Black Lotus

by Laura Joh Rowland

  As if reading his thoughts, Dr. Ito gave Sano a sympathetic look, then said, “I’m afraid that there wasn’t just one murder before the fire was set.”

  Dr. Ito walked to the second table. Mura uncovered the body of the dead woman. A fetid odor of burnt, decaying flesh filled the air. Sano’s stomach lurched. He swallowed hard as he viewed the corpse. With her garments removed except for charred strips of cloth adhering to her, the woman looked even worse than she had yesterday. She lay on her right side, bent at the knees and waist, arms angled. Burns ranging in color and texture from blistered, scabrous red to black cinder covered her limbs, torso, face, and hairless scalp. When Mura turned the dead woman on her other side, Sano saw unscathed areas on the newly exposed portions of skin.

  “The places on her body that lay against the floor escaped the fire,” Dr. Ito said, “as did this area here.”

  He pointed to the base of her neck. In the dead flesh was a deep, narrow, red indentation. Sano bent close and discerned a pattern: the coils of a thin rope. He straightened, meeting Dr. Ito’s somber gaze, and voiced their shared thought: “She was strangled to death, then left to burn in the fire.”

  Now Sano had not one but two deliberate murders, and while the second victim deserved justice every bit as much as Oyama did, her death posed extra difficulties. “How can I find out who wanted her dead and why, when I don’t even know who she is?” Sano said.

  “Perhaps she was an acquaintance of Commander Oyama,” suggested Dr. Ito. “After all, they were in the cottage together. Perhaps his family knew her.”

  “Perhaps,” Sano agreed, “but who could make a definite identification of her in her present state?”

  Contemplating the body, Dr. Ito said, “She was of medium size and build.” With a thin metal spatula he probed the woman’s mouth, around which her burned lips formed a horrible grimace. “Two back teeth are missing on the right side and one on the left. The others are in good condition and sharp on the edges. The unburned skin is firm and unblemished. I estimate her age at around thirty years.” Pointing at her foot, Dr. Ito added, “The sole is calloused, with dirt embedded in the creases, and the nails are rough. She was accustomed to walking barefoot outdoors, which suggests that she was from society’s lower classes.”

  “I’m impressed that you can get so much information under these circumstances,” Sano said. “Now I have a description of the victim.”

  “However, it is one that fits thousands of women,” Dr. Ito said. “Maybe her clothes will tell us more.” Using the spatula, he worked loose a strip of fabric stuck to the corpse’s stomach, folding it back to reveal the color and pattern: dark blue, printed with white bamboo branches. “It’s from the type of cheap cotton kimono sold all over town and worn by countless peasants.”

  “But the fact that this woman was wearing it indicates that she wasn’t a nun, who would wear plain hemp,” Sano said. “Maybe she came from outside the temple, which would explain why no one there seems to know who she could be.”

  Dr. Ito poked his spatula under the cloth. “There’s something in here.”

  Sano heard the click of the tool against a hard surface. A small object fell onto the table. It was a round figure the size of a cherry, made of amber-colored jade and finely carved in the likeness of a curled, sleeping deer. A length of string protruded from a hole through the figure.

  “It’s an ojime,” Sano said, recognizing the object as a bead used to connect the cords of the pouches or boxes that men hung from their sashes.

  “She must have been wearing it around her waist,” Dr. Ito said, “perhaps as an amulet.”

  “The design is unique, and it looks valuable,” Sano said. “Maybe it will help me identify her.”

  Mura washed the ojime and wrapped it in a clean cloth. Sano tucked it into the leather pouch at his waist, then followed Dr. Ito to the table that held the third corpse, a pitifully small figure beneath its white shroud. “Was the child murdered before the fire, too?” he asked.

  Dr. Ito nodded sadly. When Mura drew back the shroud, Sano felt the same powerful aversion to viewing the dead child as he had at the Black Lotus Temple. He hadn’t been able to look yesterday, and he couldn’t now. Abruptly, he turned away, but imagination conjured up a horrible picture of a burnt, wizened little body, its face a dreadful black mask with gaping mouth and empty eye sockets. Sano’s heart began pounding; his stomach constricted. His breaths came hard and fast, inhaling the smell of smoke and burnt flesh. He felt faint. This was his first case involving the murder of a child, and fatherhood had shattered his professional detachment.

  Then Sano felt Dr. Ito propelling him out of the morgue. The fresh air in the courtyard revived him. Now he felt ashamed of his cowardly reaction. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m all right now.”

  He started to go back inside the morgue, but Dr. Ito gently restrained him. “It’s not necessary for you to see the remains. I can summarize the results of my examination.” After giving Sano another moment to recover, Dr. Ito said, “The child is male. There are old and new bruises on the unburned skin of his back. His neck is broken, probably as a result of strangulation. I estimate his age at two years, but he could be older—his body is severely emaciated, and perhaps stunted in growth. I believe the boy was mistreated and starved over a period of time before his murder.”

  Sano deplored the torture of any human, but since Masahiro’s birth, he found the idea of violence toward children particularly abhorrent. Of all the murders, this one disturbed him most. “None of the temple orphans is missing,” Sano said. “Did you notice anything that might help determine who the boy is or where he came from?”

  Dr. Ito shook his head. “Because the child’s body was found with the woman’s, it would be logical to assume they were mother and son, but assumptions can be misleading.” He added, “Unfortunately, there are among the poor of Edo many such ill-fed, maltreated children who might end up dead under dubious circumstances. I am afraid that you must employ other methods to identify the woman and boy.”

  “I’ve already begun.” Sano had given orders to Hirata before leaving his estate. “Now I’ll be on my way to Police Commander Oyama’s home to interview his family and staff.”

  After bidding farewell to Dr. Ito, Sano left the jail. He mounted his horse and rode through teeming streets toward the city center, anticipating the work ahead with a keener determination than usual. Throughout. his career, he’d dedicated himself to seeking truth and serving justice, a mission as important to his samurai honor as duty, loyalty, and courage. But fatherhood gave him an added incentive to solve this case. He must avenge the death of the unknown child.

  If Haru was guilty of murder and arson, Sano would see that she paid for the crimes with her own life.

  4

  I will make the world pure,

  Without flaw or defilement.

  Its land will be made of gold,

  Its roads bounded by ropes of silver,

  And trees will bear jeweled blossoms and fruit.

  —FROM THE BLACK LOTUS SUTRA

  Reiko decided that the first step toward determining Haru’s guiliicover what had happened to the girl on the night before the fire. How had she sustained her wounds and gotten to the cottage? Who benefited from letting Haru take the blame for the arson and murder? Surely the answers lay within the Black Lotus Temple.

  After leaving the Zj convent, Reiko and her entourage traveled west through the surrounding district. Her palanquin made slow progress; the narrow streets between the walls of subsidiary temples were thronged with priests and pilgrims. Reiko’s thoughts turned to Masahiro. What was he doing now? Although she missed him, she had agreed to help Haru, whose life might depend on her.

  At the gate of the Black Lotus Temple, Reiko alighted from the palanquin and entered the precinct, leaving her escorts behind. She had an uneasy feeling that Sano wouldn’t approve of her mission, and she decided against speaking with Black Lotus officials because that might interfere wi
th his work. Instead, she would seek out female members of the community who’d been close to Haru. Her strength as a detective lay in her rapport with women, who might be intimidated by Sano’s men.

  Reiko stood inside the gate, absorbing impressions. The layout of the compound resembled that of countless other temples. A wide flagstone path bisected the precinct. On either side stood worship halls, shrines, sutra repository, a fountain, bell cage, and other buildings, all constructed in traditional Buddhist style. A black and gold lotus symbol adorned gables and carved doors and the tall, double-roofed gateway to the main hall at the end of the path. Late-morning sunlight glittered upon gray tile roofs and a red pagoda. The difference between this and other temples Reiko had visited was the unusual landscaping.

  Sycamores spread mottled branches over the main path; leafy arbors shadowed smaller paths. Pines, oaks, red maples, and cherry trees obscured buildings; lush grass and shrubbery grew between white gravel walks. Deep shadows cooled the air. The high walls and dense foliage shut out the traffic noises. Priests in saffron robes, nuns in gray, and novices in brown flitted silently, eyes downcast, through crowds of sedate worshippers. From somewhere within the compound rose the eerie rhythm of chanting. Strong incense that smelled like cloying orange blossoms permeated the air. The place had a strange, ethereal beauty that sent a shiver along Reiko’s nerves.

  “Greetings, Honorable Lady Sano.”

  Startled by the sound of a husky female voice, Reiko turned and faced a tall woman dressed in a pale gray kimono.

  “Welcome to the Black Lotus Temple,” said the woman, bowing. A long white drape covered her head. In her late thirties, she had square jaws and a full, sensuous mouth. Her narrow eyes glittered with hard intelligence. She wore no face powder, but her eyebrows were shaved and redrawn high on her forehead, and a thin film of rouge colored her lips. Age had etched faint lines around her mouth and brown spots marred her cheeks, but she must have been lovely in her youth and still possessed a haggard beauty. Four nuns flanked her, two on each side. “I’m Junketsu-in, the abbess of the convent. It’s an honor to make your acquaintance.”

  Reiko felt a stab of surprise as she bowed in automatic courtesy and murmured politely, “The honor is mine.” She’d never seen an abbess wearing makeup, and although holy women usually shaved their heads, she saw hair pulled back from the brow under the abbess’s headdress. Also disconcerted by the prompt official reception accorded her unannounced visit, she asked, “How do you know who I am?”

  “Oh, you’re too modest.” Abbess Junketsu-in smiled. Her voice had an arch, affected quality. “Everyone knows the wife of the shogun’s ssakan-sama.”

  While Reiko realized that her work with Sano had caused some gossip around town, she was not exactly a public figure. Had someone eavesdropped on her conversation with Haru, then alerted the Black Lotus to expect her? Reiko didn’t like the abbess’s bold, appraising gaze, and instinct told her that Junketsu-in’s appearance and behavior were signs of something wrong in the temple. Or was she being overly suspicious because it might harbor a killer?

  “I suppose you’re helping your husband investigate the fire,” Junketsu-in said, adding weight to Reiko’s suspicions. Since her participation in the case wasn’t public knowledge, and women did visit temples for religious reasons, why should Junketsu-in make this assumption unless she knew about the interview with Haru? “Please let me assist you.”

  “I’m here to investigate Haru’s possible role in the arson and murder,” Reiko conceded.

  Junketsu-in’s smile widened. Sharp teeth, angled inward, gave her mouth the look of a trap. “I know Haru very well. We can talk in my chambers.” The abbess gestured down a narrow lane.

  “Actually, I was hoping to meet Haru’s friends.” Reiko guessed that the temple might wish to keep the investigation focused on Haru, either to protect the person responsible for the fire or to prevent scrutiny of the sect’s business. She couldn’t trust the word of any official who might sacrifice an orphan as an easy scapegoat. “If you’ll just direct me to the orphanage, I needn’t inconvenience you.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Junketsu-in said, still smiling, although her gaze hardened. “I’ll be happy to give you whatever information you need.”

  She and the nuns surrounded Reiko. It was obvious that they didn’t want her roaming the temple on her own. Briefly, Reiko considered invoking Sano’s authority and commanding Junketsu-in to let her do as she wished. Yet she felt uncomfortable about pretending to act on Sano’s behalf when he didn’t even know she was here. Across the precinct, she saw two of his detectives passing by, but enlisting their aid would put them in the dubious position of having to decide whether helping her constituted disobedience to their master. Also, Reiko knew that antagonizing a sect official could cause trouble for Sano.

  “Very well,” Reiko said, letting Junketsu-in escort her down the path. Perhaps she could still learn something of importance.

  The path led under the arbors, between tree-shaded buildings past which Junketsu-in hurried Reiko as if not wanting her to get a good look at them or speak to the nuns passing by. “This is the nunnery,” Junketsu-in said, ushering Reiko into a smaller version of the convent at Zj Temple.

  They sat in a plainly furnished chamber upstairs. Sliding doors stood open to a balcony that overlooked the thatched roofs of more buildings. A maid served tea. The nuns knelt like mute sentries in the corners. Now Reiko noticed that the abbess’s gray kimono was made of fine cotton with a subtle pattern of wavy, lighter gray lines instead of plain hemp like the nuns’ robes; she wore spotless white socks in contrast to their bare feet.

  “What are the practices of the Black Lotus sect?” Reiko asked, curious to know what rituals had attracted such a large following, and what doctrine allowed the abbess to violate the Buddhist practice of spurning worldly vanity.

  “Human existence is full of suffering,” Junketsu-in said in a lofty, pious tone. “This suffering is caused by selfish desire. By ridding ourselves of desire, we can gain release from suffering and reach nirvana. We can only do this by following the right path.”

  Reiko recognized these axioms as the Four Noble Truths, the foundation for all forms of Buddhism.

  “We believe that every human has the potential to reach nirvana and achieve Buddhahood—the state of supreme enlightenment and supernatural power. Memorizing and chanting the Black Lotus Sutra and meditating on it makes us one with the truth contained therein. The act of chanting harnesses all our life’s activities to the purpose of releasing the power that lies within the realm of the unconscious, where we can grasp the ultimate meaning of the sutra. Understanding occurs in a mystical fusion between worshipper and sutra, and thus we shall attain nirvana and Buddhahood.”

  “I’m not familiar with the Black Lotus Sutra,” Reiko said. “Is it related to the famous Lotus Sutra?” That scripture was the basis for other sects. “What does it say?”

  “The Black Lotus Sutra is a unique, ancient verse that was discovered by our high priest. It states that the correct path to Buddhahood consists of infinite parallel, intersecting, converging, and diverging paths that unite as one, and that High Priest Anraku, the Bodhisattva of Infinite Power, will show us each the path that we must follow.” The abbess stirred restlessly. “But it is long, complex, and requires much time to recite and extensive study to comprehend. And I believe you wish to know about Haru and the fire?”

  “Yes,” Reiko said.

  She noted the abbess’s desire to turn the conversation away from the sect, which seemed an amalgam of established religion and new philosophy. The Pure Land sect, governed by Zj Temple, revered the Pure Land Sutra and believed that constantly invoking the name of Amida, the Buddha of Unlimited Light, helped humans achieve salvation. Zen sects, preferred by many samurai, practiced meditation with the goal of satori, a sudden perception of felt knowledge. The Black Lotus most resembled the Nichiren Shsh sect, founded some four hundred years ago by a dynamic spiritu
al leader and still popular with commoners, which chanted the Lotus Sutra to achieve enlightenment. Reiko had read that scripture and knew it did not actually reveal the secret truth, which was indescribable, but that worshippers needn’t understand the words to benefit from chanting them. Presumably, this was also the case with the Black Lotus Sutra. None of the Black Lotus practices sounded extraordinary, and Reiko wondered why Junketsu-in didn’t want to talk about them.

  “I’m trying to reconstruct what happened to Haru, starting with the night before the fire, when she went to bed in the orphanage dormitory,” Reiko said. “I want to know if anyone saw her between then and the time when the fire brigade found her.”

  Abbess Junketsu-in compressed her mouth in disgust. “Did Haru tell you that she can’t remember anything? Well, I have to warn you against believing what she says, because although Haru can be very appealing, she’s a shady character. If she said she went to bed when she was supposed to, she was lying. Her dishonesty, disobedience, and lack of respect for authority have been a constant problem.

  “She’s always breaking rules. She talks during sacred rituals and refuses to do chores. She steals food from the pantry. She’s sloppy, rude, and trespasses in areas where the orphans aren’t allowed.” Disapproval saturated the abbess’s voice. “When she’s scolded for her misbehavior, Haru always denies any wrongdoing. She hates getting up early, so the nuns have to drag her out of bed for morning prayers. At night, she waits until everyone’s asleep and sneaks out of the orphanage. That’s what she did the night before the fire.”

  “How do you know?” Reiko was disturbed by this picture of Haru, which was at odds with her own impression of the girl, and Haru’s portrayal of herself as a grateful orphan who loved her benefactors and got along well with everyone. The abbess’s claim that Haru had deliberately left the dormitory contradicted Haru’s version of events. Yet Reiko wondered whether Junketsu-in’s eagerness to blacken Haru’s reputation meant that the abbess had a personal stake in turning Reiko against Haru. “Did you see her?”