Blade of the Samurai: A Shinobi Mystery (Shinobi Mysteries) (25 page)

Part of Hiro hoped Netsuko had killed herself after all.

Ichiro paused at the edge of the veranda.

“You don’t have to go in,” Kazu said.

“Yes, I do.” The boy stepped onto the porch and approached the door. “A samurai does not shirk his duty, especially to his parents. If you’re going to catch her killer, I’m going to help you.”

Inside, the dark foyer gave way to an
oe
lit by a single brazier near the door. Ichiro must have lit it, or added charcoal, when he returned, illuminating the grisly scene within.

Ashes covered the coals of a near-dead fire in the sunken hearth. A kettle hung from a chain above the fire pit. On the tatami beside the hearth, a single porcelain teacup sat to the right of the host’s position, as if waiting for a guest who had not come. A second teacup lay on its side a little way from the hearth, just beyond the outstretched fingers of the woman lying dead beside the fire.

Netsuko was sprawled on her back, with her left arm over her head and the right flung out to the side, almost touching the empty teacup that she had been holding when she fell. Her empty eyes stared into the distance, devoid of spirit and slightly glazed by exposure to the air. Her nose and fingers had the grayish hue that Hiro expected, and the vomit on the floor and around her mouth gave off the distinctive odor of opium. Hiro smelled it even over the charcoal smoke from the dying fire and the pervasive wintergreen of Kazu’s hair oil.

“Stay here.” The shinobi crossed the room and knelt beside Netsuko. As he expected, the sour-sweet odor grew stronger and more familiar as he approached.

He lifted the teapot, removed the lid, and turned his head away from the smell that assaulted his nostrils.

“Opium?” Kazu asked from the doorway.

Hiro tilted the pot and saw a half-melted lump of resin the size of a peach pit. “Yes. There’s no doubt she ingested a fatal dose. Far more than Den consumed.”

“I don’t understand,” Kazu said. “Saburo’s death left the family better off in many ways. I’m sorry, Ichiro, but your mother was probably glad that your father was dead.”

“She was,” Ichiro said. “She told me so.”

“But she would have tasted the poison,” Father Mateo said. “It has a distinctive flavor.”

“Small quantities can be hidden with sweetener,” Kazu said.

“That’s what happened with Den,” Hiro said, “but Den’s pot held a fraction of what’s in here.” He picked up a nearby poker and stirred the coals. They collapsed in a pile of ash, sending a handful of sparks into the air.

He looked at the room and then at Kazu. “What do you see?”

Kazu studied the scene for a minute or two. “The fire’s old, and almost dead—this happened a couple of hours ago. Also, Netsuko had a guest—the second cup at the hearth.”

“Not bad,” Hiro said. “And since there isn’t a second body, the visitor brought the poison and made her drink it.”

“Or slipped it into the pot when she wasn’t looking,” Ichiro said.

“Not that much opium,” Father Mateo said. “Even if she didn’t see it, she would have smelled it—or tasted it in the tea. But why would she drink poison voluntarily?”

Hiro looked at Ichiro. “She was trying to save her son.”

“Where’s the logic in that?” Kazu asked. “She had no assurance the killer wouldn’t murder Ichiro too.”

“What if that was the bargain?” Hiro set the pot on the floor beside Netsuko. “She drinks the opium, making the murder look like a suicide, and in return the killer lets Ichiro live. He is only a boy. To the killer, he seems no threat, especially if Netsuko claims that she hasn’t shared her suspicions with her son.”

“You think she knew who killed Ashikaga Saburo,” the Jesuit said.

Hiro nodded. “Or, at least, the killer thought she knew.”

“You know who did this,” the Jesuit said.

“I think so,” Hiro answered, “and if I’m right, the shogun’s life is very much in danger.”

Chapter 48

“The same person killed Saburo and Netsuko?” Kazu asked.

“Den also,” Hiro said.

“Who did it?” Father Mateo asked.

“It’s still an assumption,” Hiro said, “and assumptions have killed enough people already. I need to return to the shogunate. There’s evidence there that confirms or disproves my theory. When I have it in hand, I’ll tell you who killed Saburo—and Den, and Netsuko too.”

“The gates are closed,” the Jesuit said. “Will the evidence wait until morning?”

“I doubt it,” Hiro said, “and I want to save Masao if I can, which means retrieving the information tonight.”

“I want to go with you,” Ichiro said.

Hiro shook his head. “It isn’t safe. Go with Father Mateo.”

The Jesuit nodded. “I’ll take him home with me.”

Ichiro looked at his mother’s body. “I don’t want to leave her like this.”

Hiro started to object but Kazu said, “You’ll want a priest to take care of her, with proper prayers and rituals for her soul. We shouldn’t move her—you don’t want to anger her ghost.”

Ichiro frowned. “I don’t believe in ghosts.”

“Your mother did,” Kazu said, “and she wouldn’t want you defiled by touching a corpse—especially hers. Would you disturb her body against her wishes?”

Ichiro hesitated. “I suppose no one else will see her tonight.”

Kazu nodded. “Let’s go for now. Tomorrow morning I’ll summon the priests myself.”

*   *   *

When Father Mateo and Ichiro had disappeared down Marutamachi Road toward the river, Hiro asked Kazu, “Did Ashikaga Netsuko believe in ghosts?”

“I have no idea,” Kazu said, “but it got Ichiro out of the house. What evidence are we looking for at the shogunate?”

“The shogun didn’t alter Saburo’s ledger,” Hiro said, “the killer did.”

Kazu’s mouth fell open. “You knew that I lied? Why didn’t you say so?”

“There was no point at the time,” Hiro said. “You wouldn’t admit it. You knew the killer had changed the schedule, but you didn’t recognize the writing. If you had known who did it, you would have said so.

“You knew the shogun was in danger, along with anyone who got too close to revealing the killer. A person willing to kill a shogun will kill any lesser man who gets in his way.” Hiro smiled. “You thought your lie would keep me safe. Instead, it made you a suspect.”

“How did you figure all that out?” Kazu asked.

“I’ve known you all your life,” Hiro said. “And, as you say, I always have to win.”

“Why get the ledger tonight?” Kazu asked. “The gates are closed, the ledger is safe in my office, and Masao will still be alive first thing in the morning.”

“But the shogun won’t be,” Hiro said, “and I’m not so sure about Masao either.”

“Lord Oda’s men don’t arrive until tomorrow,” Kazu protested.

“So we were led to believe,” Hiro said. “But if that’s true, why did the schedule changes impact only the guards for tonight? The killer was putting his men in position. They’re already here.”

“Then why bother with the ledger?” Kazu asked. “We need to get out of Kyoto now.”

“It’s too late for that,” Hiro said. “The barricades at the city exits are certainly closed for the night. The shogun’s enemies may have already seized them.

“We need the ledger as evidence. If the plot succeeds, that proof may save our lives. At a minimum, it gives us the power to bargain.”

Kazu looked at Hiro’s kimono. “You’re not getting over the shogunate wall in that. I have extra
hakama
at home. Let’s go.”

They stopped at Kazu’s rented house just long enough for Hiro to exchange his kimono for midnight-blue
hakama
trousers and a matching surcoat. Kazu opted to stay in the formal
hakama
and trousers he normally wore to work at the shogunate.

“I haven’t got any special weapons to loan you,” Kazu said. “My landlord is nosy and since a samurai clerk has no excuse for keeping shinobi items, I’ve gone without.”

“That’s all right.” Hiro withdrew a pair of star-shaped
shuriken
from the inner pocket of his kimono. “I brought my own.”

He transferred the weapons to the inside pocket of his borrowed surcoat. “I’m ready,” he said as he thrust his swords through his obi. “Time to go.”

*   *   *

Hiro and Kazu hurried through the darkened streets and approached the shogunate from the west. When they reached the walls, Kazu led Hiro onto a narrow thoroughfare that bordered the northern side of the shogun’s compound.

Hiro noticed extra guards in the towers along the compound wall. He leaned toward Kazu and slung his arm around the younger man’s neck.

“We’re drunk,” he whispered. “Make a good show.”

Kazu laughed as if Hiro had told a brilliant joke. He wobbled and pulled Hiro sideways in a convincing imitation of drunken revelry. Hiro pulled against him, and they wandered together down the street like a pair of besotted comrades.

A snicker from overhead told Hiro the ruse was working. He smiled. No one remembered a passing drunk for very long.

A couple of minutes later, Kazu guided their weaving pace toward the side of the road. Hiro followed. They wobbled closer and closer to the wall. Hiro expected a warning shout from the guards but it never came. The men in the towers considered the drunks no threat.

On the opposite side of the nine-foot wall, a cluster of ancient trees stretched into the air. Their questing branches extended across the wall and into the road as if reaching for the houses on the other side of the street.

Hiro smiled. The shogun took such care to clear the branches around the mansion. He would have done well to watch the walls as closely.

The two shinobi passed under the branches and out of sight of the guards. Without a word, Kazu let go of Hiro and leaped for the lowest branch. He caught the limb and swung himself upward, disappearing into the tree with barely a sound.

Hiro followed a moment later. Concealed in the branches, he waited.

No alarm split the air. Their movement into the trees had gone unnoticed.

Kazu tilted his head toward the wall and started climbing. Hiro followed him up the branch and over the palisade that surrounded the compound. Together, they dropped to the ground on the opposite side. Kazu landed more loudly than Hiro, but not by much. A passerby would have thought them nothing more than a house cat hunting mice.

Hiro crouched defensively, smelling the loamy odors of woods and rain.

To the south, the trees gave way to landscaped yards. The
bakufu
mansion lay out of sight on the opposite side of the landscaped gardens that covered the northern part of the shogunate grounds. From here, Hiro would have to trust Kazu to lead him.

He hoped he had judged correctly that Kazu wasn’t involved in the plot.

Chapter 49

Pine needles crunched under Hiro’s feet and released an evergreen scent that competed with Kazu’s hair oil.

“The ledger is in my office,” Kazu whispered. “We’re headed there?”

“Not yet,” Hiro said. “I’d like to get Masao to safety first.”

“Are you crazy?” Kazu asked. “We owe him nothing. If you’re right, we’ll be lucky to get the ledger and save ourselves.”

“He doesn’t deserve to die any more than Netsuko … or Ichiro.”

Hiro hoped the boy’s name would have the desired effect. He needed Kazu’s help to find and free the stable master.

“Let’s get the ledger first and help him later,” Kazu said.

Hiro was not going to fall for that. “They’re holding Masao in a kitchen storehouse. Freeing him will be faster than getting the ledger.”

And assure your compliance with both,
Hiro thought.

“Unless we’re spotted,” Kazu said.

“In which case, we won’t need the ledger.”

Kazu made an exasperated sound but didn’t argue.

They made their way through the gardens toward the mansion. Stone lanterns lined the paths, but they were dark and cold that night. Hardly surprising, given the inclement weather.

Kazu led the way without hesitation. He knew exactly where and when to move to avoid the guards that patrolled the compound. Not that there were many guards to avoid.

“I expected better security,” Hiro whispered.

The two shinobi crouched behind a decorative hedge at the edge of the yard that separated the gardens from the kitchen. On their journey from the wall, they had seen only four patrolling guards, none of whom seemed overly alert.

Kazu shrugged. “Lord Oda’s men aren’t due until tomorrow. Most of the guards are posted at the gates or on the towers. The shogun doesn’t expect anyone to breach the walls unnoticed.”

“Foolish,” Hiro said.

Kazu snorted. “Him, or us?”

Hiro looked at the storehouses near the kitchen. The boxy wooden structures stood a few feet apart and on wooden stilts to discourage rats. There were two, of roughly equal size, but only one had a bar across its doorway.

“That’s it.” Hiro nodded. “He’s in that one.”

A bored-looking samurai leaned against the back of the kitchen building, apparently guarding the storehouse, though Hiro considered “guarding” too active a word.

“We need a diversion,” Kazu whispered.

“You are the diversion,” Hiro replied. “You work here. Circle around and distract him.”

Kazu grumbled but disappeared into the darkness. A few minutes later he reappeared around the corner of the kitchen. He walked briskly, as if bearing important news.

“You!” Kazu startled at the sight of the guard. “What are you doing here?”

The samurai jumped and snapped to attention. “Matsunaga-
san
ordered me to guard the prisoner.”

“Nonsense!” Kazu snapped. “The entire compound is on alert and you’re lazing behind the kitchen, shirking your duty!”

“No, sir, I swear it. Matsunaga-
san
wanted the prisoner guarded.”

“Do you know who I am?” Kazu demanded. “How dare you question me!”

The guard’s eyes widened. “No sir … I’m sorry…” He bowed three times and straightened, trembling like a sapling in an earthquake.

“Lord Oda’s men may already have entered Kyoto,” Kazu snarled. “You have better things to do than guarding an aging stable boy. If he gets loose, we’ll kill him. Until then … get back to your regular post!”