by Susan Spann
The giant samurai moved with startling speed. His blade struck Hisahide’s with a force that would have sent most men to their knees.
To Hiro’s surprise, Hisahide moved even faster. He blocked the giant’s strike and counterattacked with a flurry of violent blows. The larger man backed away. But instead of pursuing, Hisahide retreated.
The giant samurai paused, surprised by the reprieve. He started forward and raised his sword for another powerful strike.
He saw the trap a moment after Hiro did, but still too late to avoid it.
Hisahide sprang sideways and thrust his wooden blade at the larger man’s stomach. The giant ran onto the point with an audible grunt. Had the swords been real, the injury would have killed him.
Hisahide withdrew his blade and bowed. His opponent returned the bow with a deeper one that conceded the match.
Hisahide turned to Akira as the large samurai left the yard.
After exchanging greetings, Hisahide asked Hiro, “Have you seen the stable?”
“He has,” Akira said, “and he agrees the boy’s death was suicide.”
Hisahide shook his head. “His expression says otherwise.”
Chapter 35
“It looks like suicide,” Hiro said, “but I’m not convinced. The boy had no reason to kill himself.”
“He confessed in writing,” Akira said. “He knew we would catch him.”
“I would like to complete my investigation before I draw any final conclusions,” Hiro said.
“Ordinarily I would agree,” Hisahide replied, “but we have no time for protracted investigations. Lord Oda’s men will arrive any day and the shogun insists we resolve this matter before they reach Kyoto.”
“I have new evidence,” Hiro said. “It suggests that the killer might not have acted alone.” He watched Hisahide’s reaction carefully.
“Another conspirator?” Hisahide frowned. “Do you have a name?”
“Saburo’s mistress, Jun,” Hiro said.
The altered ledger suggested that either Kazu or Hisahide was also involved, but Hiro knew better than to accuse a murderer when at a tactical disadvantage.
“The maid?” Akira laughed. “Are you serious?”
“The accusation is serious, though as yet I have no proof.”
“Where did you hear this?” Hisahide tapped his wooden sword against his hand.
“Lady Netsuko, Saburo’s wife,” Hiro said. “I believe she knows more, but I need to investigate the maid to earn her trust.”
“Jun was really Saburo’s mistress?” Akira grimaced. “The girl has a face like a dog and manners to match.”
“She’s prettier than Lady Netsuko,” Hisahide said, then paused as though expecting the others to laugh.
They didn’t.
“You saw Saburo’s body,” Hisahide said. “No woman could have inflicted such wounds. Besides, no woman is foolish enough to engage a samurai in hand-to-hand combat.”
Hiro knew otherwise, but he also knew that arguing wouldn’t change Hisahide’s opinion.
“Masao did claim the boy was in love with Jun,” Akira said. “Do you think he was jealous enough to kill Saburo?”
“I think I need more time to investigate,” Hiro said. “The facts conflict. If Den killed Saburo because of Jun, why leave a suicide message claiming otherwise? Did Saburo’s mistress know about the plot? And what else might Lady Ashikaga know?
“Until we know more, the shogun remains in danger.”
“Cutting off the head of a snake will kill the body every time,” Hisahide said. “Without Saburo, Lord Oda’s men have no way to enter the shogunate. The plot will fail. The shogun is not in danger.”
“Would you stake his life on your opinion?” Hiro asked.
The shogun’s death would throw Kyoto into chaos. Rival daimyo would fight to claim the shogunate. Lord Oda would attack the city and no one in the capital would be safe. Until Father Mateo had healed enough to flee, Hiro’s oath required him to preserve the shogun’s life as well as the Jesuit’s.
“I have Portuguese firearms,” Hisahide said. “Lord Oda’s men have none. I have tripled the guards on the compound gates and put sentries on the walls. The shogun is safe.”
Unless you’re the murderer, Hiro thought, in which case no one stands between you and the shogun.
Before he could argue Hisahide continued, “The boy confessed that he murdered Saburo to save the shogun’s life. The matter is resolved.”
“No samurai conspiracy would depend on a stable boy,” Hiro said, “even assuming Den actually wrote that confession. But what if he didn’t write it, or what if someone forced him to write the words?”
Hiro suddenly realized why he doubted the authenticity of the message. Unfortunately, he needed Kazu’s help to confirm his suspicions that the suicide was really a second murder.
Akira made a derisive sound. “What if Masao and Den are shinobi, with orders to kill the shogun and blame Saburo for the crime? That’s no less ridiculous than your speculations.”
“Akira is right,” Hisahide said. “Masao has served the shogun for years. He has no motive to lie. His words and the evidence point to Den as the murderer. As far as I am concerned the killer is found. This investigation is over.”
In the silence that followed, Hiro realized that the empty practice yard ensured no witnesses to the conversation. He remembered Kazu’s warning about the Miyoshi ambassador, and Hisahide’s determination to find the killer in time at any cost. Contradicting Hisahide would not end well for Hiro, regardless of the samurai’s guilt or innocence.
“You are correct,” Hiro said. “The confession was clear and Masao identified the writing as Den’s.”
“Then we agree—the investigation is over.” Hisahide looked relieved. “You are released from your obligations. The shogun appreciates your service, as do I.”
Hiro bowed, but without the rush of relief he expected to feel upon dismissal. Because the investigation wasn’t over.
The shogun would now believe the murder solved. Kazu would not be punished. Father Mateo and Hiro were also safe, at least for the moment. But Hiro intended to risk it all by continuing the investigation in secret. He couldn’t care less who claimed the title of shogun, but he would not allow a war in Kyoto until the priest had recovered enough to escape.
“Will you escort yourself to the gate?” Hisahide asked. “Akira and I have an errand outside the shogunate.”
“If you please,” Hiro said, “I would like to tell Ito Kazu that the murderer has been found. I am sure he would like to hear he’s no longer a suspect.”
“Acceptable,” Hisahide said. “Can you find your way, or shall I call a guard to escort you?”
“Thank you,” Hiro said, “I know the way.”
He walked as far as the stable with Hisahide and Akira and then continued alone up the path that led to the bakufu mansion. He cut through a garden, intending to bypass the waiting room and enter the mansion through the door that led out to the kitchen.
As he approached the back of the mansion he saw a familiar kimono-clad form emerge from the kitchen. Fortune had smiled, and Hiro did too.
He moved quickly to intercept Jun in the courtyard.
“Good morning.” He bowed. “Are you feeling better today?”
Jun startled but recovered quickly. She bowed, hands crossed in front of her. “I am. Thank you for asking.”
She straightened and looked down at her hands demurely.
“I hoped to see you,” Hiro said. “I wonder, was it very upsetting—finding Ashikaga-san facedown in a pool of blood?”
Jun leaned away slightly, as if confused by Hiro’s graphic comment. Her smile wavered. “It was terrible. I had never seen a dead man before.”
“Terrible, indeed,” Hiro said, “especially considering your relationship.”
“I am sorry.” Jun’s smile grew fixed. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“I’m afraid you do. You lied to me about your affa
ir with Ashikaga-san.”
Jun raised a hand to her mouth. She lowered it slowly and shook her head. “No…”
Hiro lowered his voice to increase the threat in his tone. “Tell me the truth, right now, or I will tell Matsunaga-san that you killed Saburo in a lover’s quarrel.”
Her eyes flew wide. “No. That’s wrong. I didn’t…”
“Maybe you didn’t. Maybe you did. Which one of us do you think Hisahide trusts?”
Jun looked around as if hoping someone would save her.
The yard was deserted.
“I was Saburo’s mistress,” she said, “but I did not kill him. His wife, Netsuko, did.”
Chapter 36
“An interesting accusation,” Hiro said, “considering your previous claims of ignorance.”
And even more so, given Den’s confession.
“Why should I have told you?” Jun asked. “Saburo’s wife will deny it, and no one believes a servant’s word against a samurai’s. More importantly, it would cost me all chance at a husband.” She looked at the ground. “No one wants to wear a stained kimono.”
“Then why tell me now?” Hiro asked.
“You know about the affair,” she said. “Lying won’t keep it secret anymore.”
“What makes you believe Netsuko murdered her husband?” Hiro asked.
“No one else had a reason to want him dead.”
“Most women prefer their husbands living,” Hiro said. “Why would Lady Netsuko feel otherwise?”
“She was jealous because Saburo loved me. She ordered him to cast me away, and he let her think he would do it, but he secretly planned to divorce her and marry me.” Jun’s lower lip trembled. “He must have told her the truth.”
“How do you know Saburo planned to marry you?” Hiro asked.
“He told me so, the night he died.”
“Perhaps it was you he lied to,” Hiro said. “Perhaps he loved Netsuko all along.”
“No one could love such a wretched woman.” Jun’s eyes filled with tears. “She wasn’t a real wife to him. She made him sleep in a separate room and claimed all the credit for his success. Saburo said I was the only woman who ever made him happy.”
“Is that why you ran from him the night he died?” Hiro asked. “And why you asked Den to hide you?”
Jun dropped her gaze. “It was a game Saburo liked to play. He would chase me, and catch me, and…” She paused demurely, but Hiro noted the absence of a blush.
“He didn’t catch you that night,” Hiro said.
“I thought Masao had taken Den with him and left the stable empty,” Jun said. “I intended to lead Saburo there … I thought he would find the change exciting.” She raised her hands to her mouth as if ashamed of her forwardness, but once again her cheeks didn’t darken or flush.
Hiro felt a spark of anger. Jun’s innocent act had fooled him at first, but he would not tolerate further manipulation.
“Quit pretending embarrassment,” he snapped, grateful that his samurai status allowed him to channel his anger into words when speaking with servants. “If you know enough to play such games, you can look at me when you speak of them.”
Jun’s humility disappeared like a stone cast into a river. She raised her face. Her hands fell to her sides.
“That’s better.” Hiro’s anger retreated slightly. “Why did you let Den hide you instead of telling him the truth?”
“I didn’t like deceiving him,” she said.
“You did it often enough, if Masao’s impression is accurate.”
Jun shook her head. “You don’t understand. Den was my friend. By the time I realized he felt something more … He was sweet. I didn’t want to hurt him. But I decided long ago I would never be a commoner’s wife.”
“No, you opted for samurai whore.” Hiro hoped the insult would provoke the girl into telling the truth. Angry people found it difficult to produce a consistent lie.
“I am not a whore.” Jun’s cheeks turned a mottled red. “Saburo intended to marry me.”
“As you intended to marry Den?” Hiro paused to let the words sink in. “What happened after Den and Saburo argued?”
“Saburo left. A few minutes later Den walked me back to the kitchen. I hoped Saburo would find me there, but he didn’t. I fell asleep in the servants’ room.
“In the morning I remembered the dinner tray and went to retrieve it.” She bit her lower lip. “That’s when I found him.”
“And also noticed your hair pin in his blood,” Hiro said, “though you couldn’t retrieve it until you thought no one would notice.”
“That’s not true.” Jun met his eyes and shook her head. “I didn’t see the pin at first. He must have pulled it out while he was chasing me the night before.”
“What evidence do you have against Lady Netsuko?” Hiro asked.
“Who else could have done it?” The question sounded honest.
“Den loved you,” Hiro said. “You made him think Saburo intended to hurt you.”
“Den wouldn’t kill a spider.”
“His confession says otherwise.”
“Confession?” Her forehead wrinkled with confusion. “What are you talking about?”
Hiro found her ignorance curious. “Den committed suicide and left a message confessing to the murder.”
Jun stepped backward, shaking her head. “That’s not possible. When? He was fine last night. I saw him…”
“You saw Den last night?” Hiro asked.
“After he returned from Ōtsu. It was late. Miyoshi-san came to the kitchen for a meal and told me to take a tray to the stable for Den. Nothing fancy, just rice and tea, though Den seemed glad to have it.”
“A final meal,” Hiro said. “He hanged himself in the night.”
She shook her head. “He wouldn’t do that. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Neither does your accusation of Lady Ashikaga.”
“Maybe Den did it after all,” Jun said.
Hiro found it interesting that she changed her story so quickly after hearing that the only two people who could confirm her actions on the night of the murder were dead.
“I’ve told you the truth,” Jun said. “You have to believe me.”
She glanced at the bakufu mansion behind him. “Are you going to tell Hisahide?”
“Do you mean, will I tell him you lied? Or are you concerned that I will expose your affair?”
“I’ve lost the only man I ever loved,” she said. “If you don’t mind, I would rather not lose my job and my life as well.”
“If you’ve told the truth, you have no reason to worry,” Hiro said.
She bowed.
Hiro turned away, slipped out of his sandals, and entered the mansion.
When he reached Saburo’s outer office—now Kazu’s office, at least for the moment—he slid open the door and stepped inside, catching a whiff of familiar wintergreen hair oil.
Kazu looked up from his desk with a welcoming smile that faded when Hiro entered. “I didn’t expect to see you this morning.”
“You invited me here to see evidence.” Hiro slid the door closed behind him. “And I have another matter to ask about. The stable boy, Den, committed suicide last night.”
Kazu nodded but didn’t smile. “I heard the news when I arrived. The guards say he confessed to Saburo’s murder.”
“Hisahide just called off the investigation,” Hiro said.
“You don’t agree with his decision.” Kazu’s face reddened. “You still think I did it. If I killed Saburo, which I didn’t, do you really think I would then kill an innocent boy to cover my crime? Canceling the investigation makes Hisahide look more suspicious than anything I’ve done.”
Hiro agreed. Unfortunately, he wasn’t convinced of Kazu’s innocence either. He considered a lie, but Kazu spotted deception well, and if he recognized Hiro’s falsehood their relationship could be injured beyond repair. That is, if Kazu’s lies hadn’t already done so.
The shinobi wished
for Father Mateo. The Jesuit could have explained in a way that Kazu would understand. But the priest was injured and Hiro’s own words failed him.
This whole situation was Kazu’s fault.
Hiro’s anger flared. “If you don’t want me to suspect you, then tell me where you were when Saburo died.”
Chapter 37
“I can’t tell you that.” Kazu clenched his jaw.
“Can’t or won’t?” Hiro asked.
“In this case, they are the same.” Kazu met Hiro’s gaze with defiance.
Hiro recognized the look. It was the same one an eight-year-old Kazu had worn the day he took a beating that should have fallen on Hiro’s back. Kazu hadn’t confessed then, either, no matter how hard the bamboo cane had cracked against his spine.
The memory snuffed out Hiro’s anger and made him wonder if Kazu was protecting someone else.
“What about last night?” he asked. “Where were you when Den returned from Ōtsu?”
“At home, sleeping,” Kazu said. “I went there directly after I talked with you.”
Hiro looked at the parchment on Kazu’s desk. Tiny characters streamed down the page in perfect vertical lines. Kazu’s calligraphy marked him as a highly intelligent, educated man. No person in Iga, and few in Kyoto, could match his skill with a brush. Words fell from the bristles as swiftly and lightly as snowflakes from a cloud, making it easy to underestimate the strength of the hand that formed them.
“There’s no point comparing my letter to Den’s confession,” Kazu said. “I’m better at forgeries than you are at detecting them.”
Hiro frowned. “That’s not what I was thinking.”
“Would you care to share your insight, then?”
“How much do you know about Den’s confession?” Hiro asked.
“Only that he wrote one. I haven’t seen it.”
“The handwriting had a flaw that might interest you. The message contained two lines with different characteristics, almost as if two different people had written them. The first line exculpated Masao. The second confessed to Saburo’s murder.”
Kazu leaned forward, intrigued despite his frustration. “What kind of brush?”