belatedly noticed the haggard, careworn look that shadowed Sano’s face. He must be worrying about Reiko. “Has there been any news of her?” Hirata hated that he’d caused Sano additional worries.

“None,” Sano said. “The detectives I put in Makino’s house to report on her have said they can’t find her. I don’t know what’s happened to her.”

Neither he nor Hirata speculated aloud on the mishaps that might have befallen Reiko by now.

“What’s the next step in the investigation?” Hirata said, wondering if he even dared ask, now that it was none of his business.

Sano breathed, slowly and deliberately, as though to gird himself for an unpleasant task. “Much as I would like to avoid the factions, I can’t. I’ve already skirmished with Lord Matsudaira and his nephew.” Sano described what he’d discovered about Daiemon. “It’s time for a talk with Chamberlain Yanagisawa.”

And Hirata would be left out of it. More than ever he regretted his mistake. As Sano rose, Hirata said, “What shall I do?”

“Attend to your other duties as my chief retainer,” Sano said. “You can handle the business we’ve neglected since Makino’s murder.”

To occupy himself with mundane, everyday matters while the investigation went on without him seemed a sentence of doom to Hirata. “Yes,
Sōsakan-sama
,” he said, bowing humbly.

Sano hesitated. The concern in his eyes worsened Hirata’s anguish. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Sano said.

With bitter despair, Hirata watched Sano walk out of the room.

Sano, accompanied by Detectives Marume and Fukida, met Chamberlain Yanagisawa in the passage that led to the heart of Edo Castle. Yanagisawa walked amid his entourage. Lights from torches in the guard turrets and carried by soldiers patrolling atop the stone walls flickered in the black night. Dogs howled somewhere on the hill.

“Good evening,
Sōsakan-sama
,” the chamberlain said with cool courtesy as their two parties met.

Sano bowed, returned the greeting, then said, “May I have a word with you, Honorable Chamberlain?”

Yanagisawa nodded. Sano fell into step with Yanagisawa; their escorts trailed them. Yanagisawa said, “Don’t tell me—let me guess: Your investigation into Senior Elder Makino’s murder has led you to me.”

“I suppose Ibe-
san
has reported to you what we discovered today,” Sano said.

“I haven’t yet heard from Ibe-
san
. Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

Sano described his talk with Lord Matsudaira and Daiemon, and their allegation that Makino had defected. “They claim that they therefore had no reason to want him dead, and you did,” Sano said.

“That’s a good one.” Yanagisawa gave Sano a sidelong, amused glance. “Was it Daiemon who introduced the idea that Makino had turned on me?” When Sano nodded, Yanagisawa chuckled. “I underestimated his talent for fabricating lies.”

“Then it’s untrue that Makino defected?” Sano’s skepticism extended to Yanagisawa as well as the Matsudaira.

“Makino and I were longtime allies. There wasn’t a chance that he would betray me at this stage,” Yanagisawa said. “What proof do my enemies offer that he did?”

“None,” Sano admitted. “That’s why I came to hear your side of the story.

“Before accusing me of murdering Makino, based on their story?” Yanagisawa interpreted Sano’s silence as assent. “That was wise of you.” Respect tinged his tone. “Five years in the
bakufu
have refined your judgment. I scarcely recognize you as the raw amateur who used to rush headlong into every dangerous situation. Tell me: Under what circumstances did Daiemon announce that Makino had joined the Matsudaira faction?”

“I was questioning him about a visit he paid to Makino the night of the murder.”

A cloud of vapor issued from Yanagisawa’s nostrils as he snorted. “How unsurprising. You placed Daiemon at the scene of the crime. He knew he was in a dangerous position. What better way for him to cast off your suspicion than by foisting it onto me? That was quick thinking on his part.”

“The same logic applies to you,” Sano said. “What better way for you to reflect my suspicion back at Daiemon than by pointing out that he had reason to mislead me?”

Yanagisawa shrugged. “It’s up to you to decide which of us is telling the truth.”

And unless Sano found evidence to support Daiemon’s story, he must give Yanagisawa the benefit of the doubt. Sometimes he could discern Yanagisawa’s thoughts, but not tonight. Sano couldn’t tell if Yanagisawa felt threatened by Daiemon’s accusation or as unworried as he appeared. Yet Sano guessed that Yanagisawa had some scheme underway. He always did.

“But I must warn you against jumping to the conclusion that I’m the liar and not Daiemon,” Yanagisawa said. “The fact remains that Daiemon was in Makino’s house the night of the murder. I was at a banquet in my own house, with officials who can attest to my presence there.”

Here was the alibi that Sano had expected Yanagisawa to offer. At least the chamberlain had spared him the trouble of asking his whereabouts the night of the murder.