The Ninja's Daughter (14 page)

“Approach the magistrate!” Yoriki Hosokawa ordered.

Magistrate Ishimaki's aging features settled into a look of concern as Hiro and Father Mateo approached the dais.

Hiro stopped a couple of feet behind the white sand bed and noted with approval that Father Mateo did as well. The
shirazu
symbolized justice and purity. Criminals knelt there for sentencing. It was not a place for innocent men to stand.

Magistrate Ishimaki nodded to Yoriki Hosokawa. “You may go.”

The yoriki opened his mouth as if to protest.

Magistrate Ishimaki raised a hand and repeated, “You may go.”

Yoriki Hosokawa scowled at Hiro and left the room. He slid the paneled door shut behind him with just enough rattle to demonstrate frustration.

Hiro waited for the magistrate to speak. To his relief, Father Mateo also held his tongue.

Magistrate Ishimaki sighed. “It seems you make a habit of investigating murders.”

Father Mateo took half a step forward, right to the edge of the sand. “My faith requires me to help the innocent.”

Hiro wondered whether the Jesuit realized just how cleverly he had answered, with a response that neither admitted nor denied the allegation.

“I appreciate your generosity,” Magistrate Ishimaki said. “Your skills brought General Akechi justice, and I enjoyed your contribution to the brewer's trial some weeks ago.”

Father Mateo bowed. “It honors us to serve your office.”

“However,” the magistrate continued, “not everyone appreciates your efforts. Earlier today, I received a complaint.”

“A complaint?” Father Mateo repeated.

Magistrate Ishimaki nodded. “Regrettably, I must insist you cease your current investigation.”

“There has been a mistake,” Hiro said. “We have no investigation at the moment.”

“I'm glad to hear it,” the magistrate said, “since Hosokawa-
san
forbade one. Had you admitted to an investigation, I would have had to arrest you.”

“May we inquire who lodged the complaint?” Hiro asked.

“You may not,” the magistrate said. “That is, you may ask, but I cannot tell you. The petitioner requested that I keep his identity secret.”

Father Mateo spread his hands. “My religion requires that you tell us. The Christian faith prohibits conviction except on the testimony of two or more witnesses.”

Magistrate Ishimaki smiled. “Fortunately for your religion, you do not stand convicted.”

Hiro resisted the urge to smile. Father Mateo argued well, but Magistrate Ishimaki had years of experience handling logical men.

“However”—the magistrate raised a finger—“I understand that your religion also requires priests to keep a secret even unto death. Is this correct?”

“Sometimes,” Father Mateo said. “A priest cannot reveal a confession a person makes to God.”

“Then I confess—to your god, of course—that Yoriki Hosokawa presented me a complaint from a rice merchant named Basho. The merchant objects to you questioning his apprentice about the death of a riverbank girl.” Magistrate Ishimaki looked from Father Mateo to Hiro, as if judging their reactions to his words.

Hiro didn't believe in the Christian religion, but knew the rules for confessions did not apply unless the speaker was also a Christian—which the magistrate most certainly was not.

“Yoriki Hosokawa brought the complaint?” Father Mateo asked.

The magistrate nodded. “He spoke with Basho this morning. The merchant did not wish to present his petition personally. He hoped to avoid the humiliation of public association with a crime.”

Hiro wondered whether Basho approached the yoriki first or whether Yoriki Hosokawa planted the fear of humiliation in order to prompt a complaint. He also wondered why Hosokawa-
san
seemed so determined to block the investigation—and whether the reason went beyond frustration at their involvement in solving the brewery murder.

“We never accused Basho's apprentice of killing anyone,” Father Mateo said.

Technically, that misstated the truth, but Father Mateo had not been present when Hiro spoke with Jiro the night before.

“You made him fear arrest was imminent,” Magistrate Ishimaki said. “Basho objected strenuously to your insensitive treatment of his nephew, particularly after the yoriki reassured him that no crime had been committed.”

“No crime?” Father Mateo shook his head. “A girl was murdered. How can the yoriki say there was no crime?”

“I do not know the laws in your country,” Magistrate Ishimaki said, “but, in Japan, not every death is a crime.”

“Is this what you call justice?” Father Mateo asked. “Ignoring the death of an innocent girl, but calling righteous men to task when a merchant lifts a finger in complaint?”

“I did not summon you here for a debate about the nature of justice.” The magistrate frowned.

“Clearly not.” Father Mateo's voice held an equal edge. “A man who cared about justice would not sacrifice it for a merchant's happiness.”

Magistrate Ishimaki leaned forward and shifted his gaze to Hiro. “I choose to believe this foreigner has an imperfect grasp of our language, and that he does not understand the words he speaks.”

Hiro bowed to give himself time to think.

“Indeed,” he said as he straightened. “I believe the priest intended to express his deep regret at this unfortunate mistake. We never intended Basho or his apprentice harm. We only sought to return an object found on the dead girl's body. We believed—mistakenly—that it belonged to the apprentice.”

Magistrate Ishimaki's frown softened to curiosity. “What is this object of which you speak?”

Hiro nodded to Father Mateo, who held up the leather strip and golden coin.

“This gold was found on the girl?” Magistrate Ishimaki's forehead wrinkled in concern. “It was not hers?”

“Her family claims they do not know its origin,” Hiro said.

Magistrate Ishimaki thought for a moment and shook his head. “Even so, your search must end today. Return the coin to the family, with instructions to keep it safe in case the owner returns to claim it.”

“But—” Father Mateo began.

The magistrate spoke over him. “Wise men do not tread on a stranger's melon field. My yoriki says no crime was committed. His words, and mine, are law.”

Father Mateo switched to Portuguese. “What do melons have to do with murder?”

Hiro replied in kind. “A man in another man's melon patch may be accused of trespassing . . . or stealing. He is warning us against an innocent act that might cause trouble.”

Magistrate Ishimaki looked at Hiro. “Does he understand?”

Hiro bowed. “I will ensure he does.”

“I understand your words,” the Jesuit said, “but I respectfully disagree. The killer deserves to answer for his crime.”

“While I appreciate your love of justice, this investigation ends today.” Magistrate Ishimaki glanced past Hiro at the sliding door. “The shogun ordered me to respect the merchants, to ensure they remain in Kyoto and pay their taxes without complaint.”

“You're doing this because the shogun wants the merchants coddled?” Father Mateo's voice revealed disbelief . . . and anger.

“No man resists the shogun.” Magistrate Ishimaki rose to his feet. “The blade of grass that stands the tallest is the first to be cut down.”

Hiro spoke quickly to keep the Jesuit silent. “Yes, we understand.”

It didn't work. “Respectfully, I—”

Hiro spoke over Father Mateo. “Forgive the foreigner's lack of comprehension. I assure you, we will cause no further trouble.”

Magistrate Ishimaki gestured to the doors behind them. “You may go.”

Hiro heard a rustling in the corridor as he approached the doors, but when he slid it open the space was empty.

Father Mateo followed Hiro from the room without complaint, but with a scowl that promised the discussion was not over.

CHAPTER 26

“How can a magistrate turn his back on justice?” Father Mateo demanded as he turned onto Marutamachi Road.

Hiro eyed the priest. “Impressive. You held that back for ten whole minutes.”

The Jesuit opened his mouth to argue, but Hiro continued, “He had no choice. If Matsunaga Hisahide ordered the merchants coddled, it must be done. Even so, the magistrate showed us favor. He could have arrested us instead of issuing a warning.”

“Finding Emi's murderer outweighs Basho's embarrassment.” Father Mateo's voice grew calm, a sign of building fury. “A woman's life is worth far more than a merchant's reputation.”

“Why do you care so much about this murder?” Hiro asked.

“You know I care about every life and every person's soul.”

“Not enough to lose your self-control.” Hiro gauged the priest's expression. “Is it because this victim was a girl?”

Father Mateo clenched his jaw and drew a deep breath. “I do not care what the magistrate says or whether or not you agree with him. I will find Emi's killer, with you or without you.”

“I never said you would have to do it without me,” Hiro countered, “but we must beware the magistrate, and also Yoriki Hosokawa. He has already set his dōshin on our trail.”

Father Mateo stopped walking and turned around. Half a block behind them, a scruffy samurai ducked into an open storefront.

“Did he follow us from the magistrate's compound?” Father Mateo asked.

Hiro nodded. “He accosted me near Ginjiro's last night also. I believe that meeting was accidental, but today he's trailing us intentionally.”

“Why does the yoriki care so much about our investigation?” Father Mateo paused. “Perhaps he's involved in the crime.”

“More likely, he simply holds a grudge. He looked foolish when we solved the brewery murder without his help.” Hiro turned back toward the river and started walking. “However, we cannot eliminate any possibility at this point. I wonder how much he had to do with Jiro telling Basho about the girl.”

“I wondered about that also.” Father Mateo matched Hiro's pace. “Do you think he intends to follow us all the way home?”

“The dōshin?” Hiro asked. “He's no trouble, as long as he keeps his distance.”

“And if he follows us later?”

Hiro shrugged. “A problem we can handle if it arises.”

“How can we solve the murder with him watching?”

“I thought you didn't worry about the magistrate.” Hiro suppressed a smile.

“I don't,” the Jesuit said, “but we weren't being followed when I said it.”

“Actually, we were.” Hiro smiled. “I don't consider that dōshin much of a threat. We'll simply have to be careful and watch our backs.”

Father Mateo lowered his voice. “We need a list of suspects to investigate.”

“We have suspects”—Hiro counted them off on his fingers—“Botan, Satsu, Yuji, and Jiro, as well as the unknown samurai who threatened the Yutoku-za.”

“Could
that
be the reason Yoriki Hosokawa wants to block the investigation? Maybe he's the mysterious samurai.”

“Possible, but doubtful,” Hiro said. “Surely Botan would have recognized his voice.”

Father Mateo looked disappointed. “True. I hadn't thought of that. We have to find that samurai. I don't think Jiro is guilty, or Botan, and why would Satsu ask us to investigate if he's the one who killed her?”

Hiro adjusted his sword, using the gesture to cover a backward glance. The dōshin was over half a block behind them, out of earshot.

“Shinobi specialize in diversions,” Hiro said. “Satsu might be using us to blame the crime on someone else.”

“Why would he need to?” the Jesuit asked. “The yoriki didn't investigate. The magistrate doesn't care.”

“The magistrate's opinion is not the only one that matters,” Hiro said. “Satsu needs to persuade his family as well.”

The conversation stalled until they reached the Kamo River. At the western end of the bridge, Hiro paused. “Wait here.”

Before the priest could answer, Hiro marched back up the street toward the dōshin. Near the river, private houses lined the road, leaving the startled samurai nowhere to hide. He scowled as Hiro approached.

“Thank you for the escort,” Hiro said without a bow. “We appreciate your master's concern for our safety.”

The dōshin's lip curled into a sneer. “Your safety is not his concern—but it should be yours.”

Hiro raised his chin. “You have no authority to threaten the emperor's honored foreign guest. Magistrate Ishimaki set us free without restriction.”

“He ordered you to cease your investigation,” the dōshin growled. “Yoriki Hosokawa will ensure that you obey.”

“We have obeyed.” Hiro gestured toward the bridge. “Even a child could see we are walking home.”

The dōshin took a hostile step forward. “Do not tell me what I see.”

“Very well, I'll tell you what I see.” Hiro did not back away. “A common bully, who threatens men without legitimate cause.”

“I could kill you for that!” the dōshin snarled.

“If you intended to act on those words, you would have drawn your sword already.”

“I wouldn't soil my blade with your ronin blood,” the dōshin said. “Go follow your master home, like the dog you are.”

“Tread carefully near dogs,” Hiro warned. “They bite when provoked. And, lest you lack the intelligence to understand a subtle word—stop following us, or I will report this harassment to the magistrate.”

He turned and walked away before the dōshin could reply, but listened carefully in case the dōshin struck him from behind.

The attack never came.

The samurai guarding Marutamachi Bridge stepped forward as Hiro and Father Mateo approached. “Is there a problem?”

Hiro glanced over his shoulder.