Reiko briefly closed her eyes.
“But it wasn’t because I wanted the affair to go on.” Regretting to hurt her more, Sano nonetheless realized that he must tell her the whole story, and hastened to explain: “I met Wisteria on a case I investigated while I was on the police force. She gave me information. We spent a night together.”
“During which she taught you the art of lovemaking?”
Hearing the pain behind Reiko’s sarcasm, Sano nodded reluctantly. “Certain people were displeased that Wisteria helped me. She was punished. Her suffering was my fault, and I had to compensate her.” He described the events that had made this possible. “But I didn’t go to Yoshiwara to take her away.” Leafing through the book, he said, “There was no departure ceremony, no trip together to her new home. The bakufu provided the money and handled everything. Wisteria wasn’t my mistress. I never intended her to be.”
“So you were never together again?” Eagerness underlay Reiko’s skeptical query.
Though he hated to disappoint his wife, Sano said, “We were, but only twice—before you and I met. Wisteria was unfriendly to me. I was busy working for the shogun, and I never bothered going back to Wisteria. There were no violent quarrels, no reunions, no perverted sex, no insults toward the shogun, and certainly no scheme to use Masahiro-chan for my own benefit.”
Sano flung down the book, incensed anew by its portrayal of him. He was relieved that his secret had come out, but upset that it had come out this way. Gazing upon Reiko’s rigid, unhappy face, he said, “I love you. I’ve always been faithful to you.” Sincerity and tenderness hushed his voice: “I swear it on my life.”
Reiko looked torn between wanting to believe and wanting not to be deceived. Then she turned away. Sano inwardly cursed the Black Lotus for her morbid distrust that extended to him and what she knew in her heart about him.
“You’re always telling me that a good detective bases judgment on evidence,” she said. “What evidence is there to prove you’re not an adulterer?” She swallowed hard, as if to forestall crying. “What evidence is there to prove you weren’t involved in Lord Mitsuyoshi’s death?”
She even suspected him of murdering Mitsuyoshi so that Masahiro could take his place as the shogun’s heir! Sano lifted his eyes to the ceiling as despair filled him. He had nothing to prove the pillow book was a fraud. The only person who could say for a fact that he’d never done the things described in the book was Lady Wisteria. Sano thought of the mutilated corpse and shook his head. Then his gaze lit on the book, which lay on the table where he’d thrown it. A phrase that hadn’t registered while he read now jarred his memory. He snatched up the book and whipped through pages until he found it.
“Reiko-san, look,” he said.
She didn’t move. Eagerly Sano read aloud: “ ‘It was in the year that the child was born, during the month of leaves, while Sano-san and I sat on the roof viewing the full moon.’ But I couldn’t have been with Wisteria on the night of the full moon in the seventh month after you gave birth to Masahiro-chan . I was with you. Don’t you remember?”
Now Reiko did remember. She also remembered the passage in the book that she’d overlooked because she’d been too upset to read objectively. A rush of confused emotions made her feel faint. Stunned, she turned to Sano.
“Yes,” she said, and heard breathless relief in her voice.
Her distrust and his confession had transformed her husband into a stranger capable of adultery and treason; but now Sano looked his familiar self. An encouraging smile dawned through the worry on his face.
“The shogun had given you a holiday that month,” she said. “You took Masahiro-chan and me on a religious pilgrimage.” The temple where they’d stayed was a three-day journey from Edo, their holiday had lasted ten days total, and therefore Sano could not have gone to Wisteria in Nihonbashi at any time near the full moon.
“After you put Masahiro-chan to bed, you and I watched the moon from the garden,” Sano said.
“And we made love there.” The tears Reiko had been holding back now spilled. She wept with gladness that one small, false detail had shown the pillow book to be an elaborate lie, and shame that she’d not immediately recognized it as such. “Will you forgive me for doubting you?”
“If you forgive me for keeping a secret I should have told you,” Sano said.
He looked so earnest and chagrined that Reiko’s lingering anger melted away. Unaware of whether she moved toward him, or he toward her, she found herself and Sano embracing. She felt her sobs resonate through him, and the wetness on her cheek that could have been her tears or his. Sano’s hands caressed her with a tenderness that she could tell Lady Wisteria had never known from him. Her body responded with a welling of desire. His breath quickened and his grasp on her tightened.
Lovemaking would have followed, but they moved apart because they had serious matters to discuss. Reiko heated a vessel of sake, and they knelt with the pillow book and the tray of cups before them.
“If Wisteria didn’t write the book, who did?” Reiko said, pouring the steaming liquor.
Sano’s expression turned grim as he accepted a cup. “I can think of one person who would like me implicated in the murder and branded a traitor.”
“Yoriki Hoshina?”
Sano nodded. “Hoshina knows about the pillow book, and what it looks like, because he heard Wisteria’s kamuro describe it to me. Maybe he forged his own version and had it delivered anonymously to Chamberlain Yanagisawa. After that, all he had to do was wait.”
“For the chamberlain to use the book against you?” Reiko warmed her hands on her cup of sake before she drank. “But what about your truce with him?”
“The truce wouldn’t protect me in this case,” Sano said. He drained his cupful and poured himself another. “No matter if Yanagisawa wants us to remain at peace, he couldn’t ignore evidence that I insulted and plotted against the shogun or had reason to kill Lord Mitsuyoshi. He would have to give the book to the shogun, whether he believes I’m guilty or not.”
Now Reiko understood. “For him to shield a possible traitor would make him a traitor as well.”
“He might hesitate to act if he were the only one who knew about the evidence,” Sano said, “but he’s not. The author of the book also knows. And the author knows that Yanagisawa received the book. While Yanagisawa and I are no longer at war, we’re not exactly friends. He would never conceal the book and endanger himself for my sake. And Hoshina knows how his lover thinks. He’s been looking for a way to attack me.” Sano eyed the pillow book. “That must be his doing.”
In spite of the strong reasons to believe Hoshina had written the book, a different possibility occurred to Reiko.
“If Hoshina isn’t the author… ” Her voice trailed off because the idea seemed at once plausible and outlandish.
“Do you have someone else in mind?” Sano said.
“I’m thinking of Lady Yanagisawa,” Reiko said.
Sano regarded her with surprise. “How could she have known Wisteria had written a pillow book, or that it was missing?”
“Maybe she overheard the chamberlain and Hoshina discussing the case.”
“Even if she did, how would she have known what to write?”
Reiko saw that he didn’t think Lady Yanagisawa could be familiar with Yoshiwara customs, what went on between prostitutes and clients, or political ploys. “Yoriki Hoshina might have learned about you and Wisteria from metsuke spies, but women have their own ways of finding out things,” Reiko said. “Maybe Wisteria told her friends or clients about her affair with you, and gossip traveled from Yoshiwara to Edo Castle, where Lady Yanagisawa heard it from her servants. She must also hear plenty that the chamberlain and his men say about bakufu business.”
“That’s possible. But the story in the book seems so real that the author must be a clever writer and have experience with the situations in it,” Sano said. “That description would fit Hoshina better than Lady Yanagisawa.”
“I think she’s smart enough to write a good story,” Reiko said, “and imagination can make up for lack of experience.”
Sano’s expression conveyed doubt. “Supposing Lady Yanagisawa did manufacture the pillow book, she could have also invented the story about the anonymous package to fool you. But you said she wants to be your friend. Why, then, would she try to hurt you by writing slander about me?”
Here Reiko’s logic foundered. “I don’t have a good reason. But Lady Yanagisawa is odd. I don’t like the way she looks at me, or the way she sought my acquaintance at this particular time.”
Instinct told Reiko that the chamberlain’s wife had befriended her for some secret, nefarious purpose. But instinct had also encouraged her to trust a suspect in the Black Lotus murders, and to doubt Sano’s fidelity to her and loyalty to the shogun. Reiko was more afraid than ever that the Black Lotus investigation had permanently damaged her judgment.
She saw her fear reflected on Sano’s face. He said, “If Lady Yanagisawa does want to get me in trouble, why did she do you the favor of bringing you the book instead of leaving it for her husband and letting matters take their course?”
Reiko sighed in dejection. “I don’t know.” Yet her suspicions about the chamberlain’s wife nagged at her. Wishing she’d kept them to herself, she changed the subject: “If the second pillow book is a forgery, then maybe the book Hirata found is Lady Wisteria’s genuine one. Nothing in the first book has proved to be untrue, even though we haven’t been able to find the Hokkaido man. What are you going to do about the second pillow book?”
Sano picked up the volume and weighed it in his hand for a moment, his expression perturbed. “I hate to destroy evidence. But the only information in here is false information about me.”
“There may be clues we don’t recognize yet,” Reiko said. “And the fact that the book says you plotted treason on a night for which you have an alibi reveals that the story is slander. You may need the book as proof of your innocence.”
“Maybe.” Still, Sano was more certain of the book’s threat to him than willing to bet it would turn out to be useful. “But whether the book has any value, it’s too dangerous to keep.”
He untied the ribbon binding and fed the pages one by one into the brazier. They flamed, shriveled, and blackened. At last Sano laid the lavender covers and green ribbon on the coals.
“I wish I could believe this is the end of the matter,” Reiko said, opening a window to clear out the smoke.
“So do I,” said Sano, “but unfortunately, it’s not. Whoever wrote that book will be waiting for Chamberlain Yanagisawa to act on it and me to be ruined. When that doesn’t happen, he’ll know his plan went wrong.”
“And try again to implicate you in the murders?”
Sano nodded. “I must find out who the author is before he manufactures more false evidence against me. And I must find out as soon as possible who killed Lord Mitsuyoshi, so that if suspicion does fall on me, I can prove I didn’t do it.”
The second pillow book complicated the investigation and raised the price of failure; yet Reiko tried to be optimistic. “We’re safe for now,” she said. “Maybe the author of the book is the murderer of Lord Mitsuyoshi and Lady Wisteria. If that’s true, we need to find only one person to solve the case and avoid danger.”
* * *
25
Although exhausted from a tumultuous day and night, Sano and Reiko rose early the next morning, cognizant of how much work awaited them. As they sat eating a meal of rice, broth, and fish, Hirata came to the door of their chamber.
“There’s been a new development,” Sano said. “We have something to tell you.”
He described the second pillow book. After they’d discussed its ramifications, Hirata said, “I came to tell you that Magistrate Aoki has had Fujio taken out of jail and delivered to his court. Our informant there just brought the news. And the shogun wants to see you immediately.”
“The magistrate is interfering again,” Reiko said in dismay.
“As if that wasn’t bad enough, the shogun must want me to explain why I defended Treasury Minister Nitta at his trial.” Unpleasant foreboding stole through Sano. He rose and told Hirata, “You go to the court and find out what’s going on. I’ll be at the palace.”
When Sano arrived in the shogun’s reception hall, he found the Council of Elders aligned in their customary two rows on the upper level of the floor. The shogun sat on the dais, with Chamberlain Yanagisawa kneeling below at his right and Police Commissioner Hoshina at his left. Tokugawa Tsunayoshi looked ill, his features fragile as crumpled paper, his eyes rimmed with red and shadowed underneath. Trembling visibly, he glared at Sano.
Dread chilled Sano as he knelt and bowed. Just as he’d feared, the shogun was furious with him.
“How could you?” demanded Tokugawa Tsunayoshi. “After all I’ve, ahh, given you, after I’ve trusted you, how could you do such a, ahh, cruel, disgraceful thing?”
“A million apologies for displeasing you, Your Excellency.” Quaking, Sano tried to stay calm. “I couldn’t let Magistrate Aoki condemn the treasury minister and end the investigation while there was a strong chance that Nitta was innocent.”
“Of course Nitta was innocent!” The shogun’s voice rose to a high pitch of hysteria. As Sano listened in surprise, Tokugawa Tsunayoshi said, “He didn’t kill my cousin. You did!”
Sano felt shock resonate through his body. The shogun was accusing him? What was going on? Aghast, he looked around at the other men, and his gaze lit on Hoshina.
“The sōsakan-sama appears bewildered, Your Excellency.” Hoshina’s expression was smug, gloating. “If I may enlighten him?”
Tokugawa Tsunayoshi nodded as a sob wracked his body. Hoshina said to Sano, “I’ve located the missing pillow book of Lady Wisteria. It contains a description of a sordid love affair between her and you. She wrote that you used her for pleasure, then mistreated her. She also wrote that you called His Excellency a despicable idiot, and you intended to murder Lord Mitsuyoshi so His Excellency would adopt your son as his successor.
“I showed the book to the Honorable Chamberlain. We agreed that we must show it to His Excellency, and we have done so.”
Yanagisawa inclined his head, silently concurring with his lover. Alarm and confusion beset Sano. Lady Yanagisawa had told Reiko that her husband had gotten the book from an anonymous sender. Had she lied, or had Hoshina secretly opened the package, then pretended he’d found the book somewhere, to impress his superiors?
But however the book had come to light, the shogun had read it before Lady Yanagisawa stole it. Her attempt to do Reiko a favor had failed. Sano had destroyed the book too late, and Hoshina had used it against him.
“I have never insulted His Excellency,” Sano said, his panic balanced by anger at his foe. “Nor have I ever expressed threats toward Lord Mitsuyoshi. I didn’t kill him, and I’m not plotting to put my son in power. The book is a fraud.’’
Hoshina gave him a cocksure smile. “Residents of the Great Miura brothel have identified it as Lady Wisteria’s.”
“Did you bribe them? Or did you threaten to kill them unless they said what you wanted? You wrote the book yourself, to ruin me.” Sano grew certain this was true. “Admit it!”
The shogun’s puzzled gaze flicked from Sano to Hoshina, who said ruefully, “I’m not the author of the book. The sōsakan-sama is trying to save himself by accusing me.”
“Let’s examine this book and compare the calligraphy to yours.” Knowing the book was in ashes, Sano hoped that forcing Hoshina to admit it no longer existed would lessen the harm it could do him.
“The book has vanished,” Hoshina said, unperturbed.
“How convenient for you that no one can scrutinize it too closely,” Sano said.
Hoshina’s gaze rebuked him. “How much more convenient for you if you’d had it stolen before we read it instead of afterward.”
Hoshina dared frame him for theft
along with murder and treason! “I didn’t know the book had turned up until now,” Sano said. “How could I have stolen it?” Yet he feared everyone could see through his pretended ignorance. He addressed the shogun: “Even though you’re understandably upset by what the book said about me, please consider that there’s no other evidence that anything in it happened.”
“That is, ahh, true.” Realization eclipsed the anger on Tokugawa Tsunayoshi’s countenance. “You’ve always been loyal to me in the past. And the, ahh, man in the story was a cad who didn’t, ahh, resemble you at all.”
His unexpected good sense relieved Sano, but Hoshina said, “The affair between the sōsakan-sama and Lady Wisteria was verified by my informants. And here’s a page of the account book from the brothel, showing a sum paid by Sano Ichiro for the discharge of Lady Wisteria.” Hoshina held up a paper.
“That proves nothing except that I freed her,” Sano said, appalled by the thoroughness of Hoshina’s effort to authenticate the book.
“Any verified detail lends credibility to the others,” Hoshina said. “Besides, I’ve located the house where Wisteria lived after she left Yoshiwara. The neighbors say she had a samurai lover. Their description of him fits the sōsakan-sama. They also say that he and Wisteria quarreled frequently and violently, as the book describes.”
Sano couldn’t admit he’d visited Wisteria at all, and make himself look guiltier. “I never quarreled with her. Either those witnesses are lying, or you are,” he told Hoshina. “Your evidence is slander woven from a few innocuous facts!”
The shogun recoiled from Sano’s vehemence.
“See how he rages when someone irks him,” Hoshina said to the assembly, his face alight with vindication. “This is the bad temper that caused him to hurt Lady Wisteria.”
Further incensed, Sano looked at the chamberlain. Yanagisawa met his gaze with a warning expression that said their truce didn’t make them allies and Hoshina had free rein here. The elders watched with a detachment that fueled Sano’s anger. They expected him to destroy their enemies for them, at his own risk, and now they were doing nothing to help him. The contemptible wretches!
Sano Ichiro 7 The Pillow Book of Lady Wisteria (2002) Page 23