Then they part, and he continues on his journey-
Leaving her alone to face my censure.”
The cold hand of fear closed over Reiko’s heart as she considered the significance of his words. Surely she was sitting beside a murderer who acted out the evil fantasies implied. “Forbidden love is very romantic,” she said. “Your poem reminds me of a rumor I heard about Lady Harume.”
“ Edo Castle is full of rumors,” Lady Miyagi said acerbically, “and too few of them true.”
Lord Miyagi ignored her. “What did you hear?”
“Harume was meeting a man at an Asakusa inn.” Seeing a flash of concern in his moist eyes, Reiko kept her expression innocent. “How daring of her to do such a thing.”
“Yes…” As if talking to himself, the daimyo murmured, “Lovers in such a situation risk dire consequences. How fortunate for him that the danger has passed.”
Reiko could hardly contain her excitement. “Do you think Harume’s lover killed her to keep the affair a secret? I also heard that Harume began a second romance,” she improvised, wondering whether Sano had traced the mystery lover and wishing he could see how well her interrogation was going. “She was really pushing her luck, don’t you think?” Did you watch them, Lord Miyagi? Reiko longed to ask outright. Were you jealous? Is that why you poisoned her?
Lady Miyagi burst out, “What difference does it make what Harume did, now that she’s dead? Really, I find this subject very repugnant.”
“It’s only natural to take an interest in one’s acquaintances,” Lord Miyagi said mildly.
“I wasn’t aware you knew Harume,” lied Reiko. “Tell me, what did you think of her?”
The daimyo’s eyes blurred with reminiscence. “She-”
“Cousin.” Glaring, Lady Miyagi spoke through clenched teeth.
The daimyo seemed to realize the folly of speaking about his murdered paramour. “It’s all in the past. Harume is dead.” His oily gaze slid over Reiko. “While you and I are alive.”
“This morning you said Harume flirted with danger and invited killing,” Reiko persisted, intent on concluding her case against Lord Miyagi. She had his statement placing him at a crime scene; she needed his confession. “Were you the one who gave her what she deserved?”
Even as Reiko spoke, she knew she’d gone too far. Seeing Lord Miyagi’s nonplussed expression, she hoped that he was too dense to realize she’d virtually accused him of murder. Then Lady Miyagi seized her wrist. Gasping in surprise, Reiko turned to her hostess.
“You didn’t really come here to view the moon, did you?” Lady Miyagi said. “You befriended us so you could spy for the sōsakan-sama. You’re trying to pin Harume’s murder on my husband. You want to destroy us!”
Her face had undergone a startling transformation. Above blazing eyes, frown lines cut deep slants into her brow. Her nostrils flared; a snarl bared her black teeth. Reiko stared in astonishment. It was like the pivotal moment in a No drama when the actor playing a nice, ordinary woman reveals her true character by changing masks and becoming a ferocious demon.
“No, that’s not true.” Reiko tried to pull away, but Lady Miyagi’s fingernails dug into her flesh. “Let me go!”
“Cousin, what are you talking about?” mewled Lord Miyagi. “Why are you treating our guest this way?”
“Don’t you see she’s trying to prove you poisoned Harume and stabbed the old drug peddler from Daikon Quay? And you won’t let me protect us. You fell right into her trap!”
The daimyo shook his head in befuddlement. “What drug peddler? How can you attribute such vile intentions to this sweet young lady? Release her at once.” Leaning over, he tried to pry his wife’s fingers loose. “Why should we need protection? I didn’t do those terrible things. I’ve never killed anyone in my life.”
“No,” Lady Miyagi said in a voice full of quiet menace, “you haven’t.”
Suddenly the truth hit Reiko like a blow to the stomach. The broken alibis didn’t incriminate Lord Miyagi alone. His wife’s lies had been intended to protect herself as well. “You’re the murderer!” Reiko exclaimed.
Lady Miyagi chuckled, a low growl deep in her throat. “If it took you this long to figure it out, then you’re not as smart as you think.”
“Cousin!” As realization dawned on Lord Miyagi, he fell back on his knees. His face seemed to cave in, the soft flesh sinking around the holes of his gaping mouth, his horror-stricken eyes. “You killed Harume? But why?”
“Never mind,” rasped Lady Miyagi. “Harume isn’t important anymore. This one is the problem now. She knows too much.” Her lips curved in a malicious grin directed at Reiko. “Do you know, I’m actually quite glad you turned out to be a spy. Now I feel even more justified in doing what I’ve been planning all along.”
“What-what’s that?” Still stunned by her discovery, Reiko shrank from the hostility that dripped from Lady Miyagi’s voice.
“I didn’t let you come here so you could steal my husband’s affection. No, I brought you because I saw the perfect chance to get you out of our life for good. Just the way I did with his two concubines.”
Lord Miyagi gasped. “Snowflake? Wren? What have you done to them?”
“They’re both dead.” Lady Miyagi nodded in smug satisfaction. “I tied them up and cut their throats.”
Horror flooded Reiko in a sickening gush. Seeing the maniacal fury in her hostess’s eyes, she regretted wasting her fear on the wrong person. The daimyo was innocent and harmless. The real danger lay in this woman whom Reiko had dismissed as his insignificant shadow. Now she yearned for the knife strapped to her left upper arm, but Lady Miyagi kept her right hand immobilized. She couldn’t reach the hidden weapon.
“But why, Cousin, why?” Lord Miyagi said. White with shock, he stared at his wife. “How could you kill my girls? They never did anything to hurt you. Surely… surely you’re not jealous?” Amazement lifted his voice. “They were just harmless diversions, like all my other women.”
“I know better,” Lady Miyagi snapped. “They could have taken you away from me and ruined everything. But I got rid of them. And now I’m going to make sure this one never comes between us, either.”
The urgency of demented purpose must have been building rapidly inside Lady Miyagi since Harume’s death, driving her to murder again and again. Sudden panic infused Reiko’s body with strength. Now the woman meant to kill her, too! Wrenching out of Lady Miyagi’s grip, she sprang to her feet and lunged toward the open front of the pavilion. But Lady Miyagi caught the end of her sash and yanked, whipping her around. She grabbed Reiko’s ankle. Losing her balance, Reiko fell backward across the table. Food and crockery went flying. As the crash shot pain through Reiko’s spine, Lady Miyagi jumped on top of her.
“Snowflake, Wren,” the daimyo moaned, huddling in the corner. “No, no… Cousin, you’ve lost your senses. Stop, please. Stop!”
Reiko tried to throw off the daimyo’s wife, but her arms were ensnared by the voluminous folds of her kimono, her legs twisted between Lady Miyagi’s. She couldn’t reach the dagger. She thrashed helplessly as the older woman grappled for her throat. Butting her forehead hard against Lady Miyagi’s face, she felt the painful crack of bone against bone. Her vision went black for an instant. Lady Miyagi cried out and reared back. Reiko heaved herself upright, but Lady Miyagi recovered before she could grab the knife. Blood streaming from her mouth, front teeth broken at the gums, she flew at Reiko, eyes crazed. Together they crashed against the lattice wall, splintering it. Cold air rushed into the pavilion.
“Cousin, stop,” keened Lord Miyagi.
With great chagrin, Reiko realized that she, a believer in the power of women, had underestimated the daimyo’s wife. Lady Miyagi’s urge to protect her husband equalled Reiko’s determination to share Sano’s work. Sano had considered Lady Miyagi a mere slave of her husband and not a serious suspect; like a thoughtless fool, Reiko had followed his example. She’d dismissed Lady Miyagi as old and weak, hardly capable of violence or killing. Now Reiko deplored her own stupidity. She’d correctly placed the blame for the murders within the Miyagi household, but failed to identify the actual culprit. She’d mistaken Lady Miyagi’s murderous mania for sexual arousal, overlooking every clue provided by her behavior. Even the poem, an oblique, chilling confession, had slipped past Reiko. Social mores had blinded her as much as Sano.