Hiro agreed with that wholeheartedly.
“Hidetaro followed Father here, to the teahouse,” Yoshiko continued. “He spied on the room from outside the veranda door, and when the night grew late he hid behind the latrine. I stood by the garden gate and watched, but Father never left the room.
“When Hidetaro left, I followed. I tried to practice stealth but he caught me by surprise. He said he intended no harm and I believed him so I headed home. Shortly after that it rained. My clothes and shoes got wet.
“I was not home in the early morning because I took my kimono to be cleaned, but I did not touch the
neko-te
and I did not kill my father.”
“A convenient lie,” Nobuhide said, “and all the worse because you expect our uncle to support your feeble claim. Here is what actually happened.
“You had been waiting to get your hands on Father’s fortune because he would not allow you to pledge an oath or become a retainer to a real samurai. No man wanted to marry you, and without a fortune you would be no better than a beggar all your life.
“When you heard the argument between Father and Hidetaro, you knew your opportunity had come. People would suspect Hidetaro instead of you. So you waited until we left and took the
neko-te
off the floor. You chose them because you knew a shinobi’s weapon would make you look even less suspicious.”
“It is a woman’s weapon,” Yoshiko said with disdain, though Hiro noticed her breathing speed up and heard a hint of fear at the back of her voice.
“Shut up!” Nobuhide barked. “You followed Father to the teahouse, waited until he was alone, and murdered him. He didn’t struggle because he never thought his beloved daughter could kill him.
“In the morning you conveniently ‘found’ the will, with Mother’s help, and revealed yourself as the heir.
“You would have gotten away with it, too, except for one mistake. You removed the broken
neko-te
from the wound instead of leaving it in the body, where it would not have attracted attention.”
“Very clever,” Hiro said. “You appear to have thought of everything.”
“Your beloved priest and the little whore will get to live after all.” Nobuhide drew his katana and brandished it before him. “I demand vengeance … against Akechi Yoshiko.”
“Just a moment,” Hiro said.
Nobuhide paused.
“There is something you haven’t explained.”
Nobuhide frowned. “What’s that?”
“Your father’s will was a forgery,” Hiro said, “though it doesn’t matter because under the law Yoshiko is still your father’s heir.
“And one other thing. Yoshiko didn’t kill your father. You did.”
Sayuri gasped and raised her hands to her mouth. Hidetaro scowled, and Mayuri’s eyes widened in surprise.
Nobuhide took a step backward. “Me? That’s an outrage! I would never kill my father.”
“I thought so too, at first,” Hiro said, “and later I almost blamed Yoshiko too—for the very same reasons you just stated. Her actions make her look much guiltier than Sayuri, or even Hidetaro, though both of them had motives for murder too.”
“Yoshiko did kill him,” Nobuhide protested. “She benefited from his death.”
“Possibly,” Hiro said, “but not before he died. She had no reason to kill your father. You had several.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Your father refused to let you join Mitsuhide in Nobunaga’s army. Despite your pleas, he forced you to remain a lowly
yoriki
in the service of a shogun who would never appreciate your skills. You could not disobey while your father lived, and your father’s profligate spending at the Sakura made you worry that he would spend his entire fortune before you could inherit it, depriving you of the wherewithal to buy yourself a greater position than that of Kyoto policeman.
“But because you are a policeman, you knew that you couldn’t just kill your father and walk away. You needed an opportunity to blame it on someone else.
“You heard your father argue with Hidetaro. You were present when Hidetaro threw the knife. You saw the
neko-te
scatter on the floor, and you scooped them up as you left the room, knowing no one else would enter your father’s study while he was gone.”
“
Neko-te
is a woman’s weapon.” Disgust dripped like venom from Nobuhide’s words. “No man would ever use it.”
“Which is exactly why you chose to,” Hiro said. “You knew it would throw suspicion on Sayuri. I think you intended to claim a conspiracy between her and Hidetaro, to ensure that one or the other took the blame.”
“But I couldn’t have killed him,” Nobuhide said. “I was at the House of the Floating Plums all night. Ask Umeha, she will tell you.”
“That threw me too, at first,” Hiro said. “It was clever of you to give her so much sake. You’ve known her several years, so I’m sure you know what happens when she drinks.”
“She doesn’t remember anything,” Mayuri said. “I never let her drink sake when she was here, for that very reason.”
“She fell asleep,” Nobuhide said, “and so did I. There’s no mud on my kimono or my shoes.”
“He’s right,” Yoshiko said. “He came home in the same clothes he wore the night before, and they were clean.”
“Because he wasn’t wearing his clothes when he killed your father,” Hiro said. “He was dressed as a prostitute.”
Chapter 44
Nobuhide whirled toward Hiro with a snarl, but a clash of steel brought him up short. Hidetaro had drawn his sword with almost unbelievable speed. His blade held Nobuhide’s at bay, and although he did not move, his eyes held a lethal warning.
“He is a liar,” Nobuhide hissed.
“Let him finish.” Hidetaro’s voice was calm. “Step back and lower your sword.”
For a moment no one moved. Hiro’s hand fingered the five-pointed
shuriken
in his sleeve. He had seen Nobuhide’s movement before Hidetaro, but stayed his hand when he realized Hidetaro would block the strike. Had Nobuhide moved two inches farther, or tried to fight, Hiro would have planted the metal star between his eyes.
“This is ridiculous,” Nobuhide sniffed. “I would not wear women’s clothes.”
“Any man would wear women’s clothes to get away with murder,” Hiro replied, “and it almost worked. Mayuri saw you through the door and thought you were Sayuri. Someone else saw you in the road and took you for a prostitute.
“If Umeha hadn’t mentioned her ruined robe I might never have put it together.”
“But how did you know it was Nobuhide,” Yoshiko asked, “and not me or Sayuri after all?”
“Sayuri was in the latrine when the murder happened, and you are much too tall to be the woman Mayuri saw.” Hiro didn’t mention Mitsuhide’s comment about the woman’s height. “In addition, I doubt you have ever dressed like a prostitute.”
Yoshiko tilted her head. “True enough.”
“Sayuri could have murdered him when she returned from the latrine,” Nobuhide accused.
“I’m afraid not,” Hiro said, “because Sayuri is not left-handed.
“The murder was committed with left-handed strokes that nearly ripped out your father’s throat. Only someone trained in left-handed combat could have struck the initial blow so quickly that the victim had no time to scream or fight.
“I have seen Sayuri play the shamisen, and I have seen her draw a dagger. She is definitely right-handed.”
Hiro looked at Nobuhide, who stood holding his sword with the left hand near the guard and the right below it, just at the base of the hilt. “This is the second time you’ve held your sword with a left-handed stance.”
“But the will made Yoshiko the heir,” Nobuhide said. “Why would I kill my father if I didn’t stand to gain?”
“You were the heir until you killed him,” Hiro said. “The will was created after your father’s death, not years before as Sato claimed. No one had seen it because it didn’t exist until yesterday.”
He looked at Yoshiko. “If I had to guess, I would say that your mother made up the story—and the will—because she worried that Nobuhide would spend your father’s money on himself instead of caring for the family as your father would have wished.”
“She did worry about that,” Yoshiko said. “How did you know the will was forged?”
“Twelve years ago your brother was still a child. His name was Taromaru, not Nobuhide.”
Yoshiko nodded. “I noticed that, too, when she mentioned his childhood name yesterday. When I confronted her after you left, she refused to admit the forgery, but I had already decided to investigate further once the other issues had been resolved.”
“No need for that now,” Hiro said. “The forgery is irrelevant. You have become your father’s heir by force of law.
“A murderer forfeits all legal rights to inheritance, which disqualifies Nobuhide, and even if you were involved in the forgery—which I doubt—forging a will is not a sufficient legal ground to disinherit an otherwise valid heir.”
“So Yoshiko inherits everything Hideyoshi owned?” Mayuri asked.
“Everything,” Hiro repeated. “Without a will, Hideyoshi’s estate will pass to the eldest surviving child who is qualified to inherit under the law. Murder disqualifies Nobuhide.
“Yoshiko is the heir … and in possession of the legal right to execute vengeance for her father’s death.”
Nobuhide narrowed his eyes at his sister. “You wouldn’t kill me. You haven’t got the fortitude.”
“Do not test me,” Yoshiko said. She took a deep breath. “I will not let you live, but I grant you the honor of seppuku. I will even act as your second.”
Nobuhide raised his sword. “I would rather die in battle than by suicide.”
“Even now, you lack the honor to behave as a samurai?” Yoshiko drew her katana with one hand. “You will die today. The only question is how.”
Nobuhide whirled around and slashed at the sliding door that led to the common room. The door cleaved open with a crash, and Nobuhide jumped through the opening.
Yoshiko followed as Hiro jumped backward through the veranda door. Wood splintered and paper tore as Mayuri’s outraged howl split the air.
Hiro raced down the veranda and around the front corner of the teahouse. He heard feet behind him and recognized Father Mateo’s gait. Somewhere inside the teahouse, a woman screamed.
Hiro paused before the swinging doors, uncertain whether to wait or go inside. When no one came out, he went in.
Nobuhide lay sprawled facedown on the floor of the common room. His foot was stuck in the sliding door. His katana rested near the hearth, and Hidetaro was just bending down to pick it up as Hiro and Father Mateo entered the common room from the foyer.
Yoshiko stood over her brother with her katana in one hand and her
wakizashi
in the other.
Nobuhide started to rise but Yoshiko’s voice cut through the silence. “If you move, you die with a sword in your back.”
Nobuhide froze.
Yoshiko sheathed the
wakizashi
and shifted her katana to a two-handed grip. Hiro noted with satisfaction that she held it right-hand dominant, with the right hand above the left.
“Now, get up very slowly.”
Nobuhide stood up and straightened his kimono. He raised his hands and smoothed his hair.
“Don’t make me kill you, Nobu.” Yoshiko sounded on the verge of tears, though her face retained a perfect samurai calm. “It’s bad enough to have a patricide in the family. Don’t add fratricide, even in revenge.”
Nobuhide’s face twisted with sudden and unexpected emotion. “It was his own fault! He never understood my talent. He let them force me into the police instead of insisting the shogun give me a command.
“He wouldn’t even let me join Lord Oda’s forces with Mitsuhide. That’s all I wanted. He didn’t even care!”
“Is that why you did it?” Yoshiko asked. “Because of Mitsuhide?”
“He wouldn’t let me go.” Nobuhide sounded like a child refused a favored toy.
Yoshiko looked at the others. “Leave us.”
“I know what you have to tell him,” Hidetaro said. He looked at Hiro and Father Mateo. “It is a family matter, and private.”
Mayuri led the others into her office. They had barely closed the door when Hiro said, “I’m sorry … may I borrow your vase?”
He reached for the alcove.
“What are you doing?” Mayuri demanded.
“They need privacy, but I need…” He paused.
Mayuri looked horrified. “The latrine is outside.” She pointed. “Go. No one will mind. Don’t you dare touch that vase.”
Hiro slipped out of the house, around the veranda and back into the room where the initial confrontation had occurred. He crept across the floor and listened beside the hole in the door.
“How could you believe our family was split between two daimyo?” Yoshiko was saying. “That one side supports the shogun and one does not?”
“What do you mean?” Nobuhide asked.
“Akechi Mitsuhide joined Lord Oda at the emperor’s command, with the shogun’s knowledge. It was Ashikaga gold—the shogun’s gold—that bought the firearms Mitsuhide took to convince Lord Oda of his fealty.”