The Perfumed Sleeve (6 page)

Now Sano found himself Lord Matsudaira’s tool, and he liked it no better than serving Yanagisawa. That each man wanted his support disturbed Sano.

The corrupt chamberlain had parlayed his longtime sexual liaison with the shogun into his current high position and kept himself on top by purging or assassinating rivals. He’d enriched himself by
chan
neling money from the Tokugawa treasury into his own. Yanagisawa had treated Sano as a rival until they’d established a truce some three years ago. But Sano knew their truce would continue only as long as it was convenient for the chamberlain.

Lord Matsudaira was the nobler character of the two rivals, a wise, humane ruler of the citizens in the Tokugawa province he controlled and a crusader against corruption in the
bakufu.
He had more claim to power than Yanagisawa because he was a Tokugawa clan member. But he lacked the birthright to head the regime, even though he was smarter and stronger than his cousin. And Sano knew that Lord Matsudaira was as ruthlessly ambitious as Yanagisawa. Power wouldn’t improve his nature. Sano hated the thought of bloodshed for nothing more than another corrupt man ruling Japan from behind the scenes.

At the moment, however, honesty compelled Sano to play into Lord Matsudaira’s hands. “I found a woman’s torn sleeve tangled in the senior elder’s bedding.”

“A woman?” Lord Matsudaira’s alert posture bespoke his urgent wish to implicate someone else in the murder. “She was with Makino last night?”

“It would appear that way,” Sano said, though reluctant to cooperate with Lord Matsudaira. “A stain on the sleeve indicated that sex had recently occurred.”

The shogun squinted with his effort to understand the conversation. Chamberlain Yanagisawa scowled at the evidence that diverted suspicion from his rival. Lord Matsudaira relaxed. He said, “Then the woman could have killed Makino.”

“She could have had the opportunity,” Sano clarified.

Questions about Lord Matsudaira surfaced in his mind. Could Lord Matsudaira have been involved in the murder, even if there wasn’t yet any evidence that pointed to him? Perhaps he wasn’t an innocent man defending himself from political attack but a killer trying to escape punishment.

“So this woman is a suspect in the murder.” Chamberlain Yanagisawa addressed Sano, but his glare at Lord Matsudaira presaged another attack. “Can you tell us who she is?”

“I’m sorry to say my inquiries haven’t progressed that far,” Sano replied.

Satisfaction gleamed in Yanagisawa’s eyes. “Then you haven’t determined whether she did kill Makino.”

“That’s correct.” Sano felt the reply detach him from Lord Matsudaira’s camp and place him in Yanagisawa’s. Hirata watched the rivals in fascination, as if he perceived their invisible lines reeling Sano back and forth.

Lord Matsudaira forced a chuckle as he saw the advantage move toward his enemy. “But the
sōsakan-sama
hasn’t proved that the woman didn’t kill Makino.” Or that I did, said his gaze that encompassed everyone in the room.

Yanagisawa acknowledged his rival’s parry with a faint sneer. “What else did you find at the death scene,
Sōsakan
Sano?” he said, intent on wringing every last piece of ammunition out of Sano.

Much as Sano loathed to help the chamberlain, he couldn’t withhold important facts. “There were signs that someone broke into the study adjacent to Makino’s bedchamber.”

While he described the scene in the study, he saw Yanagisawa’s sneer turn to gloating exultation and Lord Matsudaira try in vain to hide distress.

“The woman had nothing to do with the murder,” Yanagisawa said, stating opinion as fact. “It’s obvious that Makino was killed by an assassin who sneaked into his estate, then attacked and beat him, on orders from one of his enemies.”

His hostile gaze at Lord Matsudaira conveyed the accusation that he verged on speaking. A thrill of horror shot through Sano. Would his personal quest for truth and honor ignite the war he dreaded? The elders loyal to Yanagisawa shot vindictive glances at their counterparts, who looked anxiously toward Lord Matsudaira. Sweat glistened on his face. He knew, as Sano did, that if the shogun were made to believe he’d had Makino assassinated, and done it to gain power, his status as a Tokugawa branch clan leader wouldn’t protect him from the law. The shogun would execute him to crush the threat to his own supremacy.

But Lord Matsudaira rallied without hesitation. “Have you identified the assassin?” he asked Sano.

“I’m sorry to say I haven’t.”

“What? Do you mean he didn’t leave his name at the murder scene? He didn’t drop a letter ordering him to kill Makino, signed by his employer?” Lord Matsudaira feigned surprise; the sharp blade of his sarcasm lashed out at Yanagisawa. When Sano gave a negative reply, he said, “Then there’s no proof of who the assassin is or who hired him. Is that true?”

“Yes,” Sano said as the invisible line hauled him back toward Lord Matsudaira’s side.

“In fact,” Lord Matsudaira said, “there’s no proof that an assassin did break into the study and kill Makino. Someone already in the house could have killed him. Someone could have planted evidence that an outsider assassinated Makino.”

This was the alternative possibility that Sano had hinted at to Hirata before the meeting.

“Your Excellency, I suggest that the evidence was planted to frame an innocent man who is your own blood kin,” Lord Matsudaira concluded.

His eyes glinted at Yanagisawa. Now came Yanagisawa’s turn to sweat, Sano thought as the chamberlain rolled his tongue in his mouth. If the shogun became convinced that Yanagisawa had framed his cousin for murder, he would execute Yanagisawa for treason against the Tokugawa clan. Their liaison wouldn’t protect Yanagisawa. He and Lord Matsudaira had aimed insinuations like deadly guns at each other. Who would fire the first shot?

“Would somebody please, ahh, tell me what you are, ahh, trying to say?” the shogun burst out. He flapped his hands at Lord Matsudaira and Chamberlain Yanagisawa. “I order you both to, ahh, talk sense instead of riddles!”

Dread and excitement rose within Sano. He sensed Hirata and the elders breathing in shallow, careful inhalations. Suspense froze even the guards and attendants. Would Yanagisawa explain to the shogun that he accused Lord Matsudaira of political assassination, or Lord Matsudaira explain that he accused Yanagisawa of treason? Would the shogun finally realize that they were fighting for control of his regime?

Would the two rivals escalate their covert maneuvering into fullblown warfare that would determine who ruled Japan?

“We’re discussing the murder, Your Excellency,” Yanagisawa said in a semblance of his usual calm, suave tone.

“We’re trying to determine who committed it and how.” Lord Matsudaira matched his foe’s deliberate nonchalance.

“Ahh,” the shogun said doubtfully.

Yanagisawa said, “Perhaps the
sōsakan-sama
has something else to report that could shed light on the matter.”

He and Lord Matsudaira leaned toward Sano and focused expectant gazes, replete with menace, on him. Sano realized that they were too smart and cautious to proceed against each other without hearing all the facts. Each wanted Sano to say something that benefited him and hurt his enemy-or else. Now Sano saw fate hinging on his answer.

But the only possible answer was the truth. “I have nothing else to report at this time, Your Excellency,” he said.

Lord Matsudaira and Chamberlain Yanagisawa sat back: Neither wanted to voice a blatant accusation that later discoveries could disprove. Sano saw Hirata’s and the elders’ chests inflate with breaths of relief. His own breath eased from him as he envisioned two armies retreating from the battlefield. But the clash between the rivals had fueled the impetus toward war.

“You must, ahh, fulfill Makino-
san
’s request to avenge his death,” the shogun told Sano.

“With your permission, I will continue my inquiries,” Sano said.

“Permission granted,” the shogun said. “Proceed without delay.”

“Your Excellency,” Chamberlain Yanagisawa said, “this is a very important investigation. Therefore, I shall supervise it and make sure that
Sōsakan
Sano does everything right.”

“As you wish,” the shogun said, always ready to go along with his lover.

Dismay struck Sano. He knew from experience that Yanagisawa was capable of manipulating an investigation to suit himself. With Yanagisawa at the helm, the investigation would become less a search for the truth than a weapon to incriminate and destroy Lord Matsudaira.

Awareness of this certainty flashed in Lord Matsudaira’s eyes. “The murder of a high Tokugawa official requires that a Tokugawa clan member lead the investigation. Therefore, I shall be the one to supervise, not the honorable chamberlain.”

“Very well.” The shogun yielded to the cousin that Sano knew he feared as well as admired.

Yanagisawa’s face reflected consternation. Sano himself didn’t welcome Lord Matsudaira’s oversight any more than he did Yanagisawa’s. A fight for survival could compromise the principles of the most honorable man. Goaded and threatened, Lord Matsudaira was just as capable as Yanagisawa of forsaking justice and using the investigation to persecute his enemy.

“The honorable Lord Matsudaira has no experience with investigations,” said Yanagisawa, “whereas I solved the murder case of the imperial minister three years ago.” He and Sano had solved the case together, but Yanagisawa had stolen all the credit. “Amateurs should stand aside and let professionals do the job.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” the shogun said, wavering.

Lord Matsudaira glowered at Yanagisawa’s slight against him. “Tokugawa interests are at stake,” he said. “Only a Tokugawa is qualified to protect them.”

“Indeed,” the shogun said meekly.

“Excuse me, Honorable Lord Matsudaira, but I’ve been protecting Tokugawa interests very well for years,” Yanagisawa retorted. “And my friendship with Senior Elder Makino qualifies me to ensure that his wish is fulfilled. You, on the other hand, have no reason to care about avenging his death.”

“Your emotions toward Makino will interfere with your judgment,” Lord Matsudaira argued, his voice harsh and his complexion red with anger. “You can’t supervise the investigation in a fair, objective manner. I can.”

Torn between his chamberlain and cousin, loath to offend either, the shogun flung up his hands and turned to Sano. “You decide who will supervise you!”

Sano was appalled that the shogun had passed the decision to him. Chamberlain Yanagisawa and Lord Matsudaira wore expressions of displeasure that they’d failed to coax the shogun and he’d put their fate in the hands of an inferior. They fixed ominous glares upon Sano.

Once more, Sano sensed their antagonism rising toward the danger point. He pictured armies poised to charge. Again he saw the moment depending on himself.

He said, “Your Excellency, I would be honored to have both Chamberlain Yanagisawa and Lord Matsudaira supervise my investigation.”

“You asked for them both?” Reiko spoke as if she thought Sano had lost his mind.

“My only alternative would have been to choose one of them,” Sano said, “and provoke the wrath of the other.”

He and Reiko lay in bed in their chamber. He’d told her about his meeting with the shogun, as well as what he’d discovered about the death of Senior Elder Makino. A lantern on the table illuminated their somber faces as they listened to Edo Castle’s nighttime sounds of mounted troops and foot soldiers patrolling the streets and grounds, horses neighing and stomping in stables, and dogs barking somewhere on the hill. Sano ached with exhaustion from his busy day and previous night without sleep, but the meeting had left him tense and wakeful.

“I see,” Reiko said. “Choosing one would have forced you to join his faction. I think you were wise to avoid that. And whichever you didn’t choose would have interfered with your investigation nonetheless.”

“This way, perhaps they’ll counteract each other’s interference,” Sano said without much hope.

“But now you’ll have both Chamberlain Yanagisawa and Lord Matsudaira on your back, each demanding that you implicate the other in Makino’s murder and each certain to punish you if you don’t.”

“Refusing to serve either one exclusively is my only hope of conducting a thorough, impartial investigation,” Sano said, though he feared the consequences as much as Reiko did.

She turned to Sano. He took her in his arms and drew comfort from their closeness. “What happens next?” Reiko asked.

“Lord Matsudaira and Chamberlain Yanagisawa have both assigned men to observe and report to them on my investigation,” Sano said.

Reiko lay stiff in his arms, and Sano perceived that she had other worries besides the murder case. “Is something else wrong?” he said.

She emitted a tense sigh. “I went for a ride today.”

“That’s good.” Sano was glad that she’d recovered enough spirit to go outside.

“I ran into Lady Yanagisawa. Or, I should say, she ran into me.”

Sano was alarmed. The last thing they needed was that madwoman plotting more mischief against Reiko.

“Please don’t worry,” Reiko said, clearly anxious to spare Sano more problems. “I can handle Lady Yanagisawa.” She changed the subject: “What are your plans for tomorrow?”

“I’ll go back to Senior Elder Makino’s estate and start looking for suspects. His wife, concubine, chief retainer, and houseguest are likely possibilities.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Reiko asked.

“You can make inquiries about the wife and concubine,” Sano said. Reiko moved in social circles that were closed to Sano, and she often brought him inside information about the women in a case. “And you can pray that the killer is unconnected with either Lord Matsudaira or Chamberlain Yanagisawa, and the final result of my investigation will please them both.”

6

Shortly after daybreak the next morning, Sano and Hirata arrived at Senior Elder Makino’s estate with a team of detectives and two men sent by Lord Matsudaira and Chamberlain Yanagisawa to observe the investigation. A chill rain puddled the pavements, dripped from eaves, and soaked the black mourning drapery that hung over the portals. A sign posted on the gate announced the funeral procession tomorrow. In spite of the early hour, news of Makino’s death had spread; despite the bad weather, numerous officials converged on the estate to pay their respects to Makino—or gloat over his death. Servants ushered them and Sano’s party through the courtyard, which was rapidly filling with sodden umbrellas, and into an entry way crammed with swords and wet shoes. As Sano and his party followed the crowd along the corridor, they passed a banquet room, where maids bustled, setting out food and drink for the guests.

“Detectives Marume-
san
and Fukida-
san
, you’ll cover the banquet room,” Sano said. From a reception hall down the corridor came the hum of chanting and subdued conversation. “Inoue-
san
, you and Arai-
san
take the reception hall. The rest of you, patrol the rest of the house.”

As the detectives went off to obey, Lord Matsudaira’s man said, “Wait.” He halted in the corridor, forcing Sano and Hirata to stop. He was a heavyset samurai named Otani, in his late thirties, with a puffy face. His shrewd eyes regarded Sano with suspicion. “What are your men going to do?”

“They’re going to spy on the funeral guests,” Sano said in a low voice that passersby wouldn’t hear.

“Why?” demanded Chamberlain Yanagisawa’s man, Ibe. He was a slight, nervous fellow whose nostrils twitched frequently, as if scenting trouble.

Sano realized that his two watchdogs knew nothing about investigating crimes. He said, “Senior Elder Makino’s enemies as well as his friends will be here. My men will be on the alert for any behavior or conversations that implicate anyone in the murder.”

“But I’m supposed to watch your investigation,” Ibe said, his nasal voice rising to a whine. “You can’t send your men off to do things for you in different places, because I can’t see what they’re up to and stay with you at the same time.”

“He’s right.” Otani gave his grudging support to Ibe, whom he obviously detested as a member of the enemy faction. “Lord Matsudaira said nothing should happen in this investigation without my knowledge. Call back your men.”

Sano realized with dismay that not only did Chamberlain Yanagisawa and Lord Matsudaira each want him to incriminate the other, but their representatives might keep him from accomplishing anything.

“I need my detectives to split up because I can’t be everywhere and do everything at once,” Sano explained patiently. “If we stick together, just so you can keep an eye on us, we may miss important clues.”

“Is that what your masters want?” Hirata challenged Otani and Ibe.

They exchanged uneasy glances, then shook their heads.

“Then let me conduct this investigation as I see fit,” Sano said. “When my men report their discoveries to me, you can listen. I promise we won’t hide anything from you.”

Otani and Ibe nodded in disgruntled approval. They followed Sano and Hirata into the reception hall, where guests lined up in front of the dais, upon which lay the oblong wooden coffin. Below the dais, a kneeling priest with a shaved head, dressed in saffron robe and brocade stole, chanted prayers. Near him, Senior Elder Makino’s widow and chief retainer knelt by a table that held a wooden tablet inked with Makino’s name, a branch of Chinese anise in a vase, a smoking incense burner, oil lamp, offerings of water and food, and a sword to avert evil spirits. Tamura wore formal black robes. The widow was dressed in muted violet, her face pale with white rice powder, her hair rolled neatly atop her head. One by one, the guests approached the coffin, knelt, and bowed. Each lit an incense stick at the lamp and spoke ritual condolences to the senior elder’s chief retainer and wife: “Congratulations on the long, prosperous life that Makino-
san
lived. I hope we all enjoy similar good fortune.”

Sano, Hirata, and their watchdogs joined the line. When Sano reached the dais, he was startled to discover that the coffin was open, not closed according to custom. Inside reposed Makino, his head shaved bald. He wore a white silk kimono. A pouch hung around his neck contained a coin to pay his toll on the road to the netherworld. His sandals faced backward to signify that he would never return to the world of the living. Beside him lay a Buddhist rosary and a bamboo staff, almost buried in the powdered incense that lined the coffin and sweetened the smell of the corpse. Sano supposed that the open coffin gave Makino’s friends a chance to say good-bye and his enemies a chance to see that he was really dead.

When Sano reached the front of the line, the widow received him with the same wordless courtesy she’d shown everyone else, but Tamura grimaced in annoyance.

“
Sōsakan-sama.
I’ve been expecting you.” Obviously, Tamura had heard that Sano had pronounced Makino a victim of murder and the shogun had ordered the investigation to continue. “But I hoped you would choose a better time to come looking for the murderer.”

Hirata, Ibe, and Otani prayed briefly over the coffin and lit incense. Tamura bowed to Ibe, representative of Chamberlain Yanagisawa, who’d been his master’s master. He ignored Lord Matsudaira’s man Otani.

“I’m sorry to intrude on the funeral rites, but His Excellency has ordered me to proceed without delay,” Sano said. “I need to speak to the wife of Senior Elder Makino.”

Tamura’s slanted eyebrows bunched together in a scowl. “Surely you wouldn’t ask a widow to desert her duty to receive her dead husband’s colleagues.”

The widow murmured, “It’s all right ... I must do the
sōsakan-sama
’s bidding.” Her hesitant voice was so quiet that it seemed to drift toward Sano from far away. She rose so gracefully that her body seemed made of pliant flesh without bone. She flowed up to Sano as if her feet under her trailing robes skimmed upon air above the floor.

Sano addressed Tamura: “I’ll want a word with you later. In the meantime, where are Senior Elder Makino’s houseguest and concubine?”

“I don’t know,” Tamura said with controlled calm. “Somewhere around the estate.” Mustering his dignity, he turned away to greet other guests.

“Find the concubine and houseguest and interview them,” Sano told Hirata. Then he said to the widow, “Is there a place where we can talk privately?”

She nodded, eyes modestly downcast. “I’ll show you, if you’ll come with me.”

Hirata moved toward the door. Ibe and Otani blocked his way, their expressions obstinate.

“This divide-and-conquer approach has gone too far,” Otani told Sano.

“You’re trying to avoid our observation by running too many inquiries at once.” Ibe’s suspicion of Sano allied him with his enemy counterpart.

“You must conduct the interviews one at a time,” Otani said, “so we can be present.”

Ibe nodded. Hirata looked to Sano, who realized that if he did as his watchdogs said, they would continue to dictate his every move. It was bad enough to have Chamberlain Yanagisawa and Lord Matsudaira trying to control the investigation, and Sano refused to bow to their lackeys.

“We’ll conduct the interviews simultaneously,” Sano said. “That’s final.”

Otani and Ibe glared. Ibe said, “I’ll tell the honorable chamberlain that you’re resisting his supervision.”

“Go ahead,” Sano said. “I’ll tell him—and Lord Matsudaira—that the two of you are hindering my progress.”

Indecision, and fear of their masters, blinked the men’s eyes. “I’ll accompany you,” Otani said to Sano.

“I’ll go with Hirata-
san
,” Ibe said.

“At the end of the day, I want a full report on the discoveries that I didn’t witness,” Otani said.

“Same here,” Ibe said. “And you’d better not leave anything out.”

Hirata and Ibe departed together. As Sano and Otani followed the widow down the corridor, Sano felt glad he’d established authority over his watchdogs, but his head had begun to ache. The widow led him and Otani to a smaller, vacant reception chamber. She gestured for them to sit in the place of honor before the alcove, which contained a verse on a scroll and bare branches in a black vase. She knelt and waited meekly.

Sano and Otani seated themselves. “My apologies for interrupting your husband’s funeral rites and intruding on you, Lady Agemaki,” Sano said. He recognized the name of a princess in
The Tale of Genji,
the famous novel of the Imperial Court, written some six centuries ago. Makino’s widow had a certain regal, refined air that suited the name to her. “But the circumstances give me no choice. I’m sorry to say that your husband was murdered.” Sano explained about Makino’s letter. “The shogun has ordered me to honor your husband’s wish that I bring his killer to justice and avenge his death. Now I need your help.”

Agemaki nodded, glancing at Sano from beneath lowered eyelids. “For the sake of my beloved husband ... I will gladly help you.”

“Then I must ask you to answer some questions,” Sano said.

“Very well.”

“I understand that you live in Makino-
san
’s private quarters. Is that correct?”

“That is correct,” Agemaki whispered. Her speech had a prim, formal quality.

“Were you there the night he died?”

“Yes ... I was there.”

“When was the last time you saw him alive?” Sano asked.

Agemaki hesitated. Sano had a feeling, based only on instinct, that she was deciding whether to tell the truth—or how much of it. “I believe I last saw my husband soon after the temple bells rang the hour of the dog,” she said. “That was his usual bedtime.”

“What happened?” Sano said.

“We bid each other good night,” Agemaki said. “I retired to my chamber.”

“You didn’t sleep in his?”

An indefinable emotion fluttered the woman’s eyelashes. “No.”

If she was telling the truth, then she wasn’t the woman who’d had sex with Makino that night, Sano thought. The fabric and style of the torn kimono sleeve didn’t match her age or marital status. He had no reason to doubt her word, except an unfounded hunch.

“Did you speak to your husband after you left him?” Sano asked Agemaki.

“No... I did not.”

“What did you do next?”

“I went to bed.”

“Did you hear any sounds from your husband’s chamber?”

Agemaki slowly inhaled, then exhaled, before she answered, “I heard nothing.”

“Would you please show me your chamber?” Sano said.

“Certainly.”

She led Sano out of the mansion, across the walkway and garden to the building that housed Makino’s private quarters. Otani shadowed them, frowning as he tried to discern Sano’s purpose. Inside the quarters they followed the corridor past Makino’s chamber and turned a corner. As Sano had noted yesterday, the building was roughly square, with the rooms arranged around the courtyard. Agemaki opened the door to a room adjacent to Makino’s. Upon entering, Sano saw furnishings appropriate for an aristocratic lady—a dressing table with mirror and jars of makeup, an expensive brocade kimono on a stand, a screen decorated with gilded birds, lacquer chests and silk floor cushions. Sano noted the lattice-and-paper partition that separated the chamber from Makino’s.