Assassin's Touch (10 page)

“I won’t forbid you,” he said. “Go ahead with your investigation if you insist. But be careful. Try not to attract attention or do anything that could hurt us.”

Reiko smiled. “I will. I promise to be discreet. Thank you.”

Sano saw that she was glad he’d given her his permission, if not his blessing; he could also tell she wasn’t surprised by his decision. Somehow she’d maneuvered him into a position where he couldn’t say no without compromising himself. He felt a grudging yet fond admiration for her cleverness. Reiko could certainly handle him better than he could her. But tonight had shown him that he needed someone to help him stay true to his ideals, and he was glad he could count on Reiko.

“How do you propose to begin your investigation?” he said.

“I thought that tomorrow I would examine the place where Yugao’s parents and sister were murdered, then talk to people who knew the family,” Reiko said. “Maybe I can turn up evidence that will prove whether she’s innocent or guilty.”

“That sounds like a good approach.” Sano hoped he wouldn’t come to regret his decision.

“What’s the next step in your investigation?” Reiko sparkled with vivacity, as she always did when looking forward to an adventure.

“I need to reconstruct the murder of Chief Ejima.” Sano mused. “Your investigation is ahead of mine in some respects. At least you have a primary suspect, and you know where the crime occurred. My first task is to find the actual crime scene where the death-touch was delivered to Ejima. Maybe then I can learn who did it.”

9

Sano rose the next morning before the sun ascended over the hills east of Edo and the night guards went off duty at the castle. Before he resumed investigating the murder, he ate a hasty meal in his office while his staff briefed him on news dispatches from the provinces. The anteroom was already crowded with officials, but today he couldn’t let his daily routine steal all his time; he couldn’t shuffle paper while a killer was at large and the balance of power depended on him. It was high time to close his open door.

He dismissed his staff and told his principal aide, “I’m going out.”

“People are waiting to see you, Honorable Chamberlain,” the aide politely reminded Sano. He was a clever, capable, honest man named Kozawa, of scholarly appearance and deferential manner. “And here is more correspondence for you to read and answer.” Kozawa indicated an open chest full of scrolls that had materialized beside Sano’s desk.

There was no time like the present to start anew. Sano took a deep breath, then said, “Sort out everything and everybody. Save the important matters for me. Handle the minor ones yourself.”

“Yes, Honorable Chamberlain,” Kozawa said, taking the order in stride.

“I want any case of sudden death among the
bakufu
officials reported to me, directly and at once,” Sano said. If there was another murder in a plot against Lord Matsudaira, he wanted to know as soon as possible. “The body is not to be touched. No one leaves or enters the scene of death before I arrive.”

“As you wish, Honorable Chamberlain. Where can I reach you if need be?”

“I’ll be at Chief Ejima’s estate for a while,” Sano said. “After that, I don’t know.”

As Sano left his office, Detectives Marume and Fukida and his other attendants fell into step with him. He fought the feeling that he’d just let go the reins and disaster lay ahead whether he solved the murder case or not.

Chief Ejima’s estate in the Hibiya administrative district was large and imposing, as suited his high rank. A two-story mansion enclosed by a high wall dwarfed other nearby houses; the gate had double portals and two tiers of roofs. When Sano arrived there with his entourage, he found that a strange vacuum surrounded the estate. Officials, clerks, and soldiers thronged the streets of the district, but the ones outside Ejima’s house were deserted, as if everybody was shunning the place in which the master lay recently dead, avoiding contamination by the evil spirits. Sano and his men stopped at the gate as servants hung mourning drapery over it. The black cloth flapped in the breeze; funereal incense smoke tainted the bright spring day.

Detective Marume addressed the two guards in the booth; “The honorable chamberlain wants to speak with your master’s family. Take us to them.”

One advantage Sano enjoyed as chamberlain was that his rank commanded instant respect and unquestioning obedience. The guards quickly summoned servants who escorted Sano, Marume, Fukida, and the rest of their party into the house. They removed their shoes and swords in the entryway, then walked down a corridor that smelled of incense smoke that drifted from the reception room. As Sano approached this, he heard voices inside. Through a lattice-and-paper partition he saw the glow of lanterns and the blurry shadows of two human figures.

“You have no claim to his estate,” said a man’s voice, raised in anger.

“Oh, yes, I do,” shrilled a defiant female voice. “I was his wife.”

“
His wife
.” The male voice dripped scorn. “You’re nothing but a whore who took advantage of a lonely man.”

A shriek of laughter came from the woman. “I’m not the only one who took advantage of my husband. You’re just a poor relation that he adopted as his son. He never would have if you hadn’t played up to him so that you could get your hands on his money.”

“Be that as it may, I am his legal son and heir. I control his fortune now.

“But he promised me a share of it,” the woman said, her anger now tinged with desperation.

“Too bad for you that he never wrote his promise into his will. I don’t have to give you a single copper. It’s all mine,” the man said triumphantly.

“You filthy bastard!”

The servant who’d escorted Sano into the house knocked on the door frame and called in a polite voice, “Excuse me, but you have visitors.”

The man cursed under his breath. His shadow moved close to the partition. He slid the door open, revealing himself as a thickset young samurai in his late twenties. He gaped at Sano.

“Honorable Chamberlain,” he said. “What—why—?”

Chief Ejima’s adopted son had thick eyebrows and a low, heavy forehead that gave him a primitive appearance despite the black silk ceremonial robes he wore. He was obviously upset to realize that Sano had overheard the quarrel.

“Forgive me for the intrusion,” Sano said, “but I must talk to you about your father’s death.”

The woman appeared beside the son. She was near his age—and perhaps two decades younger than her husband had been. Glossy black hair hung in a plait over her shoulder. She had pretty features sharpened by cunning. She wore a modest but expensive gray satin kimono.

“Of course. A thousand apologies for my poor manners,” said the son, bowing to Sano. “My name is Ejima Jozan.”

Lady Ejima also bowed. Her tilted black eyes sparked with wariness as they regarded Sano.

“Please come in.” Apparently mystified as to the reason for this visit from the shogun’s second-in-command, Jozan backed into the room to let Sano and his men enter.

The room’s shutters were closed against the sunshine. The sealed oblong wooden coffin lay on a dais. Smoking incense burners adorned a table that also held a vase of Chinese anise branches, offerings of food, and a sword to avert evil spirits. Jozan and Lady Ejima had been quarreling over Ejima’s estate while holding a vigil over his corpse, like scavengers fighting over carrion.

“My condolences on your loss,” Sano said.

Jozan thanked him. Lady Ejima said, “May I offer you some refreshments?”

Her manner was more forward than usual for a high-ranking woman. Sano recalled hearing that Ejima had married a courtesan from the Yoshiwara pleasure quarter. After Sano had politely declined her offer, he said, “Are there any family members in this house besides the two of you?”

“No,” Jozan said. “The others live away from Edo.”

“I’m sorry to say that I have bad news,” Sano said. “Ejima-
san
’s death was murder.”

A gasp of surprise issued from Lady Ejima. “But I thought he was killed in an accident during a horse race.”

Jozan shook his head, dazed. “What happened?”

“He was a killed by a death-touch. Someone has apparently mastered the ancient martial arts technique and used it on your father.” Sano watched the widow and adopted son. Lady Ejima’s pretty face took on a frozen, opaque look. Jozan blinked. Sano wondered if they were upset or thinking how the murder would affect them.

“Who was it?” Jozan said. “Who killed my father?”

“That’s yet to be determined,” Sano said. “I’m investigating Ejima-
san
’s murder and I need your cooperation.”

“I’m at your service.” Jozan made an expansive gesture, as though glad to give Sano anything he asked.

“I, too, will do whatever I can to help find my husband’s murderer,” said Lady Ejima.

Jozan’s features crumpled. He averted his face, hiding it behind his sleeve. “Please forgive me,” he said as a sob choked him. “My poor father’s death was enough of a shock, but now this! It’s a terrible tragedy.”

Lady Ejima seized Jozan’s arm and yanked it away from his face. “You hypocrite! What do you care how he died, as long as you inherit his money?”

“Shut up! Get away from me!” Jozan flung the woman off him and turned to Sano, obviously aghast that the chamberlain of Japan should hear him accused of such lack of filial devotion. “Please pay no attention to her. She’s hysterical.”

Sano observed that Jozan’s eyes were devoid of tears and black with fury at Lady Ejima.

“My dearest, darling husband, gone forever!” she wailed. “I loved him so much. How shall I live without him?”

Jozan scowled at her. “You’re the hypocrite. You pretended to love my father, but you only married him because of his rank and wealth.”

“That’s not true!” Lady Ejima shouted. “You were always jealous because I came between you and him. Now you’re trying to slander me!”

Sano reflected that the culprit in a murder case was often to be found within the victim’s family. Jozan and Lady Ejima seemed unlikely to know the technique of
dim-mak
, but a past case involving a murder in the imperial capital had taught Sano that martial arts skills came in unexpected-looking packages.

“That’s enough out of you,” Jozan said, his patience snapped. “Leave the room.”

“You don’t give the orders around here,” Lady Ejima huffed. “I’ll stay. Any business regarding my husband is my concern.”

“Actually, I want you both to stay,” Sano said.

Lady Ejima gave Jozan a smug, vindicated smile. He hissed air out his mouth, flung her a look that promised she would be sorry later for insulting him, and turned, shamefaced, to Sano. “A thousand apologies for our disgraceful behavior,” he said. “We meant you no offense. How can we help you?”

“I need to know who was with Ejima and every place that he went during the past two days,” Sano said. “Can you reconstruct his movements for me?”

“Yes,” Jozan said. “I served as his secretary. I kept his schedule.”

“Let’s start with the time before the horse race.”

“My father and I had breakfast together, then worked on reports and correspondence in his office here at home.”

“How did he spend the previous night?” Sano asked.

Lady Ejima answered: “He was with me. In our bedchamber.”

“The whole night?”

“Well, no. He came home very late.”

“We went to a banquet at the chief judicial councilor’s estate,” Jozan said.

Sano saw the scope of his investigation expand to include many people besides Ejima’s family and the horse race crowd. “And before that?”

“We spent the day at
metsuke
headquarters.” This was a complex of offices in the palace. “My father had meetings with subordinates and appointments with visitors.”

More questioning revealed that Ejima had spent the previous night with his wife and the evening at another banquet.

“In the afternoon, we went into town so that my father could meet with informants,” Jozan continued. “It wouldn’t do for them to come here or to headquarters.”

Sano understood why they wanted to keep their role as informants a secret: They were
bakufu
underlings hired to report on their superiors, who would punish them harshly for spying. “Where did these meetings take place?”

“At six different teahouses in Nihonbashi.”

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.”