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She sighed. “And Harume was the same. Very popular. She sang and played the samisen wonderfully. Her jokes made us all laugh. That’s why I chose her to be one of my attendants. She knew how to make people happy. I simply adored her, like a daughter.”

Sano looked at Madam Chizuru. The otoshiyori pressed her lips together; a single breath eased from her: it was obvious that she didn’t share Keisho-in’s view of the dead girl. “What did you think of Lady Harume?” Sano asked Chizuru. “What kind of person did she seem to you?”

“It’s not my place to have opinions about His Excellency’s concubines,” Madam Chizuru said primly.

Sano sensed that Chizuru could tell him plenty about Lady Harume, but didn’t want to contradict her mistress. “Did Lady Harume have any enemies in the palace who might have wanted her dead?” he asked both women.

“Certainly not.” Keisho-in blew out an emphatic puff of smoke. “Everyone loved her. And we’re all very close here in the Large Interior. Like sisters.”

But even sisters had disagreements, Sano knew. Past quarrels in the Large Interior had resulted in murder. For Keisho-in to claim that five hundred women, crowded into such a tight space, lived together in complete harmony, she must either be quite stupid-or lying.

Madam Chizuru cleared her throat and said hesitantly, “There was a feud between Harume and one of the other concubines. Lady Ichiteru. They… didn’t get along.”

Keisho-in gaped, showing her missing teeth to unfortunate advantage. “No! This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

“Why didn’t Lady Ichiteru and Lady Harume get along?” Sano asked.

“Ichiteru is a lady of fine lineage, " Chizuru said. “She’s a cousin of the emperor, from Kyōto.” This was where the imperial family lived in genteel poverty, though stripped of political power and under the complete domination of the Tokugawa regime. “Before Harume came to Edo Castle eight months ago, Lady Ichiteru was the honorable shogun’s favorite companion… at least, among the women.”

Stealing a nervous glance at her mistress, Chizuru put a hand to her mouth. Tokugawa Tsunayoshi’s preference for men was common knowledge, but not, apparently, discussed in his mother’s presence.

“But when Harume came, she replaced Lady Ichiteru in the shogun’s affections?” Sano guessed.

Madam Chizuru nodded. “His Excellency stopped requesting Ichiteru’s company at night and started inviting Harume to his chamber.”

“Ichiteru should not have minded,” Lady Keisho-in announced. “My darling son has the right to enjoy any woman he chooses. And it’s his duty to beget an heir. When Ichiteru failed to produce a child, he was correct to try another concubine.” Keisho-in giggled. Winking at Hirata, she said, “One who is young and saucy and fertile-like I was when I met my dear, deceased Iemitsu. You know the kind of girl, don’t you, young man?”

A bright red spot of embarrassment burned on each of Hirata’s cheeks as he blurted, “Sumimasen-excuse me, but was there anyone among the servants, guards, or attendants who didn’t get along with Lady Harume?”

Shaking her head, Keisho-in waved away the question with her pipe, scattering ash onto the cushions. “The staff are people of excellent character and disposition. I personally interviewed them all before they were permitted to work in the Large Interior. None would have attacked a favored concubine.”

Madam Chizuru set her jaw and looked at the floor. Sano saw a disturbing fact emerging: Lady Keisho-in was oblivious to what happened around her. The otoshiyori handled the administration of the Large Interior, just as Chamberlain Yanagisawa managed the government for Tokugawa Tsunayoshi. That both leaders of Japan ’s ruling clan were so weak and dull-witted-there seemed no better term for it-boded ill for the nation.

“Sometimes people are not what they seem,” Sano hinted. “Someone may hide his true nature, until something happens… ”

Chizuru seized on this opening: she was obviously torn between fears of contradicting Lady Keisho-in and of lying to the shogun’s sōsakan-sama.

“The palace guards are all men who come from good families and have good service records. Usually they’re of good character, too. But one of them, Lieutenant Kushida… Four days ago, Lady Harume registered a complaint. She said he was behaving in an improper fashion toward her. When the palace officials weren’t watching, he would loiter around her, trying to start conversations about… inappropriate things.”

Meaning sex, Sano interpreted.

“Lieutenant Kushida sent offensive letters to Lady Harume, or so she said,” continued Madam Chizuru. “She even claimed that he spied on her while she bathed. She said she told him again and again to leave her alone, but he persisted, then finally got mad and threatened to kill her.”

“Disgusting!” Lady Keisho-in made a face, then said indignantly, “Why does no one tell me anything?”

Chizuru’s pained glance at Sano told him that she had informed the shogun’s mother, who had forgotten.

“What happened then?” Sano asked.

“I was reluctant to believe the accusations,” Chizuru said. “Lieutenant Kushida has worked here for ten years without causing any trouble. He is a fine, upstanding man. Lady Harume had been here only a short time.” The otoshiyori’s tone indicated that she had thought Harume less fine and upstanding, and the likely source of the problem. “However, this kind of accusation is always treated seriously. The law forbids male staff to bother the women, or engage in any improper relations with them. The penalty is dismissal. I reported the matter to the chief administrator. Lieutenant Kushida was temporarily relieved of his duties, pending an investigation of the charges.”

“And was this investigation performed?” Sano asked.

“No. And now that Lady Harume is dead…”

The charges, without her to substantiate them, must have been dropped, which explained why the chief administrator had neglected to tell Hirata about them. How fortunate for Lieutenant Kushida that his accuser’s death had averted the disgrace of losing his post. He, as well as the envious Lady Ichiteru, definitely merited an interview.

“Jealous concubines, rude guards,” lamented Keisho-in. “Dreadful! Sōsakan-sama, you must find and punish whoever killed my sweet little Harume and save us all from this evil, dangerous person.”

“I’ll need to have my detectives search the Large Interior and speak with the residents,” Sano said. “May I have your permission?”

“Of course, of course.” Lady Keisho-in nodded vigorously. Then, with a grunt, she pushed herself upright and beckoned Madam Chizuru to help her stand. “It’s time for my prayers. But please come and see me again.” She dimpled at Hirata. “You, too, young man.”

They made their farewells. Hirata almost ran from the room. Sano followed, wondering about his retainer’s uncharacteristic bashfulness and looking ahead to all the work they must do. Yet as they left the palace, he was glad that the hour was too late to begin calling on suspects or witnesses, and that they needn’t meet with the shogun until tomorrow. At home, Reiko waited. This was their wedding night.

7

Servants greeted Sano in the entryway of his mansion when he arrived home. They relieved him of his cloak and swords and ushered him into the parlor, where charcoal braziers and lanterns burned, and wall murals depicted a serene mountain landscape. Resting upon silk floor cushions, Sano felt the tensions of the day dissolve and happy anticipation swell within him. Hirata had gone to give orders to the detective corps and secure the estate for the night. Sano’s time was his own, until tomorrow. His marriage could begin.