"Go ahead. He'll tell you the same thing: We were together."
Hirata spied a new twist in the case. "Maybe you were in on the kidnapping together, too. That would have made it easier to grab the women and get them into the oxcart." But Sano's cousin Chiyo seemed to think she'd been raped by one man alone. "Did you take turns? He raped the little girl, you raped the nun?"
Anger erased the good cheer from Gombei's expression. "We didn't do it. I'll vouch for him. He'll vouch for me."
"You're pretty loyal to Jinshichi," Hirata observed.
"Yes, indeed," Gombei said. "Because I owe him my life. We were in the mountains, hauling wood, and my cart ran off the road. I was caught hanging by one hand over a cliff. Jinshichi pulled me up. He saved me."
"That explains why you would want to protect him. Why should he care about protecting you?" Hirata added, "He can say that you kidnapped and raped those women, and walk out of here a free man, while you go to the execution ground."
"He won't. Because he owes me, too. A while back, we went swimming in the river. He got swept away by a current. I saved him." So there, Gombei's expression said.
"Old obligations can be easily put aside when new circumstances arise," Hirata said. "You and Jinshichi each have a chance to tell tales on the other and save your own life. Who'll be the smart one?"
Gombei shook his head. "Jinshichi and I always stick together. We always will."
Hirata saw that they had a bond of loyalty as strong as that between a samurai and his master. What threat might change Gombei's story? "I give up, then. I'll let Jirocho decide which one of you is guilty or if both of you are."
Gombei's wary expression showed that he knew of the gangster boss. "What's Jirocho got to do with this?"
"The little girl who was kidnapped is his daughter."
"Well, I'll be," Gombei said, astonished. "Anybody who would touch anything that belonged to him is a fool."
"Indeed. He's looking to get revenge," Hirata said. "Maybe I'll turn you and your friend over to Jirocho. He'll get the truth out of you. Then he'll kill you both, no matter which of you actually raped his daughter and which of you was the accomplice."
Gombei's eyes sparkled with fear of what a gangster out for blood would do. But he shrugged, grinned, and said, "Whatever you want. We all have to die sometime."
Sano, Marume, and Fukida met Hirata outside the dungeon. Jailers escorted new prisoners into the building and led inmates out to go to the court of justice or the execution ground. No one looked happy-not the jailers, prisoners, or Sano's party.
"What did you get out of your suspect?" Sano asked Hirata.
"Gombei claims he's innocent," Hirata replied. "He also says he and Jinshichi are each other's alibi."
"Let me guess," Sano said. "He refused to turn on his friend."
"Right you are."
"So did my suspect." Frustration vexed Sano.
"Those men look like ordinary no-goods, but they're tougher than the rest," Marume commented.
Fukida asked Hirata, "Do you think yours is guilty?"
"Yes," Hirata said, although he seemed uncertain.
"Same here," Sano said. "But there's no evidence. All we have is one witness who saw Jinshichi lurking outside the convent, and one who saw Gombei at Shinobazu Pond."
"Neither man was placed at the scene of the kidnappings at the times they happened," Hirata reminded everyone.
"Or seen in the vicinity when the victims were dumped." Sano had had great hopes for solving the case today, but now the investigation had stalled. "And it doesn't look as if any confessions will be forthcoming."
"If you want confessions, just say the word," Hirata said.
Sano remembered that Hirata knew ways of inflicting pain with or without permanent physical damage. There wasn't a man on earth who could hold out. But Sano said, "No. I'm still opposed to torture. I know those men are guilty, but I won't act on my judgment, or yours, without proof to back it up."
That was part of his code of honor, which seemed particularly difficult to uphold today, when he wanted to punish someone for what had happened to Chiyo and the other women.
Hirata nodded. He shared Sano's principles, if not to the same degree.
"Besides," Sano said, "there's a chance that we're wrong about those men even though we don't think so. If that's the case, it would be a miscarriage of justice for Gombei and Jinshichi to die for the crimes while the real culprit goes free."
"Then we'll find proof." Hirata sounded just as determined to solve the case as Sano was. "Shall I go back to Shinobazu Pond and look for other witnesses?"
Fukida said, "Marume-san and I could sniff around Zj Temple district."
Sano supposed that he himself could go back to Asakusa, but there must be some other way to quicker results. Into his mind popped a strategy he'd never had reason to use before.
"Not just yet," Sano said. "I have another plan."
20
Along the Sumida River northwest of the castle, upstream from the ware houses and docks, stretched a wide embankment planted with cherry trees. It was popular in springtime, when the trees were in flower and the people of Edo flocked to picnic in the pavilions, drink in the teahouses along the path, float in pleasure boats on the river, and admire the pink blossoms.
But today the blossoms were long gone, the pavilions empty, the sky threatening more rain. The trees, in full summer leaf, shadowed the wet ground. Barges and ferries plied the river, which was brown and murky.
Yanagisawa and Yoritomo were among the few people strolling the embankment. They'd shed their rain capes and hats; they wore dark-colored silk robes without identifying crests. Their entourage waited behind them at a distance.
"What's the matter?" Yanagisawa asked.
"You look ill."
Yoritomo's handsome face was pale and sweating; his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed convulsively. "I'm just nervous."
"Why?"
"I've never done this."
They were about to embark upon a rite of passage that Yanagisawa had never subjected his son to before. Yanagisawa wondered if he should have scheduled a few practice runs to put Yoritomo at ease. He hoped Yoritomo wouldn't make a bad impression.
"I don't know how to act," Yoritomo said, with shame, "I don't have much experience with women."
That was true. Yoritomo had been sheltered as a child, had lived in an isolated country villa with his mother. She was a distant cousin of the shogun, and Yoritomo the product of a brief liaison between her and Yanagisawa. During his boyhood, Yoritomo had encountered few women except her attendants. Later, his relationship with the shogun had precluded love affairs. Yanagisawa knew that Yoritomo had never experienced sex with a female, but that was, Yanagisawa hoped, about to change.
"Just be as respectful and dignified as you would on any other occasion," Yanagisawa said.
"All right," Yoritomo said, but Yanagisawa could see him trembling. Yanagisawa felt pity for his son, and guilt. Yoritomo's life had been far from normal, and Yanagisawa was largely to blame. "But what should I say?"
"Don't say anything unless somebody speaks to you. If you are spoken to, just try to sound like the polite, charming, intelligent person that you are."
Yoritomo squared his shoulders, bearing up under the weight of responsibility. "Yes, Father," he said bravely. "I promise I won't let you down."
Yanagisawa experienced a love for his son that was so strong his knees buckled. "I won't let you down, either."
Ahead, in the distance, three figures appeared. Yoritomo gulped and said, "Here they come!"
"Relax," Yanagisawa said. "Don't be afraid. We're in this together."
The figures drew closer. "Lady Setsu," emaciated and stern, and "Lady Chocho," her plump, babyish companion, walked on either side of a younger woman. She was unusually tall; she towered over them. They wore dark, modest, but sumptuous silk garments; she wore a robe patterned with green leaves and grasses in brighter tones, appropriate for a samurai lady who was some twenty-four years old. Yanagisawa thought her plain in the extreme. She was all awkward bones. Self-conscious about her height, she had bad posture. Her makeup didn't camouflage her beaked nose or heavy eyelids. Her one claim to beauty was her hair, dressed in a thick knot, shiny and lushly black.