“Lord Niu’s daughters,” Lady Niu said, nodding toward a standing screen on one side of the room, halfway between her and Sano.
Through its close-woven lattice, Sano discerned two shadowy figures. Otherwise he could see nothing of the women but a fold of red silk kimono lying on the floor beside the screen. As he watched, a hand snatched it out of sight. He noted that Lady Niu had said “Lord Niu’s” and not “my” daughters. They must be the children of a concubine, placed in Lady Niu’s charge.
“I understand that you have come on official business regarding Yukiko,” Lady Niu said.
“Yes.” Sano was glad that she’d brought it up first. “Regretfully I must trouble you with a few questions.”
Lady Niu lowered her eyes, signifying resigned acceptance. Her expression was serene, like that of a royal beauty in an ancient painting.
Sano had planned his questions carefully. He must avoid giving any sign that he was investigating a murder, and avoid offending the Nius. And he was conscious of the listening daughters behind the screen, no doubt eager for forbidden knowledge. So instead of asking Lady Niu if she believed the deaths were suicide, he said, “Were you surprised by the manner of Miss Yukiko’s demise?”
“Yes, of course,” Lady Niu replied. She paused. “But in retrospect, I am forced to admit that it was sadly in keeping with Yukiko”s character.”
A small gasp issued from behind the screen, so faint that Sano barely heard it.
Evidently Lady Niu didn’t. “Many young girls are influenced too much by the theater, Yoriki Sano,” she said. “As you must have seen from the note that Magistrate Ogyu showed you. You are new to the police service, are you not?”
“Yes. I am.” Her remark caught Sano off guard. He’d taken for granted that those who cared about such matters knew who he was and that he’d been assigned to handle the shinjū, but he hadn’t realized that they included Lady Niu. Most women took no interest in government affairs. Once again he wondered what made Lady Niu different.
Just then a door at the side of the room slid open. A kneeling maid entered, carrying a tray laden with tea utensils and a plate of rice cakes. She rose and crossed the room. When she placed the tray before Sano and poured out the green tea, her hands shook, spilling it all over the tray. Sano saw her tense, pale face and red, swollen eyes.
“O-hisa! Take that tray away and bring another at once!” Lady Niu’s voice was sharp with impatience.
The maid burst into tears. Her sobs rent the quietness. She picked up the tray, but her fumbling hands tilted the cakes onto the floor. Sano reached over to help her, wondering at her extreme reaction to Lady Niu’s scolding. Had something else- perhaps grief for Yukiko-caused it?
“Eii-chan, see to her,” Lady Niu ordered.
For a large man, Eii-chan moved quickly, the instant before Lady Niu spoke, as if anticipating her order. In a flash, he was across the room. He put the cakes back on the tray, picked it up, and seized the weeping maid’s arm with one fluid movement. He deposited both tray and maid outside the door, and returned to his position almost before Sano could blink, with a face as impassive as a carved No mask. Despite his doltish appearance, he was an efficient servant and probably more perceptive and capable of independent thought than his masters might suspect.
“I regret the inconvenience caused you by my clumsy maid,”
Lady Niu said. Then she tilted her head and frowned as if she heard something that displeased her.
Sano heard the muffled sobs, too. They came from the daughters behind the lattice screen. Were they also weeping for Yukiko? Sano thought he sensed a strange emotional undercurrent in the house. Comprised of what? Fear? Despair? Or did his knowledge that Yukiko had been murdered color his judgment?
“Midori. Keiko. Leave us.” At Lady Niu’s soft command the sobbing stopped. Then scuffles, footsteps; a door hidden by the screen opened and closed. The daughters had gone, without Sano’s seeing them.
“It is best that we not discuss this matter any further in the presence of innocent young girls,” Lady Niu said. “Now what else do you want to know?”
Just then the door O-hisa had come through slid open again. Sano, glad for the chance to collect his thoughts, turned to look at the young man who stood there.
“Forgive me for the interruption, Mother,” the man said, “but the priest is here to see you about the arrangements for Yukiko’s funeral.”
For the first time, Lady Niu seemed uneasy. Her hands went up as if to push the man from the room. Then she folded them in her lap again and said woodenly, “Yoriki Sano, may I present my son, Niu Masahito, Lord Niu’s youngest.”
Sano bowed, acknowledging the introduction. He was struck by Lady and young Lord Niu’s resemblance. They shared the same facial beauty and strong physique. Lord Niu’s upper body showed signs of rigorous physical training: broad shoulders, clearly defined muscles in his neck and in the parts of his arms and chest not covered by his somber gray and black kimono. But Lord Niu’s feverishly bright eyes gave his face an intensity that his mother’s lacked. While Lady Niu appeared tall even when kneeling, her son was short. Although his carriage and the timbre of his voice put him in his early twenties, he stood no higher than a boy many years younger. Sano had heard Lord Niu Masamune called the “Little Daimyo” because of his size, so at odds with his status. His son took after him.
“Masahito, perhaps you would like to speak with the priest yourself.” Lady Niu’s voice held the merest hint of warning.
But Lord Niu didn’t take the hint. He crossed the room to kneel at one side of the dais, facing Sano. He had a slightly stiff gait, and when he knelt he used both hands to position his right leg beside the other.
“Yoriki Sano is here to discuss some administrative matters regarding Yukiko’s death,” Lady Niu told her son. “They need not concern you.”
“On the contrary, Mother. I can’t think of anything that would interest me more.” Lord Niu waved an imperious hand at Sano. “Continue. Please.”
Lord Niu’s presence worried Sano. It was a distraction that might render Lady Niu less cooperative, and himself more likely to make a misstep. Still, he was glad of a chance to meet another member of Yukiko’s family.
“What was Miss Yukiko like?” he said, longing to ask whether she had had any enemies, but forced to disguise his intent with a polite query. “How did she get along with others?”
Lady Niu spoke quickly, as if to prevent her son from answering. “Yukiko was secretive. She kept her thoughts to herself. Still, she was a most gentle and accomplished girl. Everyone admired her.”
“Everyone, Mother?” Lord Niu put in, emphasizing the first word.
He seemed to enjoy baiting her, but except for one pleading glance, she didn’t react. She evidently indulged her son, tolerating behavior from him that would earn a daughter harsh punishment. Sano decided that Lord Niu’s presence had an advantage after all. His remark clearly contradicted his mother’s portrait of Yukiko.
“Who did not?” Sano asked Lord Niu directly.
Lady Niu intercepted the question. “Masahito is only joking. There was no one who did not hold Yukiko in the highest regard.”