“You’re in a lot of trouble,” Sano said, keeping his voice level despite rising impatience. “Even with your good record, you face execution for using a weapon inside Edo Castle, breaking into my house, and trying to spear my wife, my men, and myself. But I’m ready to listen to your story and recommend a lesser punishment if your reasons are good enough. So talk, and be quick about it. I haven’t got all night.”
Lieutenant Kushida glared at Sano, Hirata, and the detectives. He gave one last, strenuous tug at the ropes. Then resistance seeped out of him. Body limp, head bowed, Kushida said, “I was looking for Lady Harume’s pillow book.”
“How did you know about it?” Sano asked.
A sort of dignified misery settled upon Kushida’s features. “I found it in her cabinet.”
“And when was this?”
“Three days before she died.”
“So you lied when you said you never went into Lady Harume’s room.” Sano felt extreme chagrin as he remembered Reiko telling him that her cousin had placed the lieutenant in Harume’s private quarters at that very same time. Reiko’s information had proved accurate. He had insulted her by questioning it.
“All right, I lied,” Lieutenant Kushida said dully, “because I wasn’t in her room to poison her, like you thought. And I didn’t come here to hurt anyone. I had to get the diary. When I reported for duty tonight, I meant to steal it from Lady Harume’s room. But the guard captain said you’d postponed my return to work.” Kushida flashed a bitter look at Sano. “Then I found out from a soldier that you’d confiscated the diary as evidence. So I came here after it.”
Sano wished he’d barred the dangerous, unbalanced guard from the castle entirely. Still, he might gain some useful information now. “Why do you want the diary?”
“I only managed to read a few pages the first time.” Kushida’s voice sounded weary, desolate. “I wanted to find out who her lover was, and I thought she might have written his name somewhere in the diary.”
“How did you know Harume had a lover?” Sano exchanged a significant glance with Hirata: the lieutenant had not only admitted entering Harume’s room, but also given himself an additional motive for her murder.
With the fight gone out of him, Kushida looked like a small, tragic ape. “When I escorted Lady Harume and the other women on their outings, she would sneak away from the group. Three times I followed her, and lost her. The fourth time, I tracked her to an inn in Asakusa. But I couldn’t get past the gate because there were soldiers guarding it. They weren’t wearing any crests, and they wouldn’t tell me who they were.”
Lord Miyagi’s men, thought Sano, protecting their master’s privacy during his tryst with Harume.
“I never saw the man she chose instead of me,” Kushida continued. “But I know there was one. Why else would she sneak around? I lie awake at nights, wondering who he is and envying him the joy of her. I can’t stand not knowing. It’s killing me!” His eyes burned with an obsession that hadn’t faded, even now that its object was dead. “Do you still have the diary?” Tense with hope, he beseeched Sano, “Please, may I see it?”
Sano wondered if the lieutenant had another, more practical reason for trying to steal the diary. Maybe he believed it contained incriminating evidence against him, which he wanted to destroy.
“When you were in Lady Harume’s room, did you also find a jar of ink and a love letter asking her to tattoo herself?” Sano asked.
Kushida shook his head impatiently. “I’ve already told you, I never saw that ink jar. Or a letter. I wasn’t looking for any such things. All I wanted was a-personal keepsake from Harume.” Lowering his eyes in shame, he mumbled, “That’s how I found the diary. It was with her underclothes. I told you I didn’t know about the tattoo. I didn’t poison her.”
“I understand that Lady Harume became violently ill last summer,” Sano said, “and that someone threw a dagger at her. Did you know? Were you responsible?” Seeking to verify Reiko’s story, Sano also wondered whether Lieutenant Kushida feared that Harume’s diary implicated him.
“I knew. But if you think I had anything to do with what happened, you’re wrong.” Kushida glared at Sano in contemptuous defiance. “I never would have hurt Harume. I loved her. I did not kill her!”
Ahead, shining like a sunlit path through a dark forest, Sano saw a way out of his own dilemma. Lieutenant Kushida’s attempted burglary made him the prime suspect. His earlier lies rendered his denials unconvincing. If Sano charged Kushida with murder, his conviction was virtually assured: most trials ended in a verdict of guilty. Sano could avoid the political perils of continuing the investigation, and the disgrace of execution if he failed. And with a major source of conflict between him and Reiko gone, they could get a fresh start on their marriage. But Sano wasn’t ready to close the case.
“Lieutenant Kushida,” he said, “I’m placing you under house arrest until the investigation of Lady Harume’s murder is complete. At that time, your fate will be decided. Meanwhile, you shall remain inside your family home, under constant guard; you are not permitted to leave for any reason except fire or earthquake.” These were the standard terms of house arrest, the samurai alternative to jail, a privilege of rank. To the detectives, Sano said, “Escort him to the banchō.” This was the district west of Edo Castle where hereditary Tokugawa vassals lived.
Hirata regarded Sano with dismay. “Wait, sōsakan-sama. May I have a word with you first?”
They went out to the corridor, leaving the detectives to guard Lieutenant Kushida. Hirata whispered, “Sumimasen-excuse me, but I think you’re making a mistake. Kushida is guilty, and lying to cover it up. He killed Harume because she had a lover and he was jealous. He should be charged and sent to trial. Why are you being so easy on him?”
“And why are you so eager to accept the easy solution, so early in the investigation?” Sano countered. “This isn’t like you, Hirata-san.”
Flushing, Hirata said stubbornly, “I think he killed her.”
Sano decided that this wasn’t the right time to address his chief retainer’s problems, whatever they were. “The weaknesses in the case against Kushida are obvious. First of all, the break-in is evidence of something wrong with him, but not necessarily that he’s guilty of murder. Second, just because he lied about certain things doesn’t mean we should disregard everything he says.
“Third: If we close the case too soon, the real killer may go free, while an innocent man is executed. More murders could follow.” Sano told Hirata about Magistrate Ueda’s conspiracy theory. “If there’s a plot against the shogun, we must identify all the criminals, or the threat to the Tokugawa line will persist.”
Hirata nodded in reluctant agreement. Sano leaned through the doorway and said to the detectives, “Proceed.” Then he turned back to Hirata. “Besides, I’m not ready to dismiss my questions about the other suspects.”
Although Hirata’s unhappy silence troubled him, Sano didn’t intend to drop his investigation of the Miyagi-or Lady Ichiteru.
18
Standing in the doorway to the shogun’s bedchamber, Otoshiyori Madam Chizuru announced, “Your Excellency, I present your companion for the night: the Honorable Lady Ichiteru.” She beat three ritual strokes on a small gong, then bowed and withdrew.
Slowly, regally, Lady Ichiteru marched into the chamber. She carried a large book bound in yellow silk and wore a man’s kimono, striped in black and brown, with thick padding to widen her shoulders. Beneath it, cloth bands flattened her breasts. Her face was devoid of powder, lips unpainted, hair knotted in a severe, masculine style. After thirteen years as Tokugawa Tsunayoshi’s concubine, she knew how to appeal to his tastes. Now, with retirement only three months away, her life was dominated by the increasingly urgent need to conceive his child before time ran out. She must take advantage of every opportunity to seduce him.