“Then the Rat told me he couldn’t find Choyei. He returned the money I’d paid him. I suspected that he’d actually found Choyei, who had bribed him to keep quiet. Now I’m positive it was the woman I saw-offering the Rat money, not the other way around. She disappeared while we were talking. It must have been the killer, not a mother selling a child. She must have seen the crests on my clothes and guessed who I was and what I wanted, when I asked the Rat about Choyei.”
“But Ichiteru is the only female suspect.” Even as Sano spoke, he recalled otherwise.
The light of vindication shone in Hirata’s eyes. “I’ve never met Lady Miyagi. What does she look like?”
“She’s around forty-five,” Sano began.
“Not very pretty, with a long face and droopy eyes and a deep voice?”
“Yes, but…”
“And black teeth and shaved eyebrows.” Hirata laughed exultantly. “Just think, I had the evidence all along!”
“That’s an interesting theory,” Sano admitted. “Choyei’s landlord thought he heard a man in the room where the peddler died; he could have been fooled by Lady Miyagi’s voice. But we haven’t placed Lady Miyagi at the scene of the dagger attack. She could have poisoned the ink, but we’ve no proof that she did. And what’s her motive?”
“Let’s go and see if I can identify Lady Miyagi as the woman I saw,” Hirata pleaded. “The Rat must have found out she was Choyei’s customer and tried to blackmail her. She probably meant to kill the Rat the way she did Choyei. I probably saved his life by arriving just then.”
Hirata bowed. “Please, sōsakan-sama, before you decide Ichiteru is guilty, give me a chance to prove I’m right. Let me question Lady Miyagi!”
Seeking to avert a chase in the wrong direction, Sano said, “Reiko went to see the Miyagi today. Let’s find out if she learned anything.” He entered the corridor, where a manservant came to greet him. “Where’s my wife?”
“She’s not home, master. But she left this for you.”
The servant proffered a sealed letter.
Tearing it open, Sano read aloud:
“Honorable Husband,
I had a very interesting visit with Lord Miyagi, and I believe he killed Lady Harume. He and his wife have invited me to view the autumn moon with them at their summer villa tonight. I must use this opportunity to question the daimyo further and obtain proof of his guilt.
Don’t worry-I’ve taken Detectives Ota and Fujisawa along, as well as my usual escorts. We’ll be back tomorrow morning.
With love,
Reiko”
Suddenly the idea of investigating the daimyo’s wife didn’t seem so bad. If there was any chance that she was the killer, Sano didn’t want Reiko traveling to a remote location with her, even under armed guard.
“I guess Ichiteru can wait a little longer,” Sano said. “We’ll try to catch up with Reiko and the Miyagi before they leave town.”
In a thunder of hoofbeats, Sano and Hirata arrived at Lord Miyagi’s gate. Sano cast an anxious glance up and down the street. “I don’t see Reiko’s palanquin,” he said, "or her escorts.” Against his will, he began to believe that Hirata was right-Lady Miyagi was the killer they sought. And Reiko, who didn’t know about Danzaemon’s evidence, thought it was Lord Miyagi. A band of worry closed around Sano’s heart.
“Calm down,” Hirata soothed. “We’ll find her.”
Leaping off his horse, Sano accosted one of the two gate sentries. “Where’s my wife?” he demanded, grabbing the man’s armor tunic.
“What do you think you’re doing? Let go!”
The guard shoved Sano; the other gripped him in an armlock. Hirata rushed to explain. “The sōsakan-sama’s wife was supposed to go to the villa with Lord and Lady Miyagi. We want to talk to them. Where are they?”
At the mention of Sano’s title, both guards tensed and stepped away from him, but didn’t answer.
“We’re going inside,” Sano told Hirata.
The guards blocked the gate, expressions fearful but obstinate. Their defiance triggered an alarm in Sano: Something was wrong here.
“There’s no one home,” said a guard. “Everyone’s gone.”
Seized with an overwhelming fear that something had happened to Reiko in the house, Sano drew his sword. “Move!” The guards leapt aside, and Sano threw open the gate. With Hirata following, he ran across the courtyard, through the inner gate, and into the mansion, calling, “Reiko?”
Silence veiled the long, dim tunnel of the corridor. The ancient smell of the house filled Sano’s lungs like a noxious gas. He pounded along floors that groaned under his footsteps, calling his wife’s name. He heard the guards shouting at him to stop, and Hirata holding them off. Forging ahead, he found himself alone in the family living quarters. This wing was as cold, dark, and damp as a cave. The mullioned paper walls were gray squares of waning afternoon light. The Miyagi’s musky odor saturated the air. Pausing to catch his breath and get his bearings, Sano saw no one. At first he heard nothing except his own labored breathing. Then came a thin wail.
Sano’s heart lurched. Reiko! Panic burgeoned in him as he followed the sound, hurrying past the closed doors of unoccupied rooms. His aversion toward the Miyagi couple turned to fear as he imagined Reiko their victim. The wailing grew louder. Then Sano rounded a corner. He halted abruptly.
Lamplight spilled from an open doorway. Outside knelt the manservant Sano remembered from his first visit. Head bowed, the man wept. At Sano’s approach, he looked up.
“The girls,” he moaned. Tears glistened on his wrinkled face. Raising a shaky hand, he pointed into the room.
As Sano rushed through the door, a disturbing, familiar scent hit him: fetid, salty, metallic. At first he couldn’t make sense of the scene that greeted his dazed eyes. Twisted white shapes contrasted violently with black swirls and gleaming red puddles on the slatted floor. Then Sano’s vision focused. In a bathchamber furnished with a sunken wooden tub and bamboo screen lay the naked bodies of two women, curled side by side. Their wrists and ankles were bound with cords. Deep gashes across the throats had nearly severed their heads. Crimson blood drenched their long, tangled black hair and pale skin. It had splashed the walls, run over the floor, and dripped over the sides of the tub into the water.
Horror paralyzed Sano. He felt the turbulent thudding of his heart; a cold sickness gripped his stomach. As vertigo dizzied him, he clutched the door frame. He heard a rasping sound, like a saw against wood, and recognized it as his own breathing. With nightmarish clarity, the faces of the dead women stood out from the carnage. Both bore Reiko’s delicate features.
“No!” Sano blinked hard, rubbing his eyes to rid himself of what seemed a case of shock-induced double vision. “Reiko!” Moaning, he fell to his knees beside the women and seized their hands.
As soon as he touched the cold flesh, awareness penetrated his agony. Sano realized that his inner sense of Reiko remained intact. He was still attuned to her; he could perceive her life force, like a distant bell that was still ringing. The illusion dissolved. These women’s bodies were larger and fuller than Reiko’s. He didn’t recognize their faces. Sobs of relief wracked his body. Reiko wasn’t dead! His stomach convulsed, and he retched, as if trying to vomit up the needless terror and grief.
Hirata rushed into the chamber. “Merciful gods!”
“It’s not her. It’s not her!” In a frenzy of joy, Sano jumped up and threw his arms around Hirata, laughing and weeping. “Reiko’s alive!”
“Sōsakan-sama! Are you all right?” Hirata’s face was a picture of frightened bewilderment. He shook Sano hard. “Stop that and listen to me.” When Sano only laughed harder, he smacked Sano’s cheek.
The blow jolted Sano out of his hysteria. Quieting immediately, he stared at Hirata, surprised that his retainer would ever strike him.