The Samurai's Wife Part 6

"There are no replies from her to Konoe," Sano admitted.

"Nor have we evidence of any relations.h.i.+p between Kozeri and the left minister besides the one that existed in his mind," Hos.h.i.+na said. "And remember, there were no outsiders in the compound on the night Konoe died. I can't imagine that Kozeri is relevant to the murder."

Sano again sensed the potential for trouble between himself and the yoriki, even as he concurred with Hos.h.i.+na's logic. Turning to the last page, he silently read more repet.i.tive ramblings of love, l.u.s.t, and rage that ended with a pa.s.sionate declaration:

'Resist me, defy me, torture my heart all you wish, but we are destined for each other. Soon the forces of defense and desire will clash upon the lofty, sacred heights where spires pierce the sky, feathers drift, and clear water falls. Then you shall be mine again."

The letter's overblown s.e.xual symbolism offered nothing new, but Sano said, "This is dated just seven days before Left Minister Konoe died. We can't ignore the possibility that Kozeri spoke with him during that critical period, or that she knows something important." He tucked the letters inside his kimono. "I'll call on her after I interview the suspects."

"Yes, Sosakan-sama," Hos.h.i.+na said, yielding once again. Sano checked the secret compartment for more clues, but it was empty. He and Hos.h.i.+na systematically dismantled the rest of the office, examining walls, furniture, and ceiling, to no avail. Then Detectives Marume and f.u.kida joined them.

"We found these sewn inside the padded lining of a winter cloak," Marume said, holding out his open palm. Upon it lay three identical round copper coins. "There was nothing else."

Sano took a coin. Its face bore the crudely stamped design of two crossed fern leaves. The reverse side was blank.

"This isn't standard Tokugawa money," f.u.kida said, then turned to Hos.h.i.+na. "Maybe they're local currency?"

Studying a coin, the yoriki shook his head. "I've never seen any like these before."

"Marume-san, f.u.kida-san: Each take a coin and show them around town tomorrow," Sano said. "I want to know what they are, where they came from, and why Left Minister Konoe had them."

Hos.h.i.+na slipped the third coin into the leather drawstring pouch at his waist. "I'll make some inquiries, too."

Sano surveyed the shambles they'd made of Konoe's quarters. A sudden tide of fatigue swept over him. "We'd better restore some order here," he said. "Then we'll go to Nijo Manor for food and rest. We've got a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

4.

Is there anything you need, Honorable Lady Sano?" said the wife of Nijo Manor's innkeeper.

A middle-aged woman with bright, avid eyes, she hovered in the doorway of a suite inside the inn's complex of guest chambers. There, enclosed by walls decorated with painted scenes of Mount Mikasa, Reiko peered through the window at the torch-lit courtyard. Since her arrival at Nijo Manor, she'd bathed, changed into a yellow silk dressing gown, dined, and sent her maids to bed. Now she anxiously waited for Sano to come.

"No, thank you," Reiko told the innkeeper's wife, who had inundated her with offers of service all evening.

Still, the woman lingered. "You needn't fear for your safety here," she said, obviously seeking an excuse to stay and misinterpreting Reiko's interest in the view. "We have security guards, and the 'nightingale floors' in the corridors will squeak to let you know if someone's coming. And look!" She bustled across the room and opened a panel in the wall. "Here's a secret door, so you can escape during an attack."

Nijo Manor, a hybrid between a commoner's house and a fortified samurai estate, had been established to fill a need for this unique type of accommodation. Tokugawa law forbade the daimyo to have estates here, thus limiting their contact with the Imperial Court; but Nijo Manor gave the feudal lords a safe place to stay while in Miyako. Yet Reiko, who'd heard the history of the manor from the innkeeper's wife earlier, also craved privacy, which was in short supply.

She realized that she must be the most interesting guest ever to stay at Nijo Manor, at least in the opinion of the women here. The innkeeper's wife had watched her constantly. The maids had helped unpack her baggage, whispering together as they examined her silk kimonos and exclaiming over the pair of swords she'd brought. Later, Reiko overheard them gossiping:

"I've never heard of a lady with swords!"

"What's she doing here?"

"Let's find out."

When Reiko went to the privy and the bathchamber, giggles and stealthy footsteps followed her. She heard furtive noises outside her window. The innkeeper's wife asked prying questions. Reiko had tried to discourage nosiness by explaining that she'd come to visit Miyako's famous temples-a dull, respectable reason to travel-but the news about the strange lady from Edo spread through the neighborhood. When Reiko peered out the gate to look for Sano, a crowd of curious peasant women stared back at her.

Now the innkeeper's wife continued extolling the virtues of Nijo Manor. Through the window Reiko saw the maids in the courtyard. They waved to her, t.i.ttering. Reiko fought annoyance as she waved back, then forced herself to smile at the innkeeper's wife. If there proved to be no part for her in Sano's investigation, she would be stuck here; she mustn't antagonize these women, because servants could take their revenge in small, aggravating ways.

The inn's floors and ceilings creaked as guests settled in for the night, their talk and laughter a continuous background noise. The night's humid warmth oppressed Reiko's spirits. Sano had warned her that she might have less freedom in Miyako than in Edo, where she had friends and relatives to visit, things to do, and a certain independence. In Edo, she also had her network to consult during investigations. Here she felt alone and helpless. She would go mad with boredom unless Sano found occupation for her.

At last she heard the voices of Sano and Detectives Marume and f.u.kida in the corridor. Quickly she said to the innkeeper's wife, "Please prepare my husband's bath and dinner."

The woman hurried off to obey. Sano entered the room, carrying a clothbound ledger. Fatigue shadowed his face, but he smiled at Reiko. Feeling the stir of desire and affection that his presence always evoked, she murmured, "Welcome."

Sano studied her anxiously. "I'm sorry I had to leave you. Is everything all right?"

That his immediate concern should be for her, even when he had serious business on his mind, filled Reiko with love for him. "Everything is fine," she said, forbearing to mention her own troubles. "I want to hear all about what happened, as soon as you've had time to relax."

After he'd bathed and dressed in a cool cotton robe, they sat together in their room. The maids brought Sano a meal tray containing clear broth, grilled river fish, pickled radish, and rice. While he ate, he told Reiko the circ.u.mstances of Left Minister Konoe's death.

"So it was murder," Reiko said, relis.h.i.+ng the challenge of a hunt for a killer, "and an actual instance of death by kiai! This is going to be a very interesting case."

"And a difficult one," Sano said. He paused, using his chopsticks to pick bones out of the fish. "Hopefully, I'll soon have some clues, as well as statements from suspects, and we can discuss them. Your ideas will be very helpful."

A cautious note in his voice set off a warning signal in Reiko's head. Unhappy comprehension deflated her excitement. "Discussion and ideas-is that all you're going to allow me to contribute to the investigation?"

"Please don't get upset," Sano said, laying down his chopsticks as his troubled gaze met her appalled one. "Let me explain."

The disappointment was more than Reiko could bear. "But I should help search for clues and interview the suspects and witnesses. To develop any useful ideas about the murder, I need to see the people and places involved." Tradition forbade a wife to argue with her husband, but Reiko and Sano had a marriage that strained the bounds of convention. "Have I come all this way to sit idle while you toil alone?"

"I brought you here to protect you," Sano reminded her.

"From Chamberlain Yanagisawa, who is far away in Edo."

"From grave peril," Sano said. "And this investigation has great potential for that."

Yet Reiko preferred peril to boredom. "I've worked on murder cases before. This one is no different. I'm not afraid."

"You should be," Sano said somberly, "because this case is indeed different. The power of kiai makes this killer more dangerous than an ordinary criminal."

"The killer is no more dangerous to me than to you," Reiko said. Exasperation rose in her. With an eleven-year age difference between them, Sano often seemed like an overprotective father. "Your greater size and strength are no defense against a spirit cry."

"My many years of martial arts training are," Sano said. "I've practiced rituals for strengthening the will. A strong will is the foundation for the power of kiai, and the only weapon against it."

Reiko lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. "Do you think that just because I haven't lived long enough to study as much as you have, it means my will is weak?"

"Not at all," Sano said with a wry smile.

"Rituals you've never had a chance to test won't guarantee your safety if the killer attacks you," Reiko retorted. "Nor will your s.e.x or rank. The killer's victim was male, and the highest official in the Imperial Court."

Sano picked up his soup bowl, then set it down. "There are also practical reasons I can't include you in the investigation. You couldn't go to the crime scene with me today. I can't take you along on my inquiries tomorrow. For a samurai's wife to follow him around, involving herself in official business-you know it just isn't done." His regretful expression told Reiko that he sympathized with her position, even as he defended his own. "I'm sorry."

"There must be something I can do," Reiko persisted. "Are there any witnesses to interview?"

"Not yet."