This evidence placed Lieutenant Kushida in Lady Harume’s room on the day Lord and Lady Miyagi had sent the ink bottle. Kushida might have read the letter and seen the perfect opportunity to administer the poison with which he’d already planned to kill her. Reiko had also confirmed Lady Ichiteru’s hatred for Harume. Sano was impressed by Reiko’s ability, then furious at her lack of remorse.
“A few stray facts don’t solve a case,” he blustered, although he knew they sometimes did. “And how can I be sure your cousin is a reliable witness, or that her theories are correct? You defied me and risked danger for nothing.”
“Danger?” Reiko frowned in confusion. “What harm could come from just talking and listening?”
Further incensed by his wife’s challenge, Sano spared no mercy for her feminine sensibilities. “When I was a police commander, I had a secretary, a man even younger than you.” Sano’s voice hoarsened at the memory of Tsunehiko’s childlike innocence. “He died at a highway inn, his throat cut, in a pool of his own blood. He did nothing to deserve death. His only mistake was accompanying me on a murder investigation.”
Reiko’s eyes widened in shock. “But… you’re still all right.” Her bold voice became a tentative murmur.
“Only by the grace of the gods,” Sano retorted. “I’ve been attacked-cut, shot at, ambushed, beaten-more times than I care to think about. So believe me when I say that detective work is dangerous. It could get you killed!”
Reiko stared. “All those things happened while you were investigating crimes and catching murderers?’’ she said slowly. The scorn had left her voice. “You risked death to do what was right, even when you knew people would kill to stop you?”
The new admiration in her eyes left Sano more shaken than her defiance had. Speechless, he nodded.
“I didn’t know.” Reiko took a hesitant step toward him. “I’m sorry.”
Sano stood paralyzed, unable even to breathe. He sensed in this young woman a dedication to truth and justice that matched his own, a willingness to sacrifice herself for abstract principles, for honor. This similarity of spirit was an undeniable basis for love. The knowledge thrilled, and horrified, Sano.
But Reiko’s face shone with joyful recognition of the same fact. Eagerly she reached out a slim hand to him. “You understand how I feel,” she said, responding to their unspoken exchange. Passion heightened her beauty. “Let’s work and serve honor together. Together we can solve the mystery of Lady Harume’s murder!”
What would it be like, Sano wondered, to have that passion directed at me in the bedchamber? The thought dizzied him. The prospect of having a partner to share his mission was almost irresistible. He longed to take the hand she offered.
But he could not draw his wife into the perilous web of his profession. And he knew his own faults, which he didn’t want to encourage in her. How could he live with someone as stubborn, reckless, and single-minded as himself? He still cherished the dream of a submissive wife, a peaceful home.
Sano said, “You’ve heard my reasons for wanting you to stay out of business that doesn’t concern you. I’ve made my decision, and it’s final.”
Reiko’s hand dropped. Hurt extinguished her radiance like a shroud thrown over a lamp, but her resolve didn’t waver. “Why should my life not be mine to risk if I choose, or my honor mean less than yours because I’m a woman?” she demanded. “I, too, have samurai blood. In centuries past, I would have ridden into battle at your side. Why not now?”
“Because that’s just the way things are. Your duty is to me, and I expect you to serve it here at home.” Sano knew he sounded pompous, but he believed every word. “For you to do otherwise would be pure selfish, willful disregard of your family responsibilities.”
The irony of the situation struck him. That he, who had often jeopardized family duty for the sake of personal causes, should criticize Reiko for doing the same! Faltering, he grasped for the thread of the argument.”Now tell me why you went to Ginza. For more women’s gossip?”
“If you’re going to belittle my work, you don’t deserve to know.” Reiko’s melodic voice coated a core of steel; her expression was no less cold or hard. “And if you don’t want my help with the investigation, then it can hardly matter. Now please excuse me.”
As she swept past him, Sano felt an immediate sense of loss. And he couldn’t let her have the last word. “Reiko. Wait.” He grabbed her arm.
Glaring, she pulled away. Her sleeve tore with a loud, ripping sound. Then she was gone, leaving Sano holding a long piece of silk in his hand.
Sano stared after her for a moment. Then he hurled the fragment of sleeve to the floor. His marriage was going from bad to worse. Stalking to his own chamber, he dressed in outdoor wear, hung his swords at his waist, and summoned a servant. “Have my horse saddled,” he said.
He couldn’t solve his problems alone. Therefore, he would consult the one person who might be able to help him with Reiko-and who might also have vital information relating to the murder investigation.
“Good evening, Sano-san. Please come in.” Magistrate Ueda, seated in his office, did not seem surprised by Sano’s unannounced arrival. Lamps burned on his desk amid writing supplies, official documents, and scattered papers: evidently he was catching up on work. To the servant who had escorted Sano into the mansion, he said, “Bring tea for my honorable son-in-law.” Then he gestured for Sano to kneel opposite him.
As Sano complied, nervousness and shame tightened his stomach. He was unaccustomed to asking for help with personal problems. His trouble with Reiko signified a most embarrassing incompetence; a high-ranking samurai should be able to handle a mere woman. Seeking advice reflected a weakness that he didn’t want to reveal to his father-in-law, whom he respected but hardly knew at all. Now Sano sought the words to obtain assistance while saving face.
Magistrate Ueda spared him the effort. “It’s my daughter, isn’t it?” At Sano’s nod, an expression of grim sympathy came over his features. “I thought so. What’s she done now?”
Encouraged by the magistrate’s frankness, Sano poured out the entire story. “You’ve known Reiko all her life. Please tell me what to do.”
The servant brought tea. Magistrate Ueda frowned and said in the authoritative tone he used in the Court of Justice, “My daughter is too intelligent and strong-willed for everyone’s good. You must control her with a firm hand and show her who’s in charge, hmm?”
Then he sighed and lapsed back into his ordinary voice. “Who am I to talk? I, who have always given in to Reiko’s wishes. Sano-san, I fear you’ve come to the wrong person for advice.”
They gazed at each other in rueful understanding: magistrate of Edo and most honorable investigator, confounded by the woman who united them. Suddenly they were friends.
“By putting our heads together, we should be able to find an answer to the problem,” Magistrate Ueda said, sipping tea. “I’ve always compromised with Reiko because I didn’t want to break her spirit, which I admire in spite of myself.” A humorous twinkle lit his eyes when he saw Sano’s wry grin. “Ah, I see that you do, too. Perhaps it’s your turn to bend. Why not assign her an easy, safe part of your work, like keeping records?”
“That won’t satisfy her,” Sano said with conviction. “She wants to be a detective.” Grudgingly, he admitted, “And she’s not bad at it.”
As he related Reiko’s discoveries, Magistrate Ueda beamed with paternal pride. “Then there must be something else she can do. More covert inquiries, such as she carried out today, might prove very helpful, hmm?”