She smiled, lovely and serene. Through the emotion that swelled his throat and stung his eyes with tears, Sano smiled back. After many years of lonely wandering, he was home. Their love had restored to him a lost sense of self and power. There was no limit to what he could do, what they could achieve together.
Sudden loud noise startled them: cheers, applause, the rat-a-tat of firecrackers. A volley of pebbles showered the roof; torchlight flared in the garden outside; the silhouettes of dancing figures cavorted across the paper windowpanes. The detectives, guards, and servants were celebrating the consummation of their master’s marriage with a traditional wedding-night ceremony.
“Oh, no.” Sano burst out laughing.
Reiko joined in. “How did they know?”
“The walls are thin. Someone heard us, and told everyone else.”
Far from being annoyed, Sano was touched by the tribute-and glad for the interruption, which gave the new bride and groom something to talk about, filling any awkward silence. Beneath him, Reiko giggled with embarrassed glee. Then came a knock at the door. Hurriedly they disengaged and pulled on their kimonos. Sano answered the door and found Reiko’s nurse, O-sugi, standing outside, holding a laden tray.
“Some refreshment, sōsakan-sama?” O-sugi beamed.
Sano realized that he was starving. “Thank you,” he said, taking the tray and closing the door. He and Reiko performed the necessary ritual of wiping away spilled semen and blood. Then they ate.
“Here, this will replenish your virility,” Reiko said mischievously, spooning raw fish roe into Sano’s mouth.
He poured the heated sake. “A toast,” he said, raising his cup, “to the beginning of our marriage.”
Reiko lifted her cup. “And the success of our investigation.”
An edge of apprehension cut into Sano’s happiness. He still feared that Reiko would get hurt while pursuing Lady Harume’s killer. As his love for her grew, how could he bear for anything bad to happen to her? Despite her intelligence and training, she was young, inexperienced. How far should he trust her with the difficult, sensitive job of detection?
However, he had promised Reiko a marriage of partners; he couldn’t go back on his word. Lifting his cup, he drank the sake. Reiko followed suit. Then Sano summarized the progress of the case.
“I’m assigning Hirata to look into the earlier attempts on Harume’s life,” he added. “And I have some ideas about her mysterious lover.”
“Well,” said Reiko, “since Lieutenant Kushida is still missing, I guess that leaves Lady Ichiteru and the Miyagi for me. Tomorrow I can ask my cousin Eri to arrange a meeting with Ichiteru, and I’ll visit the daimyo and his wife.”
Her gaze challenged Sano. This, he realized, was the first test of his resolve. He hated the idea of Reiko going anywhere near a possible murderer. Fighting the impulse to dissuade her, he swallowed words that would turn his promise into a betrayal. He tried to convince himself that Lieutenant Kushida or Harume’s unidentified lover was most likely the killer, while the other suspects posed no threat to his wife. At last he nodded.
“All right,” he said, “but please be careful.”
32
Morning brought milder weather, with a south wind blowing in from the sea. Puffy white clouds, like the stylized designs painted on Chinese porcelain, floated in the cerulean blue sky as Sano and Hirata rode along the Great North-South Road, Edo ’s main thoroughfare. Merchants slid open the wooden shutters of their shops, revealing fine furniture, paintings, lacquerware, and fabrics; servants mopped doorsteps. The street began to fill with peddlers and tea vendors, peasants calling cheerful greetings to one another, orange-robed priests with begging bowls, ladies riding in palanquins, mounted samurai.
Sano said, “We need to talk, Hirata-san.”
Hirata felt a constriction of his veins, heart, and windpipe. “Yes, sōsakan-sama,” he said heavily.
“The false case against Lady Keisho-in and Priest Ryuko was primarily Chamberlain Yanagisawa’s doing,” Sano said, “with coincidental supporting evidence from the diary, Harume’s father, and Choyei’s murder. But another person contributed to the fiasco that could have cost us our lives, if not for my wife’s independent investigation: Lady Ichiteru.”
His expression grave, Sano spoke with reluctance, obviously no more eager for this conversation than Hirata. “You were responsible for questioning Ichiteru, but somehow you managed to learn nothing at all during your first interview with her. When I asked you what the problem was, you avoided answering. It isn’t like you to be evasive-or incompetent-but I let the matter go because I trusted you to work things out yourself. I trusted your detective instincts and accepted Ichiteru’s statement without corroborating testimony, as you did. Now I see that I made a mistake.”
Shame assailed Hirata. He’d betrayed his master’s trust, an unforgivable sin. A long night spent in self-recrimination had increased his guilt. Now Sano’s words tore his spirit. The beauty of the day, the sunlight that sparkled on the canals, seemed to mock his woe. He longed to die on the spot.
“Something’s wrong,” Sano said, “and I can’t ignore it any longer. When Ichiteru told you about overhearing Keisho-in and Ryuko plotting to kill Harume, what made you so ready to believe her? You know that criminals often lie to incriminate other people and divert suspicion from themselves. What happened between you and Ichiteru?”
Hirata saw that Sano was less angry than concerned, more intent on understanding than chastising. Sano’s sympathy made him feel even worse, because it required an explanation when he would have preferred a sound beating. Reluctantly he poured out the whole miserable tale of Ichiteru’s seduction, his own gullibility. He forced himself to watch the dismay on Sano’s face. When he finished, he said, "There’s no excuse for what happened. I should have known better. Now I’ve disgraced myself and let you down.
Blinking away tears, Hirata drew a deep, tremulous breath. “I’ll leave today.” He would find a private place to commit seppuku, thereby redeeming his honor.
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Alarm blared in Sano’s voice and eyes: He knew what Hirata was thinking. “You’ve made a bad mistake, but it’s the first since you entered my service. I’m not going to dismiss you, and I forbid you to leave!”
Then he said more calmly, “You’re punishing yourself harder than I I ever could. I forgive you; now, you do the same. We’ve no time to waste dwelling on what’s past. I need you to go to Daikon Quay and see if you can pick up any leads on Choyei’s murder. Then visit the scene of the dagger attack on Lady Harume-maybe something there will point us to her killer.”
“Yes, sōsakan-sama.” Relief eased the constriction inside Hirata; he could breathe again. Sano was giving him another chance! “Thank you.”
Yet his guilt remained. Opposing purposes warred in him. He must make up for the trouble he’d caused. Lady Ichiteru had nearly ruined the most important thing in his life-his relationship with his master. He was furious at her for manipulating him, and craved revenge, but he still wanted her. And though her lies made her a stronger suspect than ever, he wanted to believe in her innocence, because if she turned out to be the killer he would doubt his own judgment forever. He would never again trust himself to decide whether someone was guilty; he would dread missing clues. He would anticipate failure, making it inevitable.
Forcing a semblance of rationality, Hirata said, “We know that it was a man who stabbed Choyei, so Lady Ichiteru is innocent of that crime.” Hirata suppressed the thought that she could have hired someone to buy the poison, then assassinate the drug peddler. “Still, she probably knows something about Harume’s murder. I request permission to confront Lady Ichiteru and get the truth out of her.”