Authors: Laura Joh Rowland
The maid brought them a dinner of rice balls, sashimi, and pickled vegetables. Sano noticed that Hirata hardly touched the food, but he gulped the tea and seemed to revive a bit. “We have two problems that are more immediate than catching the killer,” Sano said. “First, how are we going to hide the fact that Ejima’s body was dissected?”
“I’ve already taken care of that,” Hirata said. “I had Dr. Ito’s assistant wrap up its head. Then I took it home and had my servants dress it in a white silk robe and lay it in a coffin filled with incense. When I delivered it to Ejima’s family, I told them that I’d prepared it for the funeral. The reason I gave was that I wanted to spare them the sight of Ejima’s terrible wounds. I also said I would pay for a grand funeral. I gave the family a quick look at Ejima, then sealed up the coffin. They were so grateful that I don’t think they’ll open it for a closer look.”
“Well done,” Sano said, impressed by Hirata’s ingenuity. “But I’ll pay for the funeral.” That was a small price for keeping the examination a secret.
“What’s the second problem? How to tell Lord Matsudaira that Ejima was murdered by
dim-mak
without saying how we found out?” Hirata said.
Sano nodded as he set aside his chopsticks. “But I have a solution. I’ll tell you on the way to the palace.”
A waxing crescent moon adorned the indigo sky over the peaked tile roofs of the palace. Flames glimmered in stone lanterns around the complex of half-timbered buildings and along the white gravel paths that crossed its lush, still gardens. Frogs sang in ponds while gunshots echoed from night target practice at the martial arts training ground. Patrolling guards wore Lord Matsudaira’s crest, asserting his place in the heart of the Tokugawa regime.
When Sano, Hirata, and detectives Marume and Fukida arrived in search of Lord Matsudaira, the sentries at the palace door directed them to the shogun’s private quarters. There they found a party in progress. Handsome boys dressed in gaudy silk robes played the samisen, flute, and drum; others danced. The shogun lolled on cushions while more boys chattered around him and plied him with wine. His taste for young males was public knowledge. That he preferred them to his wife and concubines explained why he’d failed to produce a blood heir. Near the shogun sat Lord Matsudaira and two members of the Council of Elders, which comprised the shogun’s chief advisors and the regime’s principal governing body. Lord Matsudaira knelt with his arms folded and his expression grim: He disapproved of such frivolous entertainment. The elders sipped wine and nodded their heads in time to the music.
“Well?” Lord Matsudaira said eagerly as Sano and his companions approached, knelt, and bowed. “Was it murder?”
“It was,” Sano said. The elders frowned in concern. The shogun dragged his attention away from the dancers and regarded Sano with befuddlement. His face was flushed from the wine; his hand fondled the knee of the boy seated beside him.
This was Yoritomo, the shogun’s current favorite. He was a youthful, strikingly beautiful likeness of his father, the former chamberlain. Although Lord Matsudaira had exiled Yanagisawa and his family, Yoritomo remained in Edo because the shogun had insisted on keeping him. He had Tokugawa blood—from his mother, a relative of the shogun—and rumor said he was heir apparent to the dictatorship. The shogun’s fondness protected Yoritomo from Lord Matsudaira, who wanted to eliminate everyone connected to his rival. Yoritomo smiled shyly; his large, liquid black eyes, so like his father’s, glowed with happiness at seeing Sano.
“So I was right.” Gratification swelled Lord Matsudaira’s countenance. “I knew it.”
“Who are you talking about?” the shogun said.
“Ejima, chief of the
metsuke
.” Lord Matsudaira barely hid his impatience. “He died this morning.”
“Ahh, yes,” the shogun said with an air of dim recollection.
“I thought Ejima took a fall at the racetrack,” said one of the elders. He was Kato Kinhide, who had a broad, leathery face with slit-like eyes and mouth. The other was Ihara Eigoro. They’d opposed Lord Matsudaira and supported Yanagisawa during the faction war. They, and some of their allies, had survived the purge by latching onto Yoritomo, who was alone at court and depended on his father’s friends for protection. But Sano knew that the protection worked both ways: Yoritomo’s influence with the shogun protected Kato, Ihara, and their clique from Lord Matsudaira. He was their foothold in the regime, the promise of another chance at gaining control over it.
“The fall didn’t kill Ejima,” Sano said.
“Then what did?” Ihara said. Short and hunched, he had a vaguely simian cast. He and Kato resented Sano because he’d declined to take their side during the faction war, and now worked closely with Lord Matsudaira. They envied him for rising above them in rank.
“Ejima was a victim of
dim-mak
,” answered Sano.
“The death-touch?” Lord Matsudaira stared in amazement, as did the elders and Yoritomo. The shogun merely looked confused. The music and dancing continued while the boys joked and laughed together.
“That’s difficult to believe,” Kato said, always ready to deride Sano and raise doubts about his judgment. “
Dim-mak
is a lost art.”
“What evidence do you have?” Ihara said.
“When Ejima’s body was prepared for the funeral, a bruise was observed on his head. It had the shape and markings of a fingerprint.” This was the story Sano had invented to cover up the illegal dissection. “According to the martial arts literature, this is a sure sign of the death-touch.”
“Books are hardly adequate confirmation,” Kato scoffed.
“One can find something in them to support any argument whatsoever,” Ihara said, backing up his comrade.
Sano understood why they were so anxious to dispute that Ejima’s death was murder. “Nonetheless, I stand by my opinion. But let us defer to His Excellency to settle the issue.”
The shogun looked pleased to be consulted, yet daunted. He turned to Lord Matsudaira.
“Chamberlain Sano is the expert on crime,” Lord Matsudaira said. “If he says it was
dim-mak
, that should suffice.”
Sano also understood that Lord Matsudaira was so eager to confirm that Ejima was murdered that he would accept an unusual method whether or not he believed in it.
“Well, ahh, then so be it,” the shogun said, clearly glad that Lord Matsudaira had spared him the need to think. “The, ahh, official cause of the death is as Chamberlain Sano says.”
Lord Matsudaira nodded in approval. Kato and Ihara tried to hide their displeasure, and Sano his relief that his ploy had worked and the autopsy remained a secret. He wondered how long his luck would hold.
Yoritomo flashed a congratulatory smile at Sano. During the past six months they’d become friends, despite the fact that Sano had once been Yoritomo’s father’s enemy. Sano had taken pity on Yoritomo, and had found him to be a decent, thoughtful young man who deserved better than a life as the shogun’s sexual plaything and a pawn of his father’s cronies, especially since his status as heir to the regime was by no means certain. That Yanagisawa had produced such a fine son amazed Sano, who had acquired yet another responsibility—as mentor to his former enemy’s child.
“What about the three other recent deaths?” Lord Matsudaira asked Sano. “Were they also caused by
dim-mak
?”
Kato interrupted, “Do you mean the supervisor of court ceremony, the highway commissioner, and the treasury minister?”
“I do,” said Lord Matsudaira.
“All those deaths can’t possibly be murder,” Ihara protested.
Sano observed Ihara and Kato growing nervous at the turn the discussion had taken.
“We’ll see about that,” Lord Matsudaira said in an ominous tone. “Chamberlain Sano?”
“Whether Supervisor Ono, Commissioner Sasamura, or Treasury Minister Moriwaki were murdered hasn’t been determined yet.” Sano earned a grunt of disappointment from Lord Matsudaira, and relieved looks from the elders.
“I’ll investigate their deaths tomorrow,” Hirata spoke up.
“At least someone recognizes the need to investigate before jumping to conclusions,” Kato said under his breath.
Lord Matsudaira asked Sano, “Have you any idea who killed Ejima?”
“Not yet. Tomorrow I’ll begin looking for suspects.”
“Maybe you needn’t look very far.” Lord Matsudaira fixed an insinuating gaze on the elders.
They tried to hide their consternation. “Even if you believe that someone in this day and age has mastered the technique of
dim-mak
, you can’t think it’s anyone in the regime,” Ihara said. Sano knew that he and Kato had feared all along that Lord Matsudaira would accuse them of killing his officials in order to undermine him.
“Anyone who doesn’t have the skill or the nerve to commit murder could have hired an assassin who does,” Lord Matsudaira said.
“The same goes for anyone who accuses others,” Kato retorted. “Some men are not above committing crimes in order to strike at their enemies.”
Lord Matsudaira’s gaze turned wary because Kato had fired his accusation back at him.
“Maybe we should examine Chamberlain Sano’s own motive for designating the deaths as murders and conducting an investigation.” Ihara eyed Sano.
The shogun frowned in baffled annoyance as he divided his attention among the music, the dancing, and the conversation. Yoritomo looked unhappy because Sano had come under attack. Sano knew that Kato and Ihara feared his friendship with Yoritomo, which undermined their own influence over the young man. Without Yoritomo, and his connection with the shogun, they would be exposed targets for Lord Matsudaira. Better for them to strike at Sano even though he’d tried to make peace with them.
“My sole aim is to discover the truth,” Sano said.
“The truth as it suits you and Lord Matsudaira,” Kato said with a grimace of disdain, then addressed the shogun: “Your Excellency, the murders—if such they are—should be investigated by someone who has no personal stake in the outcome and can be objective. I propose to lead a committee to get to the real truth of the matter.”
“You have at least as much at stake as anyone else,” Lord Matsudaira said scornfully.
“A committee is a fine idea,” said Ihara. “I’ll be on it.”
Sano wondered if they wanted to take over the investigation because they feared that he would expose them as murderers, or try to frame them if they weren’t guilty. Sano couldn’t let them sweep one crime, and possibly four, under the
tatami
, or frame Lord Matsudaira and take him down in the process. It was time to pull rank.
“I’m glad to hear that you’re so willing to investigate Chief Ejima’s murder,” Sano said to Kato and Ihara. “I always welcome such dedication from my subordinates.” The elders were technically subordinate to him, even though their age and seniority gave them special standing. “If I need your help, I’ll ask for it. Until then, you will restrict your role to advising His Excellency in your usual capacity.”
Rage at this putdown clenched Kato’s and Ihara’s jaws, but they couldn’t openly defy a direct order.
“You’ve always been satisfied with Chamberlain Sano’s service,” Lord Matsudaira told the shogun. “He’s the man best qualified to investigate. Let him continue.”
“Well, ahh, that sounds like a good idea,” said the shogun. Disagreements bothered him, and he spoke with a timid desire to have this one settled.
“Just because Sano has succeeded in the past doesn’t mean he’s guaranteed not to fail you now, Your Excellency,” Kato said with an urgency born of panic.
“This case is too serious for him to handle alone, no matter his expertise,” Ihara added.
Sano sensed them thinking that if Lord Matsudaira had his way, and they were implicated in the deaths of four high Tokugawa officials, they would be executed for treason. Not even their connection to Yoritomo would save them.
“Enough of all this advice!” the shogun suddenly exclaimed. Perhaps he sensed the undercurrents in the conversation, Sano thought; perhaps he felt a need to assert his authority. “I shall decide who investigates the murder of, ahh—” He fluttered his hands in confusion. “Whoever those people were. Everyone just be quiet and let me think!”
The musicians ceased playing; the dancers froze in mid-step; the boys’ chatter faded. An uncomfortable hush descended upon the room. Lord Matsudaira’s face was stern with displeasure at losing control over the situation. The elders sat as still as if in deep meditation, willing the shogun to favor them. The shogun fidgeted with self-doubt and his dread of making a mistake. Sano saw his fate teetering on his lord’s whim. The murder investigation now involved much more than the quest for a killer. Sano’s own survival was at risk.
Yoritomo leaned close to the shogun and whispered in his ear. Sano frowned, as startled as Lord Matsudaira, the elders, Hirata, and the detectives looked. The shogun raised his eyebrows while he listened to Yoritomo; he nodded.
“I’ve made my decision,” he said, confident now. “I will allow Chamberlain Sano to investigate the murder and apprehend the killer.”
Relief, but also misgivings, filled Sano. Hirata and the detectives nodded at him in approval. Lord Matsudaira’s face expressed a mixture of gratification at getting his way and vexation that his former rival’s son had such influence over the shogun. The elders tried to hide their disgruntlement. Yoritomo beamed at Sano.
“That’s enough of this, ahh, serious talk,” the shogun told Sano, his companions, Lord Matsudaira, and the elders. “You’re all dismissed. Keep me informed on the, ahh, progress of the investigation.” He gestured at the musicians, dancers, and other boys. “Let the party resume.”
In the corridor outside the shogun’s private chambers, Lord Matsudaira and the elders marched past Sano. “I trust that you’ll solve this case to my satisfaction,” Lord Matsudaira said. His tone emphasized their comradeship, yet hinted at dire consequences for Sano if he failed.
The elders bowed to Sano. Their courtesy said they feared he would incriminate them; the hostility in their eyes said this wouldn’t be the last time they opposed him as long as he was allied with Lord Matsudaira.