"I couldn't agree more," Major Kumazawa said with controlled hostility. "And since you insist on pursuing the matter of those other women, I will lead my own troops in a hunt for the man who raped my daughter."
"I've been meaning to speak to you about that," Sano said. "When I was looking for Chiyo, I came across many people that you and your men had bullied and threatened while you were looking for her."
"So we shook them up a little," Major Kumazawa said. "I did what I had to do."
"That's not the way to conduct an investigation," Sano said. "At best, it'll make people less willing to cooperate than if you treated them politely. At worst, you'll get false confessions, punish innocent folks, and waste your time. If you keep on, you'll only make my job harder. So don't interfere."
Major Kumazawa glared. "It's my daughter who was hurt. It's my right to avenge her."
"I certainly understand your position." If Akiko were hurt, Sano wouldn't let anyone stand between him and her attacker. "But I'm not going to change mine. Stay out of the investigation. That's an order."
Major Kumazawa flushed with humiliation because Sano had pulled rank on him yet again. "And if I don't obey?" he said, even though they both knew he must.
"You saw all the people in my anteroom. Hundreds of them come to see me every day. They all want me to do things for them. I don't need this investigation to keep me busy."
Now Major Kumazawa laughed, scorning Sano's hint that he would abandon the quest for justice for Chiyo unless Major Kumazawa cooperated. "No, but you won't walk away from Chiyo. Everybody knows your reputation. Once you've committed to doing something, you don't give up. You're an honorable man, I'll give you that. You would never break your word."
That had always been true in the past. Sano kept his promises and stayed the course even at the risk of his life. But things had begun to change when his mother had been accused of murder and Sano had learned that his background was different from what he'd always believed. During his investigation into the murder, he'd done things he'd never thought himself capable of; in particular, staging the trial and execution of Yoritomo, his onetime friend. Sano felt as if discovering the truth about his family had altered him in some fundamental way.
He no longer knew what he would or wouldn't do.
He wanted justice for Chiyo, but he was vexed by how his uncle treated him even while he was doing the Kumazawa clan a favor. Come to think of it, Sano was fed up after years of other people, the shogun among them, demanding service from him while throwing obstacles at him. Bushido dictated that he do his duty to his lord and his family without minding how they treated him or expecting rewards, but still…
Might he walk away from this investigation before it was done?
It wouldn't hurt to let his uncle think so.
"There's always a first time," Sano said.
15
Shinobazu Pond was a popular attraction in the Ueno temple district. Lotus plants bloomed on its wide expanse. A causeway led from the shore to an island in the middle, upon which stood a shrine dedicated to the goddess Benten. Along the embankments around the pond, teahouses offered splendid views and rooms for lovers to spend the night.
Today Hirata found the pond desolate in the rain that had started to fall again. Egrets stood like white specters among the lotus leaves in the mist. Lumber lay piled in the mud near the approach to the causeway. Teahouse proprietors stood on their verandas, gloomily surveying the scene. When they saw Hirata climb off his horse and walk toward them, they brightened and called, "Welcome, honorable master!"
One youthful, agile man with an ear-to-ear smile ran from his teahouse and intercepted Hirata. "Come in, come in. May I serve you a drink?"
"Yes, please," Hirata said, glad to get out of the rain.
Inside a room that smelled of mildewed tatami, the proprietor heated sake over a charcoal brazier. Two other men wandered in, perhaps hoping to woo Hirata to their establishments later. Hirata drank. The liquor was cheap and harsh, but it relieved the chill of the wet day. Introductions were exchanged; then Hirata said, "I'm investigating the kidnapping of Jirocho's daughter."
The three men nodded. The proprietor, whose name was Kanroku, said, "We heard about it. Such a terrible shame."
"I wouldn't wish that on anyone, not even Jirocho," said another man, called Geki. He was in his fifties, with a sardonically humorous face accented by bushy eyebrows.
"Did you see anything suspicious the day Fumiko was kidnapped?" Hirata said.
"Not a thing. We didn't even know she was gone until Jirocho sent his men looking for her," Geki answered.
The third man, named Hachibei, who was old, white-haired, and spry, said, "Neither did anyone else we know. Everybody said it was as if she'd vanished into thin air."
Just as Chiyo had, Hirata recalled. "What about when she turned up?" he asked.
"That I did see," Geki said, "being that I'm the one who found her."
"Tell me what happened," Hirata said.
"It was an hour or so before dawn. I woke up because I needed to make water. When I was finished, I heard whimpering out there." Geki pointed toward the embankment. "I went to have a look." His humorous face turned somber. "She was lying on the ground. Her clothes were torn and she was bleeding between her legs. I recognized her right away. She used to hang around here a lot."
"She was always either by herself or with some young toughs from her father's gang," Kanroku the proprietor said. "I thought it was wrong for Jirocho to let her run wild like that."
"Me, too," old Hachibei said, "but who are we to tell a gang boss what to do?"
"I always said Fumiko would get in trouble someday, and I was right," the proprietor said wisely.
"People are saying that she wasn't kidnapped, that she went with a man, and then he got tired of her and dumped her," Geki said. "If it's true, then Jirocho was right to throw her out. I'd have done the same."
People were eager to blame the victim for the crime, Hirata thought. He asked, "When you found her, did you see anyone else around?"
"Not until I called for help and people woke up and came outside. Then I sent a servant to tell Jirocho. He came and took her home."
And then, upon learning she was damaged goods, he'd punished her.
"Did you hear anything?" Hirata asked.
Geki shook his head, then stopped as a look of sudden, surprised recollection came over his face. "Wait. I did."
Hirata felt a stir of excitement. "What?"
"Wagon wheels clattering," Geki said. "An oxcart."
Maybe it was the same one that had been sighted in the alley where Sano's cousin had been dumped. "But you didn't see it or the driver?"
"Not then," Geki said, "but maybe the day before. It could have been the fellow who brought that lumber outside."
"Who was that?"
"I don't know his name."
"Can you describe him?" Hirata said hopefully.
"He was about twenty-five," Geki said. "He had two missing teeth." He pointed at the two teeth to the right of his own big, yellowish front ones.
"Yes, that's right," the proprietor said. "I saw him, too. If he's the man that hurt Fumiko, I hope you catch him, the bastard."
After Major Kumazawa left, Sano felt simultaneously fatigued and riled up, as if he'd been in a fight that had no winner. And so he had. He rolled his shoulders, easing tense muscles. He'd put off his usual business of governing Japan, and he still had a long day of work ahead of him. He received the rest of his callers. By the time everyone was gone, it was late in the evening. Seated at his desk, Sano reviewed the most urgent reports and correspondence until his secretary came to the door and said, "Toda Ikkyu is here."
"Bring him in."
Toda entered, knelt, and bowed. He resembled a shadow in his gray clothes, in the dim light, his nondescript face bland.