“Has her condition improved at all?” Sano asked doubtfully.
He’d come to visit Suiren because this important witness to the crime had been forgotten in the turn of events caused by the ransom letter. He’d intended to follow up on Police Commissioner Hoshina’s attempt at questioning the lone survivor of the massacre, yet one look at Suiren had deflated his hope that she would provide any information whatsoever.
“She’s no better but no worse,” Dr. Kitano said. “She has a remarkable constitution and a strong will to live, but she is still in grave danger.”
“Has she regained consciousness?” Sano asked.
“Not since Hoshina-san forced me to revive her.” Dr. Kitano’s stern face expressed disapproval. “He insisted on trying to make her tell him about the ambush, even though she was too weak and dazed. His rough handling could have killed her, had I not stopped him.”
Sano was furious to hear how Hoshina had endangered Suiren’s life and jeopardized the investigation. Although a capable detective, Hoshina relied far too much on brute force. Sano wished Hoshina had never come to Edo. The man had hurt so many people, and not just Naraya’s daughter and everyone else on the list of deaths associated with him. The massacre and abduction stemmed from a wrong Hoshina had done. If Reiko, Midori, Keisho-in, and Lady Yanagisawa were murdered, their deaths would be partially his fault. Sano thought the only good thing about the situation was that Hoshina was locked away where he couldn’t do any more harm.
“Has Suiren said anything in her sleep?” Sano asked.
“No,” Dr. Kitano said.
“Keep a constant watch on her,” Sano said. “If she does say anything, write it down. As soon as she regains consciousness, send word to my estate.”
“Yes, Sōsakan-sama,” said Dr. Kitano.
After one last glance at Suiren and a silent prayer for her recovery, Sano left the sickroom to finish Hoshina’s investigation of her. He wondered what other mistakes Hoshina had left for him to discover.
The Edo Castle women’s quarters occupied a private, inner section of the palace known as the Large Interior. Here lived the shogun’s mother, his wife, his two hundred concubines, their attendants, and the palace’s female servants and officials-some thousand women in all. Sano presented himself at the door, which was made of iron-banded oak, decorated with carved flowers, and guarded by two soldiers. The Large Interior was barred to all men except a few trusted guards, doctors, officials, and messengers. Even Sano’s high rank didn’t permit him automatic access.
“I want to see Madam Chizuru,” he told the sentries.
They dispatched a messenger inside to fetch Madam Chizuru, the otoshiyori-chief lady official-of the Large Interior. Her duties included keeping vigil outside the shogun’s bedchamber while he slept with concubines, to ensure that they didn’t misbehave. She also kept order in the women’s quarters. Sano knew her reputation as an intelligent, able overseer who knew everyone in the Large Interior and missed little of what went on there. Soon she came to the door.
“How may I serve you?” she said, bowing to Sano.
Some fifty years of age and once a concubine to the previous shogun, Chizuru had graying hair worn in a knot atop her head. A modest gray kimono draped her sturdy, muscular physique. Her square face, thick, unshaven brows, and the dark hairs on her upper lip gave her a masculine appearance; but her deep voice was melodious, and her mouth daintily feminine.
“I need you to tell me about Suiren, and show me her quarters,” Sano said.
“As you wish.”
Chizuru stepped aside, allowing him to enter the Large Interior. They walked down passages with polished cypress floors, through a labyrinth of chambers enclosed by latticed wood and paper walls. In the chambers, pretty young women lounged while maids fanned them. Doors stood open to the garden, where more women and attendants reposed under shade trees. Sano inhaled the odors of perfume, hair oil, and too many people crammed into too little space. Wind chimes tinkled; female voices shrilled loudly. The kidnapping of their lord’s mother hadn’t quelled the restlessness of these women who were caged like prisoners with nothing to do but pass the time.
“Did Police Commissioner Hoshina already question you?” Sano asked Chizuru.
“He did.” Disapprobation compressed Chizuru’s mouth. “He accused Suiren of conspiring in the kidnapping.”
“You don’t believe she did?” Sano said.
“It’s not my place to have ideas that contradict those of my superiors,” Chizuru said primly.
But Sano knew that an independent mind lurked under her discretion. “I daresay you know the women here better than Hoshina or anyone else does. Tell me what you think.”
Emboldened, Chizuru said, “Suiren has attended Lady Keisho-in for more than thirty years. She’s devoted to her mistress. And she’s a kind, decent woman. The idea that she would help criminals kill her comrades and kidnap somebody is ridiculous.” Chizuru spoke with outright indignation.
Sano trusted her opinion more than he did Hoshina’s. The theory that Suiren had told the Dragon King about the trip, and he’d spared her life as a reward, lost credibility for Sano. It was just like Hoshina to incriminate a woman who couldn’t speak for herself, despite the lack of evidence against her, just so his investigation would appear to be making progress!
“This is where Suiren lives,” Chizuru said, leading Sano into a small chamber next to Lady Keisho-in’s quarters.
The chamber was sparsely furnished with a lantern, a cabinet, and a low table that held a butsudan-a Buddhist altar comprised of a wooden cupboard that housed a sacred scripture. Around the butsudan sat incense burners and prayer books.
“She’s very religious,” Chizuru said. “She plans to enter a convent when she’s too old to work.”
Sano opened the cabinet and searched through the contents. These included bedding, a comb and brush, an inexpensive writing case, and garments as plain as nuns’ habits. He found nothing to counter Suiren’s good reputation.
“Did you notice anything unusual about her before the trip?” he asked, closing the cabinet door.
“She was the same as always-calm, cheerful, and efficient,” said Chizuru, “even though she had to supervise Lady Keisho-in’s packing, and the sudden trip caused a big upheaval.”
“Did she go out to see anyone or send any messages before they left Edo?” Sano said.
“Police Commissioner Hoshina asked me that question, and I’ll give you the same answer I gave him. Suiren didn’t go out. She was too busy. And she didn’t send any messages. I know because I inspect all messages from the Large Interior.”
It seemed that Suiren couldn’t have communicated with the kidnappers, but Sano must explore every facet of her life before he could exonerate her. “Who is her family?”
Madam Chizuru named a clan that had served the Tokugawa for generations and lived on one of the shogun’s distant estates. “She never sees her family. Her duties always kept her in Edo.”
“Does she have any friends in town?” Sano said, still considering the possibility that the maid had somehow fallen in with a criminal who had forced her to report on Lady Keisho-in’s movements to him and then kidnapped the women.
“Not that I’m aware of. Her whole life is spent here.” Chizuru’s gesture encompassed the Large Interior. “I doubt she even knows anyone outside the castle.”
Suiren was looking more and more unlikely an accomplice in the crime, Sano thought. Perhaps there was no accomplice, and the Dragon King had learned about the trip from seeing Lady Keisho-in’s procession, or from gossip. Yet Sano couldn’t dismiss the accomplice theory just because his investigation of one suspect had come to nothing and he distrusted the man who’d invented the theory. The accomplice could be a palace official, guard, or servant-one of hundreds of people who’d known about the trip before the women left Edo. It could even be a member of Sano’s household, where everyone had known Reiko and Midori were going to Mount Fuji with Lady Keisho-in. Sano was disturbed to think that a retainer or servant of his might have betrayed his trust. The prospect of investigating everyone daunted him, especially because the accomplice might not even exist.