Assassin's Touch (16 page)

Nakai snorted out a breath. “For all the good it did.”

“When was this?”

“I don’t remember exactly. Not long before they died.”

Sano also knew Nakai must realize that there was one man in particular who’d benefited most of all from Nakai’s efforts and had the authority to dispense rewards. “Did you ask Lord Matsudaira for a promotion?”

Nakai shook his head, simmering with resentment. “I would if I could. I’ve requested an audience with him. I risked my life to put him in power, and he won’t even grant me the courtesy of a reply!”

Sano and Hirata exchanged a glance; they noted that Captain Nakai’s grudge included Lord Matsudaira as well as all the victims he’d had contact with during the critical time period. He had plenty of reason for attacking Lord Matsudaira’s new regime. Sano said, “What did you do when Ono, Sasamura, Moriwaki, and Ejima brushed you off?”

Nakai grimaced. “I slunk away with my tail between my legs. What else could I do?”

“You didn’t take revenge on them?” Hirata said.

Suspicion crept into Nakai’s eyes. “What are you talking about?”

The wrestlers in the ring suddenly charged. The impact shuddered their flesh. Cheers burst from the audience. The wrestlers pummeled each other; they grappled and shoved as each tried to throw his opponent from the ring.

“You’re one of the best fighters in the land,” Hirata said. “Do you know
dim-mak
?”

“No. Nobody does. It’s just a legend. What—?” The puzzlement on Nakai’s face gave way to surprised understanding. “You think those men were killed by a death-touch. And you’re asking me if I did it.”

“Did you?” Sano said.

Nakai uttered a laugh that didn’t hide his consternation. “I never laid a hand on them.”

“A finger is all it took,” Hirata said, tapping his finger against his temple. “And there went four men who’d not only refused to give you what you want, but insulted your pride.”

Nakai stared in outrage. “I’m a soldier, not a murderer. The only people I ever killed were enemy troops on the battlefield.” Angry enlightenment filled his eyes. “Oh, I see what’s going on. You need someone to blame for those deaths. So you thought, ‘How about that poor sucker Nakai? He was so anxious to sacrifice himself for Lord Matsudaira. Let’s make him the scapegoat and be rid of him.’ ’’ Nakai’s voice turned raw with animosity. “Well, I won’t stand for it.” He squared his shoulders and whipped his sword out of its scabbard.

Sano, Hirata, and the detectives instinctively leapt away and drew their own weapons. The spectators around them squealed and scrambled off, not wanting to be caught in a brawl. But Nakai turned his sword on himself, the hilt grasped in both hands, the blade’s tip pressed against his abdomen.

“I’ll commit
seppuku
before I let you dishonor my name.” His eyes blazed with serious intent.

Sano let out his breath in relief that he needn’t fight Nakai. Killing his primary suspect wouldn’t help his investigation, and he couldn’t help pitying the man. He said, “Put away your sword, Captain.”

Nakai glared, but he sheathed his blade rather than disobey a direct command from a superior. Sano couldn’t tell whether he was glad or sorry to have his suicide prevented. Maybe Nakai himself didn’t know. In the ring, the wrestlers broke apart, then charged again. They staggered together. One lost his balance. The other grabbed his loincloth and heaved. He went reeling across the ring, tripped over the bales at its edge, and fell into the audience, which applauded, cheered, and booed. Spectators in the balconies hurled coins and expensive robes at the winner, who strutted and raised his fists.

“I’m not looking for a scapegoat,” Sano told Nakai. “If you’re as innocent as you claim, you have nothing to fear from me. But you’d better stay alive and in town until I’ve finished my investigation.”

He nodded to his companions, signifying that they were done with Nakai for now. They filed along the balcony and climbed down the ladder. As they gathered at the bottom, Sano looked up at Nakai. The captain stood on the balcony, gazing down at them, his expression as much aggrieved as hostile.

“Do you think he was bluffing?” Hirata said.

“If he was, he put on a good act,” Sano said.

Detective Arai said, “Do you think he’s guilty?”

“He’s still our best suspect.” Sano turned to Tachibana. “Go follow him. Don’t let him see you, but don’t let him out of your sight. I want to know everywhere he goes, everyone he associates with, and everything he does.”

“What if he tries to touch somebody?” asked the young detective.

“Stop him,” Sano said, “if you can. If he’s the killer, we may not be able to prevent another murder, but at least we can catch him in the act.”

“Yes, Honorable Chamberlain.” The young detective slipped away and lost himself in the crowds.

“In the meantime, we’ll go back to my estate,” Sano told Hirata and the other detectives. “Maybe Ejima’s informants have been brought in, and we’ll find more suspects among them.” Furthermore, he had a country to run, and he’d been away far too long. As they plowed through the audience and another match began in the ring, Sano wondered if Reiko was faring any better on her investigation. He hoped she’d confined it to the
hinin
settlement and would soon be done.

14

Ryōgoku Hirokoji was Edo’s top entertainment district, situated on the bank of the Sumida River. It had grown up in an open space created as a firebreak after the Great Fire of Meireki, during which thousands of people were trapped and burned to death because they were too many to cross the bridges to safety. As Reiko rode through Ryōgoku Hirokoji in her palanquin, she gazed out the window with curiosity. Colorful signs on the stalls along the wide avenue advertised attractions not seen in the officially licensed theater district, such as female performers. She admired the gorgeously elaborate models of Dutch galleons at one stall; others featured live parrots, human giants, and goblins made out of shells and vines. Priests and nuns begged coins from the strolling crowds.

Reiko had heard her servants talk about this place, but had never been here since it was mostly the domain of the lower classes. Now her guards rode close, ready to protect her from the thieves and other evildoers who mingled in the crowds and lurked in the alleyways. But its disreputable air excited her.

A young nun, dressed in a baggy hemp robe, her head shaved bald, hurried up to Reiko’s palanquin and thrust her begging bowl in the window. “Alms for the poor!”

Reiko said, “There was a carnival owned by a man named Taruya. Can you tell me where it was?”

The nun pointed down the street. “Through that red gate.”

“Many thanks.” After Reiko dropped a coin into the nun’s bowl, her escorts bore her toward the two wooden posts painted red and crowned by a tile roof. She’d expected to find the carnival closed since Yugao’s father had left, but people were lined up at the ticket booth outside. Beyond the gate spread the connected stalls of a “Hundred-Day Theater”—a variety show. As Reiko climbed out of her palanquin and her escorts bought tickets, she had an uneasy feeling that Sano wouldn’t be pleased to hear that her inquiries had taken her beyond the
hinin
settlement. But she must serve justice, and she’d already come this far.

She and her escorts passed through the gate and into another world. Hundreds of stalls spread before her. Their roofs overhung a maze of narrow passages, blocking the sunshine. Red lanterns suspended from the ceilings cast a garish glow on eager faces in the throngs that jostled past Reiko. Chatter, music, and laughter resounded; the smells of sweat and urine assailed her. Hawkers, stationed outside the curtains that draped the entrances to the stalls, beckoned and called to potential customers. Some curtains hung open to reveal gaming dens where men shot arrows at straw targets or tossed balls through hoops, and others in which storytellers recited tales for enthusiastic audiences. At other stalls the curtains were closed. Men flocked to them, handing over coins. A hawker opened a curtain to admit a customer, and Reiko glimpsed bare-breasted girls dancing on a stage inside. As the crowds swept her and her escorts along a passage, she saw another curtain lift to expose two men and a woman, all nude. The woman crouched while one man penetrated her from behind and she sucked the erect organ of the other. Moans erupted from men seated below the stage. Shock stunned Reiko.

Lieutenant Asukai shouted to her over the noise: “What shall we do?”

“I want to talk to whoever owns this place,” Reiko shouted back. “Find him for me.”

While the other guards stood around Reiko, shielding her from the riffraff, Asukai plowed through the crowds and spoke to the nearest hawker. The hawker replied and pointed down the passage. Reiko looked in the direction indicated. Toward her ran a young woman. Her feet were bare, her eyes wild with fear. She clutched a cheap cotton robe around her body. Long hair streamed behind her. She gasped as she fought past the crowds. Two samurai came chasing after her. In their wake trailed a small, tubby, middle-aged man.

“Don’t let her get away, you idiots!” he shouted.

Lieutenant Asukai returned to Reiko and said, “That fat man is the owner. His name is Mizutani.”

Reiko and her guards joined the pursuit. The crowds hindered them. Startled exclamations arose. They struggled along winding passages, on the heels of the carnival owner. Just as the woman reached a doorway, the two samurai caught her. She screamed. Mizutani yanked open her robe, baring her full breasts and shaved pubis. He removed a cloth pouch from inside the robe, then slapped her hard across the face.

“How dare you steal my money, you little whore?” he shouted, then told the samurai, “Teach her a lesson.”

The samurai began beating the woman. As she screamed, wept, and raised her arms in a vain attempt to shield herself, the spectators cheered and laughed. Reiko shouted to her guards, “Stop them!”

The guards stepped in and grabbed the samurai, who appeared to be
rōnin
hired to do dirty work at the carnival.

“That’s enough,” Lieutenant Asukai said. He and his comrades flung the
rōnin
away from the woman. “Leave her alone.”

She hurried, sobbing, out the door. Mizutani exclaimed in outrage. “Hey, what arc you doing?” He reminded Reiko of a tortoise—his neck was short, his nose beaked; his eyes had a cold, reptilian stare. “Who are you to interfere in my business?” He turned to his
rōnin.
“Throw them out.”

The
rōnin
drew their swords. Reiko was upset that she’d inadvertently created another troublesome, dangerous scene.

Lieutenant Asukai said quickly, “We’re from Magistrate Ueda.”

The owner’s attitude changed abruptly from high dudgeon to startled dismay as he realized he was facing officers of the law. “Oh. Well, in that case …” He waggled his hand at the
rōnin
. They sheathed their weapons while he hastened to defend himself: “That dancer was keeping tips from customers instead of turning them over to me. I can’t let my employees get away with cheating me, can I?”

“Never mind that,” Asukai said. “The magistrate has sent his daughter here on business.” He indicated Reiko. “She wants to talk to you.”

Puzzlement blinked the owner’s cold eyes as they turned in her direction. He said, “Since when does the magistrate’s daughter do business for him?”

“Since now,” Asukai said.

Reiko was thankful that she had him to back her up, although she wished she had her own authority. “Did you know Taruya?” she asked the carnival owner.

His expression conveyed offense that a woman should interrogate him so boldly. Lieutenant Asukai said, “Whatever she asks, you’d better answer, unless you’d like Magistrate Ueda to conduct an inspection of your carnival.”

Visibly daunted by the threat, Mizutani capitulated. “Taruya was my business partner.”

“You owned the carnival together?” Reiko asked.

“Yes. Eighteen years ago, we started out with one stall. We built it up into this.” His proud gesture encompassed his sprawling, noisy domain.

“And now the carnival is all yours,” Reiko said, thoughtful and interested. “How did that come about?”

“Taruya got himself in trouble. He was sleeping with his daughter. Somebody reported him to the police. He was demoted to
hinin
and banned from doing business with the public, so I took over.”

Reiko glanced at the hawkers collecting money from customers who flocked to the stalls. Taruya’s demotion had been lucrative for his onetime partner. “Did you buy out Taruya’s share?”

“No.” Mizutani licked his lips; his tongue looked gray and scaly. He seemed uncomfortable, although Reiko didn’t think him the kind of man to feel guilty for taking advantage of his partner’s trouble. “We made a deal before Taruya went to the
hinin
settlement. I would send him money every month and run the show until his sentence was finished. Then, when he came back, we would be partners again.”

“How generous of you,” Reiko said. “But he won’t be coming back. Did you know he was murdered?”

“Yes, I heard. What a terrible thing to happen.” The regret in Mizutani’s voice sounded false; his eyes showed no emotion, only his wish to know the purpose of Reiko’s visit. “There was some gossip that his daughter Yugao stabbed him and her mother and sister.”

“There’s some doubt about that. Do you think she did it?”

Mizutani shrugged. “How should I know? I hadn’t seen any of them since they moved to the settlement. But I wasn’t surprised to hear Yugao had been arrested. That girl was strange.”

“Strange in what way?” Reiko said.

“I don’t know.” Mizutani was clearly growing vexed by the conversation. “There was something just not right about her. But I really didn’t pay her much attention.” He chuckled. “She probably got fed up with Taruya in her bed.”

“But perhaps she wasn’t the only person to want him gone,” Reiko said. “Were those monthly payments a burden to you?”

“Of course not.” Mizutani spoke as though insulted by the suggestion. “He was my friend. I was glad to help him out.”