The Perfumed Sleeve (32 page)

“I won’t,” Otani said, subdued by dejection. “If he killed my lord’s nephew, he deserves to be exposed and punished no matter how many high-ranking friends he has.”

“Nor I,” said Ibe. “Do with him what you will.”

“May I also assume that you’ll now remove your troops from my house?” Sano asked.

“You may not,” Ibe said with a derisive laugh. “I still want assurance that the outcome of your investigation doesn’t put my master or me at a disadvantage. Don’t push your luck. Now let’s go see what the actor has to say for himself.”

31

The search for Daiemon’s mistress led Reiko to Zōjō Temple.

After leaving her cousin, she’d gone to the Matsudaira estate. Eri had said that a certain lady-in-waiting there, who owed her a favor, would get Reiko inside to see Lord Matsudaira’s concubine, Gosechi. But when Reiko had arrived, the lady had said Gosechi had gone to the temple. After Reiko had explained that she had urgent business with Gosechi, the lady had sent a servant along with Reiko to help her locate the concubine.

Reiko now traveled in her palanquin through the Zōjō district, administrative seat of the Buddhist Pure Land sect. Zōjō was the Tokugawa family temple, where the clan worshipped and its ancestors lay entombed in lavish mausoleums. This vast district encompassed hills and pine forest, more than one hundred buildings of Zōjō proper, and many smaller, subsidiary temples. Here lived some ten thousand priests, monks, nuns, and novices. As Reiko and her entourage passed through the crowded marketplace along the approach to the temple, her spirit darkened with memories of violence.

During the disaster at the nearby Black Lotus Temple last autumn, she’d faced evil and narrowly escaped death. Seven hundred people had lost their lives. Today, while the factions warred outside Edo, a new shadow hung over Zōjō Temple. Reiko found the precinct crowded with pilgrims seeking blessings to protect them from misfortune. They flocked around the pagodas and shrines. The grand main hall appeared under siege by the hordes that streamed around and through it. Alighting from her palanquin near the huge bronze bell, Reiko wondered how, amid so many people, she would ever find the one woman she sought.

“I want to see Koheiji,” Sano told the detective who met him outside the door to Senior Elder Makino’s mansion when he arrived with Hirata, the watchdogs, and all their troops.

“Koheiji went to the theater,” said the detective.

“Then we’ll get him there,” Ibe said, turning to leave.

“Not so fast,” Sano said.

Ibe regarded him with surprise. “I thought you were so eager to confront Koheiji. Why hold off now?”

“Koheiji is sure to deny everything. While I’m here, I may as well get some more ammunition to use against him besides the note and the teahouse proprietor’s story.” Sano asked the detective, “Where is Agemaki?”

“She’s in the family chapel.”

The chapel was located in a wing of the mansion built over a pond fringed with reeds. Inside, a niche contained a Buddha statue on a dais. Narrow alcoves each contained a
butsudan
—a memorial shrine in the form of a small cabinet—and offerings of food and flowers that honored a Makino clan ancestor. Agemaki knelt before a table that held a painted portrait of Senior Elder Makino, a funeral tablet bearing his name, incense in a brass burner, and a lit candle that would burn for seven days after his death. She wore plain gray robes; a white drape covered her hair. Her head was bowed, her face serene as she murmured the prayers that would ease her husband’s transition to the spirit world. When Sano and his companions entered the chapel, Agemaki started; her voice broke off. She rose, and caution hooded her gaze.

“Please excuse us for interrupting your funeral rites,” Sano said, “but we have important news. We’ve found evidence that Koheiji killed Senior Elder Makino.”

Shock tightened Agemaki’s elegant features. Her hand went to her mouth.

“It seems that Lord Matsudaira’s nephew Daiemon hired Koheiji to assassinate your husband.” Sano showed Agemaki the note, explained what he thought it meant, and told her that he had a witness who’d seen Daiemon pay the actor. He waited while she stood rigid and mute. Hirata and the detectives, Ibe, Otani, and their troops watched her in silence. Outside the chapel, footsteps creaked as someone hurried down the corridor.

“Have you anything to say?” Sano prompted Agemaki.

“I thank you for finding out who killed my husband.” Her toneless voice hid whatever she was thinking. But Sano sensed that she was wondering whether she could relax now that he’d determined that someone else was guilty, or whether she still had cause for fear. “Now his spirit can rest in peace.”

“Not quite yet,” Sano said. “First the people responsible for his death must be brought to justice.” When she made no response, Sano said, “Perhaps you can help me.”

She glanced sideways at him, her hand still clasped over her mouth. He felt her wondering what he expected of her.

“A witness heard you and Koheiji talking. Each of you promised to say nothing about what the other did in connection with your husband’s death.” Sano heard Agemaki’s breath catch with a small, ragged sound. “That suggests you conspired in the murder that Koheiji was hired to do. If he’s guilty, then so must you be—as his accomplice.”

Sano saw the watchdogs frown, trying to guess where and how he’d gotten the evidence that he hadn’t discovered while with them. Agemaki dropped her hand from her mouth. Her lips parted and the gaze she lifted to Sano was filled with dismay.

“That maid who ran away last night... I was afraid she’d been eavesdropping on me. She was your spy.” Panic crept into Agemaki’s voice as she said, “But I never conspired to kill my husband. I wasn’t an accomplice. I had nothing to do with his death. That’s not what Koheiji and I were talking about.”

“Then what were you?”

Agemaki pressed her lips together. They twitched and strained, as though with the effort to contain her knowledge.

“Your pact with Koheiji is worthless now,” Sano said, playing the widow against the actor in the hope that she would affirm Koheiji’s guilt. “There’s no point in protecting him. Do you think he’ll protect you when I tell him that I know he killed your husband?” Sano infused his voice with pitying disdain. “Of course not. He’ll spill whatever information he thinks will save him. He’ll put the whole blame for the murder on you. While you go to the execution ground, he’ll spend the money Daiemon paid him.”

A visible shudder passed through Agemaki as she saw the threat of death approaching. She crumbled to her knees.

“Why let Koheiji go free while you suffer?” Sano said. “Tell me the truth, and I’ll be as lenient toward you as I can.”

She breathed a long, tremulous sigh of resignation. Fear and distrust pooled in her eyes, but she nodded. Sano experienced relief because he’d broken her at last, and without violence. His heart beat fast with the thought that the solution to the crime was imminent.

“That night, I took my sleeping potion before bed,” Agemaki said. “I always did, so I wouldn’t be disturbed by the sounds.”

She paused, and Sano said, “What sounds?”

“The sounds of my husband playing sex games with Koheiji and Okitsu.” Revulsion twisted Agemaki’s mouth. “Usually the potion made me sleep no matter how loud they got. But that night, I woke up. And I heard them. I heard that little whore Okitsu giggling, while Koheiji uttered filthy, obscene talk and my husband moaned.”

Koheiji and Okitsu had lied when they’d said they hadn’t seen Makino that night, Sano thought. He watched Agemaki curl her hands into claws. Her bitter expression not only confirmed what Reiko had said—that Agemaki was rabidly jealous of the concubine—but also that she’d hated her husband for his infidelity and his depraved amusements.

“I couldn’t bear to think of what they were doing, but I had to know. I couldn’t help myself.” Agemaki’s tone conveyed the torment she must have felt. “I got out of bed and crept down the passage. I peeked through the door to my husband’s bedchamber.”

She expelled her breath in a shivering hiss. “I saw the three of them. My husband and Koheiji were naked. Okitsu wore the embroidered ivory silk kimono that my husband bought her. She was crouched on her hands and knees. My husband was kneeling in front of her, panting like a dog while she sucked his manhood and Koheiji coupled with her from behind.”

Outrage shone in Agemaki’s eyes. “I wanted to rush in and scream at my husband and Koheiji and their whore to stop. I wanted to pull them apart. But I knew my husband would be furious if I did. Instead, I went back to my room. I took more sleeping potion. I got back in bed and dozed off, but I awakened again while it was still dark. The house was quiet and peaceful. But there was no peace in my mind. I lay in bed, worrying about the future.”

Agemaki spoke in a tone fraught with distress: “My husband had barely bothered to speak to me these last few months, and when he did, he dropped hints that he was tired of supporting me. ‘That kimono you’re wearing was awfully expensive.’ ‘Do you really need so many servants?’ ” She mimicked his crabby voice. “I knew he was going to divorce me. And I knew that when he did, he would cut me off without a single copper. I would have to go back to Asakusa Jinja Shrine. I wouldn’t inherit the money he promised me when we married. I would have nothing. I would
be
nothing.”

Fresh outrage blazed from her. Sano could almost see flames consuming the serene, prim guise she’d worn. “That night I decided I wouldn’t let my husband get away with humiliating me and reneging on his promise. I decided that if I must be ruined, then so must he. I got up and lit a lamp. I fetched a paper-cutting knife from my writing desk. I took the lamp and knife and crept into my husband’s bedchamber. I meant to cut his throat while he slept. But his bed was empty. I saw something glittering in the corner. It was Okitsu’s sleeve. It must have gotten torn off her kimono. My husband was gone. So I went looking for him. I found him in his study.”

She stared downward, her expression startled, as if reliving the moment. Sano pictured her standing in Makino’s study, the burning lamp in one hand, the knife clutched in the other. “He was lying on the floor,” Agemaki said. “There was blood on his head, his face, and his clothes. His eyes and mouth were open. He looked like he’d had a bad shock.” Her gaze darted, as if taking in the scene impressed on her memory. “There was a bloodstained wooden pole on the floor near him. Papers were scattered everywhere. There was cold air coming through the open window. I bent over my husband and touched his face. It was cold. He wasn’t breathing. I knew he was dead.”

Sano conjectured that Koheiji had staged Makino’s assassination to look like an attack by an intruder and thereby hide his guilt. But how had Makino ended up lying in his bed as though he’d died of old age while asleep? Postponing his questions, Sano let Agemaki continue her story.

“At first I was thankful,” Agemaki said. “Someone had broken into the house, killed my husband, and saved me the trouble. He couldn’t divorce me. I would inherit my legacy.” Her eyes glowed briefly with happiness, then darkened. “But I was still filled with anger toward him. I wanted him to suffer even more than he had. And I’d lost my chance at revenge.

“That was when I decided that I would humiliate him as best I could. I opened the partition that separates my husband’s bedchamber from his study. I dragged him into the bedchamber.”

This at least explained how Makino had gotten there, Sano thought, if not everything.

“I took off his clothes and rolled him over on his stomach. Then I fetched a jade phallus from a collection he had. I rammed the phallus into his rear end. I wanted him to look as if he’d died while playing one of his games. I wanted all the people who curried his favor to see what a disgusting fool he was. And I wanted Okitsu blamed for his death. That would be my revenge on her, for stealing my husband. I fetched her torn sleeve. It stank of sex and her incense perfume. I laid it beside him.”