The Perfumed Sleeve (23 page)

Agemaki managed a grim smile.

“We have new potions for softening calluses,” said the proprietor. “Would you like to try them?” When the women agreed, he immersed their hands and feet in basins of fragrant oil. Then he and the clerk left to attend other customers.

“I’m so worried about Koheiji and me,” Okitsu said.

Agemaki prepared to endure another tiresome discussion about Okitsu’s romantic affairs. She always marveled that the girl would talk about them to anyone willing to listen. She wasn’t as discreet as Agemaki, who knew that she must not say anything that would put her in a bad light.

“I love Koheiji so much,” Okitsu said. “Sometimes I think he loves me, and other times I’m not so sure.” Her anxious gaze met Agemaki’s eyes in the mirror. “Do you think he loves me?”

“I think he loves you as much as it’s possible for him to love anyone.” Besides himself, the conceited oaf, thought Agemaki. “You give him such pleasure.” And that’s the only reason he wants a whining, clinging nuisance like you. “Accept what he’s capable of giving. Don’t expect more.” Because if you nag him, you’ll lose him, and you’ll cry while I laugh.

A breathy sigh issued from Okitsu. “I guess you’re right,” she said doubtfully. “But do you think he’ll marry me?

“If you make a special pilgrimage to Kannei Temple, maybe he will.” And maybe monkeys will fly.

Reassured, Okitsu smiled. “I’m so glad I have you to talk to. You’re so wise, even though it must be hard for you to understand what it’s like to be young and in love.”

Agemaki gritted her teeth while her hands curled into claws in the basin of oil. She envisioned bloody red scratches on Okitsu’s face. “Someday you’ll understand that you don’t know as much as you thought you did when you were young. If you live long enough.”

Blind to Agemaki’s implicit threat, Okitsu said, “Oh, I forgot—you have experienced love. You were in love with Senior Elder Makino. But I can’t imagine how you could love that mean, ugly old man.” Okitsu gave an exaggerated shudder of revulsion.

Agemaki wished the
sōsakan-sama
were here to see how much Okitsu had hated Makino. He would arrest Okitsu for the murder, which would delight Agemaki. “I loved my husband for his excellent qualities,” Agemaki said. Money and power excused most evils in a man.

Okitsu looked unconvinced. “You didn’t mind when I came along. You’ve always been so nice to me. If some woman had a man I wanted, I would hate her. I think I’d kill her.”

Agemaki remembered slipping poisonous herbs into an old lady’s tea. “A man can always get more women,” she said. “One can’t do away with all of one’s competition.” She knew there were people who suspected that she’d killed Makino’s first wife. If not for fear that another mysterious death of a woman in his household would get her in trouble, Agemaki would have dispatched Okitsu to the netherworld a long time ago.

“But weren’t you furious at Makino? I’ve never seen him pay you any attention. He didn’t want you; he wanted me.” Okitsu spoke as though it were an indisputable truth that any man in his right mind would prefer her to Agemaki. Completely insensitive to Agemaki’s feelings, she said, “If a man treated me like that, I’d kill him.”

Resentment stung Agemaki. “If Koheiji did, you would fall on your knees to welcome him back,” she said.

Okitsu gazed at her in wounded surprise. “I wouldn’t!”

Agemaki thought perhaps she’d gone too far and revealed too much of her true feelings to Okitsu. “I’m just teasing you,” she said with a kindly smile. “But let us imagine that Koheiji did betray you. Then you would do better to kill him than kill all your rivals. You’d have a better chance of getting away with one murder than with many. And to punish him would be more satisfying than to waste your vengeance on people who don’t matter as much.”

The night Senior Elder Makino died, Agemaki had exulted in having him helpless at her mercy. Such savage joy of venting her rage at him for the humiliation he’d caused her! In some ways his death hadn’t been as good as she’d hoped, but she’d decided that things had turned out for the best.

“No matter what Koheiji did to me or how badly I felt toward him, I would miss him if he died,” said Okitsu.

“A woman does tend to miss a man,” Agemaki said, “especially when he’s given her everything she has in the world.” She thought fondly of the big estate in Edo Castle, the servants, the expensive clothes. “But the company of a man is worth much less than what he leaves behind after he has gone to his grave.” Agemaki cherished the money Makino had left her. “And when a woman has managed to secure her future, she has no need of any man—or fear of any rival. No one can take away what’s rightfully hers.”

Gone was her privileged status as the senior elder’s wife, but luckily he’d died before he’d divorced Agemaki, remarried, and reneged on the inheritance he’d promised her. Agemaki was glad she’d behaved with shrewdness rather than follow her emotions. And as long as she continued thus, she wouldn’t be punished for Makino’s murder. Everything would be fine.

Reiko hovered outside the private room of the Yanagiya, peering through a gap in the curtains at Agemaki and Okitsu, astounded by what she’d heard.

None of the words Agemaki had spoken showed her to be anything but the decent, honorable widow that Sano had described, the wife who’d gladly tolerated her beloved husband’s infidelity. But Reiko had perceived her subtle expressions and the undertones in her voice, even though Okitsu was apparently oblivious to them. They painted Agemaki as a jealous, deceitful woman who hated Okitsu for taking her place in Makino’s affections and bedchamber.

They were tantamount to a confession that she’d not only killed Makino to punish him and safeguard her inheritance, but previously killed his first wife so she could marry him in the first place.

Yet Agemaki hadn’t actually admitted to the crimes. She hadn’t said anything that couldn’t be interpreted some other way than Reiko had, or that Sano would deem proof of her guilt. Reiko needed more evidence besides veiled remarks and her own intuition.

The proprietor brushed past Reiko and entered the private room. Reiko heard him selling Agemaki and Okitsu the merchandise they’d tried. Soon the two women left the shop and climbed into their palanquin. Reiko and the other maids followed them down the street, laden with packages tied in cloth bundles. As they wended through the
daimyo
district toward Edo Castle, Reiko saw soldiers pouring out from the walled estates and palanquins filled with women and children, escorted by mounted troops and followed by servants carrying baggage. The feudal lords were evacuating their families—a sure sign that war had begun.

A sudden thought distracted Reiko from her fear. Since beginning her employment as a maid and spy in Makino’s house, she’d not had any bad spells. Had her mind been too occupied for the evil magic to penetrate? Maybe real dangers had exorcised the imaginary ones that haunted her. But there was no such ready cure for the evils that now threatened all of Japan.

23

This morning we’ll investigate Daiemon’s murder,” Sano told the detectives gathered in his office. “That crime is foremost in the shogun’s mind. The Makino case will have to wait.” Furthermore, Sano already had an array of suspects associated with the first crime, while the unexplored trail of the second was fast going cold. “We’ll search the area around the Sign of Bedazzlement for witnesses. We’ll try to find out who and where the woman is.”

A manservant came to the door. “Excuse me, master, but Ibe-
san
and Otani-
san
have arrived. They’re waiting for you.”

Sano went to the reception room, where the watchdogs sat side by side. Ibe said, “Before we begin the day’s business, we need to have a talk.”

The men’s sinister air put Sano on his guard. “About what?”

“Sit down,
Sōsakan-sama
,” said Otani.

Sano warily knelt opposite the men.

“The events of last night require a change in your procedure,” Ibe said.

“What kind of change?” Sano saw that the watchdogs knew he’d alienated Lord Matsudaira and Chamberlain Yanagisawa. Probably the whole
bakufu
would know before long. There would be no more visits from men courting him on behalf of either faction. Sano had hoped Ibe and Otani would stop trying to coerce him now that their superiors had realized that he was a lost cause, but they obviously had other ideas.

“You must conclude the investigation as soon as possible, with the minimum amount of fuss,” Otani said.

“From now on, you will not investigate Chamberlain Yanagisawa in connection with the murders of Daiemon and Senior Elder Makino,” said Ibe.

“Nor will you investigate Lord Matsudaira,” said Otani.

“On whose orders?” Sano demanded, amazed at how far they meant to stretch their interference.

A glance between Ibe and Otani united them. “On ours,” Ibe said.

Whatever obedience Sano owed Lord Matsudaira and Chamberlain Yanagisawa didn’t extend to their lackeys, whose hindrance had vexed him enough already. “I’ll not let you dictate whom I will or won’t investigate,” Sano said. “What makes you think you can command me?”

Otani gave Sano a condescending look. “You don’t seem to understand that the rules of the game have been changed by Daiemon’s murder and your own decision to cut yourself off from both Lord Matsudaira and Chamberlain Yanagisawa.”

“And you don’t seem to understand that following our orders will be to your advantage.” Scorn inflected Ibe’s voice. “Let me explain. Should you persist in investigating Lord Matsudaira or Chamberlain Yanagisawa, the outcome is sure to displease one of them. Steer clear of them both and save yourself a lot of trouble.”

Sano began to perceive the reason behind his watchdogs’ orders. “Somehow I don’t think my welfare is what concerns you most,” he said. “Do your superiors know about this?”

“Lord Matsudaira and Chamberlain Yanagisawa are very busy men,” Otani said. “They don’t bother themselves with everything their retainers do to serve their interests.”

“I’m sure that if one of them is responsible for killing Daiemon or Senior Elder Makino, he would prefer that I didn’t find out,” Sano said. “But I don’t think your superiors’ interests are your main concern, either. What do you gain from colluding together behind their backs?”

An unpleasant smile compressed Ibe’s mouth. "Let’s just say that we, as well as our masters, will benefit if the murders are no longer a factor in the crisis at hand.”

Enlightenment dawned. “What you mean is that you each fear that your superior is guilty of murder,” Sano said, “and neither of you wishes to be punished as an associate. You want Chamberlain Yanagisawa and Lord Matsudaira to be free to settle their differences on the battlefield because you’d rather take your chances on the outcome of a war than gamble on the result of the murder investigation.”

Silence was Ibe and Otani’s assent. Sano realized that Daiemon’s murder had left nothing unchanged and the repercussions continued. Although he had no intention of obeying his watchdogs, curiosity led him to ask, “What am I supposed to do while I’m not investigating Chamberlain Yanagisawa or Lord Matsudaira?”

“There are other suspects to occupy you,” Otani said. “We recommend that you concentrate on Senior Elder Makino’s women.”

“Why them?”

“They were in the private chambers the night Makino died,” Ibe said. “Chances are one is the murderer.”

“The same logic applies to Makino’s chief retainer and resident actor,” Sano said. “Are you warning me off them, too?”

Otani inclined his head in an almost imperceptible nod, which Sano interpreted to mean that Tamura had friends in the Yanagisawa camp, and Koheiji had enthusiasts in both factions, who might object if they were incriminated.

“And you needn’t investigate Daiemon’s murder at all,” Otani said. “It’s most certainly connected to the murder of Senior Elder Makino. The same culprit will do for both.”

“Then you expect me to pin the murder on Agemaki or Okitsu, and which one doesn’t matter, because they’re both nobodies as far as you’re concerned. You don’t care if they’re innocent and the killer goes free. All you want is to protect your own skins.” Sano’s voice rose with his mounting anger. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’ll conduct this investigation as I see fit, according to my orders from the shogun.”

Otani and Ibe shared a glance that said they’d underestimated Sano’s capacity for defiance. Ibe said, “His Excellency will like our solution to the crimes.”

“If Lord Matsudaira comes out on top, I’ll put in a good word for you with him,” Otani said.

“I’ll put in a good word for you with Chamberlain Yanagisawa, should he win,” Ibe said.

“Do as we advise, and everyone will be happy,” Otani said.

“Not I,” Sano declared, furious now. “What you advise is a travesty of justice. I’ll take no part in it.”

Otani and Ibe nodded to each other, as if resigned to a course of action they’d predicted to be necessary but hoped to avoid. “Our apologies, but you will,” Ibe told Sano.

Armed troops barreled past the doorway, pursued by Sano’s detectives. Voices rose in loud argument as the detectives tried to stop the intruders. Sano leaped to his feet. “What’s going on?” he demanded.

“Force often persuades when reason fails,” Otani said, smug as well as regretful.

Hirata, accompanied by Detectives Marume and Fukida, rushed into the room. “Ibe’s and Otani’s troops got past the gate sentries,” Hirata said. “By the time we found out and tried to stop them, they’d already overrun the estate.”

“Get them out of my house!” Sano ordered. As Hirata, Marume, and Fukida hastened off to obey, Sano turned to Otani and Ibe. “Go call off your troops!”

The watchdogs remained seated, nervous yet steadfast. Sano rushed toward the door, then stopped as two soldiers walked into the room. Masahiro toddled between them, his little hands clasped in their large, armor-gloved ones. He smiled as though delighted to have two new friends. They grinned as if they’d just captured a valuable prize. Horror stabbed Sano.

“Let go of my son!” he shouted.

The soldiers held tight to Masahiro, whose face puckered in confusion at his father’s outburst. Ibe addressed the soldiers: “Where is Lady Reiko?”

“We couldn’t find her,” replied a soldier.

“Never mind,” Otani said. “The boy will serve our purpose well enough.”

Incensed, Sano grabbed Otani by the front of his surcoat. “Tell me what’s going on!”

Otani wrenched Sano’s hands off him and stood. “Our men will keep your son company during the investigation.”

“Which ought to ensure that you do as we say,” Ibe added as he rose.

“You’re holding my son hostage.” Disbelief filled Sano even as he couldn’t deny the obvious truth.

“Yes, if you must put it so bluntly,” Ibe said.

“Papa?” Masahiro said.

His plaintive voice trembled with fright because he sensed that something was amiss even if he didn’t understand what. Sano’s horror escalated because he must choose between justice and his son’s safety. For once he was glad that Reiko was gone. Perhaps she was safer in Senior Elder Makino’s estate than here.

Hirata rushed into the room, followed by a horde of detectives, shouting, “Release my master’s son!”

He and the detectives drew their swords. So did Ibe and Otani. Their troops crowded through the door, brandishing their weapons. The room went silent except for the sound of rapid, harsh breathing; antagonism permeated the air. Masahiro stared, wide-eyed, at everyone. His throat contracted as he bravely tried not to cry. Sano stood paralyzed, his hand on the hilt of his sword. Otani and Ibe faced him down. Sano realized that they were serious enough in their wish to subjugate him that they would risk a fight. He also realized that unless he wanted combat in his house—and Masahiro accidentally wounded or killed—he must submit.

“Everybody, put away your weapons,” he said, dropping his hand from his own sword.

Metal rasped as blades slid into scabbards. Sano felt the tension in the air slacken but not dissipate, like a rope stretched between two men who have relaxed their grip without letting go. Triumph marked the faces of the aggressors. Sano saw his own defeat and humiliation reflected in his men’s eyes. He also saw that while the scope of the investigation had widened to include two murders, his watchdogs had seriously impaired his ability to solve either.

“A wise decision,
Sōsakan-sama
,” said Otani. “We really wouldn’t like to harm you. And you don’t want to find out what will happen to your son should you resist us.”

“Are you really going to follow Otani and Ibe’s orders?” Hirata asked, incredulous because he’d never seen Sano back down for anyone. Yet he knew from experience that a man can be driven beyond the bounds of honor by the need to protect his kin.

“As long as they’re holding my son hostage, what else can I do?” Sano said with bitter resignation.

Hirata and Sano stood in the stable, where Sano had gone to fetch his horse while Otani and Ibe waited for him outside the gate. Sano had covertly signaled Hirata to follow him. After a short delay, Hirata had slipped past the troops now occupying the estate and joined Sano. Horses snorted and munched feed; stableboys shoveled manure out of the stalls, while a groom saddled a mount for Sano.

“Now I can better understand what you did at the Dragon King’s island,” Sano said.

Hirata derived no satisfaction from seeing his master put in the same position that had led himself to ruin. He didn’t want Sano forced to compromise himself. He counted on Sano to uphold the honor of the samurai class.

“My hands are tied.” But even as Sano admitted defeat, cunning inspiration gleamed in his eyes. “But yours aren’t.”

Hirata felt a sudden resurgence of the hope that he’d thought impossible.

“You’re officially banned from the investigation,” Sano continued. “No one is watching you. You can go places and talk to people that I can’t. I need you to reinvestigate Koheiji and Tamura in the light of what we’ve learned about them. I need to know if they have any connection to Daiemon’s murder. But I can’t do it with Otani and Ibe shadowing me and ready to harm my son if I step out of line. Therefore, I’m ordering you to act on my behalf.”