The Perfumed Sleeve (31 page)

“But who’s the assassin?” Ibe said. “And who hired him?”

A creaking noise outside froze everyone into alert silence. Somebody was coming up the stairs. Sano and Hirata drew their swords and stood to one side of the doorway leading through the kitchen to the entrance. Ibe and Otani also unsheathed their weapons and positioned themselves on the other side. Suspense hushed the room. Sano heard the door open. The footsteps crossed the kitchen. Into the parlor walked a samurai.

“Halt!” Sano ordered.

He lunged, his blade pointed at the samurai. Hirata, Otani, and Ibe followed suit. The samurai yelped. His eyes widened and his mouth gaped in horror as four blades impinged on his throat. He fumbled for his own weapon.

“Don’t even try,” Sano said.

The samurai gulped, nodded, and held his hands palms up in surrender. He was in his twenties, with a heavy jaw and a square, short, muscular build. His silk garments and expensive swords declared him a member of the upper social ranks.

“Who are you?” Sano asked.

Before the samurai could answer, Otani said, “Kubo-
san
?” Startled recognition marked both men’s faces. “What are you doing here?”

“Otani-
san
,” the samurai said with obvious relief at seeing someone he knew. “Please don’t hurt me! Please allow me to explain!”

“How do you know each other?” Sano said, surprised himself, as he and Hirata and the watchdogs sheathed their weapons.

“He was a retainer to Daiemon,” said Otani. Then he addressed the young samurai: “By all means explain.”

Sano saw Hirata’s leery expression. He braced himself for what he knew was coming.

“I came to get some money and swords that Daiemon left here,” said Kubo. “I thought I should give them to his family.”

“This was Daiemon’s place?” Otani demanded, as he stared at Kubo, then around the room.

“Well, yes,” Kubo said nervously. “Only a few of his men know about it. We weren’t supposed to tell. But now that he’s dead, I guess it doesn’t really matter… does it?”

A brief silence, fraught with tension, ensued while Otani and Ibe grasped the meaning of the news they’d just received. Otani spoke in a tone of dumbfounded revelation: “Those are Daiemon’s swords. I knew I’d seen them before.” He snatched the note from Hirata. “It was Daiemon who wrote this?”

Kubo peered at the note. “That looks like his writing.”

Ibe’s face showed dawning enlightenment, then a calculating look. “Daiemon hired the assassin. He was behind Senior Elder Makino’s murder.”

“No!” Otani exclaimed, aghast. “It can’t be!”

“This place belonged to Daiemon. He wrote the note,” Ibe said.

“But—but maybe we’ve misinterpreted the note,” Otani said.

“What other interpretation is there?” Ibe said.

Otani opened his mouth, then shook his head.

“Did I say something wrong?” Kubo said in small voice.

“Just take the money and swords and go,” Sano told him. “Forget what happened here.”

Kubo went. “Wait until Chamberlain Yanagisawa hears about this,” Ibe gloated. “How glad he’ll be to learn that Lord Matsudaira’s nephew was the guilty one. That should strengthen him and weaken his enemy.”

“But... ” Shaken and confused, Otani said, “We’re not going to tell the chamberlain. We agreed to leave our superiors and the factions out of the murder investigation… didn’t we?” His eyes implored Ibe. “And we agreed that one of the women should be blamed for both crimes. We can’t expose Daiemon as the killer and traitor!”

Sano saw that Otani was terrified of Lord Matsudaira’s displeasure and the shogun’s wrath. Since Daiemon was dead and beyond punishment, his clan and its associates would pay for his crime.

“This changes everything,” Ibe said, wresting the note from Otani’s grip. “I agreed to our pact because I thought it would serve our mutual interests, and I thought one of the women was as likely to be the culprit as anyone else. But now that we know different, I can’t let the wrong person be punished for killing my lord’s friend and ally while the Matsudaira clan goes free. Nor can I hide such important information from Chamberlain Yanagisawa.”

The man did have some sense of honor and duty after all, Sano saw; but only if it favored his interests. A divergence of interests had shattered the alliance between Sano’s watchdogs. Otani stood frozen by horror that his partner had not only cut him loose, but meant to strike a crippling blow at his lord.

“Congratulations on solving Senior Elder Makino’s murder,” Ibe said to Sano. "Let’s take the news back to Edo Castle.”

“No!” Otani shouted as fury roused him to life. He turned to Sano in desperation. “I order you to never speak of what we found here. I order you to arrest Okitsu or Agemaki!”

His words fell into dead quiet. Nobody moved. “Are you coming?” Ibe asked Sano.

“Not yet,” Sano said.

As Ibe regarded him with puzzlement, and Otani with sudden hope of a reprieve, Sano said, “There’s not enough evidence to prove Daiemon is guilty.”

“What are you talking about?” Ibe said. He waved the note. “There’s this, written by Daiemon, describing the arrangements he made with the assassin. What more do you want?”

“Verification that the note is what it appears to be,” Sano said.

“That it appears to be in Daiemon’s handwriting, and it was found in his house, doesn’t mean anything,” Otani said eagerly. “Someone could have forged the note and planted it here.”

“Do you question the evidence because you’re afraid of how Lord Matsudaira will react?” Ibe asked Sano.

“No,” Sano said, although the idea of Lord Matsudaira’s wrath was good reason to hesitate before incriminating Daiemon. And he wasn’t eager to help Chamberlain Yanagisawa come out on top. “I want to be sure that I’ve identified the person truly responsible for Makino’s murder. Even if the note is genuine and it means what we think it means, there are too many questions left unanswered.”

“Such as?” Ibe said.

“Such as, who is the assassin?” Sano said. “If indeed he exists, he’s out there somewhere. He can confirm that Daiemon hired him. And he’s just as guilty as Daiemon. He must be caught and punished.”

“And how did he get into Makino’s estate and kill him without anyone noticing?” Hirata said.

“And what are the other suspects hiding about the murder?” said Sano, convinced that they’d played roles in whatever had really happened that night. “Where does the perfumed sleeve fit into this?”

“What does any of that matter,” Ibe protested, “when you can finish your investigation and discharge your duty to the shogun? And why should I care, when we can please my master by deciding that Daiemon was responsible for Makino’s death?”

“Something might happen later to prove that he wasn’t,” Sano said. “Do you want to take the chance and risk that Lord Matsudaira will retaliate against you as well as Chamberlain Yanagisawa for smearing his clan’s reputation?”

Ibe hesitated and sucked his lips. Sano bet that the man’s cowardice would prevail. Ibe said, “All right—you win. But how do you propose to find the evidence you need?”

“The Floating Teahouse is a place to start,” Sano said.

“Let’s go, then.” Ibe headed for the door with Sano and Hirata.

“I forbid you,” Otani said, grasping at the shreds of his authority.

“You can come with us if you want,” Ibe said, “but you can’t stop us.”

Otani reluctantly followed them out of the house.

30

Reiko rode in her palanquin along the passage that led uphill from the official quarter to the palace. While her bearers negotiated turns and paused at checkpoints, her mind went over and over her conversation with Lady Yanagisawa. She desperately sought a way to evade blackmail and ruination.

The moment when she’d considered obeying Lady Yanagisawa had passed; conscience had overridden self-interest. Reiko couldn’t interfere with Sano’s investigation on the chamberlain’s account. And she could never bring herself to assassinate Lord Matsudaira. Having realized that, Reiko must somehow protect her marriage from Lady Yanagisawa.

The simplest way would be to tell Sano the truth about what had happened between her and the Dragon King, before Lady Yanagisawa got to him. But if Reiko did, he might still believe Lady Yanagisawa. Even if he didn’t divorce Reiko, he would never trust her again. Their love would be damaged beyond repair. Although Reiko knew that their love should matter less than resisting the evils that Lady Yanagisawa had asked of her, it was the most important thing in her life besides her child.

Next, Reiko thought of discrediting Lady Yanagisawa in order that Sano wouldn’t believe anything she told him. But Sano already knew from Reiko that Lady Yanagisawa was a jealous, treacherous madwoman, and even that didn’t seem enough to counteract her lies. Sano hadn’t witnessed Lady Yanagisawa’s attempts to kill Masahiro or Reiko. One hint of suspicion about Reiko’s veracity might goad him to think that Reiko had invented the murder attempts, as well as her version of the story about the Dragon King. Yet despite these problems, discrediting Lady Yanagisawa—and getting the woman permanently out of her life—still seemed the best defense to Reiko. But how to do it?

She rode through a gate and a garden of cherry trees whose bare, black limbs seemed unlikely to ever blossom in the spring. The bearers set down her palanquin outside the Large Interior, the wing of the palace where the shogun’s concubines, female relatives, and their attendants lived. Reiko forced herself to forget her personal problems and concentrate on the murder investigation. She climbed out of the palanquin and hurried up to the two guards stationed outside a door to the half-timbered, tile-roofed complex of interconnected buildings.

After identifying herself to the guards, she said, “I wish to see Madam Eri.”

Soon Eri came out the door. “Honorable Cousin Reiko!” she said with a friendly smile. A thin, middle-aged woman, she had hair dyed black and a gaunt face. Once a concubine to the previous shogun, she was now a second-rank palace official in the Large Interior. She wore a padded cloak thrown over the blue kimono of her rank. “How nice to see you!”

“I need your help,” Reiko said, forgoing pleasantries in the interest of haste. “Can you spare a moment to talk?”

“Certainly,” Eri said.

Reiko beckoned Eri, and they walked among the cherry trees in the deserted garden. “I need to find out the name of the woman that Lord Matsudaira’s nephew Daiemon was having an affair with. Can you tell me?”

Eri’s pleasant expression turned uneasy. She halted on the path. Averting her gaze from Reiko, she said, “I’m sorry. I don’t know who she is.”

“I think you do,” Reiko said. “You know everything about the personal business of high society.” Eri was a notorious gossip who gathered news from the wives, concubines, servants, and other women associated with prominent men. “Who is she?”

“All right. I do know.” Eri faced Reiko, her eyes troubled. “But I can’t tell you.”

Reiko was surprised because Eri had often helped her with investigations. “Why not?”

“The woman is beholden to a jealous, violent man. I don’t want to cause trouble for her.”

“If she met Daiemon at the Sign of Bedazzlement and killed him, she deserves trouble.”

Eri shook her head. “I can’t believe she killed him.”

“Then help her clear herself,” Reiko said. “Tell me who she is so I can talk to her. If she convinces me that she didn’t kill Daiemon, I’ll tell my husband she’s innocent. Her affair will never become public.”

“But what if she doesn’t convince you?” Eri said, defensive and obstinate. “You’ll drag her into the
sōsakan-sama
’s investigation. Her man will punish her for cheating on him. She’ll be a dead woman.”

“As might I be, if my husband doesn’t find out who killed Daiemon,” said Reiko. “Would you shield Daiemon’s mistress at my expense?” In her desperation, Reiko had no qualms about using whatever means necessary to coax Eri. “Would you sacrifice your own cousin to protect a woman who may have murdered the shogun’s heir apparent?”

Guilt and uncertainty colored Eri’s features. She clasped her hands and bowed her head over them, as if praying for good judgment. Then she leaned close to Reiko and whispered in her ear, “The woman’s name is Gosechi. She’s Lord Matsudaira’s concubine. Now do you understand why the affair had to be kept secret?”

The Floating Teahouse was a boat moored on the Kanda River. It had a long, flat, wide hull enclosed by a cabin made of bamboo blinds and a plank roof. A red lantern painted with the characters of its name hung from a pole at the bow. Up and down the river were other, similar boats that contained brothels, drinking places, and gambling dens. The pleasure seekers who frequented these businesses during warm months were scarce today. Outside a floating brothel, a frowzy young woman greeted an old samurai. A trio of male commoners joshed and laughed on a bridge that led to warehouses on the opposite bank. Ferries and barges plied the muddy, rippling water.

Sano, Hirata, Ibe, and Otani walked the path down the riverbank to the Floating Teahouse. Their troops waited on the slope above. A hunchbacked man wearing a gray kimono and leggings came out of the teahouse and hurried toward Sano and his companions.

“Greetings,” he said, beaming at the prospect of customers with money to spend. “Welcome to my humble establishment. Come in, come in!” He shooed them toward the boat.

“I could use a drink,” Otani said grumpily.

They entered the boat’s cabin, which contained sake urns, a smoking charcoal brazier, and a tray of cups. Sano, Hirata, and the watchdogs knelt on a frayed tatami mat. Inside the boat was almost as cold as outside, but the bamboo blinds provided shelter from the wind. The proprietor served sake heated on the brazier. He hovered near Sano and the other men as they drank.

After Sano introduced himself as the shogun’s
sōsakan-sama,
he told the proprietor, “I’m looking for information on two men who may have come here three days ago. One was a samurai.” He described Daiemon.

“Oh, yes,” said the proprietor, “I remember them. The samurai was the only one I’ve had here in a while, until now.”

“I’m particularly interested in the other man,” Sano said. “I want to find out who he is. Did you hear his name?”

“No,” the proprietor said, “but I can tell you. He was Koheiji, the Kabuki actor.”

“Koheiji?” Sano felt his surprise shared by his companions. “How do you know?”

“He’s my favorite actor. I go to all his plays. I recognized him the moment I saw him.” The old man’s eyes shone with delight. “To think that such a great star drank in my teahouse!”

Sano shook his head as his surprise reverberated through it. He’d expected at best a vague description of the assassin. His mind seethed with speculation. “Are you sure it was Koheiji and not just someone who looked like him?”

“Absolutely sure, master. I’d swear on my life.”

“Do you know who the samurai is?”

The proprietor shook his head. “He didn’t say. And I’d never seen him before.”

“Tell me what the two men did.”

“The samurai was already here, waiting, when Koheiji came.” The proprietor’s expression said he wondered why Sano was interested in the pair’s meeting but didn’t dare question a
bakufu
official. “They each had one drink. They talked so softly I couldn’t hear what they were saying. The samurai gave Koheiji a pouch. Koheiji opened it. He poured out gold coins. I’d never seen so much money in my life.” Awe inflected the proprietor’s voice. “There must have been a hundred
koban
!”

“What happened next?” Sano pictured Daiemon and Koheiji seated where he sat now, the coins glinting between them.

“Koheiji counted the money. He put it back in the pouch and tucked the pouch inside his cloak. Then they left.”

Sano thanked the proprietor. He paid for the liquor that he and Hirata and the watchdogs had consumed. They joined their troops on the cold, windy riverbank.

“It was Koheiji whom Daiemon hired to kill Senior Elder Makino,” Hirata said in a tone of amazed revelation.

“So it appears,” Sano said, “if the samurai Koheiji met was indeed Daiemon.” Ingrained caution prevented him from drawing conclusions even when evidence supported them.

“The murder was committed by someone inside Makino’s household, on the orders of someone outside,” Hirata said.

“Who was in a better position to assassinate Makino than a man he trusted, who lived with him?” Sano remarked.

“Daiemon must have thought of that when he chose Koheiji,” said Hirata.

“He might have known that Koheiji wanted money and could be bribed into killing his master,” Sano said.

“Maybe Daiemon promised to become his patron after Makino was gone,” said Hirata.

“Daiemon’s story that Makino defected was a lie,” Ibe said with conviction. "Obviously, he’d failed to persuade Makino to join Lord Matsudaira’s faction. He had the actor assassinate Makino to get him off the Council of Elders and weaken Chamberlain Yanagisawa’s influence over the shogun.”

Otani looked at the ground, his head bowed, humiliated by further evidence that his lord’s nephew had died a criminal. His expression was stoic, but fear for his own fate emanated from him like a bad smell.

“That Daiemon appears to have conspired with Koheiji to assassinate Senior Elder Makino sheds a new light on Daiemon’s murder,” Sano said.

“Daiemon was a threat to Koheiji because he knew Koheiji assassinated Makino,” said Hirata. “Maybe Koheiji killed Daiemon to keep him from telling.”

“But if Koheiji got accused of the murder, all he needed to do was say that Daiemon hired him,” Ibe objected. “Neither of them could have incriminated the other without endangering himself. They’d both have been in trouble.”

“Koheiji would have been in deeper trouble than Daiemon,” said Hirata. “If we hadn’t found the note and come to the Floating Teahouse, it would be Koheiji’s word against Daiemon’s. The shogun wouldn’t believe that his heir apparent had conspired to murder his old friend Makino.”

“Perhaps Koheiji thought that if there was any chance he might take the blame for the crime, Daiemon should share the punishment, and therefore he stabbed him just in case,” Sano said. “And perhaps Koheiji didn’t act alone, even if he was the one who got paid to kill.” Sano recalled the scenes that Reiko had witnessed between the suspects in Makino’s household. “Perhaps he had an accomplice.”

“If so, was it Okitsu?” said Hirata. “Or Agemaki?”

“They’re both possibilities,” Sano said. “But this is all unfounded speculation. To learn the truth, we need to talk to Koheiji.” He addressed the watchdogs: “In view of everything that’s happened, may I assume that you’ll no longer prevent me from investigating him?”