by Susan Spann
“How?” Satsu asked.
“Again, the coin was the answer,” Hiro said. “You initially told us you wanted to find the link between the killer and the coin, but all of our later conversations focused on the coin alone. You refused to accept that Botan might have sold the missing mask. You seemed absolutely certain it was stolen. You also wanted the coin returned, and though you claimed you wanted it for the value of the gold, your focus on it seemed too strong—there had to be something more. Like me, I think you suspected Emi stole the mask and that the gold related to the theft.
“You would not have killed your daughter, even to preserve the family honor, if she held the key to finding the mask.”
“But how did you know I suspected her involvement in the theft?” Satsu asked.
“You told us you expected her to run away or leave Kyoto,” Hiro said, “and yet, you did not know she met men by the river. She couldn’t have run without money, and since you knew she had no job, it stands to reason you assumed she got the coin in return for the mask.”
“Please,” Nori begged, “this cannot be true. Neither of my daughters would do the terrible things you claim.”
She looked around the room for support, but no one met her eyes.
“A samurai threatened to harm the Yutoku-za unless we paid him,” Nori said. “He demanded gold, but my father did not have the sum he wanted. He made threats—he must have killed Emi and stolen the mask.”
“I know about the samurai.” Hiro spoke gently, out of respect for the woman’s pain. “The man who threatened your father is a yoriki. He wanted gold to buy a place in the shogun’s army. We know, because he threatened others also. He did not know about the coin until after the murder happened, when he overheard us showing it to the magistrate. The man is a thief, but he did not kill your daughter.”
“Maybe he didn’t see the coin when he killed her.” Nori clasped her hands together. “I beg you, do not blame this crime on Chou.”
“The coin was part of the murder weapon,” Hiro said. “The killer saw it.”
“You showed the coin to the magistrate?” Satsu asked. “Did he take it from you?”
“We no longer have it,” Hiro affirmed.
Satsu sighed. “Then hope is lost. I never even figured out how Emi stole the mask.”
“Yuji can answer that, I believe,” Hiro said.
The young man’s face turned as red as the coals in the hearth.
“He claimed that Emi seduced him,” Hiro continued, “but Emi told Chou a different story—one which Haru heard, and confirmed, so I think it more reliable. Emi wanted to reveal Yuji’s lack of character. She did invite his affections, but also claimed there was no affair, despite Yuji’s words to the contrary.”
“Emi could have lied,” Rika said. “Women of poor virtue often do.”
“As do actors,” Nori added as tears flowed down her face again, “and your son has already confessed to lies.”
“Enough,” Satsu whispered. “Let the samurai finish.”
“I believe that Emi told Chou the truth,” Hiro said. “She tricked Yuji into giving her the mask. He could never admit to that, so he allowed you all to believe he had an affair with Emi instead. You could forgive a moral slip, but not complicity in the theft of your greatest treasure.”
“Emi was my greatest treasure,” Nori said.
Chou gave her mother a wounded look. Everyone else’s attention shifted to Yuji.
Satsu scowled. “Is this what happened?”
Yuji folded his arms across his chest. “No—that is, not exactly.”
“Feel free to correct my errors,” Hiro said.
Yuji glanced at the others as if hoping someone would speak on his behalf.
No one did.
“Chou told me Emi was meeting a man by the river. I didn’t believe her, because”—he paused, as if weighing how much of the truth to tell—“Emi always refused my advances and said she didn’t want a man at all. But Chou insisted it was true, so one evening, about a week ago, I followed Emi to the river. She met and talked with a man—he looked like a merchant, of all things.
“Afterward I confronted her. She told me her life was not my concern. But when I threatened to tell Satsu what I’d seen, she changed completely. She suggested . . . well, she asked if I still wanted her.”
He glanced at Chou. “I told her I did. She said we had to be careful, so no one would see us. She said we should meet at an inn by the river, one of the places that rents its rooms for coppers and asks no questions. She asked me to bring a mask so I could give her a private performance. . . .”
Yuji trailed off as if hoping he wouldn’t have to complete the story.
Everyone else in the room looked horrified. Rika shook her head, expression wavering between disgust and fury. Chou’s eyes filled with tears that did not fall.
“You agreed to this?” Satsu demanded.
“You were betrothed to Chou!” Rika added.
“Let him finish,” Hiro said. “What happened then?”
“The night before she died, I took the mask and met her at the inn,” Yuji continued. “I sneaked the special one from Botan’s office because no one would notice it missing overnight. Botan only opens the box when he needs the mask for performances, and Aoi no Ue doesn’t use it.”
“How did you manage it?” Satsu asked. “The trunk where he stores that mask is always locked.”
“I know where Botan keeps the key.” Yuji looked at the hearth and fell silent.
“Keep going.” Hiro felt no sympathy for the actor. A man could attempt to conceal his crimes, but if they came to light he had to own them.
“When I reached the inn, Emi had ordered a flask of sake,” Yuji said. “The innkeeper kept refilling it, and Emi kept drinking, so I did too. Eventually, I needed to use the latrine. . . .
“When I returned, she was gone, along with the mask. The innkeeper said she had left me a message—a piece of paper that called me a worthless fool. That’s when I realized she tricked me. She was only pretending to drink. She wanted to get me drunk so she could steal the mask.”
“Why didn’t you come straight home and explain what happened?” Satsu asked.
“It would have ruined me! Botan would dismiss me from the troupe, and you would cancel my betrothal.”
“Your betrothal to Chou is canceled,” Satsu said, “and, I assure you, when he hears this tale, Botan will ensure you never set foot on a stage in Kyoto again.”
CHAPTER 53
“Had you told the truth, we might have avoided this tragedy,” Satsu said to Yuji. “Now my daughter is dead and the mask is gone, and though you committed neither crime, morally you are responsible for both.”
Father Mateo started to speak, but Hiro shook his head. An important part of the story remained to be told.
Chou bowed her face to the ground. “I’m sorry, Father. Emi told me she met Yuji at the inn, and he confirmed it, but I did not know about the mask. They never mentioned it. I did not even know that it was missing.”
“Tell us what happened the night Emi died,” Hiro said. “And this time, tell the truth.”
Chou pushed herself to a sitting position. The tears had left her eyes. “I loved my sister. I did not want to kill her.”
Hiro nodded. “I believe you.”
“I never cared that Emi was pretty and I am not, or that everyone liked her better than they like me.” Chou’s determined expression looked out of place on her mild face. “Emi wanted to sing and dance. I wanted a home and a husband. We didn’t fight, because we didn’t need to. I never wanted Emi’s life. She never wanted mine.
“But after Father formally announced my betrothal to Yuji, everything changed. Emi said I was foolish to love him. She said I would be miserable as his wife. I thought she said it because she wanted Yuji for herself. I saw them talking, many times. They stood too close together. Emi denied that she wanted him, but he was always there, beside her. I told her to leave him alone. She called
me stupid.
“She said Yuji wasn’t worth fighting over.” Tears welled up in Chou’s eyes. “He was worth it to me.”
She sniffled, wiped her eyes, and continued, “Two days before Emi died, she told me she had found a man to help her buy a teahouse. She was meeting him that very night. She stayed out late—much later than normal—and when she returned, she wouldn’t tell me where she’d been. A little while later, I saw Yuji sneaking back into the house. I stopped him and asked where he had been, but he wouldn’t tell me either. I knew he was the man that Emi meant.”
“I never promised to help her buy a teahouse,” Yuji protested.
Chou continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “The next day Yuji came to me, looking for Emi. I asked if he was with her the night before, and he said yes, but he promised it would never happen again.” She turned to Yuji. “You should have told the truth. I would have understood. I would have helped you.”
“If I told you about the mask, it would have ruined everything,” Yuji said.
Chou wiped the last of her tears away. “Emi was right. You only care about yourself.”
“Then what happened?” Hiro asked.
“That afternoon, Emi showed me a golden coin. She said it was proof I couldn’t trust Yuji and that he was the reason she had it. I thought she meant he gave it to her. Now, I realize . . . I told her to give it to me, but she refused. Then Mother came in and I had to pretend that nothing was going on.” Chou looked at her parents. “I am sorry. I thought, if you knew, you’d make Yuji marry Emi instead of me.”
“How could you still want him? He betrayed you,” Satsu said.
“Because I love him,” Chou insisted. “I thought . . . with her out of the way, he would realize he loved me too.
“That night I followed Emi to the river. I stayed in the shadows. I wanted to see it when Yuji told her it was over. First she met a merchant, and they talked. The man lay down—I think he fell asleep. Emi just sat there, and I got bored, but just as I decided to leave, Yuji came out from under the bridge.
“Emi left the other man and went to Yuji. He took her in his arms, like a lover—”
“That was not an embrace,” Yuji interrupted. “I grabbed her in anger. I wanted her to tell me what she did with the sacred mask. She showed me the coin and taunted me. She said the gold was the key, but I would never find the lock it opened.”
“So you grabbed her,” Hiro said.
“But I did not kill her,” Yuji insisted. “I knew, if I did, I would never find the mask.”
“What did she do when you grabbed her?” Hiro asked.
“She threatened to scream. She told me there was a yoriki patrolling along the riverbank, as well as the samurai guarding Shijō Bridge. She said if I didn’t let her go, she would claim that I attacked her, so I left.”
“You left?” Father Mateo echoed.
Yuji looked at the priest. “What else could I do? No one can leave the city at night. I needed a plan to recover the mask. I went home, and Mother can attest I was there the rest of the night.”
“My wretched child deserves no favors,” Rika said, “but he was here.”
Hiro turned to Chou. “What happened after Yuji left?”
“I confronted Emi by the bridge,” Chou said. “I asked her why she wanted to steal my husband. Emi claimed I had it wrong, but I knew what I saw! She was lying.
“I looked at the coin around her neck. I’d never felt so angry and betrayed. I grabbed the coin”—Chou pantomimed the action—“I wanted to tear it off and throw it in the river. But Emi grasped my hands, and we struggled. I wrapped the leather thong around my wrist.”
Again, she mimed the action.
“Emi put her hands to her throat. I realized I was choking her, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. I felt so angry. I wanted her to hurt, the way that I did when I saw her close to Yuji.
“Emi fell down. My hands were twisted up in the leather, so I fell too, but I didn’t let go. . . .”
Chou’s words trailed off as the memory flooded through her. She looked at her hands, as if reliving what they had done. “Emi stopped struggling. Her body went limp. I didn’t realize . . . And then it was over. Her eyes went empty. She didn’t breathe. That’s when I realized she was dead. I didn’t know what to do. If I took the coin, Yuji would see it and know . . .
“I dragged her body up the bank and left her with the sleeping man. I hoped the police would blame him for her death. It was wrong, but I was scared.” She looked at Yuji. “I thought, with Emi dead, you’d want to marry me again.”
Yuji’s eyes were wide with horror. Rika and Nori seemed equally stunned.
Satsu stared at his daughter with an expression that slowly hardened into regret.
Hiro did not envy the difficult choice that Satsu had to make.
Nori’s whisper broke the silence. “Why?”
“I never meant to hurt her.” Chou turned to her mother. “You have to believe me. I had no choice.”
“There is always a choice,” Satsu said, “until the deed is done. Now, however, the lot is cast and you must answer for your crime.”
“My crime?” The glaze in Chou’s eyes suggested her mind refused to process the situation fully.
Nori shook her head and whispered, “No. I cannot lose them both.”
“You killed your sister,” Satsu said.
“But it’s over.” Chou seemed puzzled. “Emi is gone and the mask is also.”
“Emi is gone,” Hiro said, “but the mask is not.”
CHAPTER 54
Hiro gestured to Father Mateo. The Jesuit opened the bag and withdrew the mask.
Satsu’s mouth dropped open. “You found it? How?”
“As you suspected, by tracing the coin,” Hiro said. “The morning after the theft, Emi left the mask with a moneylender—a relative of the merchant she met by the river—as collateral for a loan. I don’t know whether she planned to sell the mask in Kyoto or in Edo, but she knew that no one would look for it in a moneylender’s storehouse.”
“How did you trace the moneylender?” Satsu asked. “How did you know she hadn’t sold the mask?”
“She had no reason to stay in Kyoto once she had the money from the sale,” Hiro said, “and a mask like this is worth far more than a single golden coin. Once I knew she didn’t get the coin from a suitor, or from Yuji, I realized a moneylender offered the perfect place to hide the mask. The moneylender would keep it safe, and the loan she received—a coin—was fairly easy to conceal.”
“Kyoto has dozens of moneylenders,” Satsu said. “How did you find the right one?”
“The man Emi met by the river worked for a moneylender.” Hiro omitted the clue about Jiro having coins to spend. “I decided to try the logical option first. It proved correct.”
Satsu bowed to Hiro, and then to Father Mateo. “May I have the honor of returning the mask to Botan? I will confess that Emi stole it and accept whatever penalty he demands.”
Father Mateo handed the mask to Satsu, who accepted it with another bow.
“It is yours to return,” Hiro said, “but Yuji should suffer the penalty for the theft.”
“I didn’t steal it!” Yuji snapped.
Rika’s hand flashed out and slapped her son across the face. “Bow down and beg the samurai’s forgiveness!”
Speechless, Yuji lowered his face to the floor.
“Your father was too proud of you,” Rika continued. “He fostered your talent at the cost of your character. Others accomplished the theft, and the murder, but you set the chain of events in motion. You will accept responsibility for your actions, even if it ends your career. At least it won’t put a rope around your neck.”
Rika looked at Chou. “Not everyone here will be as fortunate.”
Chou shook her head, eyes wide, as Rika’s meaning struck her.
“No!” Nori threw herself at her husband’s feet. “I beg you. No one has to know. We do not have to lose them both for this.”
Satsu closed his eyes for a moment, as if steeling himself to speak. “The law is clear. Death is the only penalty for murder. It must be done.”
Nori did not raise her face. Her body shook with desperate sobs.
Chou hung her head, accepting her father’s judgment. “I only wish I did not have to cause you public shame.”
Satsu looked at Hiro with a question in his eyes.
Hiro nodded.
“If you are strong enough,” Satsu said, “we do not need to involve the magistrate.”
A keening wail rose from Nori, who rocked back and forth as if in pain. Rika moved to Nori’s side. Yuji pushed himself to a kneeling position, but kept his gaze on the floor.
“Can a woman commit . . . self-determination?” Father Mateo whispered in Portuguese, substituting the translated word for seppuku.
Hiro shook his head. “That ritual is reserved for samurai.”
“Then how?” the Jesuit asked.
“A rope and a tree,” Hiro answered.
“Suicide is a mortal sin,” Father Mateo whispered.
“So is murder,” Hiro replied, “if I remember the tenets of your faith.”
Father Mateo seemed surprised. “You paid attention?”
“Your house has open rafters.” Hiro shrugged. “And voices carry.”
“Please excuse us,” Satsu said to Hiro. “I must help my daughter do what must be done.”
Nori lunged for Chou and sheltered her daughter beneath her body. “Satsu, no. I cannot lose them both. You cannot take her from me.”
“Is there no alternative?” Father Mateo asked the actor. “I could speak to the magistrate.”
“No!” Nori shrieked. “He will order her hanged in public!”
Satsu turned to the priest, eyes red and glassy with unshed tears. “My wife is correct. Chou’s life must answer for her crime. Privacy is the only mercy anyone can offer. That way, the Yutoku-za will not suffer public shame as well.”
Chou embraced her mother and stood up, though it took some effort to disentangle herself from Nori’s grasp. When she did, the older woman collapsed to the floor.
“I am sorry, Mother,” Chou said, “but I have disgraced you enough already. Please forgive me. There is no other choice.”