The girl's face crumpled. Tears shone in her eyes. "It's my fault Tengu-in was kidnapped."
Sano couldn't believe that this innocent-looking girl was in any way responsible for the crime. "How so?"
"We were supposed to stay with her. I should have watched out for her." Ume sobbed as she gazed down at Tengu-in, who seemed oblivious. "Instead, I ran ahead with the other novices. She was too slow. She couldn't keep up."
Sano envisioned the old woman hobbling through the temple grounds in the wake of the young, exuberant girls. Perhaps they had been negligent, but he said, "You're not to blame. You couldn't have known she was in danger."
"But I was doing something I shouldn't have been." Shamefaced yet eager to unburden herself, Ume said, "There was a group of novices from the monastery down the street. We-the other girls and I…"
The picture became clear to Sano. The girls had wanted to flirt with the young monks, so they'd run away from their chaperone. Joining a religious order didn't rid people of their natural human desires.
"I feel so guilty," Ume said as she wept. "I wish I could make up for what I did."
"Here's your chance," Sano said. "Help me catch the man who hurt her. When you were at the temple, did you see anyone or anything that looked suspicious?"
"No," Ume said, wiping her tears on her sleeve. "I've tried and tried to remember, but I don't."
Whoever had kidnapped Tengu-in couldn't have just suddenly appeared out of nowhere, swooped down on her like an eagle from the sky, and spirited her away, Sano thought. He would have had to single her out of the crowd, to await an opportunity to take her without anyone seeing.
He must have been watching her.
"Think back to the time before you and the other girls left Tengu-in," Sano said. "Did you notice anyone paying particular attention to your group?"
Ume pondered, then shook her head.
"Anyone following you?" Sano persisted.
"No. I'm sorry. I was busy looking at the monks." Then she frowned, as if startled by a memory forgotten until now.
"What is it?" Sano asked.
"I did see someone."
"At the temple?" Sano's pulse began to race in anticipation.
"No, not there. And not then. It was the day before. Outside the convent."
Maybe the kidnapper had had his eye on the nuns. Maybe he'd been spying on the convent, lying in wait for his chance to kidnap one. "Tell me what happened," Sano said urgently.
"It was after morning prayers. I sneaked outside." Ume's face flushed. "The monks walk past the convent on their way to the city. There's one that I-well, when he goes by, he smiles at me." Pleasure and guilt mingled in her voice. "That day, I missed him. But I saw a man standing in the street."
"Who was he?"
"I don't know. I'd never seen him before. Nor since."
"Can you describe him?"
"I didn't get a very good look. As soon as he saw me, he turned and walked away." Ume squinted, trying to bring the remembered glimpse of him into focus. "He was tall and strong. His hair was so short, the skin on his head showed through. He was old, about thirty."
Sano winced: He himself was forty-three, which she probably considered ancient. "What was he wearing?"
"A dark blue kimono."
Every commoner in Japan owned a cotton kimono dyed with indigo. And many of them cut their hair short to discourage fleas and lice. "Did his face have any distinctive features?"
"He looked like he hadn't shaved in a while." Ume brightened at a fresh recollection. "He had a big scab, here." She touched her right cheekbone. "I remember thinking he must have been in an accident or a fight."
That wasn't unusual, either. Sano pressed for more details, but Ume could provide none. "Did you see an oxcart?"
"No. I'm sorry," she said, gazing unhappily at Tengu-in, who prayed, rocked, and apparently had not heard any of the conversation.
But the oxcart could have been parked nearby, out of sight. The man she'd seen could have been the driver, who might have kidnapped Tengu-in, Chiyo, and Jirocho's daughter, too.
"You've been very helpful," Sano said.
"You'll catch him, won't you?" she said, with touching faith.
"I will," Sano vowed. He dared to think that he had a lead at last.
14
The marketplace in Ueno extended along the approach to the foot of the hill where Kannei Temple stood. Hirata rode past shops that sold boxwood combs and ear-cleaners and teahouses where customers ate rice steamed in lotus leaves, a local specialty. The street widened into the Broad Little Road, home to stalls and booths crammed with all sorts of goods. A few dancers, puppeteers, and acrobats entertained crowds diminished by the rain. Beneath the lively, colorful bustle of the market, Hirata saw its dark underpinnings.
Tattooed gangsters roamed, looking for any traders who didn't belong there, keeping an eye out for thieves. This was Jirocho's domain. He controlled the allocation of the stalls, shops, teahouses, and booths, collected rents from the vendors, paid tributes to the temple and taxes to the government, and kept a generous cut of the profits for himself. Here his daughter had sought refuge after he'd turned her loose.
Hirata rode down the aisles of stalls, looking for a twelve-year-old girl on her own. The market swarmed with children unaccompanied by parents. The orphans of Edo flocked to its temple markets in hope of food and alms. Children with dirty faces and dirtier bare feet, dressed in rags, grabbed scraps of food dropped outside the stalls and begged coins from the customers. They were such a usual part of the city scene that Hirata had never paid them much attention. Now he scrutinized the girls for some hours until he found one who looked to be the right age. She squatted on the ground, gnawing a rice ball. Long, matted hair hung over her face. She wore a white kimono printed with green leaves; it was torn and muddy.
"Fumiko-san?" Hirata called.
The girl looked up. She had elfin features marred by fading bruises around her eyes and scabs on her cheeks. Surprised to hear her name, frightened by the sight of Hirata, she crammed the food into her mouth and ran.
Hirata jumped off his horse and chased her. Fumiko was quick, darting through the crowds. But his longer stride gave Hirata an advantage, and he could follow the unique, starburst pattern of her energy. He tracked her to the narrow back streets where local brothels employed illegal prostitutes. Dressed in their trademark aprons, the women bargained with customers outside their rooms. Hirata cornered Fumiko in a doorway. She stood with her hands inside her sleeves, panting and trembling.
"Don't be afraid," Hirata said.
Her eyes gleamed with feral panic. After two months of living on the streets, she already looked more animal than human.
"I'm not going to hurt you." Hirata introduced himself, then said, "I want to help you."
Incredulity wrinkled her dirt-smeared brow. Hirata wasn't surprised that she didn't believe him. Why should she trust any man, after one had kidnapped, raped, and apparently beaten her, and her own father had cast her off?
His heart went out to the girl. Extending his hand, he said, "Come with me. I'll take you to a place where you'll be safe, and-"
Fumiko whipped her right hand out of her sleeve. She lashed at his face with a knife clutched in her fingers. Startled, he leaped backward just in time to avoid a nasty cut. Fumiko lunged around him and fled.
"Hey!" Hirata called. "Wait!"
But she was gone.
Sano arrived home in late afternoon. The sun was a pale, shimmering pearl behind gray clouds. In the courtyard, grooms took charge of his and his men's horses, which were spattered in mud from hooves to flanks. On the veranda of his mansion, servants rid Sano of his wet hat and cape. His secretary appeared and said, "Major Kumazawa is here to see you."
Sano was surprised that his uncle would come, without advance notice or invitation. They'd not parted on very good terms yesterday. "Show him into the reception room."