“I never knew why she went,” Oigimi said, “but I had other things to worry about at the time.” Sano interpreted the bitterness in her voice to mean she’d been suffering from the burns, which must have been painful.
Yet another mystery had arisen for Sano to solve. “Did you ever hear from Etsuko again?” he asked Lady Ateki.
“No, I didn’t.”
“It was as if she’d vanished off the earth,” Oigimi said.
Was it a coincidence that she’d vanished from their lives shortly after Tadatoshi had? Uneasiness crept through Sano. How had his mother spent the months after she’d left them and before she’d married his father? He wondered whether she would tell him if he asked. “Did you have any suspicion that she was involved in Tadatoshi’s disappearance?”
“None at all.” Oigimi sounded incredulous at the idea. “I thought he’d died in the fire.”
“Dear me, of course not,” Lady Ateki said. “Etsuko was a good girl. She could never have hurt anyone.”
“I agree.” Oigimi thought a moment, then said, “May I ask who accused Etsuko?”
“It was Doi Naokatsu,” Sano said.
“This is certainly a day for names from the past,” Lady Ateki said. “I remember Doi. He was my son’s bodyguard.”
“He was also Etsuko’s fiance,” said Oigimi. “I always wondered why they never married.”
Ignoring her hint for information he didn’t have, Sano said, “Have you any idea why he would accuse her?”
“None.”
“I remember how upset Doi was after Tadatoshi disappeared,” Lady Ateki said. “He fell on his knees and apologized to me for not being able to find him. He cried and begged my forgiveness. He was ready to commit seppuku.”
Too bad he hadn’t, Sano thought. Doi’s ritual suicide would have saved a lot of trouble.
“But I was sure Tadatoshi was alive,” Lady Ateki said. “I told Doi that he must be ready to serve him when he came back.”
Sano wondered if Doi’s behavior meant he’d felt guilty about more than failing in his duty. “Do you think Doi could have killed Tadatoshi?”
Lady Ateki exclaimed, “Oh, no. He was devoted to my son.”
“The idea of him kidnapping my brother is ridiculous,” Oigimi said. “But so is the idea that Etsuko did, and not just because she was too good. Tadatoshi wasn’t a baby who could have been easily carried off and killed. He was strong enough to put up a fight. How does Doi say that Etsuko managed to kidnap him?”
“He says she had help,” Sano said, “from Tadatoshi’s tutor.”
The women sat motionless, stunned by this news on top of the rest. At last Lady Ateki said, “I suppose Tadatoshi did have a tutor. Who was he?”
“That monk,” Oigimi said impatiently. “His name was Egen.”
“Oh. Oh, yes, I remember now.”
“I didn’t know him at all, but he must have been a decent person or my father wouldn’t have hired him,” Oigimi told Sano. “Have you asked him if he did it?”
“Not yet,” Sano said. “I’m looking for him. Do you know where he is?”
Lady Ateki shook her head. Oigimi said, “We haven’t seen him in all these years. He left after the fire.”
Perhaps not just because he’d lost his pupil, Sano thought. Maybe Egen had been involved in a kidnapping gone bad. Sano hoped Hirata was making progress toward finding him. For now, Sano needed suspects closer at hand. “Do you know of anyone who would have wanted Tadatoshi dead?”
Mother turned to daughter. Sano saw astonishment in both their profiles. Lady Ateki said, “Could it be?” Oigimi said, “Of course. We should have suspected him ages ago.”
“Who?” Sano said.
“Tokugawa Nobunaga.” Lady Ateki explained, “He was my husband’s brother.”
“Why might he have killed Tadatoshi?” Sano said.
“He wanted his son to be shogun,” Oigimi said. “Tadatoshi was ahead of his son in the line of succession. With Tadatoshi gone, his son moved up a step.”
Political ambition had led to many murders, but Sano saw cause for doubt in this case. “Tadatoshi was far down the line. Getting rid of him wouldn’t have moved his cousin much closer to the front.”
“My husband and his brother had been rivals since childhood,” Lady Ateki said. “His brother was very jealous. He couldn’t bear to have my husband ahead of him in anything.”
“And we once saw him almost kill Tadatoshi,” Oigimi said.
“When was this?” Sano said, intrigued.
“Tadatoshi must have been about twelve years old,” Lady Ateki said. “It happened at our archery range. My brother-in-law shot an arrow. It hit the wall right beside Tadatoshi. And he wasn’t standing anywhere near the targets.”
“My uncle said it was an accident,” Oigimi said scornfully.
“After that, my husband kept our son away from his brother,” Lady Ateki said, “but he couldn’t watch Tadatoshi all the time.”
Especially when Tadatoshi wandered off, Sano thought. Maybe, on the day of his death, he’d had the bad luck to meet up with his jealous, homicidal uncle. “Where was your brother-in-law when Tadatoshi disappeared?”
“I don’t know,” Lady Ateki said. “I suppose I was too upset to care. My husband and so many other people had died in the fire. My son was missing, and I had to take care of my daughter.”
“Later, I heard Uncle talk about what he did during the fire,” Oigimi said. “He and his retainers and servants put wet quilts on the roof of his house, to protect it from the fire. It burned down anyway. They barely managed to get to the hills before the fire blocked the roads.”
He could have happened onto Tadatoshi near the shrine and seen an opportunity sent from heaven. “Where is he now?” Sano asked.
“He’s been dead more than ten years,” Oigimi said.
“And his son?”
“He died last year.”
“Can you think of anyone else who might have killed Tadatoshi?” Sano asked.
Neither woman could. Sano thanked them for their cooperation and rose. Lady Ateki said, “Many thanks for telling me about my son, Honorable Chamberlain. At least I can stop wondering what happened to him. I hope you find his murderer.”
“I’ll do my best,” Sano promised.
He joined Marume, Fukida, and his entourage outside the mansion. “Anything good?” Marume asked.
As they mounted their horses and rode away, Sano related what the women had told him. “Two witnesses to my mother’s good character and a new suspect. Not bad for one interview.”
“It would be better if Tadatoshi’s uncle were still alive,” Fukida said, “but his death doesn’t let him off the hook.”
“We can’t have everything,” Sano said. His mood had brightened; for the first time since his mother’s arrest, things were looking up. “And my favorite suspect is still alive.”
“Shall we pay Colonel Doi a visit?” Fukida said.
“There’s not much point,” Sano said. “What would he say except to deny he’s guilty and heap more slander on my mother? I have a better source of information about him. And I’ve just had an idea that I want to follow up, at home.”
10
Reiko sat in the room across the hall from the guest chamber. She waited until she saw Hana come out of the chamber and scurry down the passage, leaving Sano’s mother alone. Then Reiko picked up a tray that held a dish of pink cakes filled with sweet chestnut paste, her own favorite treat. She crossed the hall, quietly opened the door to the chamber, and entered.
Her mother-in-law was lying in bed, but when she noticed Reiko, she sat up. She awkwardly smoothed her rumpled gray hair and cotton robe. Her face showed alarm.
“Excuse me for disturbing you, Honorable Mother-in-law.” Reiko knelt and bowed. “I wanted to see how you are.”
“Much better, thank you,” the old woman murmured, her eyes downcast, avoiding Reiko’s gaze.
“I’m relieved to hear that.”
&nb
sp; Reiko covertly studied her mother-in-law. In the light of what Sano had told her, she’d expected Etsuko to look different, to have gained stature befitting her samurai heritage. But Etsuko looked as ordinary as ever, although far from well. The only change was Etsuko’s manner toward Reiko. Usually timid, it now resonated with fright.
Wondering why, seeking to put Etsuko at ease, Reiko said, “I brought you some cakes,” and set the tray beside the bed.
“Thank you. You’re very kind. I’m sorry to impose on you.” Meek and contrite, Etsuko didn’t touch the food. She waited a moment, as if for Reiko to leave. When Reiko stayed put, she said, “You needn’t bother yourself with me. I’m sure you have more important things to do…?”
Reiko understood that her mother-in-law wanted to get rid of her, but she didn’t take the hint. “It’s no bother. I’m glad to have you with us.”
“I apologize for causing you so such trouble, Honorable Daughter-in-law,” Etsuko said humbly. “I beg your forgiveness.”
“There’s no need to apologize, nothing to forgive.” Yet Reiko experienced a stab of ill feeling toward Etsuko. The woman was, however inadvertently, the source of a serious threat to their whole family. Reiko thought of other wives she knew, whose mothers-in-law hated and insulted them, beat them and threw things at them. Those problems seemed trivial compared to Reiko’s, a mother-in-law who was accused of murdering a Tokugawa clan member, who could bring destruction upon all her kin.
Then Reiko felt ashamed of resenting Etsuko. The woman had always treated Reiko with respect, if not affection. She’d never done any ill as far as Reiko had firsthand knowledge to believe. Furthermore, she’d not deliberately endangered Reiko’s family. Lord Matsudaira was using Etsuko against Sano. If he didn’t have her, he would find some other weapon. Reiko pitied Etsuko, and she owed Etsuko all the aid she could give. That was her duty as a daughter-in-law, and in her own best interest.
She also owed Etsuko the benefit of doubt regarding the murder.
“Since you’re here, I welcome the opportunity to visit with you,” Reiko said, “even though it’s under difficult circumstances.”
“… Yes.”
This one word conveyed how averse Etsuko was to Reiko’s company and her acceptance of the fact that a guest must bow to her hostess’s wishes.
“My husband told me what happened,” Reiko began cautiously. She saw Etsuko fold her arms, shrink in bed. “I understand why you might not want to talk about it, but maybe I can help.”
Etsuko said nothing; she fidgeted with her bedcovers. Reiko wondered whether her mother-in-law knew that she helped Sano with his investigations. She’d never thought to ask. Reiko also wondered if Etsuko was aware of her suspicions, for she sensed that the woman was more intelligent than she’d previously thought.
“Have you remembered anything else since you talked to my husband?” Reiko asked. Sano hadn’t told her what he’d learned from his mother, but she would find out later, and she mustn’t waste time going over ground he’d already covered.
“No,” Etsuko murmured.
“Some things may be easier discussed between women, and between us rather than a mother and a son,” Reiko encouraged.
She’d hoped that Etsuko would talk about her family background, but Etsuko didn’t answer. And Reiko didn’t want to force the issue, lest she further strain their relations.
Changing tack, Reiko said, “What would help my husband clear your name is proof that you weren’t at the shrine near the time when Tadatoshi died. Can you think of anyone who can testify that you were someplace else?”
“There’s no one,” Etsuko said in a barely audible voice.
Did that mean she’d been alone someplace else, without witnesses to observe her, or that she had indeed been at the shrine? Reiko couldn’t help wondering. But the lack of an alibi didn’t necessarily mean Etsuko was guilty.
“Is there anything at all you can remember that might help my husband prove you’re innocent?”
“No,” Etsuko whispered.
“I see.” Reiko swallowed frustration. Her children’s fate depended on her mother-in-law’s; the least Etsuko could do was try harder to cooperate. “Is there anything that might get you in more trouble if it became known, that my husband should be prepared to counteract?”
“… No.”
Etsuko’s speech was often hesitant, but this time Reiko noticed that she’d delayed answering for a beat longer than normal. It could mean that Etsuko had paused to think, in the hope of recalling a forgotten fact, but it might mean that she was very well aware of some damning evidence that could resurface. But whatever the truth, Reiko realized that her mother-in-law was a tougher nut to crack than other suspects she’d met. Etsuko had shown her samurai blood, a hard core of resolve wrapped in her humble guise.
Yet Reiko still pitied Etsuko and still hoped desperately to exonerate her. This was no ordinary investigation. There would be no rewards for unmasking this suspect as a criminal.
Now Etsuko looked fatigued and weak. Reiko said, “Well, then, perhaps you’d better rest. We can talk some more later.” She counseled herself to postpone judgment about Etsuko, at least until more facts came to light.
Sano, Marume, and Fukida ducked under the blue curtain that hung across the entrance of a dingy public bathhouse. They paid coins to the attendant, accepted towels and bags of rice bran soap, and strode into a room enclosed by mildewed walls, where naked people scrubbed and poured buckets of water over themselves or lounged in the sunken tub amid clouds of steam. Edo bathhouses came in various types. Some were for families who didn’t have space for tubs at home. In others, illegal prostitutes of either sex serviced male customers. This one, Sano noted, appeared to be a haunt of disreputable men.
As he and his comrades walked among the bathers, he saw ronin with black stubble on their faces and shaved crowns; he passed gangsters covered with tattoos. Sano took care not to look too closely at anyone while he sought the man he’d come to find. A bathhouse like this was ostensibly neutral territory in which the patrons had a tacit agreement to do one another no harm, but they didn’t always stick to the agreement. Surly gazes flicked over Sano. He heard his name spoken quietly and saw Toda Ikkyu, master spy for the metsuke-the Tokugawa intelligence service-sitting in the tub. At least Sano thought it was Toda; the spy had such a nondescript face, perfectly suited to his work. Although they’d known each other more than ten years, Sano never recognized Toda at first glance.
“Looking for me?” Toda said.
The world-weary voice and expression were familiar. Sano crouched and said, “Your people told me I could find you here. I don’t suppose you came for the pleasure of it?”
Toda smiled blandly. “Professional pleasure, one might say. Thank you for not storming in with your whole entourage. That would have foiled my operation.”
Sano and his men had come in garments without identifying crests, and they’d left his entourage down the street. While Marume and Fukida kept a covert watch on the other bathers, Sano said to Toda, “Who are you after?”
“Rebels, as usual,” Toda said. “In particular, the gang that attacked a squadron of Lord Matsudaira’s troops on the highway last month.”
Lord Matsudaira employed the metsuke to hunt down his enemies. So did Sano. The metsuke played both sides of their rivalry, ensuring its own survival no matter which ultimately won. Toda had weathered many political storms, and Sano would bet on him to emerge unscathed from this latest.
“We know who they are,” Toda said, “and we got a tip that they like to meet here. We’re waiting for them to show.”
“We?” Sano said.
“My colleagues are here with me. Don’t bother looking around-you won’t spot them. Neither will our targets.” Toda asked, “What are you after?”
“Information.”
Sano had no qualms about seeking it from this spy who helped maintain his enemy in power. Both Sano and Lord Matsudaira trusted Toda because he favored neit
her. Toda did his best for them both, for his own good.
“About Colonel Doi?” Toda said.
“How did you know?”
“If I were in your position, I’d go after Doi, too. He’s the one who’s got you and your mother in jeopardy. Take him down, and there’s a big problem solved.”
“So what can you tell me?” Sano said.
“Doi Naokatsu, member of a minor hereditary Tokugawa vassal clan. His father was an accountant to Tokugawa Naganori, father of Tadatoshi. The young Doi was a cut above average from the start, excelled at the martial arts, clever, too. He was appointed chief bodyguard to Tadatoshi at age fifteen, when ordinary samurai are just foot soldiers at the bottom of the ranks. After the Great Fire, with Tadatoshi’s father dead and Tadatoshi presumed to be, most of their retainers became ronin.”
They would have numbered among hordes of other new masterless samurai. The fire had ravaged military-class residences inside the Tokiwabashi and Kajibashi gates. Many Tokugawa vassals who’d had their own retainers had died or lost everything, leaving the retainers homeless and impoverished.
“All those new ronin caused trouble,” Sano remembered. “They banded together in gangs that marauded through the areas that hadn’t burned. They looted shops and squatted in abandoned houses.”
Many other survivors had done the same. The fire had virtually wiped out Edo’s food supply as well as its housing and created a mass famine. Thousands of people who hadn’t been killed by the fire had died of starvation.
“Doi made the best of a bad deal,” said Toda. “He volunteered his services to the shogun’s army, which was struggling to mount a relief effort. He led a brigade that took food to the people. He ferried rice bales across the river, cooked stew with his own hands, and fought off gangs that tried to steal the food. He became a sort of hero.”
The fire had created many heroes who’d risen to the challenge of helping their fellow man. That was the bright side of a disaster. But although Sano could admire Doi, he wondered if the man’s efforts had been motivated by something besides valor, and there was a gap in the story.
The Fire Kimono si-13 Page 9