Hirata shouted back: “Before I give you the money, I want to see the sōsakan-sama.”
Lightning moved aside, pulling Wisteria with him. He jerked his head at Sano. “Go on.”
Stepping up to the window, Sano spied Hirata standing in the street, holding a cumbersome box, his face worried. He smiled in relief when he saw Sano alive and unharmed. “I had to go all the way to Tobacco Lane to get the money,” he called.
His emphatic tone suggested a hidden meaning, but Sano was baffled. He couldn’t understand why Hirata would mention Tobacco Lane, a street of tobacco shops and warehouses that had no moneylenders. Then Lightning’s sword poked his armor tunic, prodding him away from the window.
“Bring the money to the door and knock,” Lightning shouted to Hirata. “Then go home.”
“Very well,” Hirata called.
Suddenly Sano remembered an investigation that had taken him and Hirata to Tobacco Lane. Enlightenment struck him. As he comprehended Hirata’s intent, three loud knocks on the door echoed through the warehouse.
Lightning hesitated, clearly wondering how to get the money and control his hostages at the same time. His breath huffed and his gaze darted with accelerating rapidity. His grip on the sword and on Wisteria’s collar tightened. Sano saw the gangster’s quandary urging him toward more violence instead of rational action. Wisteria shut her eyes and bunched up her face, as if she anticipated a fatal lash of the blade.
“We’ll all go downstairs,” Sano said, thinking fast about how to help Hirata’s plan succeed. “You can hold onto Wisteria, while I bring in the money.”
After an instant of deliberation, Lightning said, “All right. You go first.”
Sano descended; Lightning and Wisteria followed several steps behind him. They all crossed the warehouse. Sano unbarred and slowly opened the door, while his companions waited in the shadows. His pulse raced; expectation thrummed along his nerves. The wooden chest sat outside the door. Sano bent to lift the chest. Then came a scrambling noise on the roof.
“What’s that?” Lightning exclaimed. Panic edged his voice.
Turning, Sano saw the gangster spin in a circle, his gaze on the ceiling, as he clutched Wisteria against him. The skylights opened, raised by Sano’s troops, who’d climbed onto the warehouse. In dropped several dark objects the size and shape of turnips. Each had a short, flaming tail. As they fell, Lightning cried out and ducked. The objects plopped to the floor around him. Sano lunged for Wisteria. He caught hold of her hand, just as the bombs exploded with multiple thudding noises.
Dense, yellowish smoke billowed, clouding the air. Lightning emitted an enraged, terrified yowl. Wisteria shrieked. Sano tugged her toward the doorway, a rectangle of brightness that was barely visible through the smoke. But a hard yank from the opposite direction tore her hand out of his. Sulfurous fumes stung Sano’s eyes, obscured his vision. Though he heard Hirata calling him and Lightning and Wisteria coughing, he could see nothing but smoke. He wished he’d managed to remove Wisteria from the building and let the smoke flush out Lightning. His lungs constricted, and coughs wracked him; yet he couldn’t go and leave Wisteria in here with the gangster.
“Help!” she screamed, retching.
Covering his nose and mouth with his sleeve, Sano groped blindly toward the sound of her. Light from the lanterns filtered through the smoke clouds. Sano’s instincts blared a sudden warning. He crouched, and Lightning’s blade flashed out of the smoke, over his head. More pleas for help came from Wisteria; Lightning alternated curses and wheezes. Blurred shapes flailed like ghosts in the smoke, while the blade whistled around Sano. He fell to the floor, rolled away. Wisteria loosed a scream of agony.
Loud, splintering crashes reverberated as Sano’s troops hacked the window shutters open with axes. While the fresh air dispersed the smoke, Sano clambered to his feet in the center of the room. He saw Lightning lurch toward the door, choking and gagging, just as his detectives charged through it, their swords drawn. Lightning staggered into their midst, wildly swinging his blade in a desperate bid to escape or die trying. Sano launched himself at the gangster. He tackled Lightning around the knees. Lightning crashed to the floor. Sano’s men fell upon him and wrested his sword away. He struggled like a captured beast, uttering incoherent protests.
“Are you all right?” Hirata asked Sano.
Nodding, Sano panted from exertion and coughed up phlegm as he stood. “Where’s Wisteria?” he said.
Then he heard a moan, and saw her. She lay on her side, torso raised on her elbows, inching toward the door. Pain wrenched her features. Her legs were soaked with blood, injured by Lightning. Now pity overrode Sano’s ill will against Wisteria. He and Hirata walked over to her. When she saw them, she strained her body and groaned with a last, futile heave toward freedom. Then she collapsed, weeping in defeat.
* * *
35
Hirata-san!” Midori ran out on the veranda of the Edo Castle women’s quarters as he hurried up the path toward her. In her red silk kimono, she was a warm spot of color in the chill, cloudy afternoon and drab garden. “What has happened?”
“Lightning has been convicted of murdering Lord Mitsuyoshi and beating the prostitute to death,” Hirata said, glad to bring her good news at last. Two days had passed since the capture of the gangster, and Hirata had just witnessed the trial at Magistrate Ueda’s court. “Wisteria has been convicted as an accomplice to murder and treason.”
He joined Midori on the veranda, and as he described the events that had led to the trial, Midori regarded him with wide-eyed awe. “What will become of Wisteria and Lightning?” she said.
“They’re on their way to the execution ground,” Hirata said. “Their severed heads will be displayed by the Nihonbashi Bridge as a warning to other would-be criminals.” Tokugawa law had meted out harsh justice for the couple’s serious crimes.
“Are you safe now?” Midori asked anxiously.
“Yes. The sōsakan-sama has been exonerated. He and I have met with the shogun. His Excellency apologized for doubting Sano-san and welcomed him back into favor.” Overwhelnled by relief, Hirata said, “The threat to everyone in his retinue has passed.”
“I’m so happy for you!” Midori smiled, her eyes shining. “And your smoke bomb was such a clever idea.”
Hirata had used a tactic once used against him and Sano in Tobacco Lane. He was proud of his quick thinking, and glad Sano had taken his cue to get Lightning downstairs for capture. Then Midori’s face fell; she sighed in desolation.
“But we’re no closer to marriage,” she mourned.
“Oh, yes we are,” Hirata said, because the revelations in the murder case had unexpectedly produced a solution to their problems. “Come on. We’re going into town. I’ll explain on the way.”
Soon, Hirata and a squadron of detectives were seated in a teahouse in Nihonbashi. Lord Niu entered with his guards and his chief retainer, Okita.
“Greetings,” Hirata said, bowing to Lord Niu. “Thank you for coming.”
“Your invitation said you were ready to discuss a surrender.” Lord Niu regarded Hirata with contempt. “Does this mean you’ve come to your senses?”
“Indeed it does,” Hirata said politely.
Lord Niu and his men sat. Hirata beckoned a maid, who poured cups of sake for everyone.
“It’s high time you realized that your campaign against me is futile,” Lord Niu said.
“Your clan is far more powerful than mine,” Hirata said, feigning meekness. “And you’re too clever for me to conquer by treachery.”
Gloating satisfaction swelled the daimyo’s countenance. “How right you are.”
“It was especially clever of you to write those pages about Lady Wisteria and her lover from Hokkaido, then hire the following horse to sell them to me as the missing pillow book,” Hirata said.
He and Sano had tracked the one remaining loose end in the investigation to Lord Niu. After Lady Wisteria had admitted her authorship of the book th
at had almost framed Sano for Lord Mitsuyoshi’s murder, Sano and Hirata had recognized the other book as a forgery. Hirata had recalled that the pages had been delivered straight into his hands—and not, he realized, by chance. Someone had intended for him to take possession of the forgery and pursue the false clues in it. Furthermore, Hirata knew only one person who hated him enough to lead him astray and had threatened him with ruin.
Lord Niu laughed heartily. “I had you running all over town, looking for a man who doesn’t exist!”
“Then you admit you wrote the story?” Hirata wanted absolute confirmation that the daimyo had done it, so he could turn the deception to his advantage. “And you gave the pages to Gorobei, with orders to watch for a chance to pass them to me and lie about how he found them?”
“Oh, yes,” Lord Niu said with a proud smile that lifted the left side of his mouth. “What a good joke on you.”
“And I fell for it.” Hirata hid his delight by pretending chagrin. When he’d told Midori what her father had done, she’d been horrified, but Hirata had explained what a unique opportunity Lord Niu had inadvertently given them. “I suppose you meant for me to disgrace myself and be executed.”
Lord Niu nodded smugly. “My daughter couldn’t marry a dead man. When I heard the sōsakan-sama had solved the case in spite of me, I planned other schemes to destroy you. But now that you’ve decided to surrender, I’ll spare your life.”
“No,” Hirata said. “It is I who shall spare your life, and you who shall surrender.”
Frowning in surprise and confusion, Lord Niu cocked his head. “What nonsense are you talking?”
“Midori-san!” Hirata called.
She emerged, hesitant and frightened, from the back room of the teahouse and edged over to Hirata. He took her hand, and she knelt beside him.
“What’s going on here?” Lord Niu demanded. Furious, he surged to his feet and addressed Midori: “I told you to stay away from him. Get out!”
Hirata held tight to Midori’s hand. “We’re going to discuss the terms of your surrender.”
“Never!”
“You’ve just confessed to planting a false clue in the sōsakan-sama’s murder investigation,” Hirata said. “That was sabotage against the shogun’s quest for justice for his heir.”
Shock stiffened Lord Niu and blanched his crooked face: He’d obviously never thought of his scheme in this light.
“If I tell His Excellency what you did,” Hirata said, “he’ll confiscate your lands and strip you of your title. You’ll lose your retainers, your subjects, and your wealth. Your family will live as paupers. I’ll marry Midori, and you’ll be powerless to stop me.”
Realization, then outrage, dawned in Lord Niu’s eyes. “You tricked me!” he roared.
“One good turn deserves another,” Hirata said, pitying the daimyo not at all. Midori whimpered, and Hirata said, “But I would rather not destroy the father of the woman I love. And I won’t—if you’ll agree to a deal.”
“I won’t stoop to deal with the likes of you.” Lord Niu trembled with indignation, his face twitching.
Hirata continued calmly: “You will go to my father, apologize for insulting him, and swear on your honor to form an alliance with our clan. Then you will give your approval to a marriage between Midori-san and me.”
“No!” Lord Niu shouted. He clenched his fists and advanced on Hirata.
“In exchange, I’ll forget your sabotage,” Hirata said. “The shogun will never know about it.”
“I’ll kill you!”
Lord Niu reached for his sword, but his guards grabbed and restrained him. As he struggled and yelled curses, Okita said, “I advise you to accept his terms. Your daughter’s hand is a small price to pay to preserve your rank and estate.”
“I won’t lose face by bowing down to him!”
Yet Hirata sensed the daimyo blustering, weakening. “The spirits of your ancestors will repudiate you for throwing away your heritage,” he said.
The daimyo gave one last bellow, tore free of his men, then dropped to his knees. He panted with frustrated rage, broken by defeat. “Agreed,” he muttered.
He and Hirata bowed to each other, then drank their sake. Hirata tasted triumph as Midori gave him a radiant, admiring smile. He saw murder in Lord Niu’s eyes, and shuddered to think of life with a mad father-in-law who despised him. But come what might, he and Midori would be married, and their child born in wedlock. That was cause enough for joy.
Reiko had never imagined she would ever set foot inside the residence of Chamberlain Yanagisawa, but important business had brought her here. As guards led her and her escorts along tree-lined paths through the fortified compound, Reiko’s serene face betrayed no sign of the anger seething within her.
Lady Yanagisawa received her in a private chamber hidden deep inside the estate. They knelt opposite each other, in a silence thick and turbulent with the memory of their last encounter. Lady Yanagisawa’s cheeks were flushed, her features marked by distress, her hands clasped tight under her bosom; she bowed her head as though expecting punishment. As Reiko contemplated her hostess, hatred stoked her anger into a firestorm she could barely contain. She drew a deep breath, willing calmness.
“I’m sorry for being rude to you at my pond the other day,” Reiko said in a stiff, formal tone. “I was upset, and I shouldn’t have spoken to you the way I did. Please forgive me.”
The words tasted foul in her mouth. The injustice of having to apologize to the woman who’d almost caused Masahiro to die outraged Reiko. But political considerations forced her to abase herself to Lady Yanagisawa. The chamberlain was Sano’s superior, and any offense Reiko gave his wife extended to him. When Reiko had told Sano what Lady Yanagisawa had done, he’d been shocked and horrified, but he hadn’t needed to tell her what she must do. Reiko understood her duty. Therefore, she had come, against her will but of her own volition, to mend the breach between her and Lady Yanagisawa.
Lady Yanagisawa lifted to Reiko a gaze filled with relief; she spoke in breathless rushes: “There’s nothing to forgive… You had every right to be upset… It was a terrible thing that happened.”
“Thank you for your understanding and generosity.” That Reiko must protect Sano was all that kept her from tearing Lady Yanagisawa apart with her bare hands.
“Is Masahiro-chan all right?” Lady Yanagisawa asked.
Guilt lurked behind her concern, tainted her voice, wafted from her like a bad smell. Reiko could tell that Lady Yanagisawa knew she knew the truth about Masahiro’s “accident.” She said, “He was a little shaken, but he’s fine now.”
“I’m so glad… ” Eager to placate, Lady Yanagisawa said, “Is there anything I can do?”
Reiko wanted to demand that Lady Yanagisawa admit she’d induced Kikuko to drown Masahiro, and confess she’d befriended Reiko so she could get close enough to do harm. Instead Reiko said, “Perhaps you would answer two questions for me.”
“… Yes. If I can.” Caution tempered Lady Yanagisawa’s eagerness.
“Before you brought Wisteria’s pillow book to me, did you know that your husband and Police Commissioner Hoshina had already read it?” Reiko asked.
Lady Yanagisawa hesitated, her face reflecting surprise, then indecision. She looked downward and nodded.
Reiko had wondered why Lady Yanagisawa had risked angering the chamberlain by stealing the book. Why had she put herself in danger to help Sano, when her attack on Masahiro proved she’d wanted to hurt Reiko? Now Reiko understood. Lady Yanagisawa had wanted her to read the story about Sano and Wisteria, and suffer from learning that Sano had been unfaithful. She’d known that giving Reiko the book wouldn’t benefit Sano because Hoshina was already preparing to use it against him. Reiko thought of the pain the book had caused her, and her antipathy toward Lady Yanagisawa burgeoned. The woman’s “helpful” gesture had been a prelude to her attempt to murder Masahiro.
“And your second question?” Lady Yanagisawa said.
&n
bsp; “Let’s suppose—just for the sake of speculation—that there are two women friends, both married to high-ranking officials, both mothers of young children.” Reiko chose her words carefully, watching Lady Yanagisawa. “Why would one of the women attack the other?”
The skin around Lady Yanagisawa’s eyes constricted, giving her the look of a cat with its ears laid flat by alarm. A shiver twisted upward through her body. She rose, turned away from Reiko, and spoke in a muffled voice: “Perhaps she thought that by destroying her friend’s good fortune, she would gain what her friend lost.”
This was as close to a confession and explanation as Reiko expected from Lady Yanagisawa. Though she’d already guessed the woman’s motive, hearing it shocked Reiko. She released her breath as nausea rose in her throat. Lady Yanagisawa was less evil than insane.
“But she undid what she’d done… and all was well,” Lady Yanagisawa continued. “There would be no bad consequences for her.”
“No. There wouldn’t be,” Reiko said.
Since Masahiro hadn’t died, Lady Yanagisawa was a murderer by intention, but not by deed. No one except her and Reiko had witnessed Kikuko pushing Masahiro under the water. Sano and Reiko had afterward discovered that the nursemaid O-hana had vanished. They’d deduced that Lady Yanagisawa had bribed Yuya to lure Reiko away from home, and O-hana to drug the other servants with a sleeping potion and let Kikuko into the house, where Masahiro was alone. Sano had ordered a search for O-hana, but found no trace of her yet. The nursemaid must have fled town because she feared Reiko and Sano would punish her for her betrayal. No one except Reiko and Lady Yanagisawa knew the truth, except for Kikuko, who could not speak it.
Besides, even if Reiko did have any evidence against Lady Yanagisawa and Kikuko, she couldn’t accuse them of attempted murder. Chamberlain Yanagisawa’s power shielded his wife and daughter from the law. Even if they had killed Masahiro, they would have escaped punishment.
Sano Ichiro 7 The Pillow Book of Lady Wisteria (2002) Page 33