Yet even as Hirata tucked the paper under his sash for later reference, he yearned for Lady Ichiteru. In his memory, he heard her soft, husky voice, felt the warmth of her seductive gaze and the thrilling touch of her hand. Immediately a wave of heat swept his body. And beneath the excitement, he experienced the humiliating knowledge of his social inferiority, the helplessness of his desire.
“Watch out, master!”
The warning, called out by a passing stranger, snapped Hirata out of his thoughts. He looked up and saw that he’d passed the end of the bridge. His horse was meandering down the street, trampling wares set out for sale by itinerant vendors. Quickly Hirata reined in his mount. “My apologies,” he said, increasingly worried about the upcoming interview. How would he get the truth from Lady Ichiteru if even the mere thought of her ruined his concentration?
Reaching the Honjo Mukō Ryōgoku entertainment district, he found the revelry undiminished by the dreary weather. A theater troupe improvised comedies in the street, before a large, noisy audience; business flourished in the teahouses and restaurants. But the freak show was closed, its platform empty and sliding doors pulled over the entrance. A sign outside read, NO performance today. Hirata’s spirits fell. If the Rat was out roaming the town, he could be gone for hours, even days. So much for leads on the poison dealer.
Then, as Hirata turned his horse back toward the bridge, he spotted a familiar figure amid the pleasure seekers. It was the bald giant who served as the Rat’s bodyguard and collected admission fees at the shows. He headed down the firebreak, past the gambling dens and curiosity shows. Hirata followed. Maybe the giant could tell him where the Rat was.
The giant vanished into a gap between the wild animal menagerie and a noodle stall. A mob of drunks reeled in front of Hirata, blocking his way, and by the time he reached the gap, the giant was nowhere in sight. Hirata dismounted and secured his horse to a post. He walked down the narrow passage, which smelled of urine and led to an alley that ran behind the buildings. Roars emanated from the menagerie; steam wafted from restaurant kitchens; stray dogs foraged in malodorous garbage bins. Otherwise, the alley was deserted.
Hirata hurried past the closed rear doors of businesses. Then he heard voices: the Rat’s rustic accent, and someone else’s muffled tones. They came from the back room of a teahouse. Hirata peered through the barred window.
Ceramic sake urns lined the room. The Rat knelt on the floor, his back to Hirata, his shaggy head nodding as he listened to the woman seated opposite him. A cloak veiled her hair and body. In the faint daylight from the window, Hirata could just make out her face: plain and not young, with blackened teeth.
“The deal will benefit both of us,” she said in a low, pleading voice. “My family will have peace, and your business will prosper.”
“All right. Five hundred koban, and that’s my final price,” answered the Rat.
The woman bowed her head. “Very well. If you’ll come with me, we’ll get it now.”
Having seen the Rat conduct this type of negotiation before, Hirata guessed what was going on. He raised a hand to knock on the door. Then a change in the atmosphere warned him of another human presence in the alley. He whirled. Strong hands grabbed his shoulders, lifting him off the ground. He found himself face to face with the Rat’s giant.
“I’m here to see your master,” Hirata explained, struggling in the man’s iron grip. “Put me down!”
An evil grin split the giant’s face. With dismay Hirata remembered that he was a deaf mute. He threw Hirata against the wall with a jarring crash. Hirata drew his sword. Then the door screeched open.
“What’s going on?” demanded the Rat. Seeing Hirata facing off against his servant, he rushed outside, ordering, “Stop, Kyojin!”
The giant made gurgling sounds while pointing at the window, trying to say he’d caught Hirata spying.
“This man is police.” Speaking with exaggerated lip movements, the Rat gestured in what seemed a private form of sign language. “Lay off before he kills you and arrests me!”
Glowering, the giant retreated. Hirata relaxed and sheathed his sword. “How nice to see you again so soon,” said the Rat, with an insincere grin. “What can I do for you today?”
“Have you found Choyei, the drug peddler?”
Glancing nervously toward the open door, the Rat pawed at his whiskers. “I don’t have time to talk now; I’m right in the middle of some business.” He did a double take and rushed into the teahouse’s back room, then came out muttering curses. “She’s gone-must have slipped out the other way.” Then he shrugged. “Oh, well. She’ll be back. She’s selling her deformed child to my freak show,” he explained, confirming Hirata’s guess. “Poor thing was born with no feet. Who else would want it except me? Now what were you saying?”
“The drug peddler,” Hirata prompted.
“Ah.” The Rat’s sly little eyes gleamed through strands of long, untidy hair. “I’m afraid I couldn’t find him. Sorry.”
“But it’s only been one day,” Hirata said. “How far could you have looked in that time?”
“The Rat has eyes and ears all over Edo. If they haven’t picked up on Choyei by now, then either he’s left town or was never here in the first place.”
If his best informant couldn’t find the possible source of the poison, then this lead was a dead end, Hirata thought. Disappointment turned to anger. “I paid you good money,” he said, grabbing the Rat’s collar. The giant moved toward him. “Are you reneging on our deal?”
“Stay, Kyojin! Oh, no. Not at all!” The Rat quickly reached into the pouch at his waist and extracted a handful of coins, which he gave Hirata. “Here you go. A full refund, with my apologies.”
Suspicion deepened Hirata’s anger as he stuffed the coins in his own pouch. Since when had the Rat ever voluntarily relinquished money?
“Are you trying to trick me?” He shook the freak-show proprietor until his head hobbled. “Did Choyei pay you off?”
“No, no! Honest!”
The Rat struggled. The giant grabbed Hirata. A three-way tussle ensued. Finally Hirata gave up and let go. “If I find out you lied to me, you’ll be arrested. And jailed. And beaten!” He underscored each threat by jabbing the Rat’s chest with his fist. Then he stalked down the alley to retrieve his horse.
It was time to confront Lady Ichiteru.
By the time Hirata arrived back at Edo Castle, he was almost ill with eagerness to see Lady Ichiteru again. His skin felt feverish; his hands trembled as he rode through the main gate; anticipation evoked arousal. Realizing that he shouldn’t face Lady Ichiteru alone in his condition, he stopped at Sano’s mansion and fetched two detectives to accompany him. Their presence would ensure that he stuck to his plan and Lady Ichiteru behaved properly. But just as Hirata and the detectives were leaving the barracks, a servant hurried up.
“This came while you were gone, master, " he said, proffering a small lacquer scroll case.
Hirata took it and withdrew a letter. As he read, his heart began to pound.
I have vitally important information relating to Lady Harume’s murder. It is imperative that I speak to you-but not today, and not here at Edo Castle. For the wrong people to overhear what I must impart would endanger my life. Please meet me tomorrow at the hour of the sheep, at the location described below.
And please come alone.
It is with more than ordinary pleasure that I look forward to seeing you again.
Lady Ichiteru
A map followed, with directions written in the same elegant, feminine hand as the message. The creamy white rice paper had the softness of living flesh. Moistened by Hirata’s suddenly sweaty hands, it gave off the scent of Lady Ichiteru’s perfume. Impulsively he pressed it against his face. As the smell evoked erotic memories, he forgot the day’s disappointments. Lady Ichiteru wanted to see him again! Did not her closing words imply that she shared his feelings? His spirits soared. He laughed aloud.