The Iris Fan (11 page)

Tomoe sidled to a cupboard and took out a cloak and sandals. Sano blocked the door. “She’s not leaving.”

“You can’t seriously believe she stabbed the shogun?”

“She doesn’t have an alibi, and she wouldn’t explain why she was taking a bath in the middle of the night.”

Tomoe stood on tiptoe to whisper in Yoshimune’s ear. As he listened, his hand clasped her waist in a gesture more intimate than a man of his station would normally use toward a younger, distant, female relative. He conveyed her words to Sano. “She can’t take baths while the other concubines are around. They hold her head under the water. Plain girls like to pick on the pretty one.” He asked Tomoe, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to bother you,” she murmured.

“Well, you should have. I’d have taken you away sooner.”

Pity for Tomoe didn’t change Sano’s mind. “She’s still a suspect. She stays here, under house arrest, until my investigation is finished.”

“She can be under house arrest at my estate.”

Sano began to see that this crime might not be as straightforward as he’d first thought. Nor did Yoshimune’s turning up to rescue his cousin seem innocent. “Why are you so anxious to take her home with you?”

“To protect her.” Impatient, Yoshimune explained, “She grew up in my house. She’s like a sister to me. I don’t want her tormented by you or the girls or anyone else.”

Sano saw Yoshimune’s hand on Tomoe’s waist and suspected that the two were a little more than like brother and sister. He began to see a motive for Tomoe to kill the shogun. “What place in line are you for the succession?”

Startled by the change of topic, Yoshimune said, “Second, after Lord Ienobu. I’m a great-grandson of Tokugawa Ieyasu, who founded the regime.” His eyes narrowed. “But you must have known that. Why did you ask?”

“Do you want to be shogun?”

“Who wouldn’t?” Yoshimune’s laugh was loud, boisterous, uninhibited. “My bad luck, I drew the short straw.”

He wasn’t like the current shogun, who’d always seemed to consider his rank as much a fearful burden as a blessing. Yoshimune was as ambitious as his other cousin, Lord Ienobu. “Did you decide to change your luck?” Sano asked.

Yoshimune was also as mentally adroit as Ienobu. “You’re asking if I arranged the attack?” He laughed again. “If I had, you’d be investigating a murder and not a stabbing. But why would I assassinate the shogun? That would make Ienobu the new shogun, not me.”

“It would make you the new shogun if Lord Ienobu were blamed for murdering the old one and put to death.”

“Oh, I see.” Vexation tinged Yoshimune’s enlightenment. “You think I cooked up a scheme to get rid of the shogun and Ienobu with one swipe. Well, I’m afraid it never occurred to me.” He grinned, pointing a gloved finger at Sano. “It’s a good thing you’re not in line for the succession. You would bump off everybody else who was ahead of you.”

It had been a long, difficult night, and the mockery taxed Sano’s patience. “I don’t believe you never thought about how to put yourself at the head of the dictatorship.” Throughout history samurai had assassinated their relatives in order to gain power. “And you had someone to help you.” He pointed at Tomoe, whose bare toes peeked out from under the hem of her robe. “Her feet match the size of the bloody footprints leading from the shogun’s chamber. Where are her socks?”

“That’s ridiculous. I didn’t send my poor cousin to kill the shogun. I would never.” Yoshimune took the cloak from Tomoe and draped it over her shoulders. “Enough of this!” He thrust his hand against Sano’s chest and shoved.

“Hey!” Taken by surprise, knocked off balance, Sano stumbled out the door. Disagreements at Edo Castle rarely turned physical. Sano had thought he could talk his way around Yoshimune, but the
daimyo
had yet to tame the short, hot temper of youth. Having gained so much power at such an early age, used to having his own way, he thought himself exempt from protocol. He pulled Tomoe out of the room and hurried her down the corridor.

“Stop!” Sano yelled, running after them.

“Try to make me.” The grin Yoshimune flashed over his shoulder said they both knew that if Sano laid a finger on him, his army would rush to his defense, drag Sano out of the castle, and beat him to a pulp. Sano needed to pick his battles, and this wasn’t a good one, even though he could have gladly fought Lord Yoshimune to the death.

The rude young pup was yet another obstacle between Sano and the truth about the most important crime of his career.

Following Yoshimune and Tomoe outside the palace, Sano blinked in the sudden brightness. The morning sky was white with opaque clouds. Snowflakes materialized out of it and swirled before Sano’s tired eyes as he halted on the veranda. Yoshimune paused to help Tomoe put on her shoes, then led her down the steps. Troops standing around the palace let the couple pass.

“If you have any more questions for her, you can ask them at my estate,” Yoshimune called before the troops closed ranks and he and Tomoe disappeared from Sano’s view.

Manabe chuckled at Sano’s frustration. Masahiro came out the door and said, “What was that about?”

“That was one of our suspects escaping.” Sano explained about Tomoe and Yoshimune.

“I talked to Dengoro, the shogun’s boy,” Masahiro said. “He said he thought he heard Tomoe’s voice right after the stabbing.”

Sano rubbed his forehead in dismay. This was more evidence that pointed to Tomoe, she’d just absconded, and the investigation was leading away from Lord Ienobu.

“But Dengoro also said he thought he saw Lady Nobuko and smelled Madam Chizuru’s hair oil. So we’d better not trust anything he says.”

Detective Marume and Captain Hosono joined them. Marume said, “That’s the worst kind of witness—the kind that makes things up.”

Sano was disappointed because the shogun’s boy couldn’t identify the attacker. “Have you finished searching the Large Interior?”

“Yes,” Marume said, dejected. “No bloody socks. Not a thing out of the ordinary. And the snow under the windows was undisturbed. There’s no sign that anybody tossed anything out or climbed through them.”

“So we’re left with Tomoe, Madam Chizuru, and Lady Nobuko as suspects, and without any evidence to say which is guilty.” Sano was discouraged, but at least the array of suspects was still narrow, manageable. He asked Captain Hosono, “How is the shogun?”

“He’s asleep. The guards and the physician are with him.”

“At least he’s still alive,” Marume said.

But Sano knew that didn’t guarantee his recovery. Sano had to prove that Lord Ienobu was responsible for the stabbing before the shogun died. If he couldn’t, then Lord Ienobu would inherit the dictatorship and there would be no way to hold him accountable even if he was guilty.

“People are starting to show up for work.” Captain Hosono gestured beyond the cordon to the growing crowd of officials. “Can I let them in?”

“Yes,” Sano said. The government had to continue its business despite the circumstances. “I’m finished here for the time being.”

13

AFTER EXITING THE
castle, Manabe rode with Sano, Marume, and Masahiro to make sure they really were going home and not just pretending in an attempt to get rid of him so they could continue their inquiries by themselves. He left them at the edge of the
banch
ō
.

In the blank white daylight, the small estates looked especially run-down with the leftover New Year decorations. Ash from Mount Fuji coated sacred rope hung on the gates to keep out evil spirits and the pine branches staked to bamboo poles by the doors—symbols of strength, longevity, and resilience. Dismounting outside his estate, Sano saw the shabby little house with his flying crane crest on the gate as a shameful reminder of how far he’d fallen in the world.

Marume took the horses to the stable in the backyard. Masahiro went into the house. Carrying the cloth-wrapped iron fan he’d brought from the castle, Sano followed his son and mustered the courage to face his wife.

*   *   *

INSIDE THE HOUSE
, Reiko opened the back door to the racket of dogs barking. Akiko was standing in the yard, holding a wooden bowl and unlatching the gate. In rushed a pack of huge stray dogs. Rough-furred and lean, frantic with hunger, they jumped and pawed at Akiko. She emptied the contents of her bowl onto the ground. As the dogs pounced on the food, growled, and fought over it, Reiko called, “Akiko!”

Akiko turned, her face a picture of guilty defiance.

“I told you not to feed stray dogs,” Reiko said. “We can’t afford it.”

“I saved them some of my food.”

Reiko hated to criticize her daughter’s generosity, especially since caring for dogs was a virtue. The shogun had enacted laws that protected dogs and built kennels for them. Anyone caught killing or hurting dogs received the death penalty. A priest had once told him that his mercy would please the gods, who would then grant him an heir. Under his laws the population of stray dogs roaming Edo had exploded. The fierce, wild animals scared Reiko.

“They’ll bite you,” she said.

“No, they won’t. They’re my friends.”

Reiko was caught between her need to discipline and protect her child and her wish for Akiko to be happy. She knew Akiko was lonely. Chiyoko was too young to be a close friend, Tatsuo preferred to play by himself, and Akiko’s bold ways didn’t endear her to the neighborhood girls who shunned her because her father was in disgrace. When they teased her, she hit them. Reiko herself had been unpopular as a child, neither able nor willing to fit in with the conventional girls of her social class. She’d been fortunate that her father, Magistrate Ueda, had occupied her with education, martial arts lessons, and listening to trials in his court. But Reiko’s attempts to teach Akiko ended in fights, Sano didn’t have time, and there was no money for tutors. Akiko had turned to these dogs for company and diversion.

Something had to be done about her, Reiko thought. Then she heard noises from the front of the house. Sano and Masahiro had come, at last. She’d been in a fever of impatience to see them ever since she’d heard the news about the shogun. She dreaded talking to Sano because every conversation turned into an argument, but she wanted to find out what had happened. Reiko closed the back door, leaving Akiko with the dogs, and hurried to the entryway.

*   *   *

SANO’S HEART LIFTED
, its habit whenever he saw his wife. Then it fell like a bird with a net thrown over it, dragged back to earth by their troubles. Reiko was as beautiful as when they’d married nineteen years ago, but she was thinner, and silver threads glinted in her upswept black hair. She didn’t smile at Sano across the distance created between them by his campaign against Lord Ienobu. Sano felt lonely in her presence.

“Are you all right?” Reiko asked. She was cool toward Sano; her concern focused on Masahiro.

The zest Masahiro had shown during the investigation turned to sullenness. “I’m hungry.”

“Your breakfast is ready,” Reiko said.

“I’ll eat it in the kitchen.” Masahiro hung his swords on the rack, tossed his cloak on a hook, and stomped off.

It wasn’t like Masahiro to be rude to his mother. Sano noticed a new tension between his wife and son. Masahiro didn’t like the estrangement between his parents and avoided being with them, but this was something different. “What’s wrong with him?”

“I’ll explain later.”

Reiko helped Sano remove his cloak, careful not to touch him. They never touched except accidentally. They hadn’t had sexual relations in two years. She’d spurned his advances until he’d given up. She’d said she didn’t feel well, but Sano knew the real reason: She wasn’t in love with him anymore because his actions had put them in danger, reduced them to poverty, and ruined their children’s prospects. He was still in love with her despite her disapproval of him, and he felt rejected, less than a man, and miserable. He also couldn’t help feeling angry.

She knew these were hard times for him, too, yet she denied him the comfort of physical intimacy and sexual release. Would it kill her to accommodate him once in a while? He would never go outside their marriage for sex, although it would be his right; many husbands did.

They went into the parlor, which was chilly despite the charcoal brazier. The alcove, decorated for the New Year, contained a table set with ferns in a porcelain vase and painted wooden lobsters—symbols of good fortune—and rice cakes topped with oranges—bribes to make evil spirits go elsewhere. If only the rituals worked, Sano thought as he sat by the brazier and thawed his hands.

Reiko put his breakfast on a tray table in front of him. Sano was starving; he hadn’t eaten since dinner yesterday. Devouring rice with fish, pickles, and tofu, washing it down with hot tea, he felt guilty because Reiko bore the brunt of his demotions. Raised as a privileged member of the upper class, she’d never had to do housework for most of her life. Now they had so few servants that she cooked, waited on the family, and washed clothes. She wore cotton garments because her pretty silk kimonos had worn out and Sano couldn’t afford to replace them. She never complained, but he knew she minded—and it wasn’t because she was spoiled and resented having to work. It was because he’d willingly, despite the consequences, kept up the campaign against Lord Ienobu, and his honor always took priority over her wishes and their family.

“What happened last night?” Reiko asked.

He’d done more things that he knew would upset her and jeopardize what was left of their marriage. Sano started his tale with the confrontation on the highway.

Reiko leaned away from him. Her eyes filled with reproach. “You didn’t tell me you’d had a tip about Lord Ienobu’s men.”

Four years ago Sano wouldn’t have kept it a secret from her. Back then, since the early days of their marriage, they’d shared everything. Reiko, a unique woman and unconventional wife, had loved helping him with his investigations. The only child of one of Edo’s two magistrates, she’d grown up listening to trials, and she’d developed an interest in crime and a flair for detective work. Sano had come to rely upon her help. Although they’d often disagreed on aspects of their investigations, they’d never disagreed about whether to pursue a murderer … until the case of Lord Ienobu. Sano wanted to continue. Reiko didn’t. They’d had many arguments about it, but neither could change the other’s mind. Their discord was complicated by other problems, one of which was that Reiko’s father had been forced to retire after Sano had run afoul of Lord Ienobu. Now here came another argument, the last thing Sano wanted, that he’d tried to avoid by not telling Reiko about the tip.