The Assassin's Touch

by Laura Joh Rowland

  The investigation now expanded across even more territory, to include countless potential suspects. “I need the locations of those teahouses,” Sano said. “Also the names of everyone that Ejima saw.”

  “Certainly.”

  Jozan fetched his record book. Sano skimmed the neatly written characters. Jozan had recorded the names of the fifteen banquet guests, the twenty men who had meetings and appointments with his father, and Ejima’s informants.

  “Did you see any of these people touch your father here?” Sano tapped a finger against his head where the fingerprint bruise had appeared on Ejima.

  “No. But I wasn’t watching him every moment. I suppose they could have. And these appointments were private.” Jozan pointed to the names of three men Ejima had seen at metsuke headquarters and of all the informants. “He talked to them alone, while I stayed outside his office and the teahouses.”

  “Who else besides the people listed in this book was around your father during the past two days?” Sano said.

  Jozan visibly quailed at the prospect of trying to recollect. “His staff. Servants and guards, here and in the palace. People at the teahouses.”

  And the crowds in the city streets, Sano thought. “Write down everybody you can remember. Send me the list.”

  “Certainly,” Jozan said, daunted but game.

  Sano addressed Lady Ejima: “Can you think of anyone else who could have touched your husband?” She shook her head. Sano didn’t fail to note that she and Jozan had spent time alone with Ejima and had had the best opportunity to touch him. “Did any of the people Ejima saw have any reason to want him dead?” Sano asked them both.

  Jozan’s expression turned dubious; he clearly didn’t want to accuse important officials. “Not that I know of.”

  “I want the metsuke records on everyone who’s been executed, demoted, exiled, or otherwise harmed as a result of investigations by Ejima since he became chief. Get them to my office today.”

  Jozan hesitated; the metsuke was loath to turn over confidential documents, share secrets, and diminish their unique power. But he couldn’t refuse an order from the shogun’s second-in-command. “Certainly.”

  And Sano thought him smart enough to realize he was a suspect and it would behoove him to cast suspicion elsewhere. Sano foresaw much tedious work investigating people who’d had contact with Ejima or grudges against him. Fortunately, he could delegate much of it.

  “I must borrow your records,” he told Jozan, who nodded. Upon taking a second look at them, he recognized many names. One jumped out at him: Captain Nakai, a soldier in the Tokugawa army. Nakai had fought for Lord Matsudaira during the faction war. Sano recalled that he was a star martial artist who’d distinguished himself by killing forty-eight enemy troops. And he’d had a private appointment with Ejima.

  Outside on the street, after thanking Jozan and Lady Ejima for their cooperation, Sano said to his detectives, “The officials who were at the banquet all live here in Hibiya or inside the castle. I’ll drop in on them, then go to metsuke headquarters to talk to Ejima’s subordinates. Marume-san and Fukida-san, you’ll come with me. In the meantime—” He handed the record book to another aide, a young samurai named Tachibana, also a former detective. “You and the others round up these men who had private appointments with Ejima and send them to my estate.” Another advantage to being chamberlain was that almost everybody’s presence was Sano’s to command. He would save the informants for later. “Make Captain Nakai your top priority.”

  “Yes, Honorable Chamberlain,” Tachibana said, eager to prove his worth.

  As Sano rode off with Marume and Fukida, he felt elated that his investigation was making progress. Maybe he could solve the case and appease Lord Matsudaira and the opposition before war broke out. But he wondered uneasily whether Hirata would hold up long enough to investigate previous murders. And Sano wondered what Reiko was doing.

  Chapter 10

  The hinin settlement where Yugao and her family had lived was a slum that infested the bank of the Kanda River, northwest of Edo Castle. Tents made of tattered cloth and bamboo poles, inhabited by recent arrivals, surrounded a village of hovels built from scrap wood. A wasteland occupied by a vast garbage dump separated the settlement from a rundown neighborhood of houses and shops on the outskirts of Edo proper. Smoke rose from within the settlement, darkening the sky and sun. A procession that consisted of four samurai, a palanquin, and its bearers halted near the dump.

  Reiko climbed out of the palanquin. As she looked around, her face flinched at the stink of the garbage heaps where buzzing flies swarmed and children, rats, and stray dogs foraged. But curiosity stirred within her. She’d seen hinin settlements but never been in one; polite custom kept ladies of her class out of them as strictly as the law divided the outcasts from the rest of society. Eager to explore and learn whatever she could here about Yugao and the murders, Reiko started across the weedy, muddy ground toward the settlement. She gathered her plain gray cotton cloak around her. She wore straw sandals instead of her usual clogs made of lacquered wood. Her hair was done in a simple knot with no ornaments, her face adorned with minimal powder and rouge. Her guards wore swords and armor tunics, but no crests to signify who their master was. Reiko intended their mission to be as covert as possible, thus keeping her promise to Sano.

  Voices raucous with laughter and argument resounded from the tents as Reiko neared the settlement. Outcasts, mainly men, loitered around campfires where rotting fish sizzled in rancid grease. Five of the men hastened toward Reiko’s party. They wore tattered short kimonos and leggings, with clubs and daggers at their waists. They had shaggy hair, grime ingrained in their skin, and hostile faces.

  “What do you want?” one of the men said to Reiko’s guards. His arms were covered with tattoos, the mark of gangsters. He and his companions blocked the path.

  “Greetings,” Reiko’s chief escort said politely. He was Lieutenant Asukai, a tough young samurai who would have ordinarily told these ruffians to step aside, and dispersed them by force if necessary. But Reiko had ordered him and the others to be discreet. “My master’s lady wants to talk to a few people here.”

  The tattooed man scowled. “Sure, and I’m His Excellency the shogun. You samurai come here to pick on us hinin. You think you can kill us just because the law lets you get away with it.” Reiko realized that this must be a common problem for the outcasts. “Well, not today.” He and his men drew their daggers. Other outcasts emerged from the tents, brandishing clubs, spears. “Get lost.”

  “Wait.” Lieutenant Asukai raised his hands in a placating gesture while his comrades clustered protectively around Reiko. “We’re not here to make trouble. We just want to talk.” His manner was calm, but although he and his comrades were trained, expert fighters and the outcasts were unskilled thugs, they were outnumbered. Reiko felt a pang of fear. She’d been caught in fights before, and she didn’t want to repeat the experience.

  “I said, get lost.” The tattooed leader spoke with the brazen air of a man who was angry at the world and hadn’t much to lose. “Go, or die.”

  The other outcasts echoed him with savage, enthusiastic roars. They didn’t wait to see if Reiko and her guards would leave, but quickly surrounded them. Blades pointed toward Reiko; clubs rose to strike; faces avid for a fight stared down her guards. Metal rasped as the guards drew their swords. People hurried from the dump and the settlement to watch. Dismay filled Reiko because her investigation had barely begun, and already she’d landed in trouble.

  A loud, authoritative male voice demanded, “What’s going on here?”

  The outcasts turned toward the settlement. Their circle loosened, and Reiko saw a man, followed by two others, striding toward her. Perhaps forty years of age, he had surly yet handsome features shadowed by whisker stubble; he carried a spear upraised in his fist. His kimono, trousers, and surcoat had the same grimy look as the other outcasts’ clothing, but were made of silk. His hair was combed and oiled into
a neat topknot. He had the noble bearing of a samurai, even though his crown wasn’t shaved and he wore no swords. His men resembled the other outcasts; they were clearly commoners. He halted and panned his dark gaze over the crowd.

  “We’re just trying to get rid of these trespassers before they hurt somebody,” said the tattooed ruffian.

  The man studied Reiko’s party with suspicion. “I’m Kanai Juzaemon, the headman of this village.” Everyone in society was regimented and every neighborhood had its appointed official, no less the hinin settlement. His two names identified Kanai as a member of the warrior class. “Who are you?”

  Lieutenant Asukai muttered to Reiko, “Maybe we’d better tell the truth.”

  Reiko didn’t see much other choice. “I’m the daughter of the magistrate,” she said. But at least she could hide her connection with Chamberlain Sano. “My name is Reiko. We’re here because my father asked me to investigate the murder of the family of a woman named Yugao.”

  The headman looked at her as if surprised that she’d spoken for herself as well as by what she’d said. He signaled the outcasts to lower their weapons; they obeyed. As Reiko wondered how a samurai had become their leader, he said, “Would your father be Magistrate Ueda?”

  “Yes,” Reiko said, cautious because she heard distrust in his voice. “Magistrate Ueda demoted me to hinin status. He did the same to many people here.”

  Unfriendly echoes of agreement arose from the crowd. Reiko regretted mentioning her father, whose name was unlikely to win her favor among the outcasts. Her guards braced for an attack.

  “But the magistrate’s word is the law,” Kanai said with fatalistic gloom. “I suppose that means we have to accommodate his daughter.” He waved his spear at the crowd. “Go about your business.”

  The ruffians and spectators slunk away. Relief overwhelmed Reiko. Her guards let out their breath while they sheathed their swords.

  “What exactly does she want to do?” the headman asked Lieutenant Asukai.

  “You’ll have to ask her.”

  Kanai looked increasingly baffled by the unconventional circumstance of a magistrate’s daughter investigating a crime. He turned his quizzical gaze on Reiko.

  “First I’d like to see the place were the murders happened,” Reiko said.

  “Suit yourself.” The headman shrugged, perplexed yet resigned. “But I’d better take you. It should be obvious by now that you’re not especially welcome here.”

  He led the way into the settlement. Two of Reiko’s guards preceded her and the others; the headman’s comrades brought up the rear. As they wove between the tents, the occupants stared at them with sullen curiosity. Some followed Reiko and her party; soon she had a long entourage. So much for a discreet investigation; Reiko could only hope that news of her doings wouldn’t reach anyone in a position to hurt Sano.

  The ground under her feet was trampled flat and hard, its surface muddy and slick from water spilled by women washing laundry or cleaning fish. The foul odor of human waste and stagnant cesspools sickened Reiko. There was obviously no night soil collection here. Bonfires burned garbage that hadn’t made its way to the dump; there was no trash collection here, either. Reiko felt filth wetting her socks and hem. How could these people bear living in such squalor?

  Her party reached the hovels. Each tiny structure was a patchwork of boards scavenged from burned buildings and construction sites, barely high enough for a man to stand up inside. Their windows were holes covered with dirty paper, their roofs composed of thatch or cracked, broken tiles. Voices argued; a baby squalled. Reiko ducked under ragged clothes strung on lines between the hovels. She and her escorts squeezed past men playing cards in the narrow lanes. They stepped over a drunk who lay unconscious. At one hovel, a man counted coins into the hand of a slovenly woman.

  The vices flourished here.

  Smoke darkened the atmosphere like a perpetual twilight. The stench was concentrated, as if the outside air couldn’t penetrate. The fact that her father had sentenced people to this life made Reiko uncomfortable even if they’d deserved the punishment.

  “Here it is,” Kanai said, stopping outside a hovel. Two features distinguished it from the others—a lean-to built on one side, and a sprinkling of white salt crystals at the threshold, to purify a place where death had occurred. ’There’s not much to see, but look all you want.” He held back the faded indigo cloth hung over the doorway.

  While the outcasts avidly watched, Reiko stepped inside. Murky daylight filtered through two windows. The sweet, metallic, and foul odors of rotting blood and flesh tainted the air. Reiko’s throat closed; nausea gripped her stomach. On the floor she saw dark patches where blood and viscera had been wiped up but had sunk into the packed earth. The hovel had one room plus an alcove formed by the lean-to; the whole space was smaller than her bedchamber at home. She could hardly believe that four people had lived here. It was empty except for a ceramic hearth in a corner.

  Kanai spoke from the door: “The neighbors looted everything that wasn’t too heavy to move—dishes, clothes, bedding. People here are so poor, they don’t mind robbing the dead.”

  Reiko saw that she wouldn’t find any evidence here. But although she felt the pollution of death seeping into her, and she was desperate to breathe pure air, she stayed, hoping to absorb clues from the crime scene. On one wall were jagged notches cut with a knife. Reiko counted thirty-eight, perhaps scores from card games. She sensed lingering emotions— rage, terror, despair.

  “Pardon my curiosity,” Kanai said, “but why did the magistrate send you to investigate the murders?”

  “I have some experience with such things.” Reiko forbore to mention her work for Sano.

  The headman frowned in disbelief; women didn’t ordinarily investigate crimes. Then he shrugged, too indifferent to press for an explanation. “But isn’t the case already solved? Yugao has been arrested.”

  “The magistrate and I both have doubts about whether she killed her family.”

  “Well, I don’t,” Kanai declared. “As far as I’m concerned, Yugao is guilty.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I was here that night. I discovered the murders. I caught Yugao.”

  Reiko had planned to search for the first witness at the scene after the murders; now luck had saved her the work. “Tell me what happened.”

  The headman’s expression said he didn’t understand why she wouldn’t just accept his word as truth instead of bothering herself with hinin business, but again he shrugged. “My assistants and I were patrolling the settlement. Constant vigilance is the only way to keep order.” Reiko noted his upper-class diction. “We heard screams coming from this area.”

  Reiko pictured him and his men carrying torches through the dark settlement, the bonfires burning and the residents brawling in the night; she heard women screaming.

  “By the time we reached this house, the screams had stopped. The man was lying there.” Kanai pointed at a blood-soaked patch on the floor. “I think he died first. He was in bed. His wife lay there, and his younger daughter there.” Reiko followed his pointing finger to two other spots, across the room, where the floor was stained reddish-brown. “They’d been chased. You can see the bloody footprints.”

  Reiko also saw blood spattered on the plank walls and envisioned two terrified women running while a blade slashed them.

  “All the victims had been stabbed many times all over their bodies. They had cuts on their hands because they’d tried to defend themselves.” Kanai entered the hovel, stood in the center. “Yugao was sitting here, surrounded by the corpses. There was blood smeared on her face. Her clothes were drenched with it. She was holding the bloody knife.” He shook his head. “I’ve seen murders before—they’re not exactly rare here—but this one shocked me. I said to Yugao, ’Merciful gods, what happened?’” Emotion colored his dispassionate tone. “She looked up at me, perfectly calm, and said, T killed them.’ Well, that seemed obvious. So I turned her over to t
he police.”

  He’d confirmed what the doshin had said at Yugao’s trial. His description of that night brought it to vivid life for Reiko, who felt more inclined than ever to believe that Yugao was as guilty as she said. Yet Reiko couldn’t conclude her investigation based on the testimony of a witness who’d arrived at the scene after the murders were done.

  “When you came here that night, did you see anyone around besides Yugao?” Reiko asked.

  “Only some folks who’d come out of their houses to see what the commotion was.”

  Reiko must later determine whether the neighbors had noticed anyone near the house before the murders, or fleeing it afterward. “How well did you know the family?”

  “Well enough. They’d been here more than two years. They had about six more months left of their sentence.”

  “What can you tell me about them?”

  “The man’s name was Taruya. He once owned an entertainment hall in Ryogoku. He was a wealthy, important merchant, but when he became a hinin, he got a job as an executioner at Edo Jail.” That was one of the lowly occupations assigned to the outcasts. “His wife O-aki and Yugao earned a little money by sewing. The younger daughter, Umeko, sold herself to men.” The headman pointed at the alcove. “That’s where she serviced them.”

  “I need to know why Yugao killed her family, if she did,” Reiko said.

  “She didn’t tell me, but she didn’t get along with them particularly well. They quarreled a lot. Neighbors were always complaining about the noise. Of course that’s nothing unusual here. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my seven years in this hell, it’s that when people are miserable and cooped up together, fights are bound to break out. Some little thing probably tipped Yugao over the edge.”

  Here Reiko saw a chance to answer at least one question. “Why did Yugao and her family become outcasts?”

  “Her father committed incest with Yugao.”

  Reiko knew that incest with a female relative was one of the crimes for which a man could be demoted to hinin, but she was nonetheless shocked. She’d heard gossip about men who satisfied their carnal lust on their daughters, but couldn’t understand how a father could do such a perverted, disgusting thing. “If Yugao’s father was the criminal, what were Yugao and her mother and sister doing here?”