“Your people love you,” Sano pointed out, wondering if Danzaemon’s passion had led to Harume’s death.
With a pained grimace, the eta chief said, “That’s not the same. My people are all contaminated with the same stigma as I. Underneath, we all despise one another the same way everyone else despises us.”
Raw pain hoarsened Danzaemon’s voice, as if he were tearing all the unspoken thoughts of a lifetime from his soul. Probably he’d never met anyone else willing to hear, or capable of appreciating his insight. “Even my wife, whom I betrayed for Harume, can never give me what she did-the kind of love that eased my own self-hatred.”
Sano hadn’t known that the outcasts themselves embraced society’s prejudice. This case had opened his eyes to the realities of worlds besides his own, and his own unwitting participation in human misery.
“What did Lady Harume get from the affair?” he asked.
Anger flared in the eta chief’s eyes, quickly extinguished by his formidable self-control. “I know it’s hard for you to imagine that I could give her anything besides trouble. But she was so alone. Her father sold her to the shogun and considered himself well rid of her. The women in the castle snubbed her because she was the daughter of a prostitute. She had no one to listen to her problems, to care how she felt, to love her. Except me. We were everything to each other.”
Here Sano spied a possible motive for murder. “Did you know that Harume was meeting another man at the inn?”
“Lord Miyagi. Yes, I knew.” Embarrassment painted red slashes across Danzaemon’s cheekbones. “He wanted to watch Harume pleasuring herself. She let him, then threatened to tell the shogun he’d violated her unless he paid her to keep quiet. She did it for me-she gave me all the money. I didn’t want her doing something so risky and demeaning. I didn’t want blackmail money. But she was hurt when I tried to refuse. She wanted so much to give me something and couldn’t believe that her love was enough.”
The eta chief shot Sano a defensive look. “I won’t deny that I took the money to buy food and medicine for the settlement. If accepting a woman’s ill-gotten gold makes me a criminal, then so be it.”
He laughed, a single sharp note that spoke worlds of the humiliation he must battle daily in trying to better the lot of his people. Then he bowed his head in obvious shame at betraying his emotions. Even as Sano’s heart went out to the young eta chief, he saw that Lady Harume had given Lord Miyagi a strong reason for wanting her dead. Sano thought of Reiko with the daimyo, and a chill crept through him. Resisting the impulse to hurry to his wife, he weighed Danzaemon’s statement. Everything the eta had said resonated with honesty. He had truly loved Harume, sincerely regretted her death. But was there a darker side to the story?
Sano said, “Lady Harume was pregnant.”
Danzaemon’s head snapped up. Shock paled the surface of his gaze like a sheet of ice over deep water.
“You didn’t know, then,” Sano said.
Closing his eyes briefly, the eta chief said, “No. She never told me. But I should have known it could happen. Merciful gods.” Horror muted his voice to a whisper. “Our child died with her.”
“You’re sure it was yours?”
“She told me that the shogun couldn’t… and Lord Miyagi never touched her. There was no one else but me.” Danzaemon added, “I have two sons, and my wife…” Sano remembered the pregnant woman he’d seen in the outer room-proof of Danzaemon’s potency. “I suppose it’s just as well that the child didn’t live to be born.”
For the sake of the investigation, Sano couldn’t accept at face value the apparently genuine sorrow of the eta chief, whose survival skills must surely include the ability to deceive. “If the child had been born, and been male, the shogun would have claimed it as his heir and made Lady Harume his consort. She would have been in a position to give you much more than just blackmail money from Lord Miyagi. And your son could have become the next ruler of Japan.”
“You can’t be serious.” Scorn tinged Danzaemon’s gaze. “That could never have happened. You found out about Harume and me; eventually someone else would have. There would have been a scandal. The shogun would never accept the child of an eta as his own. It would have been killed along with us.”
“Is that why you poisoned Lady Harume? To end her pregnancy, avert the scandal, and save yourself?”
Danzaemon blinked, as if stunned by the conversation’s unexpected turn. Then he leapt to his feet, protesting, “I didn’t poison Harume! I told you how I felt about her. I didn’t know about the child. And even if I had, I would sooner have killed myself than them!”
“Kneel!” Sano ordered.
The pupils of his eyes pinpointed with fury, the eta chief obeyed. Sano had no doubt about which man to whom Harume had pledged her love. That Danzaemon also knew this, Sano could tell from the expression of defeat that came over his face. He had motive for Harume’s murder, and she’d died tattooing herself for him.
“Think what you will,” Danzaemon said. “Arrest me if you want. Torture a confession out of me. But I didn’t kill Harume.” Defiant conviction lifted his chin and burned in his eyes. “You’ll never be able to prove I did.”
And there lay the fatal weakness in Sano’s case against Danzaemon. According to the results of his detectives’ inquiries, the ink jar had not been tampered with along the way from the Miyagi estate to Edo Castle. Therefore, the ink had to have been poisoned at one end of the journey or the other, where no eta could ever go. Danzaemon had had no opportunity to commit the murder.
“I know you didn’t poison Harume,” Sano said. “Now I want your help.” Danzaemon regarded him warily. “You said Harume talked to you. Can you remember anything she said that might tell us who killed her?”
“Since I heard the news of her death, I’ve gone over every conversation we had, looking for answers. There was another concubine who was cruel to Harume, and a palace guard who annoyed her.”
“Lady Ichiteru and Lieutenant Kushida are already suspects,” Sano said. “Was there anyone else?”
“The assassin who threw a dagger at Harume.”
“She told you about that?”
Memory darkened Danzaemon’s eyes. “I was there when it happened. We’d just left the inn. She always went first; I would follow at a distance to make sure she was safe. Usually I saw her as far as the Asakusa Kannon precinct, then went on my way. But that day I couldn’t bear to let her go. I followed her into the marketplace. I stood outside a cracker stall across the street and watched her step into the alley next to a teahouse. She turned her back and raised her sleeve to her face.” A barely audible tremor inflected Danzaemon’s voice. “I knew she was crying because she missed me.
“Then Harume screamed and fell. I saw the dagger sticking out of the teahouse wall. People started yelling. I forgot about pretending I didn’t know Harume and started toward her. Then someone ran straight into me. She was wearing a dark cloak with a hood. She was in such a hurry to get away, I knew she’d thrown the dagger.”
After the thrill of learning that the assassin resembled the person who’d murdered the drug peddler, Sano belatedly registered Danzaemon’s choice of pronoun. “ ‘She’? You mean it was a woman?” Choyei had described his attacker as a man… or had he? Now Sano recalled the peddler’s agitation when asked what the man looked like. Sano had attributed it to Choyei’s fear of death. Had he really been trying to say that a woman had stabbed him? “Are you sure?”
The eta chief nodded. “Her hair was covered, and the cloak hid her clothes. She had a scarf over her nose and mouth. But I saw the rest of her face. Her eyebrows were shaved.”
In the fashionable style of noblewomen, Sano thought. His heart began to race with the excitement he always felt when nearing the end of a successful investigation. “You never told the police,” he guessed.