“I thought of how Commander Oyama had arrested me and doomed me to whoredom in the Yoshiwara and forced me to service him here, and I was so delighted by his death that I laughed.” Vindictive glee shone in the abbess’s eyes. “And at last I’d caught Haru at something bad enough to persuade Anraku to throw her out of the temple.”
Clearly, the abbess had hated Oyama and relished the turn of fate that had not only punished him, but placed Haru in her power. Junketsu-in hadn’t cared whether Haru was punished by the law, as long as the girl no longer troubled her, and Reiko guessed why she hadn’t reported Haru later.
“Then I remembered that I was the only one who’d seen Haru kill Oyama,” the abbess said, confirming Reiko’s guess. “She could deny everything. It would be my word against hers, and Anraku might take her side. She could get away with murder!”
Outrage shook Junketsu-in’s voice. “But I wouldn’t let her. After I followed her back to the cottage, I slipped off my sandals, which had thick wooden soles, and grabbed one.” The abbess raised her hand, the fingers curled around an imaginary shoe. “I stole up behind Haru, and I hit her on the head with my sandal.”
Junketsu-in pantomimed the blow. “Haru fell down and didn’t move, but she was breathing. I went to the storehouse and got some oil and rags. I tied the rags around a stick to make a torch. Then I returned to the cottage. Haru was still unconscious. The lantern was still burning in the room where she’d left Commander Oyama, and I lit the torch there. I poured oil on the floor and along the corridor, and I ran around splashing more kerosene on the outside of the cottage. I touched the torch to the wall, and it burst into flames. I tucked the oil jar in the bushes and put on my shoes. Then I went back to my quarters, leaving Haru lying in the garden. I knew that her husband had died in a fire, and I wanted people to think she’d burned Oyama to death.”
This was how Haru had come to be found at the scene, ready to receive the blame for the fire and Oyama’s murder, Reiko understood at last. A wondrous sense of vindication momentarily lifted her above her fear. Haru hadn’t murdered Oyama in cold blood; she hadn’t set the fire. That she was innocent of those crimes indicated that her husband’s death had been accidental, as she’d claimed. Haru was indeed a liar and troublemaker, yet also a victim. Reiko’s instincts had been true all along.
Haru had been listening with an expression of mingled disbelief and confusion. She said to Junketsu-in, “It was you who framed me.”
The abbess sneered. “I just made you face the consequences of your actions.”
“And you killed Chie and Radiant Spirit.” Now Haru spoke in a tone of angry realization. “You were jealous of them because Anraku liked Chie, and Radiant Spirit was his son.”
“I had nothing to do with their deaths,” Junketsu-in retorted. “They weren’t even in the cottage when I was there.”
Reiko, elated by personal triumph, seized the chance to reintroduce the issue of Anraku’s culpability. “The abbess’s story explains why you were unconscious in the garden and couldn’t remember anything about the fire,” she said, “but not how Chie and the boy died. That was Anraku’s doing.”
Haru swiveled her head toward Anraku, refocusing her fury on him. New hope kindled in Reiko, but he gave her a disdainful smile and said, “Dr. Miwa shall tell the rest of the story.”
Behind Haru, the doctor started in fear; air whistled through his teeth. “Oh, but-” Anraku’s gaze impaled him, and he surrendered. “Chie became unhappy here after she bore her son. She wanted to care for Radiant Spirit herself, but the nuns took him away to raise with the other children and rarely allowed her to see him. She disliked the way the children were trained. She couldn’t understand that prayer and fasting builds their spirits, and she complained whenever Radiant Spirit was beaten for disobeying.”
Reiko thought of the boy’s bruises and emaciated body, the result of the cruel indoctrination.
“Soon Chie began questioning our other practices,” Dr. Miwa said. “She objected to my experiments-she said it was wrong to give helpless people medicines that made them sick instead of healing them. She demanded to know the purpose of the potions we mixed. When she learned that they were poisons for contaminating the wells in Edo, she tried to persuade me that what we were doing was wrong. She begged me to stop. We argued, and she ran from me.”
The maltreatment of the child had broken down Chie’s loyalty to the sect, Reiko noted. The argument that Haru had described to Sano really had occurred, although he’d misinterpreted it.
“But I didn’t kill Chie,” said Dr. Miwa, quailing as Haru wheeled around and pointed the sword at him. “All I did was tell Kumashiro that she was becoming a problem.”
A chill coursed through Reiko. The doctor had passed along the “problem” to the man holding her-the man responsible for the deaths of Chie and son. Now, as Anraku fixed his compelling gaze on Kumashiro, Reiko felt the priest stiffen, then yield.
“I had Chie watched,” Kumashiro said. “Just before dawn on the day of the fire, she stole her son from the nursery. My men and I caught them as they were running toward the gate. I dealt with them according to the usual procedure for handling escapees.”
By strangling them, Reiko thought, appalled by Kumashiro’s callousness and abhorring the close physical contact with him.
“As my men and I carried the bodies to the tunnel entrance, a watchman ran up and said the cottage was on fire. He’d found Haru unconscious outside. That gave me an idea. We took the bodies to the burning cottage and put them inside. We saw Commander Oyama lying dead in the other room. It seemed that Haru had killed him and set the fire to cover up what she’d done. Why not implicate her in the other deaths? Then the police would be sure to arrest her. I organized the attack on her in jail, to make sure she confessed.”
At last Reiko fully understood why Haru had known nothing about the other murders. She also understood why Kumashiro, Junketsu-in, and Miwa had been so eager to incriminate Haru, yet so evasive when she’d questioned them. They’d all played roles in the crimes, while Kumashiro and Junketsu-in had separately taken advantage of Haru’s actions.
The girl regarded her enemies with hatred. She said to Anraku, “They all hurt me. You’ll punish them, won’t you?”
“Of course,” Anraku promised gravely, “after you pass your test.” He canted his chin toward Reiko.
“If Anraku is all-powerful, then he caused the wrongs they did you,” she said. “He let you down then; if you stay with him, he will again. Don’t do his dirty work.”
Haru moaned, and the sword shuddered in her hands. A malicious smile thinned Anraku’s mouth. “Lady Reiko only helped you as a means of attacking me. What does she offer you in exchange for sparing her life?” he said to Haru. “Freedom?” He laughed. “She came here to capture you. Unless you earn my protection, she’ll turn you over to the law.”
He’d spoken the damning argument that Reiko had hoped he wouldn’t get a chance to use. Despair washed over her while she watched Haru absorb his words. The girl looked momentarily nonplussed, then beheld Reiko with hurt and dawning anger.
“His protection is just an illusion,” Reiko said quickly. “He can’t escape justice. He can’t save you.”
“Shut up!” Haru yelled, furious. “Stop keeping me from doing what I have do!”
With the sword wavering between her and her executioner, Reiko rushed on: “Anraku is an evil madman. He would kill you and everyone else in the world to please himself. He’s ultimately responsible for all the ills that you’ve suffered since you came to the Black Lotus Temple. “ Encouraged by Haru’s hesitancy, Reiko said, “You called me your friend. You said you loved me and want to make up for the trouble you caused me. Now is your chance.”