Reiko could hardly wait for the baby’s birth and her return to action.
Edo jail was missing several watchtowers. Those, and much of the surrounding wall, had crumbled into the moat. The dungeon inside stood exposed, minus half its roof and walls. Prisoners were housed in a makeshift jail elsewhere. The bridge was gone. Hirata and the driver had to carry the bodies one by one across a new, flimsy plank bridge that couldn’t bear the weight of horses, oxen, or carts. The sentries waved Hirata through the gate with barely a glance at the wrapped corpses; they’d seen many earthquake victims brought in, and assumed these were more of the usual.
Inside, Hirata and the driver set the bodies in a courtyard by a row of corpses covered with blankets. The morgue was a dumping ground for bodies unidentified and unclaimed. The stench of death was powerful. Hirata dismissed the driver, then looked around. Tarps draped the morgue where one of its scabby plaster walls and part of its shaggy thatched roof had fallen. The custodian shuffled out the door, a white-haired old man with a stern face, dressed in the traditional dark blue coat of a physician.
“Hirata- san,” he said. His bushy brows rose in surprise; he smiled.
“Greetings, Dr. Ito,” Hirata said.
Once an esteemed physician to the emperor’s court in Miyako, Dr. Ito had been arrested for practicing science learned from Dutch traders. Convicted and sentenced to lifetime servitude in the morgue, he could conduct his experiments without fear of punishment. No one assigned to enforce the law against foreign science ever came to check on him; repugnance and the fear of spiritual pollution and physical disease kept most people away.
Now Dr. Ito was well past eighty. Although his figure had shrunken and his shoulders curved, his eyes had lost none of their keen, bright intelligence. “What have you brought me? More victims of the earthquake?”
“Perhaps they aren’t,” Hirata said.
Dr. Ito nodded. He understood that Hirata had come at Sano’s behest and knew the reason why. “We’d better bring them inside. We’ll talk there.”
Officialdom didn’t care what Dr. Ito did, but it was a different matter for Sano and Hirata. If the authorities got wind of their association with Dr. Ito’s science, they would be exiled. Not even men of their high position could break the strict law against foreign science and escape the consequences. Hirata took the risk for Sano, who sought Dr. Ito’s assistance only in rare, special cases.
Dr. Ito called to his assistant. Mura came out of the morgue, a thin but sturdy figure clad in unbleached muslin coat, kimono, and trousers. Silver hair gave his square, clever face a distinguished appearance at odds with his social position. Mura was an eta, a member of the hereditary outcast class that was linked to occupations such as butchering and leather-tanning, which bore the physical and spiritual taint of death. Shunned by other citizens, the eta did dirty work, like collecting garbage and night soil. They also served in Edo Jail as wardens, corpse handlers, torturers, and executioners. Dr. Ito and Mura had become friends across class lines, and Mura did the physical work associated with Dr. Ito’s studies.
Mura helped Hirata carry the bodies into the morgue and lay them on the tables. The morgue was cluttered and crowded; the cabinets, the stone troughs for washing the dead, and sundry equipment had been pushed away from the damaged section. The tarp flapped in the wind. Dr. Ito lit lanterns whose flames wavered in the cold drafts.
“Who are they?” Dr. Ito moved toward the bodies.
“An incense teacher named Usugumo. And her two pupils.” Hirata described how and where the women had been found. “The pupils appear to be members of the Hosokawa clan. Sano- san has gone to the Hosokawa estate to break the news to the family.”
“He believes that these women were murdered?”
“Yes. Poisoned.”
Mura unwrapped the bodies. In their contorted poses, the women looked even more bizarrely lifelike than before. Their hair stirred in the draft. The lanterns lit sparkles in their terrible red eyes. Hirata almost expected them to stretch their stiff limbs and sit up.
“Ah.” As Dr. Ito beheld the women, his eyebrows flew up in astonishment, then slanted downward in an expression of concern. “I shall have to perform an internal examination. On which one would you prefer?”
“The teacher.” Hirata figured it was wise not to mutilate the bodies of persons from such an important clan as the Hosokawa.
Mura fetched a long knife with a sharp steel blade. He cut the stained, dusty, dark green kimono and white under-robe off Usugumo, then positioned her on her back. She lay naked, arms bent upward, knees flexed. Her skin was white, smooth for a woman her age, her breasts and stomach firm. Her open mouth in her triangular cat’s face made her look as if she were hissing. Her red eyes glared as if she took offense at this rude treatment. Hirata shivered.
Directed by Dr. Ito, Mura made a cut that went straight down the middle of Usugumo’s chest then branched in two diagonal cuts across her stomach. He peeled back the flesh. When he opened her abdominal cavity, the strong, pungent odor of garlic arose.
“That’s one sign,” Dr. Ito said.
“Of what?” Hirata asked.
“Arsenic. It’s a mineral that’s been used in Chinese medicine for thousands of years, in small doses. In larger doses, it kills. It also delays putrefaction. The Koreans blend it into a drink that’s given to criminals of high political status who’ve been sentenced to death. More commonly, it’s a poison for rats.” Dr. Ito leaned over Usugumo’s body, his eyes agleam with fascination, and pointed. “Observe the other signs.”
Her abdominal cavity was as bright yellow as if coated with yellow paint. Hirata stared, amazed. He’d seen plenty of bodies eviscerated during combat, but nothing like this.
“The color is caused by the mixing of arsenic and bodily substances.” Dr. Ito added, “Arsenic is used by artists, as a pigment. Some have accidentally poisoned themselves by breathing the powder or licking their paintbrushes. Mura, please cut open the lungs and the stomach.”
Mura obeyed. The lungs were congested with lumps of clotted blood, the tissue covered with purple spots. The inside of the stomach was as red as a boiled lobster.
“Note the residue of the stomach contents. Perfectly preserved,” Dr. Ito said. “My diagnosis is confirmed.”
Hirata looked at the chewed-up rice, greens, and tofu in brown liquid. His own stomach felt queasy. “How was the arsenic administered?”
Dr. Ito examined Usugumo’s nose, mouth, and throat. Her tongue was thickened, the membranes red and enflamed. “She inhaled it, I would surmise. Although her digestive tract would look the same if it were taken in food or drink. Did you find any clues at the scene?”
Hirata removed the green paper packets from the pouch at his waist. “Incense samples from the game.”
Dr. Ito picked up the open packet and shook the small, round, dark brown pellets onto the table. “Let’s try a test.”
He went to a cabinet and fetched a pair of fine tweezers and a knife with a wide, flat blade. He lifted down a lantern from its hook on the wall. He held the knife over its flame until the blade glowed red-hot. Then he used the tweezers to pick up an incense pellet and drop it onto the hot blade. The pellet burned and smoked. There came the sweet incense odor, then the stench of garlic. Dr. Ito quickly carried the knife to the open window to disperse the fumes.
“The test is positive. Iron and heat plus arsenic produces a garlic smell. The arsenic was administered by way of this incense sample.” Dr. Ito added, “The women may have inhaled only a little poisoned smoke, but it went straight into their lungs and was enough to kill them. The incense probably continued burning after they were dead. The fumes accumulated inside the house and preserved their bodies.”